Fledgling: Book 1 (Afterlife) (17 page)

Ben shakes his head. “It’s okay. Besides, it’s time we turn invisible. It looks like our patient is waking up.”

I turn to look back at the girl. She is stirring, and her head is moving side to side slowly. I conceal my form and continue with the healing. After I see Yellow and Ben fade, I remove the bruising from her eyes. Her eyes open and I smile. She begins to sit and have a look around.

Yellow stands and lets out a yell of happiness, heard only by Ben and myself, her recent grievance forgotten for the moment. My stomach fills with the deep warmth that spreads throughout the rest of my body, and I breathe in deeply. We have succeeded.

The invisible Yellow is smiling, and she stands behind the girl helping her lift to a standing position and bracing her when she has a wobbly turn. The girl’s hair is matted, and she is recovering from the blood loss with a few cuts remaining. Otherwise, she looks in perfect health. The girl looks down at her torn clothes, barely concealing her body. She clutches them, trying to cover up a little, then she studies the remaining marks on her body.
 

Touching a couple of remaining wounds she mutters to herself, “I could have sworn that they did more damage than that.”

Something catches her eye, and she looks over spotting her attackers. They are still sitting on the ground, their eyes unfocussed, as they struggle with the insertion of the conscience. Regaining her balance quickly, she stomps over to one of the males that pinned her down and punches him in the face. The sound of the fist against his skin is quite impressive. She stumbles briefly over the exertion then straightens.

She then goes to another and stomps on his fingers. He cries out briefly. She turns and her eyes fall on the leader. With fury in her step, she trudges over and kicks him in between his legs. He moans loudly in pain, but she does not seem satisfied with the result. Pausing, she studies her once attacker. Standing over him, she looks into his eyes.
 

“What is wrong with you?” she asks. He is non-responsive. She pulls her arm back and lets it fly, striking him hard against his face. The slap leaves a red welt covering his cheek. He still does not respond. She shakes her head and grabs her clutch purse that she spots in the thin grass and pulls out her phone. She dials 911 and walks over to the attackers observing them. Her eyes flick from one laceration and broken bone to another. After one ring, she hangs up.
 

“How am I supposed to explain this to the cops?” She packs her phone back in her purse and talks to her attackers. “As much as you low-life’s deserve it, I only have a couple of marks on me and all nine of you have broken bones and bruises like you have been in a massive street fight. I have no idea how." Her unsympathetic eyes continue to study them. “In fact, I’m not even going to call you an ambulance.” She turns on her heels and starts walking toward the path lining the edge of the river calling over her shoulder, “Good luck, Jerks!”

I am certain after witnessing the spectacle; this girl would have fought back if she had the chance. I feel a touch of pride as I watch her walk away. One of our victims coughs taking my attention away from the retreating girl.
 

I turn to Ben and Yellow, who are standing next to me. “What do you think of these guys fighting? Did something seem strange to you?”

“Yeah!” Yellow blurts out. “They kept coming back even after crippling injuries.”

Ben nods. “It was a little unsettling. I was fine fighting them, but a little sinister.”

“Good, so I wasn’t the only one who noticed,” I say. I walk over to the group and grab one of the left wrists while asking, “Did you notice this?” I am looking up at Ben and Yellow and twisting the wrist toward them.
 

They had a strange look on their face.
 

“The inside of their wrists?” Ben asks. “Yeah, they have one like everyone else.”

I frown and look down at the wrist I am holding. The skin is blank. Baffled, I grab the other wrist and look inside. It is also unmarked. I go to the next male picking up his wrist. Blank. I try his other one. Blank. I see the leader and dash over to him and pick up his left wrist. I definitely saw it on his wrist. Nothing. I check his other wrist. Again nothing.
 

I stand straight and look at Yellow and Ben. “Are you telling me you didn’t notice the tattoos at all?”

They shake their heads.
 

“I’m not really a tattoo guy,” Ben says and smirks.

“Me either, wise-crack," I retort playfully. "But these were all the same like they were in some kind of gang, and now they are gone.”

“Sorry, honey. I didn’t see them. I was too busy looking at their faces. What was the tattoo?” Yellow asks.
 

“It was a circle with an upside-down pentagram inside finished with the details of a goat’s head. Doesn’t look like much, but it is the sign of Satan.”

“Is that bad?” Yellow asks.

“If taken seriously it can be. To many Devil worshipers and other fast-growing occult groups, it represents their symbol. These men and women have seen and experienced powerful supernatural forces. And they are in bondage to them.” I look around at our victims. “I don’t know if this was part of the play here, but it is not to be laughed at.”

“I didn’t know you were such an expert in occultism.” Ben raises an eyebrow at me.

An element of embarrassment hits me. “I’m not. I just happened to have a couple of friends obsessed with the spiritual life in high school. Some of the knowledge rubs off in the end.” I give off a half chuckle. “Now look at me.”

“Yeah, you’re an angel with a rebel streak.” Ben grins at me.
 

I scowl at him playfully. “Hmmm!” I cross my arms. “I just follow my heart, I don’t rebel.” I look at our victims. “We can’t just leave them here. Either I can see if I can heal them enough to walk out of here by themselves or we can call them an ambulance and let them explain how they got all those injuries.”

“I vote for calling the ambulance,” Yellow says.

Ben looks uncertain. “I don’t know. I’m a little on the fence.” His eyes pass over the males. “Some look tormented enough.”

Knowing what my conscience insertion will probably do to my victims, with Ben’s victims not faring much better, I know what I want to do. “I vote that I try to heal them. I think they will suffer enough.”

Yellow groans. “Fine,” she says. The sound of disappointment fills her voice.
 

I kneel in next to the one with a broken knee. I hold both hands around it and picture it healing in my head. A light shines out from my hands. Underneath my palms, I feel eerie movements as the pieces find their way back to their correct places. I flinch as the kneecap slides under my hand. Once I have finished healing the major wounds on this male, I wander around to the next.
 

A thought crosses my mind. I look up at Ben. “Hey, Blue. Did you want to see if you could heal too?”

Ben casts a quick look at Yellow. She places a hand on his shoulder. “Go on. Go try at least. I won’t be mad if you can do it.”
 

He comes over and kneels next to me. “What do you do?”

“I just place my hands or touch the wound and imagine it healing and going back to its original form. Why don’t you try a small wound first?”

He places his hand on a bruise that is growing. His palm lights up over the area. After a minute, he pulls his hand away. The bruise is still there.

“I guess you can rule me out too,” he says, although he seems to be taking the news better than Yellow.
 

“Give it another go,” I say. “Maybe you just need a little practice.”

“I don’t think so, but I’ll humour you.” He smiles at me with a hint of cheekiness in his eyes.
 

Finding a smaller wound, he gives it another go. A moment later he pulls his hand away and looks at the result. “Nothing.”

I frown as I fill with sorrow. It is a pleasant gift to not receive. “That’s a shame.”

Not wanting to waste any more time I start back at work. I watch with awe and disgust as bones slide back through the skin automatically, then line up to heal, and the skin seals itself and heals. I cherish this new gift I have discovered.
 

When finished, I stand and face the other two. “We should go.”

I see them nod before I am about to take off. Then a thought hits me. “Hey, Yellow.” She looks at me.

“What is your last human name?”

“What?” she gasps. “I can’t tell you that; I’ll be in so much trouble.”

“It is just us,” I say. “We won’t tell anyone else.”
 

She shakes her head. “No. I’m not doing it. I am not giving into your rebellion.”

I grin. “Our rebellion?”

“Yeah. Oh, I don’t mean it nastily, but you keep getting into trouble, and I don’t want to do that.”

“I know Blue’s name, and he knows mine, but we found out by accident.” It’s half a lie. “It would be nice to know yours too.”

Her eyes expand. “I’m not doing it. I am not spending any time in the abyss.”

“I’m not asking you to. Blue’s last human name was Ben. I now call him that in private. My name was Aurora, and this is what Ben calls me.” She reaches up like she is going to cover her ears. I grab her hands gently. “I know, how about we use a fake name instead of calling you a colour? It’s the same thing really. I hope you will use our names, but I will understand if you don’t. A colour just seems so . . . impersonal.”

Her face warms a little. “What would you call me?”

I look at Ben and smile. “Ben mentioned the name Cindy and I think it suits you.” I look back at her. “It is bright and bubbly, just like you. What do you think?”

Her face lights up with excitement. “Actually, I love it!” A sombre cloud soon snuffs out the light.
 

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

Her brow creases with deep lines. “Please don’t get me into trouble for this.”

“Trust me. We have no intention of getting you into trouble.” I place an arm around her shoulders and turn my head to look at Ben. “So what is it, teleporting or flying back?”

A smirk spreads wide across his face. “You have to ask?”

I laugh. “Flying it is then.”

- Chapter Sixteen -

Flying back to base with Ben and Cindy I relish the wind pushing against me and lifting me higher. So far, this is my favourite part of being an angel. I flap my wings, pushing me higher and higher, above the clouds and into the thin air where no parachutist or bird is capable to go. I follow my urge and pump my wings. With each stroke, they lift me higher and higher. It is so peaceful up here — not a soul in sight. It gives me a chance to think.
 

My mind passes over the shared mission we had today. It was an odd mission; completely different from any other we have done. Not only did we do this together, but there were also strange things about the perpetrators. They were not normal. Each violator so far was more human, easier to defeat, and certainly did not come back to fight after a crippling blow. My mind ticked over why this would be.
 

A strong gust of wind charges through my hair and blows it in my face. I twist to face the other way as I progress higher.
 

Thoughts of the tattoo enter my head. My instincts were telling me that there was something about that tattoo. I can’t quite put my finger on it. What’s more, why did it disappear? As I pondered over this, flapping some more, I remembered how I didn’t do an innocence check before inserting the conscience. A small lump of guilt was twisting in my stomach. It grew every moment I thought about it. Those males were more evil than the ones I had dealt with in the past. It made it hard at the time to feel compassion, but with the innocence I had seen in their past, didn’t they deserve a chance also? I am now not so sure I have done the right thing, and this lump is starting to dig a hole through my intestines.
 

I flap some more, big, strong strokes, using my wings full capacity. Mesmerised by my wings folding and touching in front of me, showing off their golden yellow colour in the sun. I touch my wings together at the back then bring them forward in a swift motion, touching the tips. This motion is so relaxing, so revitalising and helps to work out this knot. There is nothing I can do for the males now. I can only use it to learn from for the future.
 

When I feel I have reached a high enough, I look back from where I came. Below me, Ben and Cindy are following. I can see the joy that I felt, on their faces. I smile and wait for them, hovering in one spot.
 

“What took you so long,” I jeer when they reach my level. Cindy’s golden-blonde hair shimmered in the sun, with the yellow in her clothes sparkling brightly. She looks dazzling.

“Oh, were we following you?” Ben teases. The sparkle of the sun on his well-defined torso catches my eye. I struggle not to examine it when he turns to Cindy. “We were just going for a leisurely flight. Weren’t we Cindy?”

She nods. “Uh, ha. Like we want to follow you.” She throws her hands out to the side.