Fledgling: Book 1 (Afterlife) (15 page)

“What’s that?” Yellow screeches. “What do you mean that they do not handle the guilt?” Her eyes flick off each one of us then settle on the archangel.
 

Archangel Gabriel leans over and strokes the prong of a palm nearby. “Isn’t nature lovely?” The wind picks up and blows the green leaves from the archangel’s hand.

Yellow looks at us. “Do you know? Is that what you were trying to tell me the other time?”

I look at Ben. He looks uncertain. We both look at Archangel Gabriel.

“I have said too much already,” the archangel exclaims. “But clearly I need to tell you a little more as these two are not suitable to tell you. They have a different effect than other angels when they insert the conscience. I saw it when I looked into their minds up in the headquarters — especially the colourful one.” The archangel is pointing to me.
 

I frown and look at Ben. He also looks confused. “What do you mean?” I ask.
 

“Oh, for goodness sake. I am digging myself into a bigger hole.” Ignoring my question Archangel Gabriel turns to Yellow and says, “When one of our victims receives a conscience after committing the crimes, some do not handle the guilt well.”

“What happens?” Yellow asks.
 

“Each one is different. Some of the victims get a mild case of the guilt, but some feel the guilt more. It is intensified or dulled depending on the angel giving it to them and the extent of their crime.”

“Okay, but what happens to them?” Yellow does not take her eyes off Archangel Gabriel.

“Well, some just feel sorry for themselves and reprimand themselves for their actions and move on. Some go crazy and receive a mental illness to a certain degree. And some of the victims get a mental illness or distress so bad they end up killing themselves.”

Yellow gasps out loud. “What do my victims do? I have never checked up on them. I was doing as I was told.” Her face is flat in shock. I feel a little as well, being told I have a special effect on my victims.
 

“Yes, well, that rule is for your own state of mind,” Archangel Gabriel continues. “Let me take a quick look into you.” The archangel steps forward with a hand raised and touches a fingertip to Yellow’s forehead. It lights up. In only a few moments, the finger is removed. “Rest assured, your victims only receive a mild guilt — nothing that will destroy them in the end. So go on out there, honey, and do your work.”

Yellow almost smiles, and I don’t blame her. “What do their victims do?” She is pointing to us.
 

“The male has a bad mental effect on his victims.”

“I do?” Ben asks.
 

I move my head up and down. “Yes. I saw it. I went to check up on the victim in South Africa.” I watch as the corners of Ben’s mouth turn down.

“And what about your victims?” Yellow asks me.

Unsure if I should answer, I look at Archangel Gabriel. I receive approval in the tilt of the head, so I continue. “The victim I checked up on, my first victim, killed themselves. I haven’t checked up on the last victim. I am hoping that is not the case, but now I am not so sure.”

“Oh, gosh! Listen to me jabbering. Enough already. I have to check your missions and send you on another one — If you have been good that is.” Indicating with the hand, Archangel Gabriel calls me over. “Come on. You first. You’re the naughty one.”

Great! Now I have a target on my head. I step forward slowly. The nerves are already starting to create a whirlwind in my stomach.

“Come, come. You can’t have already broken the rules so fresh out of the abyss.”

I swallow the lump in my throat, trying to not make it obvious. Archangel Gabriel places a finger on my forehead, and I can feel the warmth as my mind is being probed. I am tense, but there is nothing I can do. As I found out the hard way, I cannot redirect the archangels from places within my mind. I watch as my mission is relived in a flash of time. While looking deep into Archangel’s compassionate blue eyes, I feel the finger being removed.
 

“Well done! You had a hard mission there, and you conquered it. What an emotional ride that must have been for you.”

A tear rises from the memory, and I blink it away. “It was difficult.”

Archangel Gabriel places a hand on my shoulder. “You should be proud.” Moving the hands together, I see the small cloud forming in the centre. The Archangel reaches in with a hand and pulls out a glowing bean. I take it and swallow, enjoying the warmth. I wait as Ben and Yellow are assessed; both pass the probing and receive their new mission.
 

When finished, Archangel Gabriel stands back and says, “Wow, look at you. You all passed with flying colours even with a difficult mission. You are so strong and focussed. It is no wonder Michael chose you. My students are softer and impartial.”

“I am sure that they are happy students though.” From the couple of encounters I had had with Archangel Gabriel, I was certain that we would get along and that the teaching would not be so strict. “I think you would make an awesome teacher.”

“Oh.” For a moment, I thought I saw tears forming in Archangel Gabriel’s eyes.
 

“Oh, enough with you. You have the best teacher for you. Now off you go.” We are shooed away with a hand.
 

- Chapter Fourteen -

Large drops of water pelt down. The grey clouds blanket the once blue sky, masking the changes as the day turns into night. With gusto, the rain hits my hair and wings aided by the breeze. If I weren't an angel, I would be soaked.
 

Over the rain, I can hear the clicking of my high-heeled boots as they hit the pavement on the boardwalk lining the Belmar Marina. There is no one in sight, undoubtedly sheltering from the unpleasant weather.

For this mission, my Innocent is at Jersey Shore, New Jersey in the United States of America. I look to the left and observe the recreational boats rocking back and forth while attached to their floating docks on Shark River. I haven’t been here before, and if it weren’t for the gloomy weather, the scenery fading quickly into the darkness would most likely be enticing.
 

I hear a muffled scream from my right, and I pick up my pace. There is a four-lane bridge on large concrete pillars, and the sound appears to have come from that direction. I step onto the grassy, uneven bank keeping my eyes peeled for any movement, as I listen for any sound. Deep down, I sense that I am heading in the right direction. Walking up the slight slope a flash of blue appears in my peripheral vision. Curious, I turn in that direction, and I am surprised when I see Ben standing only a few metres away.
 

“What are you doing here?” I ask. “You can’t be checking up on me again, surely?”

He bears a stunned look. “Actually, I was wondering what you are doing here. Are you going to start following me around now?” He smirks. “It’s okay. You can tell me that you miss me and can’t bear to be without me.”

I glower at him, but I can’t help but smile. He has been around for less than a year; I am getting quite attached to him. “You’re funny. But this is my mission.”

“It’s mine too,” Ben says. His brow creases. “What are we in for if they send two of us?”

A gut-wrenching scream fills our ears demanding our full attention. Without another word, we turn in unison and continue up the hill. We have remained invisible, giving us the advantage of sneaking up on the perpetrators. In a secluded corner, I see a movement. I turn to Ben and indicate in that direction. The area is sheltered from the miserable weather and the eyes of any possible passers-by. We hasten our steps up the slope. In the darkness, I see one dark clothed person moving up ahead, and as we move closer, I see another. With each metre forward I seem to be collecting numbers of people.
 

What is going on up there? I wonder.
 

I turn to look at Ben and see a flash of yellow behind him. I look in that direction.
 

“Yellow?” I gasp.
 

Her pale face mirrors the confusion I felt only a few minutes before.

“What’s going on?” she asks.
 

“We don’t know, but it looks like a joint mission,” Ben says. “There is movement up there with several people.”

“And there has been cries of distress,” I say.

“Well what are we waiting for?” she asks. She spins in the indicated direction, flinging her curly golden hair behind her. She is on a mission to save the Innocent and we quicken our pace to keep up with her.
 

We reach the secluded corner and what we find brings us to a halt. My eyes quickly scout around taking in the horrifying scene. Now it is clear why we all need to be here for a good result.
 

Before us, I see nine males laughing and jeering. In the centre of their ring is a young female, being pinned to the ground. She only looks sixteen. There is a male at each of her hands, pinning them to the ground and a male holding down each of her feet, securing her legs wide. Her clothes are torn, holding together by their last shred, barely covering her private parts. The exposed flesh is battered and bruised. Behind the bruises and abrasions, her pale face is ghostly white. Her eyes are puffy and red. I don’t know if she is conscious. It is hard to tell if the eyes are open between the swollen slits.
 

I have the urge to dry retch as my eyes gaze over her skin. There are deep gashes with blood pouring from the wounds on her face, arms, legs and torso. Kneeling in the centre of her legs is a young male. His dark brown hair sits neat and untouched, showing signs that the girl didn't have a chance to fight. In his hand is a flick knife. He holds it tauntingly over a rare, unmarked piece of flesh on her body. The crowd is cheering on his actions. From the tip of the knife, drops of blood fall on her skin.
 

I cannot believe what I am seeing. The males would not be any older than eighteen, some possibly years younger, yet still large for their age. They are from all colours and a variety of backgrounds. What could possess these males to act this way and think it is okay?
 

I do not know if they intend on violating her sexually, but I am not about to wait around to find out. I fold my wings away and prepare to turn visible. Noticing a movement off to the side I turn to see Ben is one step ahead of me, with Yellow not far behind, walking in his shadow.
 

Ben stands behind the group of boys and crosses his arms across his bare chest. Purposely, he clears his throat loudly. Watching from behind, I see the boys turn around. The expressions on their faces show annoyance from the interruption.
 

The male in between the girl’s legs turns in his kneeling position and sneers. “Hey look guys, model boy thinks he is going to be a hero.” A calibre of laughter echoes through the group. “Where’s your shirt model boy? How would you like me to put a few markings on that canvas?” Bearing a sadistic smile, he raises to his feet, still clutching the bloody knife in his hand.

Yellow steps forward out of the shadows of the concrete pillar behind Ben and stands on his left side. With her wings packed away, she looks like a brilliant Barbie doll. Her face is pale and flawless, framed by her golden wavy hair, and her body is defined well in the tight yellow bodysuit. I have not seen her in action, and it is strange to see her face so determined. She stands with her legs shoulder width apart, and her arms crossed over her chest.

Not wanting to miss out on the action and wanting to help the poor girl, I step forward. I stand on Ben’s right side and going with the theme, I cross my arms across my chest. My disposition is solemn, and I am in no mood for wisecracks.

The male with the knife continues, “Look he brought his pretty friends for us to play with. Looks like we will be in for a treat tonight.” His eyes skim Yellow’s and my body. “I was getting tired of the other tart too. These ones are a better class,” he announces. “Not to mention that they have plenty of squirm left in them, unlike this one.” He indicated the broken girl on the ground. “I would love to carve some special markings on your bodies.”

His voice makes the hairs on my body stand on end, and I cringe with each perverted look he casts my way. I can see his companions begin to circle around the back of us. The ringleader focuses on me for some reason. I unfold my arms and lower my elbows clasping my hands into fists. I am ready. We were trained to be ready for the unexpected and expected. I certainly knew which way this was going. The group have circled and are ready to fight three to one.
 

The leader spots my reaction. “Oh look, how sweet. This one thinks she has a chance.” He laughs heartily, and his minions follow suit. “It’s always extra special when they think they have a chance. I find that irresistible.” He blows me a couple of kisses.

I am sick to the stomach, but I play along. I deepen my voice to a seductive level. “Then come and get me, honey.”
 

He nods to his lackeys behind me, and I see them charge. In one movement, I lean to the side on one leg while bringing in my other knee. I push it out quickly with my foot planting into the one on my right’s stomach, sending him backward into a concrete pillar. While doing this, I reach out and grab the wrist of the one on my left with both hands. As I correct my position, I pull the arm of the opponent on the left toward me and snap the arm over my shoulder. I hear the crunch of the bones breaking right next to my ear followed by his low-levelled cry as he slumps to the ground in agony.