Fledgling: Book 1 (Afterlife) (3 page)

Checking no one is watching, I focus on my eyes and make them glow. Within the dark shadows of my eyes, a silver grey light emerges. Yes, that is me. Happy to know what I looked like in this form I turn to continue walking toward Brick Lane. My deep blue high heel boots click softly on the pavement.
 

I find the street and walk down the lane. It is completely different to any street from my childhood.

Bricks line the road and some of the pavement and up the front of the buildings. The buildings are a mixture of shops and homes, or sometimes both together. I walk past some open restaurants and continue under the brick bridge. I pass two men on the street. They stare at me strangely as I pass. I have confirmed that I look like a normal human, so I assume that it is odd for a young female to be walking alone in these parts. I am not frightened and have no need to be, but I need to get off the street soon or become invisible.
 

I keep walking and pass a few more cars. It is a very long street. I hear laughter in the distance coming from one of the open restaurants. I continue walking and pass the restaurant. It is full of people. I catch sight of the calendar and realise that it's Saturday night. I glance up at the sign. It is called Aladin Restaurant. Some of the smaller signage is claiming it to be ‘One of the Top 10 Greatest Indian Restaurants in London . . . Ever!’ I don’t know if that is true, but it sure smells good. It is a pity that I don't need to eat anymore.
 

Once I have passed the restaurant I search the street for numbers. I am not too far away now, so I find a dark spot and make myself invisible. I find the apartment and teleport inside. It is a crammed little place with more people living inside than bedrooms. I step around the furniture in search for my person I am to protect. With so many people around, it is hard to believe this person needs protecting, though I will not question my instruction. The archangels must have the knowledge that this person is in danger. It is not ideal living conditions, but at least they have a roof over their heads. The smell of incense fills my nose. I pass a living room, and my eye catches the circular motion of the smoke from the incense stick. Only adults were sitting in there.
 

The conversation is too active for all the occupants to be permanent residents. I am getting the impression they also have guests staying, making the small apartment seem more crowded. I can only see adults, so I assume that the younger members of the house have already gone to bed. The person I am to protect is young.
 

I move on past the living room and climb the stairs. My person is here — I can feel them. When I reach the top of the stairs, I see two doors to different rooms. One of them is closed. I feel a pull toward the closed door. I move forward and stand just outside. The pull is strong behind the door. In case someone is awake, I do not open it. Instead, I transport myself silently into the room.

When there, I know I'm in a child’s room. It is dark with only a dim light shining from the nightlight. Sounds of several children’s deep breathing fill my ears. I relax and turn off my invisibility letting my eyes skim the room. There are two sets of bunks and two mattresses on the floor. The room is overcrowded though the sleeping children didn't mind. As they sleep restfully, I step around them on the small amount of space on the floor, studying their faces. Each face is adorable. My protective instincts instantly awaken. These are very young boys and girls with the oldest girl being about ten years of age. Each child has the look of Bangladesh descent. The dark hair and dark features are melting their way into my heart and topping it off; they were sleeping. There is nothing more adorable than a child deep in sleep.
 

I notice the blanket had fallen off the youngest child on the lower bed. He must be only three years old. By the appearance of the house, it is clear the families have little money. The heat is not turned on, or if it is, it is not very high. The added heat from the extra bodies would help, but the boy’s arms are growing goose bumps.
 

I bend down and pull his blanket up around his neck. He stirs slightly, without waking from the different sensation on his skin. I stroke his hair lightly then leave him alone.
 

Standing straight, I look at the other children. It is then that my eyes fall on her. She is on the other bunk bed at the bottom. Joya. She is the one I am to protect. I step across the small open space and sit on the edge of her bed. Her naturally tanned skin is flawless under the pale light. I sit and study her features. Her long eyelashes fall over the tops of her cheeks. Her dark eyebrows pucker with the change of a dream. Long dark brown hair flows loose onto her pillow and frames her face. Embraced within her arms is a small plush toy. It is hard to see what it is within her clasp. A long pink ear falls over her arm.

Laughter floats up the stairs. I glance briefly at the door wondering what is so humorous.
 

I look back at the girl; she is only six and, for some reason, she is in danger. It is hard to believe when looking at her. Her family seems poor, but caring. I remain sitting at the end of her bed watching her sleep. I listen to her faint heartbeat and wait.
 

“I will not be leaving your side, little one,” I whisper.

She stirs slightly and turns her head in the other direction.
 

- Chapter Three -

The next morning she wakes. Making sure I am not seen I make myself invisible. Her eyes open, revealing the melted chocolate. I breathe in. Oh, the sweet innocence swimming in those dark brown puddles.

As soon as the light hits those eyes, they fill with joy and happiness. She sits upright, throwing off her blankets and flipping her feet over the side of the bed. Once they hit the carpet, she stands and scurries over to the nearest mattress on the floor. A pale pink, flannelette floral nightie flaps around her ankles. She buckles down to her knees on the mattress and shakes the sleeping girl in front of her.
 

“Sadia, Sadia. Wake up,” she calls with excitement.

The young, sleeping girl’s eyes open to form a tiny crack. The girl moans softly.

“Sadia, wake up,” Joya calls again while shaking her a little more. “Today is market day. We get to look at all the goodies in the market.”

Sadia’s eyes open wide, and she sits straight. Excitement gleams from her face as she throws back the blankets and places her feet on the carpeted floor. Her long blue nightie falls around her ankles when she stands and the soft ringlets of dark, matted hair fall around her shoulders.
 

I watch as the two girls preen themselves and get ready for an exciting day. They dress in the bathroom and hurry downstairs, sitting at the table ready for breakfast. Joya’s mother has breakfast prepared and ready for the excited girls.
 

Looking at the two young girls brings back memories of when I was a young human — my second life comes into my front memory. I was not much older than Joya when my life was snatched away. My upbringing was different than these two girls, but the excitement and innocence of the childhood were the same. I remember, even though I was only young, I had already met my true love. I sigh deeply. Ah, yes, my first and only love. We had met in the life before. Both of us emerging in a new life after our first innocent life was taken away. It is unusual both of us were killed at such a young age in our first life and introduced again in our second after only living for a few years. It is like we are forever destined to be with each other.
 

While the girls eat and talk excitedly with each other, I watch in my invisible state and my eyes glaze. I wonder where he is now. He re-emerged with me in my third life, yet now we are separated. Last I knew he was still a human — something I will never be again.

The two girls finish their breakfast and their mothers prepare to leave with Joya and Sadia to the Sunday Markets on Brick Lane. The need to focus on Joya and why she was in danger pulls me from my memory. As they leave, I follow behind, keeping myself invisible.
 

They stroll down the grey brick road toward the centre of the markets. The crowd grows thicker with each step. Tired of people running into me because of my invisibility, I change to being visible. There are too many people wandering around for the girls and their mothers to notice that I am following them. I watch as the girls touch and fiddle with everything within their reach. They giggle at the different items that are foreign to them.

As a stall owner glares at the girls, Joya’s mother calls, “Joya, stop touching everything.”

While putting the item down, Joya’s face drops into a pout as she presses on toward her mother, her pretty sari rubbing around her legs. While following her, I am blocked off for a moment by the crowd. I cannot see her.

My eyes search frantically as my heart rate rises. A few minutes pass and I cannot see her, or her friend. I begin to worry. I cannot fail on my first job, especially with such a sweet young girl to protect. I start to push the surrounding people a little harder trying to force my way through the crowd. Receiving annoyed side-glances, I ignore them manoeuvring through the tight gaps by twisting my body. The dark brown hair of a little girl about the same height comes into view. My heart races — perhaps this is her. The little girl’s head turns to see who is staring at her. It is not Joya. I give the girl a half-smile and push past her.
 

I continue, pressing through the crowd. There is another young girl a few people away. This time I know it is Joya. It's her dark brown hair, and her sari is the same. Right after I spot her, Sadia appears next to her and grabs her hand.
 

I breathe a sigh of relief. She is still safe. I have not lost her. Sadia leads Joya back to following their mothers. They stop at a sari stall admiring all the different colours and textures available.
 

I lean against a wall and observe them from a distance, watching closely across a less condensed patch. As I watch the interaction between the mothers and daughters, my thoughts wander. Memories of my mother from my past life resurface. I remembered the tender touches and hugs she gave me, the arms that would embrace me affectionately over, and again. I miss my mother. I wonder what happened to her after I died. She cared for me greatly, and day after day she put up with my abusive father. I could never understand why she didn’t leave him.
 

The abuse he gave her was mental, verbal, and physical. I could see the bruises under her makeup and I knew she hid the tears from me, expelling them in the quiet times in her room. After I had turned sixteen, I began trying to convince her to leave my dad. When he was absent, I would plead with her to run away and start a secret life away from him — if that’s what it took to get her life back.
 

After two years of quiet persistence, I was finally starting to get through. I could see the different look in her eye each time he abused her and the changed expression after he'd gone. It was slowly changing from hopelessness to defiance. She was about to leave when I came for a visit from college. He started hitting her again because of some stupid reason. This time he had hit her so hard that he had knocked her unconscious in a matter of seconds. That is when I stepped in to defend her, and that is when he ended my life. The heat of anger swells up inside of me from the memory. He is the reason I am here. He ended my third life.
 

The memory of my father taking my life fuels my drive to protect the innocent successfully. There should not be people like him allowed to wander freely and unpunished in the world — taking innocent lives whenever they choose.
 

I can feel my eyes tighten with anger. When I remember the reason I'm standing there, I refocus my eyes. I realise that Joya, Sadia and their mothers are looking at me. They look haunted. I guess my face would have a look of hatred on it, and they probably thought I was another racist staring at them in anger.
 

I blink and rub my temples and give them a little weary smile. I hope to convince them I am not a racist, or in any way casting hate in their direction. In any case, it would have been unnerving having a stranger watching so intensely. Because of my carelessness, I have to look away. I turn a little to the side and start to reprimand myself. I have to work on my skills and learn how to focus better.
 

I have just made my first job much harder. Now I have the task of following Joya to protect her, except at the same time, I have to look as though I am not watching them at all. The mothers would certainly be watching me closely now.
 

I watch in my peripheral vision as they start to fold into the crowd. Having to turn facing another direction is proving difficult to keep a good eye on them, especially now that they are starting to move between many people. I am considering turning invisible again when hear someone calling.