Fledgling: Book 1 (Afterlife) (12 page)

While I have a moment, I jump up and step forward with my hands ready to insert a conscience. His yell has turned silent as his face continues to express agony. My hands hover over both sides of his temples. I pause. I still do not want to do this. I would not be surprised if he used to be a good person at some stage. My internal struggle continues while I contemplate if I should check his mind first. Then Ryan’s face crosses my mind, and I know I cannot take the risk. I begin to move my hands in closer when a fist hits my stomach in a perfect undercut.
 

I lurch forward and stagger backward out of the room into the hall. While cursing silently at my distraction, I brace my stomach. A stupid mistake. The pain shoots up to my brain; I know it will subside shortly. While beginning to straighten, a kick comes crashing into my side, pushing me down the hall. With my feet not centred, I stumble harder than expected. Before I can steady my legs another kick lands on my midriff. With pain shooting down my side, I am involuntarily pushed further down the hall and into the living room.
 

“Yeah, that’s right, skank. I used to take martial arts when I was a kid too.” He was still wheezing a little from the blow to his jewels, but was not giving in without a fight. “You’re going to be toast,” he spat before lunging again with another kick.
 

This time I am ready for him. I step aside narrowly missing the connection. I jump further back and twist, landing my foot on his stomach with a roundhouse kick. Tired of fighting inside I jump and kick my bladed foot into his side, pushing him toward the back patio door with a sidekick. After the thump sounds of the connecting limbs, he claps his stomach. He stumbles in the direction that I want, and I kick again. He trips on the overturned table leg, just managing to stay upright as he rectifies his position out on the grass.
 

I look at the man I used to know. Although I had my suspicions before, I did not think that he was a completely bad person. Something must have changed him for the worst. Right now, I cannot see the good in him. Maybe I was mistaken. I cannot believe that I almost broke the rules for him. I will be spending a lot longer in the abyss if I am caught breaking the rules again.

Now we are in an open area on the grass. We have more room to fight. In the dark, I can see him clearly. With the lights shining from the house, it is possible that he can see me too. The shadows cast over his eyes makes him look positively evil. I shiver. I need to stop him now. I cannot see a way to change him without inserting the conscience that I am instructed to give him. I stand ready.

“Dean, you have left me no choice,” I warn again. “Why don’t you relax and let me do what I have come to do?”
 

He has bloody drool running down his face, and with the dark shadows over his eyes, he is beginning to look like one of those zombies or vampires off horror movies.
 

He shakes his head. “You’re not setting a hand on me.”
 

He dashes forward with his right fist raised high, aiming for my face. I step and brush it aside with my left arm, watching it move past my face. While my left hand clasps his right wrist, I step in and flick a hammer fist to his temple. It connects and his eyes become a dazed. I step in with my back toward him and snap his right elbow over my shoulder. The crunching of bones and the ripping of tendons and muscles churns my stomach.
 

He lets out an involuntary scream, which passes from one ear to the other, echoing through my head. I flick my elbow back into his rib cage letting his broken arm go. His knees buckle in pain and hit the grass. I turn to look at him and watch as his face turns up, twisting in pain. He attempts to get up, but is having trouble pushing past the agony. I could cause him so much more pain, but I am not taking pleasure in this.
 

I step forward and lean over, placing my hands on his temples. A light shines in his head from both hands as the conscience enters his mind and soul. His eyes are open with expressions of terror as I see his life flash before him. Yes, there it is. Just as I thought, he also used to be a good person. What is happening to these people? With each of my victims, the urge to get to the bottom of their change into darkness becomes stronger within me.
 

I release my hands and press my palm to his forehead. I have one final thing to do. I need to wipe his memory. A light shines from my palm into his forehead. With his expression pained from the insertion of the conscience, he doesn’t seem to notice my palm on his head. I remove my palm and straighten my back. I am about to walk away when I have second thoughts about leaving him in the middle of his dark back yard. I squat down and hoist him up by wrapping his left arm across my shoulders. His feet involuntarily move with me toward the house. Pushing aside the toppled outdoor dining setting, I take him into the lounge and lay him on the couch spreading his feet across the chair.

With Dean taken care of, I make my way to the main bedroom where I sent Ryan. I reach the doorway and see his mum still lying on the floor. Her head rests on a pillow, and she is still unconscious. Ryan sits on the floor leaning against the bed. He is holding her hand and stroking the back of it.
 

“Hey, Ryan,” I say softly as I enter.
 

He looks up. Wet lines are running down his confused face. He reaches a hand up and wipes them away. “What’s going on?” he asks. “I thought you were . . . dead.” He struggles to say the last word.

I step forward and squat beside him, wrapping my arm around his shoulders and pulling him gently toward me in an embrace. Resting his head against my chest, I stroke his light brown hair. I feel a growing moistness on my top underneath his head. “I am. But I have come back, just this once . . . to protect you.”

His head turns up, and I look into his puffy blue eyes. His brow creases into a frown. “And how do you do that if you are dead?” he asks.

I smile sadly at his comment. “What I said is true. I have been chosen to be an angel.” I set my wings free, letting them unfold. I watch as his eyes open wide. He reaches out and touches the golden yellow feathers with a look of awe on his young face. “Lucky me, hey?”
 

He nods.
 

“But I tell you one thing for sure, I miss you and Ethan.” I almost choke on Ethan’s name.
 

My eyes start to well with tears as sadness takes over my heart. I am pulled away from this thought when I hear the distant wail of sirens. The ambulance is on its way.

“What’s worse is that I have to wipe your memory of seeing me.”

He pushes back from me shaking his head. “No, way.”

Tiredness overwhelms me as I insist. “I wish I could leave you with my memory, so you know that I am okay, but it is forbidden.”

He screws up his nose at me.

“I can’t leave you with it. I’m sorry.” Before he has a chance to react, I press my palm up to his forehead with my other hand holding his head forward. I am out of time to discuss it with him any further. A tear rolls down my cheek as I make myself invisible during the process.
 

With his memory wipe complete, I stand and walk out the back door. My torso overflows with the warmth of another successful rescue. This one is extra special to me, and I smile. As the ambulance screams into the driveway, I prepare to take flight, and then I have a change of heart. There is something I want to do before I return to base.

- Chapter Eleven -

The darkness engulfs the cloudless sky in the early hours of the morning. Over in the east along the horizon there is the slightest ray of light. I have made it to my destination. My nerves are on edge. I should not be here, but I cannot resist the pull after being so close.
 

I am standing outside a small townhouse in Coomera. Except for a couple of community streetlights, the pale brick apartments are in darkness. With a cyclone in my abdomen, I find the spare key and make my way inside. In reality, my current form does not need doors or windows to enter buildings, but old habits are hard to kill.
 

Inside the building, I am greeted by the pale paint and tiles of the main living area. A few clothes are scattered across the floor and kicked off work boots lay beside the deep blue double couch. The sight brings a smile to face. Warmth fills my heart as memories flood my mind of how these simple acts used to annoy me. I sit down on the couch and run my hand over the leather. The cool smoothness is comforting. Breathing in deeply, I realise I have missed this place more than I thought.
 

Keen to keep looking, I stand and progress up the stairs, remaining invisible. There are three bedroom doors. Each one is open. I approach the furthest one, peering in each door as I pass. The rooms are as I remember them, a spare double bed in one and a computer desk in another. It is absent of people. I thought there would be roommates by now.
 

Nervously I take the final step to the last door. Holding my breath, I look inside. Lying in the crumpled, dark red cotton sheets in the middle of the double bed is Ethan.
 

My eyes quickly scan the remaining space on the bed. It is empty. I am torn, happy and sad at the same time. It looks as though he has not moved on to another partner. My heart reaches out to him. I want him to be happy and in love, but I also don’t want him to forget me.
 

I enter the room and sit on the corner of his bed watching him sleep. His body takes up the full length of the bed as he breathes, deep and quiet. My body aches to lie next to him and hold him close, but I must not let him know of my presence. I lie and watch him from the furthest side of the bed. I miss him so much. Comforted by his breathing, I lie and watch him sleep.

Hours later the room fills with light and his alarm sounds. His eyes slowly open, revealing his light brown eyes. Working as a builder, he is always an early riser. He is in the final years of his apprenticeship. He throws back the sheet revealing his black boxers. His pale brown hair is in disarray making my heart melt. I watch the ripple in his defined muscles on his chest and arms as he staggers sleepily toward the bathroom downstairs.
 

Before he reaches the door, he turns and looks at the upper-level right to where I am standing, invisible. A frown creases his brow followed by a blanket of sadness across his face that breaks my heart. I am sure he cannot see me, but that look puzzles me. He turns and steps through the door with the sadness still etching his face. His melancholy demeanour concerns me. I decide right then I am going to follow him for a while to make sure he is coping well.
 

By the time he leaves the bathroom, I am waiting for him next to his white pickup truck. The back is laden with tools and equipment ready for his working day. It is not long before he climbs into his car and driving off to work as I fly above. My actions are along the lines of being a stalker and considering my motivation; I know that I am stalking. I work hard to convince my mind that I am doing this for him, and I continue to follow. Considering my mission is complete I should be heading back to base to report for my next mission.

When he arrives at work, I watch him. He doesn’t seem as vivacious with his boss and work colleagues as I remember him. Later in the morning, he is sent to pick up a couple of work supplies, and I watch him down the aisles of Bunnings Warehouse. The store is busy, and I am tired of being bumped into, so I distance myself for a moment and find a hidden spot. Folding away my wings I remove the invisibility.
 

Keeping my distance, I return to watch from the ends of the aisles. I don't look exactly like I used to, but my looks have not changed enough to risk being seen by him. In my high heels and tight blue, green and gold flecked clothes I feel out of place in the hardware store, but not as bad as when I was in Prince Albert. Making a mental note to self to work on changing what I wear when I am in human form, I watch Ethan. I stand slightly secluded behind the ends of the aisle, ignoring the looks I receive from the tradesmen and general DIY customers.

A pretty young lady wearing skimpy clothes passes Ethan. She looks around my human age with long blonde hair flowing loosely around her shoulders. Makeup that could be scraped off using one of the tools on the shelf is plastered on her face. Jealously rises within me when she circles back after seeing Ethan and leans over, pressing in close and brushing up against him to reach for something on the shelf. Ethan looks up at her. I can’t resist a smile when I see his eyes are distant and unresponsive, even after she smiles sweetly at him.
 

A moment later I frown and cast my eyes to the ground reprimanding myself. It was such a selfish thought. I smile again — an enjoyable one though.

While looking to the side, I see a bright flash of blue. I turn my eyes to look directly at the spot. I am surprised at what I see, although I shouldn’t be.

“Blue?” I whisper.

He is in his invisible form standing a couple of metres away from me. He is moving his brilliant blue wings so that people passing by will not run into them. After dodging a few more people, he gives up and folds them away. As I watch, I feel the heat rise to my face. He has caught me again.