Fledgling: Book 1 (Afterlife) (5 page)

By the time I return Joya to her home, her mum and visitors are frantic. The wailing travels to the street. They have given up the search outdoors, leaving it to the police. I step forward, knock on the door, and then retreat while watching Joya, making sure she remains safe. The door opens slowly, and the tear-streaked face of Sadia’s mother appears. She looks down and sees Joya and starts to yell into the house while scooping Joya into her arms.
 

The warmth in my stomach explodes to full capacity, warming my whole body, then dies away. It is like it is telling me I have completed my job. I return to the street, grabbing the little blonde-haired girl by her hand. I turn back to Joya’s house. Her mum is there, hugging her and crying tears of joy. Next to her is Sadia’s mother; she spots me, and I can see the recognition in her eyes. Her face is full of questions. She can see that I’m not going to stay, so she mouths the words, ‘Thank you.’

I smile and walk away, hand in hand with the remaining girl. An enormous joy fills my heart knowing I have succeeded with my first mission. Not only that, I have also managed to save another little girl as a bonus. Her angel had not made it in time if she had an angel allocated to her. The world is short of protection angels these days, with the rising corruption and lack of people with a conscious. I shake my head. What is happening to the world? It used to be a more caring place.
 

I pick the girl up and cuddle her, placing her head against my chest and cover her eyes. “Sleep, little one.” I say. “You need your rest. I will carry you there.” The girl must be exhausted. In no time her body goes limp in my hands and heats up, her breathing becomes deep and even. Now she is asleep I turn myself invisible and spread my wings, cradling her in my arms as I fly her home. She needs to get home as soon as possible.
 

As I fly, my mind wanders back to their captor. I did what I was instructed to do by giving him a conscience. I agree he needed intervention and needed to learn to do the right thing, but the whole process is unsettling. Something seems off about it all. Something makes me feel as though it is a cruel way to punish him. I know I shouldn’t have any feelings of sympathy for him, as he was the scum of the earth, but there is something else I saw during the process. I don’t know why I am concerned. I guess it is the way he looked after I had finished transferring the conscience.
 

The girl stirs in my arms, and I hug her closer. The breeze is much cooler up here. My eyes search around below. It looks to be the place. I lower to the ground; fold my wings away and in a sheltered place I turn visible again. With the girl still in my arms I step forward and into her street. Her house is in the distance. I lower my head and kiss her on the forehead. It is still full of dirt, and the tear marks are still evident on her face. I have thought about cleaning her up before taking her back, but I know her family will not care — they just want her back. Her eyes flutter open, showing the blueness of a clear sky.
 

“Hey,” I say. “Time to wake up. I think you have some people who want to see you.”

She turns her head and looks around at the houses. “Home,” she croaks. A deeper peace spreads across her face.
 

I nod and stand outside her house. After putting her down I knock on the door. “Take care little one,” I say. I kiss her on the forehead again and walk away, keeping an eye on her to make sure she stays safe. When I reach the corner of the property’s fence, the door opens. A pale-skinned man in his thirties stands at the entrance. He is thin, and his face is downcast and worn. When he first opens the door, he looks annoyed at the intrusion. The irritation is replaced with excitement when he looks down at the little girl at the door. Instantly he bends down and scoops her into his arms. Tears of joy run down his face. His eyes search the street, but he does not see me. I have turned invisible. Happiness fills me while watching the homecoming.
 

I turn to leave after seeing the young girl reunited. I am supposed to go back to the remote island base, ready to receive my next mission. I still cannot shake this pestering feeling. If I am quick, maybe Archangel Michael will not know I've taken a detour. I know there will be penalties if I do not have a good reason, but I have to risk it. I have to check on the girls’ kidnapper. I need to see how he handles his newly acquired conscience.
 

I open my wings and fly. I cannot resist the urge even though it is slower than teleporting. I love feeling the wind beneath my wings.
 

As it is still daylight, I remain invisible and fly toward the Royal London Hospital. It is the closest to Brick Lane, so I assume he is there.
 

Once there, I make myself visible and search the newly admitted patients from the emergency ward. Looking for the familiar face I study each patient. My shoes click softly on the polished floor, mixed with the noises from the health staff and patients. It is a depressing place, looking at all the sickness and injury. Thankfully for most of the people here, they are only in for a temporary visit. I continue to travel between the rooms.
 

I’ve checked every room, and I am certain that I must look lost or suspicious.
 

A nurse in her blue uniform stops and asks, “Are you looking for anyone in particular?”

I look at her face. She is slightly plump; her skin is fair and her eyes hazel and kind, but they also threatened consequences if someone aggravated her, or her patients.
 

Her unspoken threat didn’t bother me, but I wasn’t here to cause trouble. So I answer, “Yes. Actually I am looking for someone who was admitted this morning — a man with a broken knee.”

Her eyes cloud. “Oh.”

“Did he not get admitted here?” I ask, wondering why her expression became sombre.

She sighs. “If it is the man I think you are talking about, then follow me.”

She leads me past a few more rooms and stops in front of a closed door. She turns to me and says, “We had a no name admitted today with a broken knee. I hope he is not the one you are looking for.” She places her hand on the door handle and balks. “Prepare yourself.”

I frown, wondering why I am preparing myself. Curious, I stand in front of the door as it swings back revealing a room with only one bed. Lying on the bed is a figure underneath a sheet. I stare, wondering why a sheet covers a man with a broken leg. I look at the nurse. Her face is sympathetic.
 

“Why is he covered?” I ask. “Didn’t he just have a broken knee?”

She nods her head and looks me straight in the eyes. “That was his only major physical injury, but there was something wrong with his mental health when the ambulance picked him up.” She sighs and places her hands over her stomach.
 

“What do you mean?” I ask. I can feel the fear rising within me.

“He seemed spooked or something — like he had witnessed a real life horror.” She steps toward the bed. “Before I tell you anymore, come and take a look to see if he is the man you are looking for.”

I step closer to the bed, crossing my fingers behind my back and hoping it is not the man I saw this morning. I watch as she grabs the top edge of the white sheet and folds it down over his face. With each bit revealed, I find it harder to breathe. Finally, it is lowered to show the whole face. I can’t breathe. It is him. He looks ghostly white. I stare at the lifeless form in front of me while lost in dark thoughts, trying to understand how he has died. He was so full of life this morning.
 

I hear a faint voice beside me, but I do not truly hear it. I think I hear it again, but I am not sure. I continue staring. A hand lands on my arm and I jump from the contact.

Looking to the owner of the touch, I find myself looking at the nurse’s sympathetic side. “Is he the one?” she asks.

I nod.
 

“I’m sorry, dear. He must have been close to you. You look horrible.”
 

I shake my head. “No, not close, but I knew him.” I choke remembering the evil and remaining good that was within him. “What happened?”

“He committed suicide. We think it was because of the mental problem he had I told you about.”

“What? How?” I stammer.

Her eyes divert to the floor. “He had a mobile phone on him. He smashed it and slashed his wrists with the glass from the screen. I’m so sorry . . . we couldn’t save him.”

I feel my face drop. I had returned his phone to his pocket after I called the ambulance. I thought I was doing him a favour. I am devastated. I gave him a conscience, which had put him in the mentally unstable state, but I also gave his phone back. It was his killer.
 

Wishing to be alone with him, I turned to the nurse. “It was not your fault.” I try to reassure her, not wishing to cause any more grief today. “Thank you for letting me know.” I look back at the kidnapper and sigh, allowing my shoulders to droop. “Do you mind if I have a few minutes alone with him.”

I am confused. I need space to think before returning to base.
 

Thankfully she nods. “Of course.” She turns and leaves, closing the door behind her.
 

I stand over the body and study his face. Everything looks normal. Nothing looks weird or out of place. They warned us that people react differently to receiving a conscience, yet I didn’t expect this.
 

Did he really deserve to die as the outcome? He was far from innocent, but I struggled with the idea that a life was taken because a conscience was forced inside. He died instead of being guided and taught a conscience.
 

If the person given the conscience, doesn’t commit a crime too extreme, then what happens? Are they still unable to handle the guilt of what they did? They too would have the opportunity to kill themselves. What if the person was only doing these bad things because they are stuck in a bad place? I shake my head. They would be the type where the conscience would take over, giving them guilt beyond what they could handle.
 

The evil crimes are intolerable, but what if there was a better way. There has to be a better way. My eyes wander down his arm. I move the sheet and reveal the puncture marks that ended his life. I couldn’t shake the thought; he had good in him too. Doesn’t that make me a murderer? I thought angels were supposed to protect and teach love, not kill people.
 

I stumble over to the chair in the corner, and throw my head face first, into my hands. It doesn’t seem right. I shake my propped head. It just doesn’t seem right, I think again. There has got to be a better way.
 

The tears are rolling down my face. I should go, but I can’t get up. I can’t find the energy to go back to the base. Guilt and confusion have zapped the energy from my body. Despite this, I have to sort out my emotions before facing Archangel Michael again. He cannot see me with such turmoil.

I don’t know how long I sit undisturbed in the dark room. I have lost all track of time. With my head planted in my hands, potential solutions run through my mind.
 

While sitting in my mummified state, I feel an atmospheric change within the room. I look up. Standing in the far corner is my favourite being in my new world.

“Blue,” I say as I stand and throw my arms around him. I am so happy to see him. “Weren’t you sent to Paris?”

He nods and wraps his arms around me. His warmth and comfort seep through the skin on his bare chest and I move in deeper, trying to get more. He wraps his royal blue wings to encircle both of us.

“If you are meant to be in Paris, then what brings you here?” I look up, and the ocean greets me — his eyes are always so welcoming.
 

“You,” he answers. “You bring me here.”

“What do you mean?” I ask puzzled. We are friends, nothing more.

He releases me and steps back a little. He looks down at his waist and reaches down to a metal loop on his pants. My eyes follow his movement and fall upon the little charm I gave him and Yellow before we left base. For some reason, the angel in the middle with gold wings is glowing.
 

I watch it glow, then fade, and then glow, and then fade. It's impressive, but I don’t understand how it is happening. I look at my own charm. Nothing. It isn’t doing anything. “What’s happening?” I ask as I look at him confused.
 

“I placed an enchantment on the charm you gave me.” One edge of his mouth lifts as he watches the understanding flow to my face. “I did this so it would tell me if you are in trouble.”

“Really?” I ask. The attention slightly embarrasses me, but at the same time I feel special.
 

He nods.
 

“Did you do it for Yellow too?” I ask.

He wobbles his heads slightly from side to side and shyness emerges on his face. “Well . . . yeah.” He runs his hand through his hair. “But yours burns as well, just in case I miss the glow.”

I feel my face heating up.
 

He grabs my hand and says, “Here, feel it.”
 

I allow my finger to touch the surface and I am surprised just how hot it is. “Doesn’t that burn you?”

“Not really.” He shrugs. “I have these pants on that it needs to travel through before that, but I can still feel the warmth. Anyway,” he says, “what’s going on with you? Why are you glowing?”

I pull away and look down. I should be so ashamed, but all that I want to do is tell him everything. If he tells Archangel Michael, I could be in real trouble, maybe even thrown in the abyss.
 

He touches my chin lightly with his fingers and pulls my face up, so my eyes meet his. “You know you can tell me.” His eyes are sincere.
 

I think for a moment then I begin to spill my secret. “I. . . I am struggling with our mission.”

“What do you mean?” he asks. “I thought you wanted to protect the Innocent.”

“I do,” I say. “I really do. But my first mission has resulted in the perpetrator killing themselves.” I study his face to watch the changes in his features as I tell him my problem. So far, I do not see any judgement.