Featherlight (6 page)

I didn’t know that surgery could make my hearing, seeing, and feeling
this good, but if you can put a pair of wings on someone, I guess you could do
all that, too. The surgery line of thinking wasn’t getting me far, so I started
sorting through the pros and cons of my situation.

Pros: I became beautiful. I know it shouldn’t be a ‘pro’, but it was
definitely a bonus. I had the potential to fly, if my wings truly worked as
they should (This pro I didn’t want to admit but simply couldn’t avoid). I was
also a
someone
now. Apparently I was important, and that was probably a
‘pro’. I had improved senses. I could see, hear, and feel
everything
. That
was pretty awesome.

Cons: I didn’t know where I was going, and that could be very, very,
bad. I was on an airplane about to get drugged and sent to a whorehouse for all
I knew. Maybe these people auctioned off virgin girls, and as a part of some
fantasy for the buyers they sewed on wings and made the girls believe they were
a part of some weird fantasy where they could fly and were really important and
they were drugged and made beautiful while unconscious to be sold for more
money.

Adrenaline ripped through my body. I jumped up, hyperventilating. Dripping
wet and shaking all over, I tried to calm down. But I couldn’t handle that, I
couldn’t. I couldn’t be auctioned off. I couldn’t be helpless.

A man’s hand reaches for me. Mom screams. It’s dad’s hand. His voice,
croons, oozes. Fear immobilizes. I know what is coming… what is next…
NO!

I fought my way through the memories, through the helplessness. Not
again, never again. I was okay, I was okay. I would find a way out of this
mess, and I would survive. Sinking back in the tub, I tentatively resumed
thinking of the possibilities.

Like, maybe they already drugged me, and I was imagining the wings. But
if I had been drugged, I shouldn’t be thinking this clearly, right?

I know there were at least two men here (one definitely hostile), and
the only thing between them and me was this silver door, which I was assuming
anyone could open. I didn’t really have anything of which to defend myself, so
I looked around the room. The large dresser had potential, so I climbed out of the
bathtub and walked to it, refusing to wait another minute feeling defenseless.

The first two drawers were empty, but the last drawer contained a comb,
hair pins, and a pair of scissors. Snatching the scissors, I padded back to the
warm bath and climbed inside the welcoming heat. The scissors were cool in my
grip, inviting. No scars remained on my wrists. I chalked it up to surgery.
Don’t
,
I willed myself. It had been so long. Four months, to be exact. Okay, so maybe
not that long, but it was still progress. The urge to cut had come out of
nowhere, catching me unaware. Reluctantly setting them down, I sighed in
relief. Battle won, I resumed my thinking once again.

This whole thing was entirely illegal. I was an American citizen, and
I had rights. After bathing, I will demand that I be returned home, at any
cost. Also, I will demand that these wings be removed and that all of my senses
be returned to normal.

With that last comforting decision to conclude my thoughts, I lathered
my new hair in shampoo and scrubbed until all the dirt was gone. Then I used
the best smelling soap on my body until I was practically glowing. Topping it all
off with conditioner, I stepped out and dried myself with one of the nearby
towels until I was squeaky-clean. Not sure what to do about my wet wings, I
patted them dry with the towel.

Curious, I pulled the tip out from my body. It stretched, and the more
I pulled the wing out, the more I could see the evenly spaced rows of pattern.
I pulled at the other wing-tip until both my arms were outstretched. I looked
in the full-length mirror and grinned. I was an angel with wings so white they
were almost blue. My hair, skin, and eyes were luminous.

 I looked at the clothes on my bed. The top piece looked like a
tight-fitting jumpsuit that ended mid-thigh. The flip-side was cut low, ending
halfway down my back. It was all black, and I wasn’t quite sure what to think
of it. I’m more of a blue and pink girl. Heck, since my other clothes were long
gone, I guess I had no choice. Beggars can’t be choosers. Under the short
jumpsuit was a pair of what looked like black socks, but they were made out of
rubber and had thick soles. Hmmm. I pulled on my odd outfit, since I didn’t
really have anything else to wear. The shoes were surprisingly comfortable, along
with the skin-tight jumpsuit. It buttoned up the front, and the sock-boots
stopped just below the knee. Not knowing what to do with my hair, I just ran my
fingers through the short ends.

I darted a glance at the mirror again.
Was this really me?
I
asked myself as I spun. The purely white wings contrasted with my black
jumpsuit, and the low cut in the back made me look lovely. More of my legs were
showing than I was comfortable with, but I couldn’t argue with the short cut.

Marie peeked inside and said, “Oh, goodness!” She hurried inside and
immediately went for my hair. Grabbing the scissors from the side of the
bathtub, she then began trimming. Even though the last thing I wanted was to
cut off my precious new hair, I let her, because she looked like she knew what
she was doing.

“Such gorgeous features! This will do nicely.”

Soon enough, my new hair was layered in a short stylish cut. I could
have never pulled off the edgy look before today. But now a kind of strange
confidence was instilled into my movements, and the haircut fit perfectly.

Putting the scissors on the dresser, she smiled and whispered, “Oh,
you look amazing.”

I simply stared. How can you thank someone assisting your kidnappers?

Suddenly, she went back to distant politeness. “If you would like to
follow me, someone will brief you on our, um,” she scrambled for a word, “customs.
This way, please.” Snagging the abandoned scissors and tucking them in my
pocket, I followed her out the door.

Part VI

A beautiful woman who lounged on the couch rose to greet me. I longed
to pull back the shades of the nearest window to see where we were headed. Instead,
I gave my attention to this new woman.

She spoke first. “Hello, I am Samantha Marshal. You must be Jacqueline
Winters.”

I shook her hand. It was warm and soft, my increased senses detecting
everything. She was short, almost short enough to look me in the eye, and appeared
to be about 39. Her coat matched her light blue eyes and covered a white
jumpsuit similar to the one I was wearing.

I indignantly stared her down, and she stared back with an unblinking
gaze. For some reason, that made me angry, but I didn’t look away. I could tell
she was trying hard not to glance at my wings.

“Please, have a seat. I can see you’re already adjusting.” She looked
at me with a mixture of caution and admiration, and then gestured to the couch
adjacent to the one on which she had been sitting. Her black hair was pulled
back into a ponytail that matched her serious and curious gaze.

We finally broke eye contact, and I could feel her eyes on my wings as
I walked over and sat down on the amazingly plush couch.

Samantha gracefully followed suit, and
I cut right to the chase. “I’d like to go home.”

She
smiled, full of pity. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

“And
why not?”

“Because
we left earth 4 days ago.”

Marie
walked in with two glasses of water and an assortment of snacks, breaking my
stunned silence. I was starving.

“What?
That’s not possible.” I began devouring the snacks. Had I really been out for 4
days? Wow. The news did nothing to ruin my appetite. These snacks were
delicious. Or maybe it was my extremely sensitive taste palate? Each bite
tasted like heaven as I discovered a million new tastes in simple food.

Attempting
to focus, I asked, “Where are we going?” It was time for the truth, no more
questions. I needed answers.

“We are flying to Auro. It is a planet similar to Earth in regards to
the plants and the landscape, but I’m afraid the day-and-night cycles are quite
a bit different. Earth orbits around the sun while spinning on its axis and-”
She paused and smiled. “Oh dear, I’m sorry. Let’s just say that on earth, day
and night are equal, for the most part. Auro is smaller than Earth. Our planet
has two suns, so our capital is never in darkness.” She leaned forward, “Auro
orbits the sun like your moon. From earth, you only see the same part of the
moon. Over time, Earth’s gravitational pull on the moon locked it to one side.
Our main sun did the same thing to Auro. Auro is locked in orbit with our sun.
The capital, where we’re going, is much like what humans call the Land of the
Midnight Sun.”

She smiled and I nodded to show that I was keeping up with her story.
I guess that made sense, even if it didn’t sound possible.

“That also means that half of Auro is forever bathed in darkness, but
we don’t visit there much.” Her gaze clouded over and then cleared. “Anyways,
the part of Auro that is the closest to the sun in hot, with little vegetation.
Therefore, our capital is in the Royal Mountains, 200 miles from the edge of
the forever dark side. Most cities live near the border, because the climate is
perfect.”

I stared at Samantha. This was a lot to digest. “Poor child, you don’t
believe me, do you? Come, take a look out the window.”

Grabbing a cheesed cracker, I followed her to the glass and she drew
back the curtain.

I gasped. We were up high. Not high as in,
Wow! The cars look like
ants!
But high as in I could see the curve of a planet to the far left. It
looked similar to space photos of Earth, but less clouds and oceans. Auro was
like an inverted Earth, with more vegetation than oceans or lakes. My greatly
improved vision caught every detail. It was beautiful.

“It is our pride and joy,” Samantha whispered, “We moved here after
much unrest with humans. We fought them, long ago, but there were very few of
us.” A sigh slipped through her mouth.

“In the beginning, there were the folium
,
the white-winged. After
the war with humans, our species changed planets. Although it was 5000 BC, we
were far more advanced with technology. It took the first group 5 years to find
a suitable planet, and another 25 years to fly there. Unfortunately, they had
just developed light-travel, so the journey was long.”

“Are we traveling that fast now?”

 “No, you were changing during the light-travel. Consider yourself
lucky, because it’s actually quite sickening.” She shuddered and continued, “Eventually,
the original folium
split off into two groups, one migrating to the dark
side of the planet and one keeping to the light.”

“Why did they split up?” I was imaging all of the fallen angels
heading to the darker side of the planet, much like falling from grace.

She must have seen where my thoughts were, because she said, “No, they
didn’t split into a group of good and evil. There was simply a difference in
beliefs. One group had a more… Let us say, traditional view. They took to
Auro’s borders, and eventually to the dark half of the world.”

I wanted to press her more on exactly what ‘traditional views’ they had
held, but I stopped myself from asking. I didn’t want her to think I was
actually buying into this.

“Eventually, the race that separated was named kiren, and, after many
years, their wings turned black to help them blend in with their surroundings.”

She took another drink and said, “Lullary are golden-winged, like me.
There are also brown-winged lullary. Back when folium
inhabited Earth,
they could tell one another apart by eye color. Their eyes were a light
blue-gray, almost white, like yours are now. Also, if you were close enough to
the person, you could tell by the smell, but eye color is more reliable.”

I remembered how Henry reacted to my scent when he was at my house. “What
does being ‘new’ mean?” I asked Samantha.

She stilled and quietly asked, “Where did you hear that?”

“Henry said it at my house.”

“Being new means being unclaimed by another. Single, if you will.” She
seemed unwilling to say more on the subject.

Dropping it, I told her, “I can’t be a folium
.
 My eyes are brown,
not white.” Ha! I had caught her in a lie. I was desperate to prove that they
had the wrong person.

“Have you looked at your eyes since your change, dear?”

“Well, yes. Well-I look-well… no.” I was too busy looking at my
curves. How vain of me. “No! I did, actually. They were a light hazel,” My
voice was smug.

“Marie, a mirror, please.” Marie left the room and came back with a
small compact mirror. Dreading the truth, I slowly held it up to my eyes.

White eyes stared back at me. I gasped and jumped back, almost dropping
the mirror. My eyes! My familiar brown colored eyes were gone! They were
replaced by these otherworldly imposters. The eyes that were in the mirror were
such a light blue that they could be considered white.

My pupil stood out in a dark contrast, along with a dark blue ring
where the edge of my iris used to be. I sat down on the nearest couch.
Your
eyes are the same as before,
I told myself,
they are just white instead
of brown. You still have the pupil there, and exotic eyes are a good thing.
They make you stand out from the crowd.
My thoughts didn’t comfort me much.