The pounding on the gallery door was incessant now, like a nightmarish cacophony of tribal drums beating again and again and again.

But it was the silence in the annex that bothered me more. How could silence be so deafening? How could silence make you want to clap your hands over your ears so you never had to hear it again?

I'd expected thunderous anger. I'd expected great tornados of fury but instead, Michael said nothing although the air crackled, invisible sparks of tension flashing all around us.

"Will you swear?" I said.

Garrick gripped my arm, his fingers digging in hard. "Megan, stop this! Stop this now! You don't know what you're doing!"

Weird little strangling noises were coming from his throat as if somebody were throttling the life out of him and in his eyes I saw everything I hadn't wanted to see – confusion, anger, disappointment, hurt. I'd known it was coming, of course, but that didn't mean I was okay with it. I didn't want him to look at me like that, I didn't want to feel the weight of his disapproval, after all this time, but I'd had no choice. It had to be this way.

"I do," I said. "Believe me, I do."

"If you did then you wouldn't do this. You wouldn't even contemplate doing this. Do what you came here to do, Megan. Free him and let's end this, once and for all."

"Garrick, I am doing what I came here to do." My gaze flickered to Michael who was watching our exchange with solemn interest, not a single scrap of emotion on his face. "I came here to protect Lucius. I came here to protect what's mine."

"Megan," Michael said, calmly – too calmly. "The boy is not yours. You have no claim over him."

Heat fizzled dangerously under my skin as I fought the urge to scream.

"Why?" I said. "Because I didn't give birth to him? Or because I didn't conjure him up in some celestial cooking pot and breath him into existence? Is that what constitutes parenthood these days, Michael? I couldn't give a damn where he came from or how he came to exist, because I claim him. He's mine and I will do whatever it takes to protect him, because it's pretty obvious that no one else is going to."

"I understand your feelings – "

"You understand nothing!" I cut him off, my voice echoing around the annex. "If you did, then you would never have created me and just left me to figure it all out by myself. If you did, then you would never have made me become this."

"Believe me, if there had been another way ..."

"If there had been another way, you wouldn't have needed me at all and I probably wouldn't exist, so don't give me that crap about how you understand! You did this for you, Michael. No one else."

"On the contrary, I did this for everyone but me. I did this for our Father."

"Your Father, not mine."

His eyes narrowed. "Tread carefully now, child."

"Why?" I snarled. "Why should I? After everything I've had to endure and you don't even have the balls to admit why. You can't even be truthful. Even now after everything I've done to find you."

The banging was getting louder, only now I wasn't so sure whether it was the demons trying to get in or the angel trying to get out. Frustration hammered at my temples, anger firing up my veins.

"One thing I will never do is lie to you, Megan. I will never flatter you with falsehood. I will never tell you what you desire to hear the most if it is a lie. Truth can be the ugliest of things at times. It can shatter hearts and minds. It can even twist and destroy souls. But whatever the consequences, I will always speak nothing but truth to you. I am not my brother." He sighed heavily, almost as if it pained his chest to do so. "Trust me when I say that I did not do this lightly. I did not do this without care or sensitivity. I did this because I had no choice left. I did this to protect all our Father's creations from the darkness that Lucifer wants to unleash on this world. And rest assured that is what he shall do if you do not complete the task you were created to do."

I laughed coldly. "What I was created to do. See, that's the thing that gets me. I was created for one purpose and one purpose only. To act in your stead. Do everything you are not able to do. Sit in judgment in Purgatory. Grant ascension to worthy souls. Kill children. What about everything else? Does nothing up until this point count? I had a life damn it. In fact, I had two. Does none of it matter in comparison to this?"

"No."

I balked, my knees weakening for a split second as I felt that no hit me hard in the chest. One word. That was all it was and yet it was everything. It meant everything. 

"Megan, everyone has a purpose in life, whether light or dark. To some it could be as small as offering a kind word to someone who needs it just at the right moment. To others it could be saving a life. In your case, it is this. Everything else is inconsequential in comparison."

"Inconsequential? How can everything else mean nothing? How is it that our lives mean so little?"

"You misunderstand. Nothing could be further from the truth."

"It only means something if we fulfil our purpose! You said that! Everything else is inconsequential."

"We must maintain balance..."

I howled in frustration, my cries echoing around the annex, my anger sending force waves rippling around the small space, causing the candle flames to flicker violently. Garrick staggered backwards, glancing around in panic as the shadows began to whirl and eddy across the walls.

"Screw balance! Stop talking to me about balance!" I clenched my fists, feeling the heat bubbling in my palms. "You cannot reduce our lives to one moment, one action, one bloody purpose. We're worth more than that! I'm worth more than that! And you stand there and tell me you understand how I feel? You haven't got the first idea how I feel."

The gates were rattling now, shrieking on hinges that looked like they might break apart any second. The metallic vibration reverberated in my ears, the rush of noise in my head only feeding my rage and making my whole body tremble. My fingers twitched hungrily.

"Megan," Garrick warned, holding out a hand to calm me, but I saw the distance. Saw that he didn't want to touch me. Didn't want to get too close. "Please."

I turned on him and he recoiled, stumbling a little. "I need him to swear! I need him to promise me that if I release him, he won't kill Lucius. He's a child, Garrick. A child! Don't you remember his room? The one you made for him? He plays with toy cars and loves comic books and wears those bloody Buzz Lightyear socks. He loves bananas and peanut butter on toast and sometimes he giggles when he's sleeping. And I'm meant to kill him? I'm meant to forget everything, forget how I feel and just do what he wants me to do?"

I pointed a finger at Michael. Light raced right up to my wrist, making it look like I was wearing some ghostly incandescent glove. "I won't do it; do you understand? There is nothing in this world that will make me do it. There is nothing you can say that will make me do it. You want out? Then you give me your word."

He shook his head sadly, the tributaries of crinkles around his eyes deepening as he frowned. "Megan, you ask the impossible. This is the way it has to be. This is the way it has always been."

"This isn't first century Judea! Times have changed. The world has changed."

"And yet Lucifer still seeks the same power that he always did. Rock and stone might have been replaced by steel and iron, beasts of burden might have been replaced by engine and oil, yet the Lost children still represent the greatest threat to this world that man and angel alike has ever known. That, I'm afraid, will never change. We must eliminate all risk. We must disable the weapons that Lucifer will use to free his army. We must take the path, however distasteful it might seem, to ensure that he cannot open the Gates. You want to talk of change, child? Let me tell you now that this world will experience change like it has never done before if Lucifer succeeds, so believe me, if we do not take matters into our own hands now, while we have the chance, if we do not take the child's last breath from his body, then Lucifer will keep trying until eventually, he gets what he wants."

"Oh how poetically you speak of death!" I scoffed. "Does it taste better on the tongue to speak of it in such a way? So noble are the angels! So just! Talking of killing a child as if it's a line in a book. Your compassion just astounds me, Michael, really it does."

He tilted his head to one side, one greying lock falling onto his cheek. "I'm not sure you are wholly qualified to talk of compassion, night creature, when you are incredibly selective on who deserves your compassion?"

"That's not the same thing, and you know it too," I shot back.

I knew he was right though. I'd never given that much thought to who'd lived and died at my hands, never thought about the far reaching consequences of my kills, whether there was someone, somewhere that would be hurt by it, someone who's life might never be the same because they'd lost someone who meant something. My head bombarded me with the memory of the guy who had saved me from Brandon's compound. The sound of his body hitting the water down by the docks.

"No, you're right, it is not," he conceded with a nod. "But my compassion lies with the whole of mankind and sometimes a small sacrifice has to be made in order to keep the world safe from dark powers that would pervert it and lead it to ruin."

"But it's not a small sacrifice. It's not."

I clapped a hand over my chest, wishing I could banish the ache that was crushing my rib cage, the agony creeping downwards to fill the great empty void in my useless, pitiful womb.

"Not to you, no," he said, softly. "But you have to weigh up the life of one against the lives of so many, many more. You will soon see that it is the right choice. The best choice."

"I can protect him," I insisted.

"Megan, you would never be free of those who seek to use the child for their own means. You would spend an eternity looking over your shoulder and running from them. And if you chose to stand and fight and you lose, what then? Who then will protect him, if it's not already too late of course?"

"You could. You could protect him."

He pursed his lips. "Child, know that I cannot. I cannot do what you ask. Whether you live or die, I cannot help the boy."

"You mean that you won't," I hissed, venom dripping off every word.

"I mean exactly what I say. The order to destroy the Lost children was decreed a long, long time ago. It is only by chance that their bloodline did not end when it should have done. I cannot disobey our Father's holy command."

"Oh come on! You twist the rules whenever it suits you, Michael. I'm a perfect example of that." I inched closer, touching the edge of the simple bronze frame, giving him a searching look, trying to find something within those deep blue orbs that I could connect with. "Please. I'm begging you. Twist them now. Help me. Help Lucius."

He reached out a hand to touch the invisible barrier close to where my hand was, sending ripples gently cascading across the surface of the painting. It was there. I could see it. Feel it.

And then it was gone. Closing his eyes for a moment, he inhaled and when he looked at me again the connection was severed and replaced with a firm resolution that plunged shards of hatred right into my heart. My lips curled back from my teeth, my tongue found the point of one incisor and I snatched my hand back, balling it into a tight fist by my side.

"So be it," I said. "If you won't help me, then I won't help you. Enjoy the rest of your time in there, Michael."

He placed both hands on the barrier, as if clutching at invisible cell bars. The thunder was coming; I could see it in his heavy set blonde brow, black irises enlarging until there was barely any blue left. The storm broke and if it wasn't for the fact I knew he could not touch me from inside the painting, I might have cowered before him. But he couldn't reach me and I did not cower. Would not.

"Do you think your powers so great now, child, that you can win this war on your own?" he said. The grass on the perfectly-manicured lawn behind began to blacken, the trees closest to where he stood began to shrivel, leaves dropping to the ground, leaving dry bare branches like twisted skeletal arms. "Do you really think you can withstand the might of Lucifer himself, without me?"

I stretched out my arms, watching as the glow wound its way from my wrists up to my elbows again, tendrils of hot white light encircling my limbs.

"Yes," I said. "I don't need you, Michael. And only now do I realise that I never did."

And with that I turned and walked away, sending the black candles flying out the alcoves, the tiny flames dying one by one as I left the annex, hearing the gates clang violently on their hinges and Michael bellowing my name over and over again.

******

I was walking away. Walking away from my creator. Walking away from the one being that I had been searching for all this time. Maybe the one I had been searching for my whole life. The first moment I had laid eyes on him, everything had started to fall into place. Years and years of emptiness, of feeling lost, had suddenly been washed away and replaced with ...what? A sense of belonging? A sense of home? To be honest, I wasn't entirely sure considering I'd never had much of either before, always feeling slightly out of sync with life and with the people around me, before and after my human death. But there was something here with Michael, something I knew felt right, and yet now, I was walking away, infuriated and frustrated, still hearing him calling out for me as my footsteps echoed through the gallery.

Fuck him. Fuck them all.

I hadn't gone very far before Garrick grabbed a handful of my shirt from behind, quickly releasing me when I whirled around to face him, the heat from my arms still burning. He backed up in a defensive move that both irritated and saddened me to see.

"Megan," he gasped, struggling to catch his breath. "This is insane. You can't really leave him in there?"

"I think you'll find I just did," I said.

"But you can't!" he said, wild panic flourishing in his dark eyes. "You can't just leave him. You need him. He is Michael."

"And apparently so am I," I bit back. "So why the hell do I need him?"

"But you must know that he's right? This is Lucifer we are talking about. Do you honestly think that you can win this without Michael on your side?"

"Yes, I do." I held out my hands and he shrank back from the light that emanated fierce and strong. "Look, Garrick! Look at it! All this power, all his power, right here in the palm of my hands. He gave this power to me so that I would do what he couldn't. What if I'd never found him? What if I'd had to do it all on my own anyway? He wouldn't have given me this power if he'd thought I'd fall at the last hurdle. I'm in this until the end and I'm going to win."

Garrick clutched at his hair. "I don't think he banked on you turning your back on him or choosing Lucius over everything else!"

"He's turning his back on me!" I said. "Doesn't that matter? What kind of creature does this? What kind of creature refuses to help a child? He's meant to be a bloody angel, for goodness sake, and he has the audacity to question my compassion? If killing a child is the compassion of angels, I want no part in it. I want nothing to do with them or him."

"You don't mean that. You can't."

"Really? You shouldn't put the archangels on a pedestal, Garrick. Josiah told me as much a long time ago and I should have listened to him. They're not the benevolent creatures people think they are. I don't need him, Garrick. I've learned so much already. You wouldn't believe the things I've done. The things I'm capable of doing! And as each day goes by, I'm discovering so much more. I can feel it under my skin, running through my veins and the more I learn to control it, the more powerful I'm becoming. I don't need him."

"Are you sure you're in control of it? Or is the power in control of you? I saw you in there, I saw how your emotions are getting the better of you. This power, it's feeding off you. You get angry, it gets furious. You get upset, it's like it wants to bring the whole place down around our ears. You're not in control, Megan, no matter how much you try to convince yourself that you are and that's bloody dangerous."

"Dangerous? How is that dangerous?"

"Because being capable of everything isn't a good thing! Having all that power and not being in control, even though you think you are, isn't a good thing!"

"Why are you being like this?" I said. "I saved you. The least you can do is be fucking grateful, instead of getting on my back about it. What the hell is your problem?"

High up above the cherubs covered their eyes with their hands, peeking out between their chubby little fingers.

"This. You. It's madness. You're not thinking straight. You can't do this on your own."

"I can and I will," I said, through gritted teeth. "I'll fight Lucifer and I'll win, just like Michael won against him before."

"I never had you down as arrogant, Megan."

"Arrogant? To know my own power? To know what I'm capable of?"

"Yes, arrogant. This is pure fucking arrogance. You're not him. Don't you see that?"

"See, that's the beauty of it, because I am." I flexed my fingers, revelling in the heat that enveloped my bones, smiled, as it spread up my arms. "All this power and it's mine. Just as Lucius is mine. No one is taking him from me. No one. And I don't care what anyone else thinks. I don't care what it means. I'll do whatever it takes to keep him with me. No matter what happens."

He straightened up, but his shoulders hung low and he reached out a hand to me. "I know you love him, Megan, I can see that. But you can't put your needs and your feelings above everything else, not when the whole world could suffer as a result. You can't win every battle. Sometimes you just have to let go no matter how much it hurts."

There was something unreadable in his expression, something that went beyond this and beyond Lucius and for a moment, my anger stalled before I quickly blinked it away. I pushed his hand away before he could touch me, my lips curling into sneer.

"Spoken like a true Guardian!" I said. "I bet darling daddy Benjamin would be so proud of you right now! You're finally stepping out from Harper's shadow and being the son that the great Benjamin Garrick always wanted."

Garrick blanched. "You think that's what this is?"

"When were you going to tell me? When were you going to tell me that you never had any intentions of protecting Lucius and that you were just protecting the legacy that Benjamin had passed down to you?"

"Megan, please," he begged. "I swear to you that wasn't how it was. If it was, don't you think that once I found out what you were that I would have asked you to kill him?"

"Oh yeah," I said, sarcastically. "Because it's that easy. Hey, Megan, did you know that you've got an archangel living inside you, oh and by the way, while you're here, would you mind just popping down to the basement and slaughtering that child I've got cooped up down there? Spare me, Garrick! You were biding your time. All you ever wanted was to live up to the family name and be the bloody chosen one."

"It wasn't like that!" he cried, just as a resounding boom echoed through the gallery, sending the cherubs above into a flutter, flying across the frescos and hiding behind the glided archways.

I stared into the darkness. Nothing moved.

And then the whole place erupted.

An ear-splitting crack tore through the air. A splinter of light pierced the pitch black, widened, then burst open, as the door at the far end exploded inwards, spewing out fragments of mulch-covered wood. For a moment, the light was still and then black shapes appeared, moving fast and crowding the hole left in the wall, pushing their way through the gap until only small flashes of light could be seen beyond.

"Get back," I said to Garrick, stepping in front of him as I held out my hands, pushing forward with the light to illuminate the gallery.

They streamed through what was left of the doorway, spindly skeletal bodies with misshapen heads slightly too large and loose papery flesh hanging off their bones, moving like spiders as they crawled up the walls to the ceiling, spreading out in all directions. The black tide just kept coming and coming, pouring into the gallery, their long blackened tongues lolling out of wicked mouths and as they advanced, they made a high-pitched mewling noise and a whooping that sounded like hyenas. The prisoners in the paintings shrank back in fear, seeking sanctuary inside their prison cells wherever they could but they needn't have worried. The demons weren't coming for them.

They swarmed towards us, body after body, until I could barely see any of the walls or ceiling underneath. One dropped down from above, landing perfectly on all fours and with a cackle of sheer glee, it slicked its tongue over its lips and bared its teeth, lips peeling back from its rotten gums, its beady bloodshot eyes glaring hungrily at me. Leaping forward, its sharp nails scratched against the tiled floors as it charged. With a jolt of disgust and fear, I sent a pulse of heat flaring from the palms of my hands, hitting the demon square on as it launched itself at us. It shrieked as the energy hit its hideous body. Fire seemed to spark instantaneously inside its core and it grasped at its distended stomach, screeching as the glow within spread quickly through its body, engulfing its torso and limbs in a blinding hot light. Thrashing about, it could do nothing to stop the fire and it began to dissolve in front of my eyes, until finally its screams died and it was nothing but a pile of ash on the tiles.

Garrick looked up from where he had been shielding his face from the light. "Megan, quick!"

More and more of them were dropping from the arches above, swarming along the walls either side, twisted faces like molten masks coming into focus as they got closer and closer.

I began sending scorching beams of light at the ones who were almost upon us and they dropped like flies, wriggling and squirming and screaming as the inferno claimed them. And still they kept coming, unperturbed by the deaths of the others, crawling through what was left of their putrid bodies, creeping down the walls and teeming across the ceiling like the black mold that had once barred the entrance to the gallery.

I couldn't pick them off one by one. There was just too many coming from all sides and I knew they would be upon us before I could get them all. Nearer and nearer, hissing and spitting, drool seeping from their gaping mouths, I had to do something, I had to ....

I feel to my knees hard, hearing the shrieks of delight from the demons as they surged towards me.

"G-Garrick," I gasped. "Ruuuuuuuuun."

I didn't have time to see if he'd done as I'd said. The light from within came without warning. A spontaneous combustion of energy exploded from every pore, surging through my limbs, ripping my back into pieces and I was flung into the air by the force of the eruption as my wings tore free from my flesh. The power swelled, pulsated. I felt it rushing through me as if it was fighting to find a way out, as if it needed to find a way out and I was carried upwards, as my wings spread out either side of me, vast and beautiful and terrifying.

Light poured from every feather, sending searing spears of heat hurtling around the gallery, the intense blaze fracturing the air and igniting every demon that it touched. They exploded on impact, disintegrating into nothing and whichever ones escaped the first onslaught, I caught with great blasts of fire from my hands. Still they came, like a never ending flood, all slavering snapping jaws and taloned hands and feet, eyes bulging from sunken sockets, all still desperately trying to reach me. Their efforts were futile as I took them out, enjoying the sound of their screams as the fire consumed them.

Something struck me, knocking me off balance and I faltered as I hovered in the air, veering to one side. Sharp pinpricks of pain shot through me and I turned my head to see a demon had fallen from the ceiling and was now clinging to one of my wings, tearing great handfuls of feathers free with its blackened talons. Blood was seeping from the wing, smearing the velvety fronds like an oil spill. I swerved violently to my left, frantically trying to shake the grinning beast but it held firm, using the feathers to pull itself along the length of the wing. More were ripped free, fluttering gently down amongst the ashen carnage below.

A jolt to my other wing sent me careering off course. I'd flown too close to the ceiling in my attempt to shake the demon and another had leapt from above, managing to grab hold of me from the other side. They chittered madly, gnashing their sharp yellowed teeth together as they eyed me with pure hunger, clamouring to reach me. I let my wings fold slightly and fell backwards, plummeting towards the floor. The demons, not expecting my sudden fall, tumbled, struggling to keep hold, trying to scramble up but to no avail. We fell together and I tore one free and threw it as far as I could, blasting a pulse of energy at its bony body, reducing it to ash in the air.

The other remained, digging its claws in deep, and I hit the floor hard, my wings outstretched as the twisted creature flailed beneath me, feet pummelling against my back. I cried out as it pulled at my head, horrid little hands knotting into my hair, frantically seeking out my face. Its nails scratched at my cheek, finding my mouth and it shoved its fingers in deep, making me gag as the taste of its rotten skin hit my tongue. Incisors extended, I bit down viciously and the demon squealed and thrashed, as a hot rush of acrid blood filled my mouth. It yanked its hand free and I whirled around, spitting out the foul black liquid that burnt my lips and dripped down my chin. Clutching hold of its injured digits, it began to scramble away, emitting an agonised wail as it stumbled and fell again. I stood up, towering over it before pressing my foot down onto the small of its back.

I hated it. I was offended by the very sight of the creature as it struggled feebly under the weight of my foot. How little it seemed now. How utterly insignificant. I spat on it in disgust. And then with both hands, I sent a wave of energy right into the back of its skull until it exploded, only releasing my hold when the hideous little body fell limp.

All at once, a great howl of rage echoed through the gallery, the sound growing in power as it rebounded off the walls, shaking the paintings and sending dust spiralling down from the ceiling.

I turned just as another black shape came hurtling towards me. It was larger than the others and on its back were two tattered and torn wings made up of blackened shrivelled skin stretched out between the spines. It wasn't until it was almost upon me that I saw glimpses of a face I recognised, a face I knew was not real, a face this creature had used before and I didn't know whether he used it now to taunt me or whether he'd got stuck with it somehow, but the sight of it made me gasp out loud.

"Asbeel," I cried, as he launched himself at me, grabbing hold as we flew upwards.

Asbeel grinned manically. "I told you that you'd be screaming my name," he screeched. With another shriek, he pushed hard, sending me hurtling back, still gripping me as I hit the wall. I struggled in his grasp as he held me there, his face just inches from mine.

"Like what you see, night creature?" He drooled, smacking his lips together. "Yes, you do, I can tell. I kept it just for you because I knew just how much you liked it. You'll scream now because he made me scream. Punished me he did and all because I dared to touch his angel, his perfect little angel, his vampire love."

"Oh you truly are insane," I said with a sneer, pushing at his face to keep him at bay. "Lucifer wants me dead."

The fallen beast laughed, sending waves of fetid breath reeling over me. "Stupid angel," he scoffed. "My Lord Lucifer doesn't want you dead. He's got plans for you. Big plans. He wants you for himself, you and everything your body has to offer him." His fevered eyes raked down my chest, coming to rest on my stomach. "I'm going to bring you to him, I am. But first I'm going to hurt you and it'll be worth it. It will be sooooo worth it. I'll let him punish me for a hundred years just so I can make you scream my name."

I gritted my teeth. "Not if I make you scream first, you pathetic piece of demon shit."

With a roar, I shoved him backwards, flying halfway across the gallery, spinning us round in some macabre airborne dance. We came to a stop in mid-air and it was my turn to grin at him. I pulled him closer for a split-second, staring into eyes that didn't belong to the face he had stolen.

"You should have stayed in whatever pit Lucifer threw you in, Asbeel, because you are way, way out of your depth."

The heat rose between us and the demon looked down, his face twisting with alarm as smoke drifted up, the stench of burnt flesh stinging our noses. My hands gripping him were glowing a hot bright white and he began to scream then, frenziedly bucking and kicking out. Quickly I released him, whirling him around just so I could grab him from behind, using one hand to grasp a handful of his dark hair and hooking my feet around his legs, bending his body backwards.

"Let go," he squealed. "Let goooooooo."

"Oh no," I breathed into his ear. "Not until I hear you scream."

Clutching hold of one of his wings at the base, I pulled hard. The fire spread fast, seeping into the ragged puckered skin and it melted in my hands, crumpling like softened candle wax and I tugged with all my might, revelling in the sick sensation of tearing the wing completely free from his back, before doing the same to the other, only stopping to release him when they were both gone. Asbeel plummeted to the floor, landing hard. He doubled over, howling in agony as he reached over his shoulders, hands desperately searching and finding nothing but charred bloodied stumps where his wings has once been. The wings themselves, now nothing but useless lumps of flesh, lay discarded by his feet and he picked them up, his whole body trembling uncontrollably. Throwing his head back he wailed again, this time the howls punctuated by great wracking sobs that sounded like a child in pain.

I descended, standing in front of him, the glow still emanating from my skin.

"No more," he croaked, staring up at me with large tear-filled eyes. "Please no more, I beg you."

Tilting my head, I reached down and stroked his hair back from his face and smiled.

"Didn't you know?" I said, leaning closer. "We angels are all out of compassion."

Grabbing him by his throat, I flew upwards once more, as his legs weakly kicked out, as his eyes bulged from their sockets and choking noises spewed from his mouth. My vast wings spread out either side of me, slowly beating the air and then, with a cry of triumph and rage, I surged forward, holding him out in front of me. Just as he realised what I was about to do, his face twisted with panic and I slammed him against the painting - Garrick's painting - and forced his thrashing body into the rippling canvas, watching as he began to disappear bit by bit, his torso, legs, that damn face and then his arms, hands grasping at nothing, until finally he was gone, trapped inside the cell where he had tortured Garrick.

I smiled as he stumbled, tumbling over, his head whipping around as he looked frantically about him. With a sob, he staggered to his feet, charging towards me, only to hit that invisible barrier that separated us where he pounded his fists against it again and again.

Locking eyes with him, I touched my hands to the painting. The fire soon caught hold, spreading up the intricately carved wood until the whole frame was burning. Maybe he'd burn for eternity.

"Come on," I said, with a smirk. "Let's hear it."

The flames began to lick at his body. The demon opened his mouth wide and screamed.

************

I was on my knees, gasping for breath as the light faded, taking my wings with it. As usual, the only sign that they had ever been there was the hardened inflamed ridges down my back, the dull ache in my spine and the great gaping hole in my shirt.

With Asbeel gone and now burning, any remaining demons had fled, scuttling out through the doorway, their howls echoing down the hallway beyond. I wasn't sure if they'd be back, but I wasn't going to wait around to find out.

Exhausted and aching, I shuffled into a sitting position.

"Garrick?" When he didn't answer, I pushed out with the light, suddenly fearful that he hadn't escaped the demons as I'd fought with Asbeel, but soon I found him on the other side of the gallery, knees pulled tight into his chest, with his head in his hands.

I scrambled to my feet. "Garrick?" I said again, running over to him but he was up and on his feet before I could reach him, holding his hands out to ward me off.

"Stop," he said. "Don't."

I gaped at him. "What's wrong? What's the matter with you?"

He laughed but there was no humour in his voice. "What's the matter with me? Fuck, Megan. What's the matter with you? What the fuck has happened to you?"

"I don't understand what you mean?" I said, frowning.

He looked scared. Positively terrified. And I hated how it seemed to be directed at me. It couldn't, could it? I took another step forward and he backed up, hitting the wall behind him, sliding along it as if to keep as much distance between us as possible.

"Garrick, what the hell is this?"

"I could ask you the same thing. What was that? What did you do?"

I stared at him aghast. "What did I do? I saved you. I saved us. What's your problem?"

"My problem ...?" He trailed off, shaking his head. "I don't know. I've just never seen you like that before. You were so...so ...cruel."

"Cruel? Is that all?" I laughed. "We're Whitechapel vampires, Garrick. Cruelty is in our blood."

"Not like that," he said. "That was cruelty to a whole other level."

"He tortured you. What was I meant to do? Pat him on his head and send him on his way? He made your life a living Hell and you're worried that I was a little bit cruel to him?"

"Oh for fucks sake, Megan, I'm not worried about him, I couldn't give a shit about him, I'm worried about you."

I didn't understand this. I didn't understand his problem with me or why he was looking at me with so much fear in his eyes. Seeds of irritation prickled under my skin.

"You don't need to worry about me. I'm fine. In fact, I'm great. I told you I could do this on my own. Come on, we need to leave."

I held out my hand but he stared at it like it was some venomous viper poised to strike and shrank back against the wall.

"Garrick, please, this is ridiculous. We have to go now."

I turned to walk away, half-smiling to myself when I heard his footsteps following me just moments later and together we ran from the gallery, into the Ballroom beyond which was drenched in the rotten stench of the demons that had crowded in here, desperate to get through the door. Down the long corridor we ran, until eventually we found our way back to the library again. With Asbeel gone and the demons fled, I felt no apprehension as I had before, like nothing could touch me here, nothing could hurt me.

The mirror was waiting.

"Ready?" I said, grasping Garrick's hand and ignoring how he flinched instinctively, ignoring how tense and stiff he felt beside me. He was tired. Exhausted. And he'd been through a terrible ordeal and had experienced horrors that I couldn't even have imagined in my worst possible nightmares. Of course he was feeling out of sorts. Who wouldn't?

Without waiting for him to answer, I stepped through the mirror, taking him with me, feeling the sick sluggish resistance of the molten glass, sucking on our skin as if it didn't want to let us go. But then, we were through, on the other side, back to the library, the real library. Books still lay scattered about the floor from where they had fallen from the shelves and the once-roaring fire was now extinguished, not that it mattered. We wouldn't be stopping here.

"Come on," I said, starting to cross the room, but he tugged back his hand and remained where he was, his dark brows furrowed in a way that made him look lost and afraid. My heart faltered for a moment, barely believing that he was here and that after all this time, this was really happening.

"Where are we going?" he said.

I smiled. "Home," I replied. "I'm taking you home. Well, at least, not a home that you remember. A place that Fenton found, a school. It's a bit run-down but it's big enough for all of us at least and, can you believe, has a working shower. What a luxury, huh?"

He stared at me, appearing so completely overwhelmed that I just wanted to pull him close and hold him tight.

"I can't go with you."

I grabbed his hand, threading my fingers through his. "Of course you can. You're free, Garrick. It's over."

"Megan, I died remember. I can't go back."

I touched his face, pushing back the dark hair that had flopped onto his forehead, smoothing it back just like he had used to. Just like he still did.

"I'm taking you back, Garrick. I'm bringing you back."

A short, sharp breath whispered from his lips, his eyes widening. "But ... you can't."

"Oh but I can. I really can. I know how to do it. It's all in here, see?" I tapped at my temples. "I know exactly how to do it and I am bringing you back to life, I'm taking you back where you belong. With Harper and Fenton and the others. With me."

"Megan, there is only one way out of Purgatory and you heard what Michael said, I am not destined to go that way. I have to stay here."

I laughed. "No, you don't. I have the power to do this, Garrick."

"Just because you have the power, doesn't mean that you should," he said, snatching his hand out of mine and stepping back.

"Why not? What's the point if I can't use it? If I know how to bring you back, why shouldn't I?"

"Because dead is dead, Megan," he said, raising his voice, red spots of anger flushing his cheeks. "You don't come back from death."

"Then how do you explain us? How do you explain vampires?"

"We didn't die when we became vampires, not really. We just became something else. That's all. We remained as we always were - earthbound. Our human bodies might have died, but our souls remained there, in our new bodies. That's not the same as actually dying. Megan, I died. I have to stay here. You have to accept that."

"Well I don't," I snapped. "I don't accept it. You're coming back with me and that's just the way it is whether you like it or not, although why you wouldn't like it, I have no idea, seeing as I'm giving you another chance at life."

"I had my chance! I had my chance twice over, Megan. I'm done. You can't start bringing people back from the dead just because it suits you. You're messing with something big here, something that you should have no jurisdiction over. You can't just go changing the rules, not like this."

"I can do whatever the fuck I want and there's not a damn thing you or anyone else can do about it!"

High up above the tops of the endless bookcases, distant thunder rumbled, like the oncoming journey of a storm as it rolled over the hills. The shelves vibrated a little, blowing dust into the air.

He blanched at my words. "What on earth has happened to you, Megan? When did you become like this?"

"Oh don't start this again!"

"Why not?" he demanded, jabbing a finger at me. "Because somewhere inside this shiny bright new arrogant Megan, you know that I'm right about this? That I'm right about you?"

"I am doing what I was created to do, why can't you see that?"

"Because this isn't you. This isn't the woman who came barrelling into my life and turned it upside down. This isn't the woman who gave us all something to fight for. Who found hope when it felt like there was none. Who gave us all a reason to just keep going, no matter how bad it got. You're not her anymore. You're like .... him. You're like Lucifer."

I staggered back, hitting the bookcase behind me. "How can you say that? How can you even think that?"

"You're so close to the edge and you don't even realise it, do you?" He exhaled, long and deep, raking his fingers through his hair as if he might pull it from the roots. "I saw them, before the light came, before I had to look away. Your wings ..." he said. "They were black, at the edges, at the tips. They were black, Megan."

"Oh." I frowned. Were they? I hadn't noticed. "Well, then they were burnt, I don't know. Maybe Asbeel did it, one of the demons maybe, God knows they sure made a bloody mess out of them."

Garrick shook his head. "They weren't burnt. They were turning black. You know, it's said that Lucifer has black wings. I've never seen them but they're meant to be the purest black, like a night that will never end. It's said that every day he was bound in chains, his heart hardened a little more against his Father and as each day went by, another feather would turn jet black, until finally every single one was like it had been dipped in oil. He could have stopped it if he'd repented. He could have stopped them all turning black, but he couldn't because he never repented. He always believed that he was justified in everything he did, no matter what. He still believes that, Megan."

"I'm not like that," I whispered. "I'm not him."

"Then stop this now, before you go too far. You cannot blindly do whatever you desire and say to hell with whatever everyone else thinks or wants. You are not always right just because you can bend people to your will with that power you have inside you. That's not what it's for. You'll destroy everything and everyone that you love, Megan, is that what you really want?"

The pain in my chest bubbled up to the surface as I crumpled, sinking to the floor on my knees. My eyes stung with the fierce heat of tears that spilled over the edge and cascaded down my cheeks. I wrapped my arms around my legs, feeling the anger and the rage as it fought within me and I couldn't bear it. I couldn't bear how much it fucking hurt. 

"I just want you to come back. I just want you back, Garrick."

I sobbed then, clutching my head in my hands as the grief hit me like a tidal wave for the second time, tsunami-like in its power to overwhelm me and send me plunging beneath the surface. I cried like he was dying all over again, lying bloodied and torn on the battlefield, life ebbing away by the second. Life that I should have been able to have saved.

"Megan," he broached softly. He moved to kneel in front of me and took both my hands in his, pressing his lips gently against my forehead. I breathed him in, unable to deal with the thought of never breathing him in again, of never feeling his hands in mine or never hearing his voice.

"Please," I begged. "Just ... please."

"You cannot twist the rules of life and death," he said, with a sad smile. "That's not how it works. Let them twist things to suit themselves. Don't be like them, Megan. Remember who you are."

I inhaled with a gasp. "Remember who you are," I repeated. Lucius had said that.

He chuckled. "Yeah. Infuriating. Irritating. Sometimes better in small doses, especially when you're in a bad mood. But fucking brilliant too. Amazing. Bloody awesome. Just don't let those last ones go to your head, okay?"

He shot me a wry, half-embarrassed grin and I reached out to touch his face, my fingertips tracing the path of the single tear that fell down his cheek, brushing it away with my thumb.

I sucked in a breath, stifling another sob. "I wish ...." I trailed off.

"I know," he said. "Me too."

"Garrick, I ...." I began, tilting my head and blinking in confusion as the sound hit my ears. "Do you hear that?"

I looked up, my gaze searching the skies littered with storm clouds above. Where was the sound coming from?

"What?" He looked bemused. "What is it?"

"I don't know..." I murmured, but I did know. I heard it.

Someone was screaming. Muffled screaming, like it was coming from under water, but high-pitched. Like a child's scream. 

"Lucius!"

The world fell away instantly, the library and Garrick's face dissolving into nothing in front of my eyes and my hands were being torn from his, being torn from Lucius' hands, who was screaming so loud, screaming as Brandon was dragging him across the cell, his little feet thrashing against the floor.

Disorientated, I tried to move, remembering suddenly that I was bound in the Chains of the Abyss and totally helpless as a hand gripped me by my throat, fingers gouging at my neck.

Drachmann's face appeared in front of mine and I stared into his malevolent, hate-filled eyes, my stomach flipping over as if I'd been dropped from a great height and was endlessly falling to my death.

"I know what you did," he hissed, saliva spraying from his wrinkled lips. "I know what you did and I'm going to make you pay."

He grasped my chin roughly and turned my head to look at Lucius, who frantically struggled and kicked in Brandon's arms.

"I'm going to make every drop of blood count," said Drachmann. "His and yours."