Fledgling: Book 1 (Afterlife) by Katrina Cope Read Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Katrina Cope
Blue. We are soldiers, fighters for the angel army; we are supposed to stand at attention.
“Fledglings, you are dismissed,” Archangel Michael finishes.
I exhale; glad it is over. At the same time, I worry about my new mission and how I am to handle the conflict of interest.
Blue steps toward me. He is about to talk when something barges me on my right side. I turn to see who it is. Yellow is centimetres away from my face.
“You went to check on your victim?” Yellow blurts out in a whisper. Her face is in complete shock. “Are you mad? You are going against the rules and good advice, causing yourself trouble.”
I take a step back gaining some personal space. My shoulders slouch forward. “I know. I shouldn’t have done it.” Forcing a smile I try to look sincere. “Don’t worry. I won’t do it again.”
“Well, I should hope not. You are playing with fire doing silly things like that. I would hate to lose you, or know you are locked up in the abyss. I couldn’t think of anything worse. Promise me you won’t do it again.”
“It’s alright, Yellow. Stop stressing. I won’t do it again.” I look deep into her golden brown eyes, making a promise I know I won’t be able to keep.
- Chapter Six -
My next mission is in Prince Albert, South Africa. The atmosphere couldn’t be more opposite to the city of London. It is a small town in the middle of a desert. I have gone from extreme cold to extreme heat. The streets are empty of vehicles and people. It is a quaint little town in the middle of the rolling hills at the gateway to the Great Karoo.
I land in a secluded place behind some trees. To make myself look human I fold away my wings. The fresh smell of early morning fills my nose mixed with the scent of blossoming flowers. I walk down Church Street past the Dutch Reformed Church. My intuition tells me I should walk this way. Despite the place seeming so dry, established bushes grow between the buildings. The street is lined with a mixture of shops, galleries, antique stores and a handful of restaurants. The houses surrounding are a mixture of Dutch, Karoo, Victorian and French homes and other styles with which I am not familiar.
As I walk past the Swartberg Hotel, a farmer’s pickup truck with an open tray drives past. It is full of coloured workers being taken to the farm for the day’s work. Mesmerised, I watch as it drives past. Laughter and chatter fill the air. There must be at least twenty standing people crammed in the back. It is such a contrast to the country of my last life. In Australia, this is illegal, if not highly frowned upon, but each of the workers seemed happy and grateful for a lift.
A couple of males yell out in Afrikaans. It was not a language I understood as a human, but being an angel I have the privilege of understanding all languages. I didn’t quite catch what they said through the rattling noise of the truck and chatter from their companions, but the gist seemed to be a little inappropriate. I looked down at what I am wearing. My deep blue and green full-length bodysuit with golden flecks is not a good way to blend in. As soon as they are out of sight I make myself invisible. I don’t want to stand out.
Not long after, I see her. Riding a bike down the street following the direction of the pickup truck is my next Innocent. Her high cheekbones are pushed higher thanks to her smile. A soft churning and clinking sound comes from her turning pushbike pedals as they respond from the commands of her feet. Her hair is in one of those tight African braids that show neat lines along her scalp. It looks gorgeous on her, accentuating her chocolate coloured face. Her happiness is catching, and I can’t tell if it's only that, or the fact that she is also attractive that makes her seem so beautiful. She is in her early twenties and is clearly happy with her life.
Dressed in slightly longer blue shorts and a simple black T-shirt with runners on her feet,
“Fledglings, you are dismissed,” Archangel Michael finishes.
I exhale; glad it is over. At the same time, I worry about my new mission and how I am to handle the conflict of interest.
Blue steps toward me. He is about to talk when something barges me on my right side. I turn to see who it is. Yellow is centimetres away from my face.
“You went to check on your victim?” Yellow blurts out in a whisper. Her face is in complete shock. “Are you mad? You are going against the rules and good advice, causing yourself trouble.”
I take a step back gaining some personal space. My shoulders slouch forward. “I know. I shouldn’t have done it.” Forcing a smile I try to look sincere. “Don’t worry. I won’t do it again.”
“Well, I should hope not. You are playing with fire doing silly things like that. I would hate to lose you, or know you are locked up in the abyss. I couldn’t think of anything worse. Promise me you won’t do it again.”
“It’s alright, Yellow. Stop stressing. I won’t do it again.” I look deep into her golden brown eyes, making a promise I know I won’t be able to keep.
- Chapter Six -
My next mission is in Prince Albert, South Africa. The atmosphere couldn’t be more opposite to the city of London. It is a small town in the middle of a desert. I have gone from extreme cold to extreme heat. The streets are empty of vehicles and people. It is a quaint little town in the middle of the rolling hills at the gateway to the Great Karoo.
I land in a secluded place behind some trees. To make myself look human I fold away my wings. The fresh smell of early morning fills my nose mixed with the scent of blossoming flowers. I walk down Church Street past the Dutch Reformed Church. My intuition tells me I should walk this way. Despite the place seeming so dry, established bushes grow between the buildings. The street is lined with a mixture of shops, galleries, antique stores and a handful of restaurants. The houses surrounding are a mixture of Dutch, Karoo, Victorian and French homes and other styles with which I am not familiar.
As I walk past the Swartberg Hotel, a farmer’s pickup truck with an open tray drives past. It is full of coloured workers being taken to the farm for the day’s work. Mesmerised, I watch as it drives past. Laughter and chatter fill the air. There must be at least twenty standing people crammed in the back. It is such a contrast to the country of my last life. In Australia, this is illegal, if not highly frowned upon, but each of the workers seemed happy and grateful for a lift.
A couple of males yell out in Afrikaans. It was not a language I understood as a human, but being an angel I have the privilege of understanding all languages. I didn’t quite catch what they said through the rattling noise of the truck and chatter from their companions, but the gist seemed to be a little inappropriate. I looked down at what I am wearing. My deep blue and green full-length bodysuit with golden flecks is not a good way to blend in. As soon as they are out of sight I make myself invisible. I don’t want to stand out.
Not long after, I see her. Riding a bike down the street following the direction of the pickup truck is my next Innocent. Her high cheekbones are pushed higher thanks to her smile. A soft churning and clinking sound comes from her turning pushbike pedals as they respond from the commands of her feet. Her hair is in one of those tight African braids that show neat lines along her scalp. It looks gorgeous on her, accentuating her chocolate coloured face. Her happiness is catching, and I can’t tell if it's only that, or the fact that she is also attractive that makes her seem so beautiful. She is in her early twenties and is clearly happy with her life.
Dressed in slightly longer blue shorts and a simple black T-shirt with runners on her feet,