A loud electronic whirring buzzed furiously and a shrill alarm resounded as the huge shutter doors began to open, stark grey giving way to a sliver of dark indigo. A rush of cool air hit my face.

Beside me, Brandon exhaled a small gasp and behind us the Varúlfur emitted a strange keening sound, almost melodic in tone, and it wasn't long before I realised why.

Seeming closer than usual, the moon shone big and bright, so full and round in a perfectly clear night sky. Under normal circumstances I would have gasped too, enraptured by its beauty, instead I silently cursed it for what it was; a blue moon, not because of its colour, but because of its rare occurrence, the second full moon in a calendar month and the only night upon which The Lost's blood could be used to open the Gates of Hell.

I'd always wondered how I would feel seeing the Blue Moon for the first time, ever since I'd found out that it was on this night that Lucius could be killed. I'd fretted over its power and whether or not the angel inside would force my hand and make me commit the vile act that Michael had created me to do. But standing here now, looking up at its pale luminosity, I felt nothing but coldness, one that ran its icy touch along my veins, leaving me feeling numb and lost.

I felt Brandon shudder beside me as he stared up into the skies, with a look that bordered on ecstasy, his lips parted slightly, a small smile tugging on one corner of his widened mouth.

"God, that's beautiful," he murmured. "Isn't it beautiful, Megs?"

But I was no longer looking at the moon.

Directly outside the now fully-open shutters, a large expanse of scrubland, probably once the landing strip, stretched out into the distance. Hardy tufts of grass had invaded cracks in the tarmac, vicious-looking nettle bushes flourished and the open space was flanked on both sides by thick gnarled woodland.

And there, not more than about fifty metres ahead, was Lucius, ankles and wrists bound, lying trussed up on the ground, like he was nothing more than a pig destined for the slaughterhouse. Drachmann stood over him, but it was me he was looking at, an exultant smile on his cruel thin lips.

"Come on, let's get this over with," said Brandon, grabbing my shoulder and pulling me forwards. Like it was trivial. Like it was nothing. 

Behind us, the rest of the clan began to emerge from the hangar, some stumbling along on their hind legs, their stuttering gait looking ghastly in the moonlight, others running on all fours, streaming out in their droves. They crowded around like ghouls awaiting the execution, saliva dribbling from their mouths, the light giving their greasy coats an oil slick sheen. All of them seemed slightly stunned by the sight of the moon and kept casting their eyes skywards, looking almost dazed as they looked up.

Lucius lay still on the ground, his big solemn eyes fixed on me as we approached, Brandon bringing me to a halt just a few metres away. Dirt smudged the little boy's cheekbone and the dust from the ground covered his clothes in patches of fine grey powder. The fear he'd shown before seemed to have gone, replaced by that stoic acceptance that always had me in awe. Lucius possessed courage like no one I knew, constantly managing to conjure up more no matter how the odds were stacked against him. Sometimes I wondered whether he did it for me. His way of saying hey, I'm fine and I'm a kid, so you shouldn't be scared. But it wasn't going to work this time. I was scared, probably more than I'd ever been in my whole life.

A flash of steel glinted in Drachmann's hand and I dropped to my knees when I saw it, as if someone had punched me square in the gut, knocking the air from my lungs in one fell swoop.

It was that blade. That terrifying hand-scythe that had been used to gouge Harper's stomach.

Tears pricked my eyes, my face hot with such unfathomable panic that I could barely breathe.

"And so, vampire," sneered Drachmann. "You finally get a taste of failure, just like so many before you. I must confess, I had begun to wonder with Michael had succeeded in finding us a worthy opponent, after all this time, but no." He gave me a withering look. "It seems you are just as pathetic and pointless as all the others. Although, I must offer you my most sincere gratitude for making this victory ever the sweeter. I shall enjoy your pain almost as much as I will enjoy the child's."

I lifted my gaze to meet his. "I'm going to kill you," I said, through gritted teeth. "I'm going to make you scream louder than Asbeel."

"Oh no, my dear." He leant forward, pointed at me with the scythe. "I think you will find that it is you that will scream."

Brandon stared hard at Drachmann for a moment, his cheek muscles twitching with outward tension. He swallowed before looking up at the skies, closing his eyes briefly as he exhaled. "Say your goodbyes, Megs."

On my knees, I shuffled closer to Lucius, forcing myself to look at him, even though it ripped my heart into pieces.

"Hey, kiddo," I whispered.

"Hello, Megan."

"I screwed up big time here, didn't I?"

"No. You remembered. You're still you."

I tried to stifle the sob and failed miserably, feeling it burn in my throat. "It doesn't matter. I was too late. I remembered too late."

"It matters," he replied. "It will be okay, you know."

I shook my head. "Why do you always say that? Why do you always say it will be okay?"

"Because it will. You'll see." He gave me a small almost-shy smile. "Watch for the light."

"W-what?" I said, bewildered. Light? What light?

Brandon crouched down beside me and brushed a lock of hair off my face. "Come on," he said. "Prolonging it will only make it more difficult."

Turning my head to glance at him, I wondered where he had gone: my husband. Had he ever been there? Had the face I'd woken up to all those years ever really been his? Or had he always been this monster?

"Difficult?" I sneered. "Fuck, Bran, you don't even understand the meaning of the word. You want to know what difficult is, just wait until you get me in this new world of yours. You think you can make me love you? Make me want you? I'm going to hate you. In fact, every day that goes by I'm going to hate you a little bit more until hating you is the only thing left keeping me going. And every time you come to me, forcing yourself on me, I'm going to watch a little bit of you die inside when you realise just how much I despise you. So you can take whatever the Hell you want from me, but you'll never get my love again. You'll never get your wife back. She's dead and all that's left is hate."

I watched his expression falter, watched the full force of my words sink under his skin.

"If she's dead, then so are you," he hissed, grabbing a handful of my hair and yanking me to my feet. "You think I would live like that? If I can't have your love, I won't stand for your hate."

"Oh yeah, well then go ahead and kill me, Bran." I laughed in his face. Come on, Great Wolf, stop making threats and do it. Or do you have to ask your master's permission?"

With a howl of rage, he threw me down and my face hit the broken tarmac hard. I was sure I must have lost a few layers of skin as the scent of my blood rose into the air instantly and the stinging pain spread like fire down my cheek. Around us, the beasts all roared their approval, edging ever closer as if desperate to rip me to shreds.

"Vánagandr!" Drachmann called out, high and shrill, and I detected the note of panic in the old man's voice. "You will not do this!"

Brandon, who was already bending over me, his fists clenched and chest heaving, stopped abruptly. His head jerked in Drachmann's direction.

"Ask him," I said. "Ask your master over there if what Asbeel told me is true. Ask him if Lucifer really is going to give me to you. Or whether he's going to keep me for himself."

The old man glared at me in alarm.

"They're using you, Bran," I persisted. "They're using all of you. They can't do this without you and they know it."

"Fool!" spat Drachmann. "She's goading you. Tricking you. Are you really going to fall for her lies again?"

Brandon flinched, but I'd already seen it. The doubt. Tiny flickers of hazel in the pools of venomous yellow.

"You know I'm telling the truth about this," I urged him. "Otherwise why wouldn't he let you kill me?"

"Vánagandr, the girl speaks nothing but falsehood. She'll say anything to turn your head and keep you from your true destiny. Michael himself has probably put her up to this."

"Shut up!" snarled Brandon, clutching at his head, suddenly looking very unsteady on his feet. "Stop!"

Drachmann's lips curled back from his teeth as he looked at him. "You pathetic - "

But his furious cries were drowned out in a great crescendo of noise that was approaching fast, growing louder and louder, like the angry whirring of many engines whizzing around a race track. The Varúlfur's heads whipped in the direction of the sound which was coming from the end of the long landing strip, the road beyond veering off into the distance. Fur bristled down their backs, ears pinned back, clearly sensing danger in the air.

Something was coming. Something that none of them had expected.

When the noise exploded in the stretches of woodland either side of the hangar, they began to break off in packs, instinctively forming a defensive stance against whatever threat now surrounded them. But nothing could have prepared them for the lights which hit from all sides, blazing out from between the trees and then with a dazzling intensity, straight ahead at the end of the landing strip, so many lights that I had to press my face into the dirt to shield them from the glare.

Momentarily dazed from the blinding brightness, the Varúlfur weren't ready for the first car that burst into the clearing, slamming into those closest to the edge, coming at them so fast that it sent the huge beasts flying into the air. Those that didn't get clipped, scattered, desperately trying to get away from the oncoming vehicles that were now screaming down the landing strip, only to then have to contend with the multitude of motorbikes that came careering out from the trees, black helmeted bikers swerving in and out of the melee, each with a passenger riding on the back, guns at the ready. Mayhem erupted all around as the beasts tried to swipe at them, their howls carrying up into the night sky.

When the first crackles of gunfire began to ring out, I gasped as a bullet caught Brandon, only skimming his arm, but enough to send a light spray of blood arcing into the air. Instantly he fell to his hands and knees by my side and with a roar of such inhuman rage, the Great Wolf finally burst free from the flesh with so much force that I felt the air shift around me and the heat of his transformation hit my face. Skin tore with ease, bones cracked like they were nothing and with a startling speed, Brandon was gone and in his place, Vánagandr crouched low to the ground, looking larger and infinitely more terrifying than the rest of his clan, his poisonous animal eyes alert and ready.

Lying helplessly so close to him, I could clearly see the now-insignificant wound on his forearm, a small patch of blood glistening on his thick glossy fur. The muscles in his back rippled, his legs tensed and with that, he pushed down and flung himself into the air, catching a bike that had strayed too close, enveloping the biker's head in his strong jaws. Clamping down with a sickening crunch, he tore it clean from the biker's neck, tossing it away like it was nothing. Blood dripped dark and thick from his muzzle. The passenger who'd been thrown clear of the bike, lay stunned on the ground, unable to escape Vánagandr's wrath and I watched powerless to do anything as the Great Wolf launched himself at the fallen biker, raising his huge forearm and striking down hard. His long deadly claws sliced easily through flesh and the female biker's muffled shrieks came from inside the helmet, feet hammering against the ground in agonised frenzy as the stench of vampire blood hit my senses and intestines spilled out of the great gaping hole.

The clearing was alive with gun shots, screams, snarls and the persistent growl of engines and with Vánagandr now preoccupied with the fight, I rolled myself over with a grunt, barely allowing myself a sigh of relief to see Lucius right where he'd been bound. I had to get to him. I had to reach him somehow.

"Megan!" The voice rang out across the clearing. That voice. His voice. I craned my neck to find its source, to find him.

A gap broke in the battling bodies of Varúlfur and vampire and there, at last, I saw him, already spattered with blood, charging through the brawl, cutting down any beast that dared to cross his path, with his lethal serrated-edged blades in both hands. Ever the warrior. Ever the assassin.

Harper. Mine. 

It felt like an age since I'd seen his face, since I'd seen the competent way in which he moved in battle. He whirled, parried, bulldozed his way towards me, sweat glistening on his skin under the moonlight, and close to his side, working in complete harmony with his every move almost as if it was choreographed, was Fenton, who expertly picked off any beast that got too close with a perfectly executed shot to the head or chest. Their skills were breath-taking to watch, moving in tandem with each other like they'd been doing this for years, like they didn't even need to think about it. Where one defended, the other attacked and they constantly switched roles, covering each other's backs, a perfect combination of Fenton's military expertise and Harper's cunning and power. It was seamless and so natural that for a second I was transfixed by it, until an ear-splitting shriek sent an icy dagger-like chill straight to my heart.

Looking up, my eyes widened, mouth opening in panic as Drachmann came bearing down upon me, his face full of dark fury. Small fissures had begun to spread across his skin, splitting open like a network of black veins and from within the thin, ragged tributaries there emitted a deep purple-black glow, sickly and powerful in its nature.

"Yeqon," I gasped.

The demon grinned as he rolled me onto my back with a strength that belied his old frail body and he raised his arm into the air above his head, the small hand-scythe glinting wickedly.

"I'll have fun with you yet," he said, slicking his tongue across his thin lips. "You're not the only one who enjoys the taste of blood and I will enjoy yours, vampire. I'll enjoy it very much indeed."

The scythe came down in a wide arc but the bullet caught him first, slicing deep into his neck and he dropped the blade, narrowly missing my head as it clattered to the ground beside me. I turned to see Fenton, face determined, aiming the gun to make another shot just as another Varúlfur came charging at him from the side, knocking him off balance as he fired, the bullet veering wide of the mark.

Thrown to his knees beside me, Drachmann clutched at his throat, where dirty, black blood was pumping from the wound, seeping out between his fingers. More began to dribble from his mouth, oozing down his chin. He made a garbled, choking sound and his eyes bulged from their sockets.

My hope turned to horror when I saw it: that purple-black light was enveloping his fingers, spreading up his hands in the same way that my powers did, and then with thumb and forefinger, he probed the bloodied hole in his neck, digging into his own flesh, which made a sick squelching sound. Removing the bullet that had been lodged deep inside, he studied it for a second, holding it delicately before dropping it to the floor. With his other hand he pressed his palm against the wound, using the dark energy to fuse the skin back together, until finally it was as if the bullet had never torn through his flesh at all.

With a screech of triumph, he climbed to his feet and raised his hands, sending a blast of power directly at me. I screamed as it hit, my whole body stiffening on impact as if a thousand volts were coursing through me. I felt it crackling deep into bone, crushing muscle, spreading its sickness through my veins. The agony was unbearable, never relenting, sending my body into spasms as it tightened its grip causing the putrid glow to emanate from every pore. And all the while it tortured me, I knew it for what it was: angelic power, Fallen power; and I was completely at its mercy, unable to do anything but clench my fists and feel it weaken my body more with every passing second.

Chuckling, Drachmann stepped over me, like I was of no consequence to him anymore and retrieving the scythe from the ground, he grasped Lucius and began to drag him away from the chaos. Away from me.

I was grounded, weakened and knew it was only a matter of time before a Varúlfur found me, unless of course Drachmann decided to come and finish me off first. Screams echoed through the air. The stench of blood, beast and engine oil stung my nostrils. Vánagandr's battle roar resounded loud and fierce. The pounding of footsteps on tarmac vibrated under my head, getting closer and closer. Coming my way. Coming for me.

"Megan!" Panic resounded in Harper's voice as he threw himself down beside me, kicking up dust as he fell to his knees. He was here, finally he was here and I could scarcely believe it as his face came into focus, damp hair falling over his eyes. I gasped as he reached out a hand to touch me.

"No," I groaned through gritted teeth. "D-don't touch me ...the light ...don't t-touch the light."

"What the fuck is that stuff?"

He pointed and even though my head felt like a leaden weight, I strained to look down to where the chains were wrapped around my chest, only to discover that now they weren't chains at all, but binds of thick black mulch, squirming and glistening like snakes, shrinking and loosening as if desperate to be free of my body. I remembered the gates in Michael's annex prison, remembered how I had known that only another angel, Fallen or otherwise, could break the enchantment that kept them locked and I knew instantly that Drachmann must have done this. In his efforts to attack me he had destroyed the one thing keeping me imprisoned.

Inside, I felt it stir: my angel within, tentatively at first and most definitely still weakened by the effect of the chains, but no longer numb, no longer dormant. A rush of adrenalin spiked in my blood, like the sweetest of hits straight to the vein and I closed my eyes for a second, letting the first waves of energy filter through me. I swore I heard the chains hiss like a living thing as they began to shrivel, unravelling and drying up until finally, they dissolved into nothing, leaving black stains on my shirt where they'd been wound tightly around me.

Gulping in air, I clutched hold of Harper and he quickly pulled me to my feet, wrapping his arms around my waist to hold me steady. His lips lightly brushed my forehead and his eyes met mine, saying everything we couldn't voice out loud.

A body nudged my back and another shot rang out close to my ear.

Fenton. He grinned briefly, but with dirt and blood covering half of his face, it looked much closer to a grimace than a smile.

"If you two could leave the lovelorn reunion until after the battle, I'd really fucking appreciate it. To your right, Cain!"

An ugly snarl tore through the air directly at us and Harper let go just in time to slice the jugular of a Varúlfur that had charged at him. Its plaintive, pained whine grated on my ears as it fell to the ground, thrashing and jerking. The blood gushed from the wound in great torrents and Harper went at it again, this time plunging one of his blades into the beast's stomach, right up to the hilt.

Coming to my senses, I stumbled away, keeping my eyes fixed on Drachmann, who was still fighting his way through the melee, stopping once to swipe the scythe at a vampire that dared to take him on, catching him expertly across the neck so hard that it almost severed the vampire's head from his body.

The area outside the hangar was thick with battle now and no sooner had the demon despatched one vampire, another tried to block his path and he was forced to stop, barking orders to some nearby Varúlfur to protect him. I began to run, hearing Harper frantically calling my name behind me as I jumped over the fallen bodies of vampire and Varúlfur alike. Willing my trembling legs to keep going, I raised my hands out in front of me, just as Drachmann grabbed Lucius' hair, yanking back the boy's head to expose his tiny pale throat.

"Yeqon!" I cried out in rage. The demon's head snapped up and I saw the shock ripple through him, but the semi-circular blade was already descending, already cutting through the air.

The pulse of energy that blasted from my hands was so strong and so intense that it almost knocked me off course, but I grinned as it hit Drachmann square in the gut, enough to force him to drop Lucius and go staggering backwards. The power was building around my inner core, winding around my bones, stretching out inside until I could feel it in every part of me. I held up my palms, letting the heat grow, pulsate, holding it there even though I knew it was itching to be released and I hurled myself at the demon, grasping hold of him and sending us both tumbling to the ground.

From somewhere far off, even though I knew he wasn't far behind, I could still hear Harper shouting my name, could still hear the sound of the fight raging all around me and Vánagandr's awful howling, but right then I was consumed by the sound of the angel roaring its battle cry inside me, a voice that reverberated in my skull, urging me onwards.

"Noooo! You will not! You will not!"

Drachmann struggled underneath me, his shrieks reaching glass-shattering levels as I pinned down his arm with a flare of energy, hearing the satisfying crack of bone. He screamed again when I pressed my glowing hands down on his face, covering his eyes with my thumbs. The noxious stench of burning flesh drifted up.

When a sharp blow to my side sent an explosion of pain rocketing through my body, I held firm through the agony and pushed down harder, watching the black fissures on his face begin to glow with a fierce white heat as my power hungrily consumed his. Little tendrils of smoke began to snake upwards from the cracks in his skin and I felt the nauseating pop of his eyeballs and a stickiness under the pads of my thumbs.

He was burning now; burning from the inside out, his human body no match for angelic rage that could split the skies in two, bring down mountains and send great tsunamis rolling through the seas. His power was no match for Michael's, no match for mine and I sent every last bit of hatred I had for him deep inside, finally stumbling away as the fire consumed his still-writhing body.

I fell to the ground beside Lucius, clutching at my side and finding the end of the scythe buried a couple of inches just above my waist. I hissed through my teeth as I pulled on the engraved handle, easing the curved blade from my flesh. Blood pumped freely from the small deep wound and I lifted my shirt gingerly, pressing my hand against the jagged hole. I dropped back onto one elbow as Harper reached me, but I brushed away his hands, gesturing towards Lucius instead.

"Lucius," I said, insistently. "Cut him free, quick."

He did as I said, crouching down next to the boy and slicing carefully through the ropes that bound him. With a grimace, I willed the heat to rise again in my palm that was now slick with my own blood and it did instantly, making me cry out as it seared my skin like a scorching iron, fusing the broken flesh back together. As soon as it was done, Lucius threw himself at me, wrapping his bony arms tightly around my neck and squeezing hard. I hugged him back.

"Damn Lucius, squeeze anymore and you'll succeed where Drachmann failed."

Fenton appeared, leaping over a pile of bodies and crouching low, his eyes ever alert as he expertly reloaded his gun, barely even watching what he was doing. He glanced at the smoldering body of the demon and raised a brow.

"I take it you won't be needing a gun?" he said, before taking aim at a Varúlfur about to lunge at an injured vampire not far from where we were. The animal went down hard, rolling in the dirt.

"You okay?" said Harper, nodding at my now-scarred side.

"Oh, never better," I replied, quickly scanning the clearing. "Harper, who the Hell are all these people? I don't recognise half of them." Faces I didn't know were scattered around, some already dead, many still fighting. "Where did you find them?"

"They're from groups outside the city mostly, associates of Benjamin's from the old days. You can thank Fenton for persuading them to finally join the fight."

"Your boyfriend is being modest," Fenton called out. "He can be very charming when he wants to be. I know that's hard to believe, mind you."

"When were you two going to tell me you'd fallen in love?" I asked, clasping hold of Lucius' gloved hand and pulling him over to where Fenton was taking cover. I peered over the top of the dead Varúlfur bodies, wrinkling my nose at the stench, my eyes widening when I saw a familiar figure, a face I did know, fighting amongst the throng.

Josiah moved with brutish force and was deceptively quick for someone of his size. Dressed head to toe in black, he fired off surprisingly accurate shots and dodged attacks with remarkable speed, lunging forward using the blade he held in his other hand. His knife skills were impressive and I admit I was stunned to know he could fight as well as this, considering he had spent much of his life looking after Caelan and not associating with other vampires.

"Yeah," said Harper gruffly, catching the direction of my gaze. "I was surprised too."

"Actually I'm surprised you didn't kill him," I remarked.

Fenton smirked. "It wasn't without trying. Turns out Josiah's pretty handy in a fight though."

"He beat you?" I gasped, looking at Harper, whose expression soured instantly.

"Don't be fucking ridiculous," he snapped.

A tumultuous roar resounded, like a crack of thunder splitting the Heavens and we all turned in the direction of the noise, mouths opening in horror as a battered SUV hurtled directly towards Vánagandr. I caught a brief glimpse of Edward behind the wheel, before the Great Wolf caught the side of the car and with one almighty sweep of his muscular forearm, he sent the vehicle flipping upside down as if it were nothing but a toy car. The SUV hit the ground with a crunch, the axel giving way at the back, windows shattering and it rolled twice before spinning and slamming into the side of the hangar, the bonnet crumpling inwards. Inside the car, looking dazed and bloodied, Edward shook his head and frantically began to try and start the ignition. The engine choked and faltered as Vánagandr began to charge towards the stalled and now smoking vehicle.

"Oh my god, Edward!" I cried, but Harper was already jumping over the barricade of bodies, arms pumping by his sides as he ran.

"Fuck," hissed Fenton, quickly clambering after him, firing off shots at any Varúlfur that got too close.

But neither them nor Vánagandr could reach the SUV in time.

With a boom, the car exploded, the force of the blast knocking Harper, who was closer, off his feet and sending Fenton diving for cover, rolling into a ball and covering his head with his hands. The Great Wolf staggered backwards as the inferno erupted, flames shooting hungrily into the air and consuming anyone unlucky enough to be too close when the car had exploded. Engulfed by the fire, two vampires and a Varúlfur, threw themselves to the ground, their agonised screams too unbearable to listen to and I clapped my hands over Lucius' ears and pulled him close, shielding his view from the burning thrashing bodies even though I knew he'd already witnessed far worse in what I'd just done to Drachmann.

A distraught Harper climbed to his feet and began to stagger towards the inferno but Fenton quickly grabbed him by the arm, urging him to stop. It was futile of course. Suicide, even, because Edward was gone and nothing but the blistering heat remained, spreading fast up the side of the hangar and as I watched Harper tussle with Fenton, his face twisted with grief, I understood immediately just what Edward had meant to him. He'd been one of the only ones left who'd fought side by side with Benjamin Garrick, one of the only ones who still remembered the old days, maybe even one of the only ones who'd always believed in Harper.

With anger roiling in my gut, I got shakily to my feet, balling my hands into fists. The rage boiled within and I welcomed it, using the palms of my hands to wipe away the tears that stained my cheeks and seeing the light burning hot and bright from between my fingers.

Before I could even take one step, Lucius tugged insistently on my shirt. "No, Megan! Wait," he cried, pointing across the clearing. "Look!"

Vánagandr had dropped to his knees and was now swaying, one forearm outstretched, hand clawing at the air. His back stiffened, his body jerked violently and he fell forward onto all fours, breathing hard through his mouth and nose, strong plumes of breath visible in the cool night air.

"What happened? Did he get hit?"

"No," said Lucius, still clinging onto me. "No. He is here."

I looked down at the boy, then back at Vánagandr, realisation striking fast and hard.

"Oh my god," I whispered.

Thwack. The sound of fist upon bone snapped my attention away and I watched in horror as Fenton went sprawling to the ground and Harper, having clearly realised that Fenton was no match for his strength, was running full pelt towards Vánagandr.

"No!" I shrieked. "Harper, no!"

He had no idea just what he was facing. None at all.

Breaking cover, I began to run, screaming at Josiah who was still fighting close-by, having found himself a partner-in-crime in Maggie, their mutual agility complimenting each other perfectly.

"Josiah!" I gestured wildly back at Lucius as I ran. "Stay with Lucius, look after him."

The seer took one look at the boy who was peering over the top of the dead Varúlfur with wide blue eyes and shot a glance at Vánagandr, nodding as if he understood immediately what was happening.

I was running. Running like I never had before, feeling the weight of every step, feeling the weight of what would happen if I didn't get there first, if I didn't stop Harper before it was too late.

And I saw it all like the nightmare of all slideshows.

Click. 

Vánagandr was climbing to his feet.

Click. 

Harper was fifty metres away. Forty. Thirty.

Click. 

Vánagandr was turning. He saw Harper coming straight at him and smiled. Fucking smiled. 

Click.

Harper was shouting, preparing to launch himself at Vánagandr. But it wasn't him. It wasn't Vánagandr.

It was the Smiling Man. The real God-Slayer. Lucifer. 

Click. Click. Click. 

The God-Slayer howled as he stretched, flexing muscles and getting quickly accustomed to the body which he had possessed and Harper was slowing, stopping, skidding to a halt in the dirt as the beast towered over him.

No. Don't stop. Turn around. Run. 

But Harper didn't run and I was screaming, screaming at him to get out of the way, screaming at Lucifer, screaming as my wings burst free from my back, as I tore through the air, as I hit the God-Slayer head on with so much force, that I sent us both flying across the clearing, legs and arms wrapped around each other. Deadly claws dug into my back as I tried to disentangle myself from the beast before those gnashing jaws sliced too close to my face and we hit the ground hard, smashing into a discarded motorbike that spun and smashed into the trunk of a nearby tree, shards of metal and plastic flying off in all directions.

A pulse of energy from my hands ballooned between us, forcing us apart and I felt the sharp drag of his claws score my skin as I was flung one way and he the other. I rolled, my wings retracting into the roll and then unfurling as I jumped up, one knee bent, the other stretched out behind me as I raised my hands ready to attack.

The God-Slayer also rolled, less skillfully than I had as he tried to control the huge bulk of Vánagandr, but he was soon on his feet, dropping to his haunches, heckles raised as he crouched low to the ground, poised to pounce.

A myriad of colour had overwhelmed the venomous amber irises of the Great Wolf, a flash of rainbow embedded in the thick fur.

I know I said I didn't want to meet you on the battlefield, but I have to say, you do look glorious.

I blinked as his voice echoed clearly in my head; gentle and alluring as always, with a hint of wicked glee. He was enjoying this; enjoying my surprise at his big trick, enjoying the fact I'd never seen it coming.

"Get out of my head, Lucifer," I said, wrinkling my nose with disgust and anger.

Well, I would, but it's so terribly hard to get the dog to speak. Hundreds of years of evolution and still they can't seem to string a sentence together. Frankly I'm stunned they've managed to rule your kind for so long.

"That rule is coming to an end, as will yours not even begin."

Megan, I'm hurt. I had hoped that you might come around to my way of thinking by now. You met Michael and discovered he's just as backward as our Father and yet still you resist me. 

"What's the alternative, Lucifer? Become the incubator for the new life you want to create? Thanks very much, but I'm afraid I don't have time in my busy schedule to give birth to the anti-Christ."

I'll look forward to clearing that schedule for you. And besides, you'll soon find that the practice will be worth it. Oh don't worry, I'll let you pick the face. I wonder though who you will choose; the vampire or the dog's human disguise?

"Shut up," I growled. "And get the Hell out of him now."

I don't believe I shall. This body has everything I need, with a few added improvements of my own of course. Shall we dance, dearest Megan?

Flexing his misshapen hybrid fingers, a strong dark light, not dissimilar to Drachmann's, filtered out from his palms and instantly I realised just how short-sighted we had all been to think that Vánagandr alone would have been capable of bringing the Heavens down around our heads.

The Great Wolf had never been destined to be the God-Slayer. He'd been destined to be nothing but the vessel, the host for a dark angel intent on using the body of the most formidable Varúlfur to have ever lived, coupled with his fearsome angelic powers, to challenge the very one who'd created him.

And now, only I stood in between Lucifer and his one true goal.

Letting out a thunderous roar, one that already seemed tainted with premature triumph, he charged at me, using the body that he had stolen, to cover the short distance between us. I rose up, trying to dodge his attack, but he was terrifyingly quick, and my flight upwards was too slow, the cumbersome weight of my wings stretching out behind preventing me from soaring out of his reach. His huge hand caught my foot, claws slashing at my ankle like razor blades to the Achilles and I cried out as he tightened his grip, yanking me out of the air and hurling me halfway across the clearing.

Managing to steady myself just before I hit the ground, I whirled around, shooting a blistering javelin of white heat directly at him, catching him on the collar-bone just as he dived out of the way. The stench of scorched animal fur soon mixed with the other smells from the battle, infusing the air with the noxious odours of blood and pain and death. Without barely stopping, despite the smoke that drifted up from his singed fur, Lucifer came at me again and I could hear him chuckling in my head, like this was nothing but a game to him. Filled with fury, I sent bolt after bolt at him, knowing that I had I had to hold him back and keep out of the reach from his lethal teeth and claws. The anger and frustration was reaching boiling point as he deftly deflected every shot, catapulting each pulse of energy in a different direction, setting fire to whatever happened to be in its way; bikes, cars, trees, bodies.

We came to a stop, not more than twenty metres apart, circling each other, the heat burning hot and bright in our hands, while all around us the battle still raged on. My gaze flickered to movement over his shoulder.

Behind him, amongst the burning debris, Harper and Fenton had been pulled back into the fight, surrounded by three Varúlfur that stalked them, spitting and snarling. Fenton was poised to fire, arm outstretched and taking aim, but I knew that as soon as he shot one, the others would attack. Regardless he held steady, back to back with Harper who moved warily, alert to the danger that hemmed them in. As he turned, our eyes met across the clearing, just a brief yearning contact but it was enough for Lucifer to see something in my expression and he followed my gaze, his saliva-glistened mouth stretching into a grin when he saw what had caught my attention.

With a growl, he turned, dropping to all fours and thundering directly towards Harper and Fenton, covering ground quickly as he barreled through whatever lay in his path.

"No!" I screamed and Harper's head snapped in my direction, eyes widening as he saw just what was coming straight at them.

The three waiting Varúlfur howled and Fenton, not missing the opportunity, pulled the trigger, the first bullet slamming into the exposed throat of the closest beast, blood spurting from the wound in a geyser of dark liquid. Harper had no choice but to defend an attack by one of the other advancing Varúlfur, slashing at the beast with his blades and cutting deep across the stomach while trying to avoid being disemboweled himself. Fenton turned his attention to the final attacker but I knew that neither would finish their kills in time to escape the God-Slayer. His powerful body moved with a driving force that was astonishing, muscular legs pounding the ground, getting closer and closer to his prey.

I was still screaming as I surged forwards, my wings outstretched and with no obstacles to slow me down, I streamed towards the God-Slayer, using the warm currents in the air caused by the flames to push me faster. Just before I reached him, I saw his pace falter slightly as he craned his neck to glance behind him, his eyes glinting in the moonlight and I realised too late just what he had been trying to do. He'd been luring me in, using threats against Harper and Fenton to force me into close combat. He could match my power and I, his, but physically I was no match for his sheer size and strength and with Harper and Fenton still in danger, I had no choice but to engage him head on.

All too ready for my attack, Lucifer timed his offense perfectly, turning just at the right moment and rising to his hind legs, using his height to swipe me from the air above him and drag me down. My wings beat furiously and I kicked out, desperately trying to yank myself out of his clutches, but he just pulled me tight against him, crushing me in his mighty arms. I breathed in sweat and the stench of damp, bloodied fur, heard his heart thumping wildly in his chest as flailed in his deadly embrace. I willed the heat to rise from my palms, but the light was muted, barely making an impact and I panicked, thrashing against him and unable to do anything as his claws ravaged my wings, tearing strips of feathers from the roots. With a roar that boomed in my ears, he opened his huge jaws and locked onto my shoulder, his monstrous teeth tearing at the flesh, crunching down through to the bone. The pain rolled through me in great engulfing waves that threatened to pull me under.

Gunfire cracked and the God-Slayer juddered, his grip loosening and I took the chance to force myself out of his grasp, pushing the heat at him with everything I had, which at that moment, wasn't very much at all. It was enough, however, to knock him off balance and send me propelling backwards, hurtling through the air and putting some much needed space between us. Another shot rang out and Lucifer howled with rage, sending a blast of dark energy directly at Fenton and Harper, who dived out of the way just in time as a wall of fire exploded in front of them.

I landed hard and the blood from my shoulder wound was already saturating the front of my torn shirt. Tears of pain stung my eyes, blurring my vision but I could already see Lucifer heading towards me through the smoke that was billowing up and shrouding half of the battlefield in a thick, hazy smog.

I stood up and stumbled, my legs faltering beneath me.

Something wasn't right. Something didn't feel right. 

A shadowy wooziness was overwhelming me, as if ghostly apparitions were sweeping through my body again and again, each time stealing a little bit of my energy. I felt weak and increasingly lethargic and moving each limb was becoming an effort, like trying to shift rock and not flesh, muscle and bone. My ankle was ice cold and I pulled gingerly at my jeans where the hem was soaked in blood and plastered to my skin, expecting to see a mess of swollen flesh and torn skin, and instead finding a network of black veins snaking up my leg from where his claws had gouged me. Yanking at my shirt, pulling it back from my shoulder wound, the same black veins were creeping out from the source, travelling down my chest.

Faint laughter in my head snapped my attention back to the God-Slayer, who was watching me very intently not far from where I lay, now standing perfectly still apart from the heavy rise and fall of his broad chest.

"What have you done?"

I told you I'd made some improvements to the dog. Some of them take a little more time to have an effect but when they do, well, let's just say that it's not particularly pleasant at all. 

"You've poisoned me?" And he had. I could feel it working its dark power under my skin, conquering my veins little by little, leeching my power.

What do they say? Ah yes! All's fair in love and war, Megan. Alas, only I hold the antidote to your unfortunate predicament. All you have to do is kneel and swear allegiance to me and only me. Kneel and I will bring an end to your pain. Oh, do forgive me, did I forget to mention the pain? That will come soon, I'm afraid. The venom is quite excruciating apparently. 

Gritting my teeth, I grabbed hold of the side of an upturned car, pulling myself up and leaning heavily against it. My head was spinning, nausea spiking in my gut.

Megan, please, it doesn't have to be like this. 

His voice was pleading now, almost sorrowful.

I have no desire to break you. I don't want this, truly I don't. I want you by my side. I know you understand, I can feel that you do. You know that what my Father offers is nothing but a lie to keep everyone in servitude below Him. We deserve better. 

"You mean, you deserve better."

We all do. And why shouldn't we? Please, Megan, all you have to do is say yes. Say yes and join me and together we can put right all the wrongs He has committed.

"You make a good argument, Lucifer, you always did, but you're forgetting one thing," I said with a weak smile, clenching my fist by my side, one arm still pressed against the car for support.

And what might that be? 

"I kneel to no one."

I unleashed a ball of heat directly at him, hitting him fast and hard. The first pulse caught him unaware and he reeled backwards, rocking on his heels and almost losing his footing. I kept going, having no idea how the Hell I was still able to stand, knowing that with each second Lucifer's poison was claiming another piece of me, but cold determination was driving me onwards regardless, firing blast after blast. Unable to keep up with the ferocity of my onslaught and struggling to combat each pulse of energy with his previous defensive strategy, Lucifer did the only thing he could do and he launched himself at me, using brute force to attack my already-weakened body.

He drove us backwards at terrifying speed and I unfurled my wings to their widest span, using them as an anchor to slow him down but my back still hit the side of the hangar hard, pain thundering down my spine as he crushed me up against it. With a furious scream, I pushed back at him, not with my arms but with blistering fire that ballooned outwards from my palms, an explosion of energy that sent him hurtling up into the air and crashing to the ground as my legs collapsed beneath me.

I tried to stand, but heat exploded in my kneecap and it gave way with a sickening crunch. Falling onto my side, I breathed deeply through the scorching pain, agonising splinters shooting down my shin and up my thigh.

The God-Slayer was already climbing to his feet, crushing car debris and bodies underfoot, looking unsteady and dazed. Blood matted his broad chest, sweat glistened on his fur. Spotting me still down, he grinned, that horrible mouth splitting wide and he began to move with more haste, somehow calling upon his reserves to drive him forward even though I could see his movements had become more labored than before.

I had to get up. I had to. Clawing at the ground, I grabbed hold of a handful of slick bloodied fur of a dead Varúlfur nearby to try and pull myself up. My knee was screaming. Hot flashes of pain were detonating inside my skull, sending waves of nausea rocking through me. I didn't have much left to keep me going and as I watched Lucifer stumbling towards me, I knew this was it; my final stand against the Devil himself.

Digging deep, I turned and hurled myself at him and he at me and we met in the middle of the battlefield, our bodies crashing together. The energy pulsated between us, building, swelling. He clutched at me and I pushed against him, holding his snapping jaws at bay, our heads just inches apart. At such close proximity, I could see the colours flickering in his eyes, that mesmerising kaleidoscopic hue that could pull you in so easily and as we struggled against each other, it was then that I saw it: sparks of something else in his eyes.

Not rainbow. Not amber. Hazel.

Brandon. 

"M-Megan."

I flinched. The voice was strained and hoarse, as if even forming one word was a struggle but it was him, I knew it was and I gasped to hear it. He was still in there, desperately trying to break through to the surface, fighting back against Lucifer, doing everything he could to rebel against the possession.

"Bran," I said. "You have to fight him. He can't do this if you don't let him."

A pause. Nothing. Was he gone? Had Lucifer managed to take control again? Those hazel eyes bore into me, looking so much like Brandon that I knew he was still there, he was still holding on.

"C-can't," he stuttered hoarsely. "Can't ...it h-hurts."

"You can," I urged him, still pushing against him, my arms aching under the strain.

"Megs ... do it. You have to do it."

As soon as he said it, I knew exactly what he meant, I knew exactly what he wanted and the realisation rocked through me, making me lose my footing for a moment, skidding backwards along the asphalt. I braced myself against the ground, somehow managing to hold us both steady.

"Remember..." he said. "The compound ...the light...remember the light."

I hated seeing the pain in his eyes. Even after everything he'd done, I still hated it.

"Bran, no!"

"Please Megs ...the only way."

"It's not ...fight it, Bran. Fight it." 

He was breathing hard. Baring his teeth. Low growls building. I was losing him to the beast, little by little he was giving in to it, knowing that I would have no choice but to do what he wanted.

"No! Bran, please, you can do this. I know you can!"

Amber sparked in his eyes.

"Don't you do this! Don't you make me!"

For a moment, his gaze softened, a touch of Brandon creeping back in, holding on, and the sadness in his eyes engulfed me, overwhelmed me until I thought I would drown in it. When he spoke again, it was him, his voice, without any hint of the wolf, so clear and so heart-breaking to hear.

"Love you, Megs. Always have. Be a good girl and do it, yeah?"

And then he was gone, sending the beast spitting and snarling to the surface and I felt the anger, felt the rage and the power surging through him and I surged upwards, taking him with me, our bodies twisting and spinning in the air. His claws dug in deeper but still I didn't let go, spinning us faster and faster as the energy exploded inside me, firing through my veins, radiating out to muscle and bone, bursting out through every pore with incandescent fury.

The light was fierce and strong, growing in intensity with every second that passed and I let it flow through me, reveling in the power of it as the heat surged up my arms and quickly devoured my whole body. A myriad of dazzling colour burst from my damaged wings, fracturing in the air like sunlight through a stained glass window and then with a rush of energy, they burst into flames. The inferno engulfed us, creating a tornado of fire as we whirled together in the air, spinning around and around. The blistering heat lashed out with hunger, consuming us both and in my head I could hear his screams and it wasn't just Lucifer's but Brandon's too; screams that sounded so human, so full of agony that it almost broke me apart to hear them.

He was struggling now, thrashing against me, frantically trying to escape from my clutches but still I held him there. I wouldn't let go. I couldn't, not now.

What are you doing? Stop, Megan!

With tears streaming down my face, I shifted my hands, sliding one over his eyes, the other down his chest, finding that heart that was beating furiously underneath my palm.

Megan, please, no! Don't do this. Don't –

I let go of the energy, releasing everything I had into him.

White hot light tore everything apart, devouring us, devouring everything, until there was nothing left but the light and him and me, locked together as the world exploded all around us, as the stars crashed out of the skies, as a great wind howled through the clearing, louder and more violent than the cries of the Great Wolf himself.

As the pounding of his heart stopped and finally fell silent beneath my hand. 

And then we were falling, falling, hurtling towards the ground, the flames having died with his screams, the light fading and I opened my mouth wide as we fell, the rush of a thousand voices bursting forth, full of rage, full of pain, full of sorrow.

When we hit, the ground shook beneath us, dust and dirt billowing up into the air, whirling like a maelstrom. Someone was calling my name. Howls echoed loudly and faded into the distance. I let the sounds wash over me, watching the dust as it drifted down, closing my eyes as it settled on my skin, covering me in a fine grey powdery layer where the light had once been.

Unable to move, unable to do anything, I opened my eyes and stared up at the indigo skies above, illuminated by the hazy glow of the blue moon.

Turning my head, I looked into the dead eyes of the man that had once been my husband. Gone was the animal, gone was the beast and all that was left was the broken and bloodied body of Brandon, dark curls plastered to his face, looking younger than his years now that the burden of destiny no longer reigned.

This was how I remembered him. The boy I had met all those years ago, so full of hopes and dreams. The one who had promised me the world. The one I had fallen in love with before I even knew what love really was.

"You were right, Bran," I whispered.

I touched his hand, feeling for the indent where his wedding ring had once been.

"You were right," I said as I looked up at the moon. "It really is beautiful."