The alarm for the closing doors resounded shrilly and I jumped onto the train just in time, hearing them hiss and click close just behind me as I managed to squeeze into the claustrophobic crush of people packed onto the tube.

It was a Friday night and the carriage was rammed with a particularly rowdy crowd, people talking excitedly and friends cracking jokes. A group of teenage girls were singing raucously in the corner, breaking into fits of giggles and earning raised eyebrows and disapproving glares from nearby commuters, who glanced owl-like at them over the tops of books and newspapers. 

When I'd been alive, when I'd been human, I'd hated tube journeys. Hated the crush. Hated the chaos. Hated getting my feet stamped on and getting squashed between bodies and smells and too-loud voices in my ears. I'd always preferred taking the car rather than getting the tube, but not now. Now, I couldn't get enough of it. I loved the bustling throng. I loved standing in amongst them, listening to the sweet hypnotic hum of their hearts and feeling all their heat and all their vibrant life.

Harper couldn't understand this new-found obsession of mine, but then again he'd never been one for crowds, even amongst his own kind. He was trying though and seeing him looking mightily uncomfortable as Lucius chittered to him about some new comic book he was reading or having to chair meetings with the whole group when he'd rather tell them all to fuck off, had also become a bit of an obsession. It was always me, however, that was the one that got told to fuck off whenever he'd catch me laughing at how awkward he looked, but I didn't care. I could handle Harper Cain as he knew only too well.

Clinging onto a pole for support, I closed my eyes briefly, feeling the gentle sway of the carriage as it rocked through the tunnel and tuning into the heartbeat of a heavy-set man who was standing just a little too close. Underneath his over-eager splash of cologne, his clothes smelt faintly of sweat and fried-food and for a moment, as his body brushed against mine for the umpteenth time, I thought about getting off at the same stop as him and seeing whether I could persuade him to take a wrong turn down some dark alley. The idea was tempting – too tempting I had to admit – but when the train reached Edgware Road and he got off, I stayed where I was, watching him wistfully through the carriage window as he turned and disappeared from view. It had been a delicious thought while it lasted, but I had somewhere to be and I knew Harper would be waiting for me to check in with him and let him know I'd reached my destination.

We'd argued about it, of course. I knew he was struggling to understand why I wanted to go but I had to, just the once. It seemed like the right thing to do. Harper had wanted to come along naturally, but that hadn't felt right. This was something I had to do alone, a chance to lay the ghosts to rest that had been haunting me. Or one ghost anyway.

The disembodied voice on the loud speaker told me the next stop was Kensal Green and I hopped off as the doors swished open and followed the tunnels up to the exit. Once out on the street, I reached into the pocket of Garrick's military-style jacket and withdrew my mobile, sending a quick message to Harper.

I'm here, will text when I'm leaving x

Within a matter of seconds, the phone beeped.

Hurry the fuck up.

And then beeped again.

Seriously hurry up, I have a hard-on with your name on it.

"Cheeky bastard," I muttered to myself, rolling my eyes as I slipped the phone back into my pocket and set off on the short walk down the road.

The green and white sign by the top gate of Kensal Green Cemetery told visitors that the grounds were closed after six pm, but thankfully, the security guard was poorly paid and had been more than happy to accept a donation from someone who wanted in after closing time, with very few questions asked. Of course it had also helped when Josiah had met him one night coming out of the local snooker club and put forward my request, making it quite clear that he wouldn't take no for an answer. It turned out that the seer had uses other than seeing into people's futures and I knew this wouldn't be the last time I used his Hackney-boy charm to get what I wanted.

I waited until I saw a faint glow on the pathway beyond the gate and the faint smell of cigarette smoke drifted towards me on the breeze. A tall, wiry man approached, stubbing out the cigarette beneath his boot, before retrieving the keys from his belt, which jangled like tiny bells in his trembling hand. He eyed me warily through the bars of the gate, his gaze darting here and there as if expecting Josiah to come stalking out of the shadows. The gate shrieked open and he gestured for me to enter with a nod, his greasy hair barely moving with the motion of his head.

"You've got thirty minutes tops," he said, in a higher-pitched tone than I had expected, wrinkling his nose in a way that reminded me of the rats that ran through the long grass behind the school. "I could lose my bloody job for this."

I left him grumbling behind me as he re-locked the gate and I started walking through the cemetery grounds, surrounded on all sides by monolithic-sized tombs and decaying gravestones.

As far as cemeteries went, not that I was an expert by any means, the Kensal Green Cemetery was quite stunning and one of the most well-known in London. Inspired by the Pere Lachaise Cemetery in Paris, it's Gothic beauty encompassed acres and acres of land, housing the final resting place for all manner of people, including Dukes and Duchesses, politicians and writers, with many richer families reserving special mausoleums or gardens of their own.

It was to one such garden that I now headed, stopping briefly to get my bearings by a grave that bore the life-size statue of an angel, head bent, hands clasped in prayer. With a wry smile, I reached up and touched the weather-beaten stone wings, running my fingers down the chipped, uneven edges of the carved feathers. Shaking my head, I continued, coming to an abrupt halt when I spied the area I was looking for up ahead.

Somebody was already there.

Tension raged down my back and with clenched fists, I approached slowly, reaching the garden's edge and spotting the first tombstones with the names of the Walden-Noble clan etched in gold across black grey-veined marble. Treading carefully between the graves, I reached the one bearing Brandon's name in the same gold font.

Some people bought flowers to the graveside. I had hoped to bring my memories, but it seemed I wasn't going to even get the opportunity to do that.

I looked at the man standing on the opposite side of the grave, taking note of his smart knee-length grey tweed coat, the cut of his plain black suit and the contrasting white of the dog collar at his throat. He was tall and lithe, young for a clergyman but not excessively so, boyishly handsome with a strong jawline and high cheekbones. His dark hair was cropped close at the neck and combed neatly to one side on top.

"You're out late visiting the departed, Father," I remarked.

"What is it they say?" he replied, his voice soft and alluringly gentle. "No rest for the wicked?"

I glared at him, feeling the fury building inside. "How dare you come here. Of all places."

Lucifer tilted his head, or at least, tilted the head of the body of the young man that didn't belong to him. His brow crinkled, his mouth turned down in a sorrowful frown. "Oh Megan, please say that you're not mad at me too? I can't bear it, really I can't."

"Mad at you? Are you serious?"

He clicked his tongue against his teeth. "Is this about the whole poisoning thing?"

My mouth dropped open, aghast. "This is about the whole killing Brandon thing. This is about the whole you-manipulating-him thing. This is about you thinking it's perfectly okay to turn up at his graveside. You couldn't leave him be in life, the least you could do is give him some peace in death. And yes, if you want to pick the bones of it, it's about the whole poisoning thing and the almost killing me thing."

"Ah," he said, with a nod. "Can I just say that you look remarkably well for someone who was almost killed? And, if you really want to pick the bones of it, I think you'll find it was you that killed the d- ...Vánagandr, not me."

"You left me with no choice! If you hadn't possessed his body ..."

"You'd have what?" he said, raising a brow. "Lived happily ever after?" He tutted, shaking his head. "Come now Megan, you and I both know that it was always destined to end up like this, with either you standing at his graveside or he standing at yours. You're a vampire. He was a Varúlfur. You were enemies."

"Not always. Not at the beginning. Not at the end."

"Hmm, yes," he mused. "Who'd have thought he was capable of that? Certainly not me. He'd always been so dreadfully compliant to my wishes." His gaze raked over my skin. "Still, you're a hard act to beat and for that I have to salute you."

"Why are you even here, Lucifer?"

He faltered for a moment, his mouth half-open as if struggling to speak and then he stopped, sighing deeply as his shoulders drooped.

"I-I wanted to see you," he stammered. "As hard as it may be for you to believe, I never wanted to harm you. I just wanted ..."

"World domination? And I just happened to be in your way?"

"No, not at all," he said, his face twisting with something that bordered on pained frustration. "Well, I wanted a new world yes, I wanted a world not governed by the whims and fancies of an out-of-touch God. I wanted the right to question an out-of-date archaic system that no longer has any place or value in this world. I wanted ..."

"The freedom to do as you pleased?"

"And why not?" he retorted angrily, his voice rising up. "If mankind has free-will, why can't I?"

"Freedom isn't the same as free-will, Lucifer and many would tell you that they have neither. Your world would never have been about freedom or free-will anyway. It would have been about servitude of a different kind, to a different God, framed by torment and chaos as the whole world went to Hell."

"Oh Megan, it became that a long time ago, only no one seems to have noticed." He smiled, taking a deep breath as he glanced around the cemetery. "How is the boy, by the way? Not too traumatised I trust? Yeqon never did have much love for children, I'm afraid."

"You'll never get your hands on him again," I said with a sneer. "The Guardians will see to that."

"Ah, well now there's a challenge if I ever heard one. And there are always other ways, other opportunities. That's just the way of things, which I'm sure Michael will tell you. By the way, you couldn't have a word with him, could you? He's in an impossibly foul mood. He's quite angry with me, I must say."

I laughed coldly. "Can you blame him? Imprisoning someone really isn't the best way to endear them to you."

He brushed off my remark with a wave of his hand. "He adores me. Always has. It's his failing."

"Oh, and what's yours?"

"Intoxicating vampires apparently," he replied with a wink.

I shook my head and cast my eyes over his attire, raising a brow as I looked pointedly at the flash of white around his neck. "Really, Lucifer? I don't think this is entirely appropriate, do you?"

He smiled broadly then, revealing a row of perfectly neat, white teeth. "And since when was I ever worried about what is appropriate and what is not?"

I nodded in agreement. "True. But a member of the clergy?"

His eyes lit up a myriad of colours. "But they're the best ones!" He beamed. "You'd be surprised as to the depths their minds can go!"

"Hmmm, perhaps I wouldn't. Not much surprises me anymore. Tell me, what did this one do? Or do you just enjoy tormenting the devout?"

He rolled his eyes and snorted. "This one is no more devout than you or I. Don't be fooled by the pretty outfit."

"So why the interest in him?"

"Good question and to tell you the truth, I'm not that keen on possessing humans. I find it more than a little distasteful. Plus, I get bored easily."

"But what about all those exorcist accounts about people being possessed by the Devil?"

"Goodness, that's rarely me. Do you think I have that much time on my hands? No, you'll find that the majority of those accounts stored in the dark, dusty rooms of the Vatican are usually just my demons masquerading as me. Yeqon was rather fond of doing that. He thought it was terribly humorous. But this time, I had to make an exception so that I could see you again and surprisingly, this one has been quite fun, I must say."

"And what's his sin, this priest of yours?"

"Why, lust, of course."

Of course.

I saw the challenge in his gaze, the way it lingered a little too long on my mouth and couldn't help but be half-amused by it. Typical Lucifer.

"Yes, goodness, does he lust!" he continued. "Nothing too depraved mind you, although he's frequented the odd den of iniquity or two lately. Now that was interesting. I was starting to get worried that he didn't have it in him but it seems to have kick-started all sorts of rather lovely urges. He's got his eye on a couple of impressionable young ladies in his congregation. Dreams about putting his hand up their immaculately pressed skirts and making them scream his name as he bends them over the altar."

"And no doubt you'll be very happy to grant him his wishes?"

Lucifer puffed out his chest, brushing imaginary dust from the lapels of his coat. "We should never deny ourselves our fantasies, Megan, it's what keeps us alive. And besides, the young ladies in question are very appealing in an innocent kind of way. I think I'd quite enjoy hearing them moan under the ever-watchful gaze of the Boy Wonder as he hangs limply on the cross. He always was so limp. I think that's why he's always so tetchy."

"You're incorrigible, Lucifer."

He preened. "I am rather, aren't I? Still, someone's got to liven things up a bit. After all, I can hardly rely on my brothers to create the entertainment. They're all so terribly dull."

"I'm sure they are," I said dryly.

"Just out of interest, why are you here?"

I looked down at the grave of my husband, immaculately tended and fresh flowers laid down by paid-help, in a family garden of such well-kept beauty that you would never have known how the bodies of beasts lay interred in the ground beneath your feet.

"I came to say goodbye," I said.

"Oh," said Lucifer, looking confused and slightly saddened. "I do so hate goodbyes. It always seems so unnecessary."

"I suppose it depends on who you're saying goodbye to."

"Yes," he said, softly. "Yes, I suppose it does."

A muffled ring tone vibrated from inside my jacket pocket and I pulled out the phone, noting Harper's name on the screen and swiping the screen to decline the call. He'd be pissed, but he'd get over it. Maybe.

I waggled the phone at Lucifer. "Time to go I'm afraid."

His eyes widened in alarm. "What? No! You can't go yet. Megan, please don't leave! I do so miss our chats, don't you? Stay a while longer, please."

"Sorry, I did what I came to do. I hope you enjoy your time in the pulpit, Lucifer. You never know, it could be the making of you."

"Megan, please! Where are you going?" he called out as I began to walk away, the desperate tone in his voice carrying up into the air.

I turned to look at him one last time, the Devil, the Father of Lies, the Fallen beast, standing there in the body of someone else, wearing the clothes of someone else and looking suddenly so small and so lost that it was hard to believe he was the creature I knew him to be.

"Home," I said, with a smile. "I'm going home. Goodbye Lucifer."

*****

Home.

I'd always been envious of those people who knew what it was to have a home. A place where they felt warm and comfortable and settled. A place where they felt safe. A place where, should their lives take them far away, half-way across the world even, they could always say that their heart remained there, back home. And if they ever returned, they would see that although it might have changed dramatically over the years, it didn't make one blind bit of difference because it was still home, it was and would always be, where they belonged.

I'd never had that. Never had a place that made me feel warm and comfortable and settled just by being there. Living at the pub with dad had always felt temporary, especially after he got sick because I knew then it would just be a matter of time before it was all over. Even my home with Brandon had never felt like home because he'd dominated every part of our lives so much that even a decision over what colour scheme to paint the lounge had to be passed under his nose for approval and so nothing ever really felt like mine. Or maybe it was because I'd always known, maybe somewhere inside me I'd known that if you threw away the expensive furniture and all the beautiful things, there would have been nothing left to hide the cracks and stains of the lie that was our marriage. We were good at covering everything up with something expensive, or at least he was anyway.

It took me a long time to realise that a home wasn't a place. Not really. Oh, you could dress it up however you wanted, furnish it with nice pretty things, stick a welcome mat in front of the door and paint a name on a sign and hang it on the wall outside, but none of that makes it a home.

A home isn't bricks and mortar. It's not even a town or a city.

A home is where everything feels good and right and better. And it had never felt so good and so right and better, as it did with Harper. Take me away, put me in a place far from where he was, and I'd always return feeling a sense of belonging that went soul-deep.

He was my heart, my love, my home.

There had been moments, brief blissful moments, when I'd heard Michael say the word home and I'd thought yes, home, that makes perfect sense, and I'd wanted it, yearned for it even, but who wouldn't yearn for a chance to live amongst the Heavens? Even Lucifer himself yearns for that. But the truth was, I'd have endured a thousand years of the Devil's poison and more, if it meant I could go home, to Harper.

After all, what's an angel without her demon?

It was towards that demon I now headed, cutting through the yard to where he waited for me by the half-demolished wall behind the school, where the view stretched out over the sparkling city. He stood leaning up against it, arms folded across his chest in way that he pretended was casual, yet was in fact, anything but, because I could see the pinched anxiety in his face as I approached.

"You're late," he said, curtly.

"Didn't realise I was on a curfew?" I teased. "Are you going to dock my pocket money as punishment?"

His eyes narrowed. "Fuck off." But I could already see the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile.

Grabbing hold of my wrists, he tugged me towards him, whirling me around and pinning them above my head as he pushed his leg between my thighs. The spark was instantaneous, stoking the fire in the base of my stomach and sending a flush straight to my cheeks and a thrill crackling over my body like static. Leaning down, he nuzzled at my face, trailing his lips over my skin until he found my ear lobe and he nipped at with sharp teeth, making me whisper out a gasp.

"I should punish you," he growled, his breath hot and heavy on my neck. "But I think you'd enjoy it too much."

I grinned as I jutted my hips forward to meet his. "And what's wrong with that?"

"Nothing." He chuckled, the vibration feeling good against my throat which he then sucked at gently, making me groan out loud. "Nothing at all, angel."

Releasing my wrists, he pulled back slightly, leaning against the wall with one hand and smoothing the backs of his knuckles on the other hand down my cheek, brushing my neck with his fingertips and locking eyes with me as those same fingers travelled further, reaching the curve of my breast. I didn't break his gaze as he rubbed his thumb over my nipple, teasing it through the fabric of my shirt in slow maddening circles and his lips parted as he watched me, his tongue finding the point of one of his elongated incisors. Unable to hold back anymore, I grabbed handfuls of his t-shirt and pressed my mouth against his, feeling his tongue move hungrily against mine and I moaned at how damn good he tasted.

Breaking off from the kiss, I sucked on his lower lip as I snaked one hand into his hair and pushed the other down his chest, enjoying the hard lines of his body and enjoying his groan of pleasure even more when I slipped it between his legs. I was losing it as I touched him, barely holding onto the edge because all I could think about was how much I wanted him, how much I craved him, how much I wanted to taste him over and over again.

"Goddamn it," he hissed as I gripped him harder through his jeans.

He began to plant fervent kisses over my face, finding my throat again, his lips parting, teeth scraping against my skin. I held my breath in anticipation. I'd never wanted to feel him bite me this much. Never wanted to have him drink from me as much as this. I wanted to taste myself on his tongue and know that he was mine and I was his. Always his. Endlessly his.

Giggling erupted close by and a shock of white blonde hair rounded the corner of the building, followed closely behind by the long red locks of Amy, as her and Lucius ran through the long grass, streaming straight past us and dodging in between the parked cars in the yard.

We untangled abruptly, but Harper groaned as he watched them fly past us and pressed his forehead against mine.

"How do they know?" he said, with a sigh. "They always know."

I rolled my eyes. "Welcome to parenthood, right?"

"No way," he said as he pulled away, pointing a finger at me. "I'm going to find Uncle Fenton, he can babysit. This, angel, is not over. Not by a long shot."

He stalked across the yard, whistling for Amy and Lucius to follow him, which they did dutifully, although still giggling furiously.

"I'll be right back out," he called to me. "Don't go anywhere."

I laughed as he disappeared into the school.

Standing on the hillside, I looked out over the city, the place where I had lived and died and been re-born. The place where a whole world existed between the coffee shops and skyscrapers, between the fast-food joints and the market stalls, between the churches and the graveyards. A world of monsters and nightmares. A world of truth and lies, love and hatred. It was all there, a citadel of concrete and steel, of heart and bone and blood and I marvelled at how even great cities like this could fall at the will of those who fought within the world that existed between the cracks.

Glancing around to make sure no one was coming, I reached out, encapsulating the city in the palm of my hand, watching as the effervescent glow crept out from under my sleeve, right up to my fingertips, making it look as if the whole of London was aflame.

Michael had been right. The divine spark was never destined for mankind. No human could control this kind of power. It would consume them instead, devouring them and their cities until there was nothing left but dust and a memory of what they once were.

But I am not a human. I never really was.

I am a vampire. I am an angel. I am light and darkness and everything else in between. I am the monster that stalks the streets and I am the one who will show you the way.

I am London. I am Whitechapel.

I am Megan Garrick and I am not going anywhere.

I am home.

** THE END **