"You're wondering about the eyes, aren't you?"

We were locked away in Garrick's office, a small dingy room in one corner of the gym that made Josiah seem even bigger now that we were all housed in such a confined space. The room was sparsely furnished, containing two filing cabinets, one battered-looking desk and an old leather desk chair with jagged rips in the fabric. Garrick stood near the closed door and I stood next to Harper in front of the desk, craning my neck to look up at Josiah, who seemed to fill the rest of the place with his presence alone.

I struggled to utter a reply, not wishing to cause any offence by my words. I was sure I must have already caused a great deal with my inability to stop staring at him. Josiah Hope had me enthralled, that much was certain. His sheer size and presence was enough to knock anyone off their stride, but never had I imagined that he would also be a vampire.

Josiah chuckled. "Don't worry, they all think the same. How can you see when your eyes are completely white? But if you look very closely, you will see that I do have real eyes, a pupil, an iris, they're just white, that's all. It's the mark of a seer."

Unable to resist moving closer as he leaned down in front of me, his fingers stretching open the lids on his right eye, I studied the surface of his eyeball and was stunned to see that he was right. There was a slight discolouration where the pupil and iris were. I took a moment to covet his face, with its smooth dark skin, tiny laughter lines around his eyes and goatee beard that was tinged ever so slightly with grey. It wasn't until I saw his lips curl into a grin and his head tilt to one side that I realised he was coveting me just as I was him.

I stepped back quickly, flushing and feeling Harper's fingers creep around my waist as he held me in place against him. Josiah, clearly noting the territorial move, smiled even more and nodded his head at Harper.

"Surprised to see you here, Harper. Thought you'd gone all rogue vampire on us. The last I heard, you were scurrying through the gutters of London, doing jobs for cash and making a bit of a name for yourself. What happened? The assassin life not all it's cut out to be?" 

Harper bristled in response. "What I was or was not doing is no fucking concern of yours, sorcerer."

If Josiah was ruffled by Harper's clear animosity, he didn't show it. Instead he just casually rubbed the towel over his face, mopping up the beads of sweat on his forehead. "Same old Harper Cain. Always biting. Talking of which, I'll look forward to telling Caelan that you have resurfaced."

Harper stiffened. "Tell Caelan what you wish. That debt is paid as you well know." 

"When you two have quite finished beating your chests at each other, can we cut the silverback routine and talk business?" Garrick glowered, his face etched with a mixture of tension and impatience.

"You know me, Garrick, always ready for a bit of business." Josiah smiled and clapped his big palms together, the sound making me flinch as it bounced off the walls of the small room and resonated through my eardrums.

Garrick glanced through the narrow window of the office door, his eyes troubled as he drank in the view from the gym before turning back to face Josiah.

"You saw, right?"

"I saw, yeah," the big man replied, the grin already fading.

"Then I don't need to tell you that by agreeing to do business with us means you are also agreeing that everything we say stays strictly confidential. Nothing leaves this room and if you break my rules on this, then no amount of mystical foresight will stop me from coming for you. Do we have an understanding?"

Josiah nodded solemnly. "Have I ever betrayed your trust before?"

Garrick stared hard at him for a moment. "No," he said tersely. "But this is different. This is my family." His dark eyes lingered on me as he spoke. "And I will protect them no matter what the cost."

My heart ached under the weight of his words and my skin prickled with a sense of dark foreboding, as if deadly vipers were crawling down my spine. I waited for them to strike, sinking their poisonous fangs into my flesh and filling me with their venom.

Josiah's cold white gaze drifted over the three of us. "Do you not think I have lived long enough to know that the wrath of Bartholomew Garrick is not something that should be underestimated?"

"And do you not think that I have lived long enough to know that the seers will twist and manipulate any situation to get what they want?"

Josiah sniffed dismissively, running a tongue across his teeth. "We all do what we have to do to survive, Garrick. You are quite adept at twisting and manipulating situations yourself so you should know that better than most. But I can promise you that what is discussed here will remain our business and nobody else's. We seers are a lot of things, but we don't air our dealings with anyone other than the person or people that we agree on a contract with." He reached into a black nylon gym bag at his feet, pulling out a white T-shirt and tugging it over his head, the fabric clinging to his well-defined muscles. "We helped you find the boy, didn't we? What more proof do you need that I take our business very seriously?"

My ears pricked up. I knew he was talking about Lucius and now I also knew that Garrick had used the seers to find the little boy in St Catherine's. My interest in Josiah piqued even further as I pondered on how he had found Lucius, lost and alone in some Catholic orphanage adrift in a sea of children all lost and alone, just as he was. Only of course, none of them had been like him at all. Had he shone like a beacon in the dark? Had something inside him been calling out to be found? Calling out to those with eyes like Josiah, eyes that could penetrate the bleakest of places?

Garrick shifted uncomfortably, leaning against the wall and fixing his dark stare on Josiah. "Fine," he sighed. "I just need you to understand what is at stake here. Megan is very ...special to us. Our father's blood runs through her veins. Every day she grows more overwhelmed by what's happening to her and I'm not just going to sit back and let this thing, whatever it is, end up killing her. We're here because we know you can help us."

Josiah chuckled again. "You're here because there is no one else who can help you."

"Same thing," hissed Garrick, irritably. "And besides, what does it matter? You will get paid handsomely for your troubles as you seers always do."

The tiny room had grown claustrophobic. With each passing second, I felt the stale air pressing in on me, binding my body in its hot embrace, squeezing tighter and tighter. The whispering was getting louder again and I closed my eyes for a moment, leaning into the hard lines of Harper's chest to steady myself. He tightened his grip on my waist and I welcomed it.

"Noisy buggers, ain't they?" Josiah remarked and it took me a second to realise he was directing his question at me, his eyes cooly assessing my crumbling form as I fought to remain on my feet. I nodded, giving him a small tired smile in return. "The dead are like a swarm, you know," he continued. "A never-ending tide of rot and decay, all flocking towards the light like brainless sheep, bleating out their sorrow and pain as if they didn't deserve to feel such sorrow and pain. 'Why are we here?'  they ask. 'What did we do to deserve this?' Why shouldn't you feel sorrow? Why shouldn't you feel pain? Life's no fucking walk in the park, what made you think death would be any easier? And yet still they cry and wallow in the seas of purgatory, treading water until they see that light. Then  they all surge forward, crawling over each other to reach it, crushing anyone under their feet just to find the way."

"You don't believe they deserve to escape purgatory? You don't think that some of them deserve redemption?" I said, my voice not much more than a crackling whisper.

"Well, in the great scheme of things it doesn't matter what I believe, does it? I'm just a seer, I'm not part of God's great plan whatever the hell that is, but I do see the truth. And the truth isn't quite as clear cut as you might think. Do I think they all deserve to be there? Undoubtedly no, of course not. But do they all deserve a plot in the Lord's heavenly pastures? Again, no. But that's the whole point of purgatory. It's God's Waiting Room, the place where the dead all hang out, waiting on His final decision. Only the problem is that His rules are hard to follow. The line between good and evil is a shaky one to say the least and even the most pious amongst us struggles to meet God's impossible expectations."

"You don't sound like you're on His side?"

Josiah raised an eyebrow in response. "I'm on my own side and do you know why? Because I learned a long time ago that the only one you can rely on is yourself. Our Heavenly King and His Dark Prince fight their own causes, they've both got their own agenda."

"Which is what?" I frowned.

"War, essentially. It's always been about war. My army is bigger than your army, and all that. Lucifer raged against God long before he was cast out. God raged against Lucifer, desperate to make him tow the line. But that's His problem all over. Thou must do this. Thou must not do that. He's been so caught up in dos and do nots that all that Lucifer's army grows stronger every day, gathering those wandering in purgatory. The ones who are tired of waiting for God's divine and righteous judgement, the ones weakened by their endless journey, the ones twisted and devoured by the demons who lurk in the dark waters."

"Well bloody good for Lucifer," drawled Garrick. "But if this is all about the eternal fight between God and The Fallen, why the hell does Michael need Megan? Surely the Archangels are more than capable of assisting God to win this war on their own?"

The seconds ticked by soundlessly. The seer's white eyes fell upon me and again I felt that light touch inside my head, as soft as a caress and strangely seductive. My cheeks reddened as if his hands were trailing feather-light fingertips over my skin but my body instinctively responded, muscles easing up, relaxing under his masterful touch. I couldn't stop the contented sigh from escaping my lips and Harper growled beside me, his grip now becoming painfully tight on my waist.

"Cut it out, seer before I forget my manners," he warned.

Josiah recoiled immediately and I almost moaned in frustration, suddenly feeling empty without the warmth of him inside my head.

The seer smiled, his face a picture of pure mocking innocence. "You know how it works, Harper. You either want my help or you don't." He folded his arms across his broad chest. "I can hardly help it if I can reach the places you can't."

"Fuck this," Harper snarled, glaring at Garrick. "We can do this without him. I told you this was a bad idea. He's just screwing with us."

"No, assassin," Josiah laughed coldly. "I'm just screwing with you. And you make it so fucking easy. I don't need to delve inside your head to read you like a book."

Harper's body tensed against mine and I knew he was going to strike, I felt it in the anger that was building around him like the blackest of clouds and I saw it in Garrick's face, that horrible anticipation of the inevitable rage he knew his brother was about to unleash.

I turned my face into Harper's chest, clutching at the fabric of his T-shirt. "Please don't," I whispered.

In a strange, uncharacteristic move, he slumped against the desk, his stance quite defeated. His emerald eyes searched mine. Brushing a lock of hair off my face, he let his fingers trail along my jawline, never breaking eye contact until finally he pulled me against him and I collapsed into his embrace, for once accepting the stilted intimacy that usually filled me with cold fear.

"Fuck you, Josiah," he rumbled gruffly. "If it gets you off goading me, then fine. But you will help her, or I'll be forced to put my more than adequate skills as a hired killer to good use again. And I won't demand money to bleed the life out of you, I'll do that shit for free, gladly."

I waited for Josiah to end the meeting then and there. I waited for him to reject Harper's plea for help, because I was sure that part of him wanted to, despite the threat hanging over him. Instead, his white gaze wandered over me, his expression unreadable.

"Alright, assassin," he said, finally. "I'll help. But I will discuss my terms with Megan. Alone."

"Out of the fucking question," Garrick interjected angrily, stepping forward. "I told you that the debt is mine. I will pay whatever the cost."

"I believe it is my prerogative to charge whatever I like to whomever I wish, considering it is my services that I am providing here. And I wish to make the deal with Megan. Now you have every right to refuse of course, in which case we all walk away now and you leave her to her fate. But know this: I can help her find the answers she is looking for. I can help ease her pain. If you care about her as much as you say you do, you will allow me to negotiate with her and her alone."

Still gripping Harper, I felt the twist of the voices as they pulled on me from all sides, clawing at my hands and feet, clutching at my limbs, crushing bone and muscle. I wanted to curl into a ball. I wanted to dig my nails into my palms and cry out my agony into the cold ground. Staring at Josiah, I said the words before I could even consider the implications. I was too busy thinking about silence. Pure, sweet silence.

"I'll do it," I said. "I'll make the deal with you."

*******

With just Josiah and I in the room, it felt even more crowded and claustrophobic than it had before. I felt the shadows converging, crowding the space that Garrick and Harper had left behind as they vacated the office to stand guard outside.

It had taken what seemed like an age of angry whispers and fervent arguments, before finally and reluctantly, they had relented to my insistence that I would handle Josiah's demands. The way I saw it, we didn't really have much of a choice anyway. It was either this or throw myself willingly to the baying wolves of purgatory.

Josiah's eyes travelled over my wilting form and I wondered what he saw when he looked at me; what he really saw. Could he see him? Michael? It made me want to scratch ferociously at my skin just to think about him, living inside me like some kind of angelic parasite, destroying the host body like I was nothing, just skin and bone in which to hide while he bided his time, and for what exactly? I had no idea. Josiah was right. I wanted answers. I needed answers.

"So," he smirked. "You're the beast's girl that has caused so much ruckus in the Garrick clan? I've got to hand it to you. I haven't seen so much fight in those boys since Benjamin was alive. And there's got to be something about you to have Harper crawling out from his hidey-hole."

"Why do you hate him so much?" I said.

"Well aren't you a perceptive little thing?" he said, laughing, and moved closer.

"Hardly," I snapped. "It's clear there's no love lost. What's the deal between you two anyway?"

"Just a bit of bad blood, I guess you could say. What's the deal between you and him then? Is that just bad blood too? God knows he's got enough to go around."

"Wow, you've got it bad, haven't you?" I mocked.

"Do you think so?" He loomed over me and I stiffened, backing up against the table, my backside perching on the edge as he placed his hands on either side of my hips, leaning in close. He smelled good despite the sweat that still lingered on his skin. "Well I guess I'm just like a dog with a bone sometimes. Once I've sunk my teeth in, I lock on and never let go. Besides, you're the one still hanging onto his coattails . Maybe you're the one who's got it bad? Still, that's no surprise. It's what he does and he's bloody good at it too, I'll give him that."

"Good at what?" I frowned.

"Infecting people. Harper Cain is like a virus. He gets under your skin, into your veins, infests your mind. Not to mention all the other places." His eyes ran down my body and back up again, his gaze steady. "Everyone who comes into contact with him gets destroyed one way or the other. It's like death by association. Benjamin, Jenny. Soon it will be you and Garrick. No one is untouchable. And even the ones that don't die might as well be dead anyway. They might be living and breathing but they're stone cold dead on the inside. There's nothing behind the eyes. They're as rotten and decayed as those souls endlessly lost in the dark."

"A tad melodramatic, don't you think?" I said, scornfully.

"You'll see." He smiled, but the ominous tone in his voice sent a chill creeping over my skin. "They don't call him the assassin for no reason. Remember that."

"What exactly is it that you want, Josiah?" I said coldly.

"Maybe I just wanted the chance to get you all on your own. See what all the fuss is about. You've got the Garrick brothers falling over themselves to help you. You've got the Varúlfur all furred up. Maybe I just want a taste of the angelic life too?" He inched closer still, pushing me back as his thighs brushed against mine.

"No offence but I'm no Julia Roberts and you're certainly no Richard Gere. If you're looking for me to pay you Pretty Woman style, you're living in the wrong movie."

Josiah stared intently at me for a moment, before throwing his head back and laughing, so loud and deep that it rocked his whole body. When he looked at me again, I almost thought I saw a mischievous glint sparkling in his white eyes. "Fair enough darling, but trust me, you don't know what you're missing. You see, we seers don't just fuck you here." He placed his hand on the small of my back, tugging me against him. "We fuck you here as well." His other hand touched my forehead, fingertips caressing my temple. "I might not be Richard Gere but one night with me and I just might cure you of that nasty Cain addiction you have."

"Well if I need addiction therapy, I'll be sure to call you," I retorted, narrowing my eyes. "Any chance we can get down to business and quit the verbal foreplay?"

"Ooh, now I see what the Garrick boys have got themselves all worked up about. I wonder if Michael really knew what he was letting himself in for when he created you?" He grinned, but there was a sudden warmth in his smile. Moving away, but barely far enough to allow me room to take a breath, Josiah studied me, his blank white eyes overtly lingering on my face.

"So Lucius was right? Michael did create me? Why? I'm inclined to agree with Garrick, why on earth would an Archangel need a human to fight his battles? It just doesn't make any sense to me."

"Well I've got to be honest, not much of what they do makes sense. There's always a logic to it of course, but I don't always understand their plans. Who really does?"

"You didn't answer my question."

"Maybe I don't know the answer to that one," he shot back.

"Liar."

"See? Told you that you were perceptive." He hesitated, sucking on his bottom lip as if mulling something over in his mind. He drew closer again, only this time he sat on the side of the table next to me, the old wood creaking painfully under his weight. "Look, let's get one thing straight about all this. You are part of something huge here. Archangels, demons, God and Lucifer themselves. It might seem fantastical but it's real. Dangerously real because when the angels start resorting to trickery to achieve their plans, you know some serious shit is about to go down."

"Trickery?" I asked.

"Just as we are expected to live by certain rules, so are the angels. If you think mankind has got it bad, you want to spend a day in the life of the Archangels. Imagine working in an office with no new technology. Your boss still uses an archaic filing system, he's got a Filofax instead of a Blackberry, he hasn't even got dial-up Internet because he doesn't even know what the Internet is. You walk into that office every day with its dusty old furniture, the decor hasn't been changed since it was first decorated, and every day it's like stepping back in time. God's a bit of an Old Timer, to say the least. I'm not saying he doesn't understand that the world has changed, of course he does, but he still wants to work in the old ways. He's God after all. He invented the rules. And as far as he is concerned, new world or not, everything should still run according to his fundamental laws."

"And we're talking about the Commandments here?" 

"Yeah and trust me, sweetheart, it ain't no Charlton Heston epic. We are talking about laws written by God himself that people are expected to abide by. No questions. No short-cuts. No grey areas. But it's those grey areas that are causing the problems. Take the laws of good and evil for a start. If person commits a good act for selfish purposes, for instance to gain fame or money, does it make them good? If a person commits an evil act, let's say murder for example, but they do it to save someone else, is it still evil? Thou shall not kill, He says. There's no leeway there for extenuating circumstances. The order is plain and simple. It doesn't say thou shall not kill, unless of course you have a very good reason. It says, don't do it. Ever. So that immediately puts a hell of a lot of people on the Naughty Step. And what about Adultery? Now there's one you can relate to. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's wife. Or husband. Or mother-in-law. Whatever. Oh oh." He waggled his finger like a schoolteacher scolding a child. "That's another hundred thousand off to the clink. So you see? God made these laws at the beginning of creation and, of course, he had the greatest of intentions. This is what will make you a good person in the eyes of your Lord, he thought. Abide by these rules and you're pretty much the top fucking dog in my eyes. Here you go, walk right in through those pearly gates and make yourself right at home in my illustrious kingdom. For thousands of years, the Archangel Michael has been charged with deciding who makes it out of purgatory and who gets sent to fester in the great burning bowels of Hell. And that's not a job I'd want, that's for sure. That's one weighty responsibility but he does it nevertheless, only he's reporting in to the Big Man and the Big Man isn't making it easy on him."

He shifted slightly so he could look directly at me and I felt dwarfed by him sitting so close. I also yearned for his touch again. It had felt good to feel him inside, his delicate feather-light touch in complete contrast to the man that now sat beside me.

"What Michael has done here is not strictly within the rules. It's not against them of course, but he's twisted laws to do this and the Archangels don't risk His wrath for no reason. The last angels to do that ended up on the wrong side of the gates."

"Why is it twisting the rules?" I asked. "I know Archangels are not permitted to procreate, that's how the Nephilim were created, but I'm not Michael's child, am I?"

Josiah shrugged. "No, he created you, your body, your life and then he took a piece of himself, of his life force, and instilled it in your body. We're not talking possession here, but it's pretty bloody close to it and possession is the work of the Devil and his cohorts, not the work of the angels. That shit is strictly forbidden."

"So he's managed to get away with it because it's not possession and it's not procreation?" I mused. "But that still doesn't tell me why he did it? If he's the one leading the dead out of purgatory, why does he need help? I've seen them, Josiah. I hear them all the time and they're crushing me with their voices. There's something not right about all this. This responsibility shouldn't be mine and yet I feel like it's mine alone."

Josiah stared at me intently before sighing and looking away, his shoulders sagging a little.

"You do know. You saw," I accused.

"I saw....something. I could be wrong."

"But you're never wrong, are you? You see what is there, like Lucius, you see the truth."

"Yeah," he said softly, his brows furrowing. "But it was only a fleeting image. I was only inside you for a few seconds."

"Then try again," I insisted firmly.

"You're sure about this?"

"I wouldn't have agreed to negotiate with you otherwise. I have to know what I'm dealing with here."

Josiah's mouth twitched at the corners, before breaking out into a wry smile. "Well, that's alright then. Nothing like a bit of consensual mind-fucking." He stood up, moving in front of me like he had before, parting my knees so my thighs were on either side of his. Then he forced me to lie back on my elbows. My breath quickened immediately as he leaned over me on the table, his muscular body brushing against mine. "Don't break contact. Just relax. This won't hurt a bit, I promise."

That glint flashed across his eyes again and I felt him, a tentative push against my mind, so soft and light that I couldn't stop the sigh from escaping my lips. I opened up completely, letting him fill me. The warmth was spreading downwards, radiating from my head and tingling down my neck and upper body. I closed my eyes, revelling in his touch. "Open your eyes," he whispered and I did so, staring up into his face, noting how his lips were slightly parted and feeling his warm breath on my skin. His touch grew more insistent, still gentle but growing in confidence as he moved within me. He pushed again, firmer this time and as he pressed down on me, his touch reaching so deep inside, I moaned out loud. He smiled again and I noticed the beads of sweat forming on his forehead once more, his dark skin shining with perspiration. Shifting underneath him, I drew up my legs and tightened my thighs around his hips and he responded immediately, bearing down on me until our noses were almost touching. Suddenly a darkness crossed his face; the smile faltered and the laughter lines smoothed out as his eyes widened a little. Whatever he saw caused him to withdraw slightly and I gripped his waist as if holding onto him would stop his touch from leaving my mind.

"No," I groaned.

He gasped and recoiled, trying to untangle my legs from around his waist. "Let go, Megan," he said, panicked. "Let go for fuck's sake."

And then he was gone, throwing himself across the room, leaving me cold and empty, except for the frustration that burned across my skin. Scowling, I sat up and pulled my knees in tight, feeling stupid and embarrassed, wracked by some kind of post-mind-coital humiliation. His broad chest heaved in and out as if he'd just done ten rounds in the ring but his eyes didn't leave me once. His face was troubled, wary even. The silence stung. I wrapped my arms around myself, hating that I wanted him back inside my head and hating him from pulling out too soon.

"Wh-what did you see?" I stammered.

"You mean to say that you don't know?" he frowned.

I shook my head. "I don't know what you mean."

"You asked me a question. You asked me why this responsibility is yours and yours alone. Well, I looked everywhere. I searched the darkness and all I could see was them, stretching out across the miles, just sea upon sea of the dead, all flocking towards the way out. And it's just you there, like a pinprick of light in unfathomable darkness. Just you."

I stared at him, feeling the nausea begin to take root in the pit of my stomach, feeling the dizziness cloud my already aching head and feeling the cold grip me like never before. The moment the words fell from his lips, it all made sense and the knowledge cut through me like the sharpest shard of broken glass, tearing skin, ripping sinew and spilling blood.

"He's not there, is he?"

Josiah shook his head, the shadows highlighting the white of his eyes. "No, he's not there."

The cries grew louder, the weight of so many voices surging forwards, fighting to reach that pinprick of light, that grey area in the gloom surrounded on all sides by the lost and tortured. I was surrounded. And what's more, I was all alone.

"Then where is he, Josiah?" I whispered. "Where the hell is Michael?"