‘He was quick to point out there were conditions,’ adds Mum, ‘and that we would have to sign a contract for the adoption.’
‘What conditions?’ My voice suddenly sounds tinny. I could do with a glass of water but don’t want to leave the room in case they stop talking.
‘He said that we must keep the name your mother had given you.’
‘Ebony,’ I whisper.
‘And that you must never see a doctor, but since you’re always so healthy that hasn’t been an issue. Anyway, darling,’ she says a little too casually, ‘they were more like incentives than conditions. And there was no way we could say no once we’d seen you.’ She lifts her gaze over my head and a dreamy look enters her eyes.
Dad goes on to explain what Mum doesn’t. ‘Zavier promised that as long as we raised you as our own flesh and blood we would prosper. And so that we wouldn’t stand out in the community, consistent rain, profitable crops and good fortune would befall everyone in the valley.’
Who has the power to promise something like that?
I stare at them with scepticism and a fair measure of disgust. ‘You decided to keep me because you were promised I would be some kind of lucky charm for the valley? As if that could even be possible? What about the non-belief system by which you raised me?’
‘Don’t put it like that, Ebony,’ Mum scolds, and mutters, ‘You’re too intelligent for your own good.’
Dad explains. ‘Banks were foreclosing on properties that had been in the families of this community for generations. Everyone was suffering livestock losses and declining incomes. The longest drought in living memory ensured no one could even grow a cash crop to tide them over. Everyone’s dams and all the creeks were bone dry.’ He takes a breath. ‘Zavier promised that your birth had broken the drought. He was very convincing. He assured us rain would follow at regular intervals for as long as you …’
‘As long as I what, Dad?’
He glances at Mum as if asking her permission. With her eyes still wider than usual, and looking at me as if she’s scared I’m about to bolt for the door, she takes over: ‘As long as you never leave the valley. He insisted that on no account could we take you beyond the valley’s boundaries before your eighteenth birthday. It didn’t seem like such a big demand at the time, when you were so small.’
‘Now I’m nearing eighteen and you’re worried about something.’
Neither answers. Neither looks me in the eye.
‘I’m curious, Mum … Dad. If I didn’t stay, would the bubonic plague be unleashed across the valley?’
They’re unhappy with my sarcasm, and for a few moments we just sit and look anywhere around the room except at each other. ‘I can’t believe you two actually believed the baloney coming out of that man’s mouth.’
‘Darling, we had just buried a child – a little boy I held in my arms for less than an hour. I felt his heart beat rapidly against my chest as he struggled to live. His blue eyes looked at me as if he understood our time together would be brief. And then, just like that, his heart stopped.’ She takes a breath, her eyes swimming with tears. ‘The following day a man offered us an orphaned baby girl. And yes, it was unusual and highly suspicious. We didn’t know why he chose us. But at the time we didn’t care. And we didn’t ask questions in case it made him change his mind.’ Mum reaches across and takes my hand. ‘Darling, you were our miracle baby.’
I can see how, in their dark distress, they would willingly swallow the story the stranger told them, but something isn’t adding up. ‘What are you leaving out?’
They look uneasy and Dad says, ‘What are you talking about, love?’
‘Well, for starters, we’re atheists. We don’t believe in miracles, so how can you refer to me as your “miracle baby”?’
They glance at each other like high-school kids caught making out behind the toilet block. Mum looks away first, leaving it up to Dad to explain. ‘It’s just an expression for something difficult to explain in the logical sense.’
‘An odd expression for an atheist, Dad,’ I insist.
‘I suppose, but you did bring us good luck. We prospered, just like everyone else has around here, from the very day you came into our lives.’
I look around at our modest home, with the same furniture that’s been here all my childhood, but decide not to ask what they did with their bounty. ‘Do you have any names other than “Zavier”? It would give me a starting point.’
‘Starting point?’
‘I promise you both it won’t change our relationship, but you know me. You raised me to accept nothing less than facts substantiated by a second source.’
Dad jumps back in his seat crying out, ‘No, Ebony, you mustn’t!’
Mum begins to wail with her hands covering her eyes. She’s actually wailing!
Stunned by their reactions, I wait until they calm down. Mum collects herself first. ‘I knew this would happen,’ she says, still sniffling. ‘I knew it!’
‘Will one of you please tell me what just happened?’
‘I think we’ve told you enough for one night,’ Dad says, his voice unusually authoritative.
Mum blows her nose on a tissue, but the tears keep coming, quietly trickling from her eyes. I hate seeing her so upset. My intention is to uncover the truth, not to hurt my parents. I go and sit on the arm of her chair and hold her. ‘Don’t cry, Mum. Nothing is going to change.’
She forces a smile, the remainder of the truth lingering unsaid between us.
Suddenly Dad offers some advice. ‘If you plan to track this man down, Ebony, you should be very careful. He emanated what I can only describe as –’
‘John!’
‘It’s all right, Mum. You don’t have to shelter me any more. I’m sure Dad’s description is spot on. After all, my “uncle” is a criminal. And whether he is or isn’t my biological uncle, Mr Zavier buys and sells babies, while palming off sob stories to infertile, grief-stricken couples. He may even kidnap the infants himself! How much did he want for me?’
By their outraged reactions, I take it I came free. But nothing in this world is free. There was a price on my head all right. Mum and Dad probably just haven’t paid it yet.
12
Jordan
I’m on the operating table, plugged into machines beeping like the cockpit of a plane about to crash, while around me doctors and nurses are in a frenzy of activity.
Can someone please tell me what’s going on?
Stay calm, Jordan, it’s almost over, the younger, soothing voice says close to my ear.
Meanwhile, in my other ear, the older voice says, Ah, so you can hear us now, lad.
You’ll understand soon, the soothing voice says. You’ll have many questions, Jordan, but I’m afraid we will only have time to answer a few, so please choose carefully.
Right. Sure. Easy.
There’s just something we must do first. Ready?
Well, actually –
Now!
Suddenly two sets of strong arms wrap around me. I want to object to what feels like an invasion of privacy. Some answers first would be polite, answers the younger voice promised.
He reads my thoughts. Trust us, Jordan, you can ask questions soon.
‘Trust you? But who are you?’ I’m surprised to hear my own voice working.
Keep still, lad. We’re not going to harm you.
Since we’re communicating now, maybe I’ll get my answers sooner. ‘What’s going on here?’
Hold on, Jordan. Your soul is almost free.
‘Free? I don’t feel … Did you say my … ?’
The arms start pulling me out of my body, but a sticky film blocks my exit. My head pushes against it.
Hold still, Jordan. You’re almost through the membrane.
The ‘membrane’ breaks, dissolving around me, and suddenly I can move and see everything really clearly, clearer than … I don’t know, but clearer than before.
What’s left of the membrane turns into a blue
gas that drifts up to the ceiling, where it disintegrates into millions of bubbles. And suddenly I am ‘free’ and it’s awesome! If not for the arms holding me, I reckon I could fly straight out of this room.
Stop squirming, lad! the older voice snaps. If you should slip from our grasp … This is serious, young man. You don’t –
Now is not the time to test your new-found agility, Jordan, the younger voice smoothly interrupts. If you slip away from us here, we would find it difficult to return you to your body in due time.
A chill slithers down my back. I’m not in my body? So where is my … ? I glance down and see it – my real, living, breathing body – lying on the operating table in the centre of the theatre, with lights blazing over it and doctors and nurses going nuts around it.
And then, Whoahh! My body lifts off the table as high-voltage electricity jolts into my chest. I don’t feel anything, but it looks terrible. And that’s when I get it – my body isn’t living and breathing.
I’m not breathing!
The two sets of smooth, strong arms glide me to the other side of the room, where the three of us stand back and watch. My body is a mess, spread across the operating table with tubes to my face, and my torso completely ripped open, and at least half my guts hanging out. Blood is everywhere, sprayed across the doctors and nurses from head to foot.
I can’t watch any more.
I turn my head and see the younger of the two. The first thing I notice is his blue eyes. I have blue eyes too, but these are nothing like mine. Man, they’re so intense they’re practically blinding. Imagine a paint palette, then mix electric blue and indigo together with a touch of ice, and you still wouldn’t be close.
He lets me stare as I try to figure him out. His hair is long and yellow-blond. He wears it partly loose, partly braided, but mostly tied together at the base of his neck with a string of crimson and gold threads.
The other dude is the one with the older voice, but it’s weird because his darker skin is just as flawless and young-looking as the other one’s warm-ivory skin. Even his silver-grey eyes are similar in intensity, though not quite as potent. He has long hair too – must be the fashion wherever these two come from. This one’s hair is bright copper and tied with a white silk cord. They’re wearing similar clothes – quality suits with T-shirts underneath.
It’s clear they don’t belong here. Not in this room. Not in this time. Not in this world!
The thing is, from the moment they pulled my soul from my body I’ve been experiencing everything astronomically fast. I’m noticing details in fractions of seconds, as if my powers of observation have multiplied a thousandfold. And it’s amazing!
Listen to me, Jordan, I need you to focus, the blond one says, turning me to face him with his hands on my shoulders, pumping waves of calmness into me. My name is Nathaneal, but you can call me Thane if you like. He nods at his companion. This is Isaac.
Isaac grins and nods. In case you haven’t worked it out yet, lad, Nathaneal and I are angels.
‘What? Like angels from heaven?’
Not quite.
‘So, what are you saying? There is no heaven?’
All the mortal religions try hard to explain this, but the human mind can’t comprehend the complexities of the afterlife and, unfortunately, I don’t have time to go into details now. But, briefly, there are four dimensions: Earth, the mortal realm; Skade; the human concept of hell; Avena, where angels live; and Peridis, the destiny of the human soul, which equates to the mortal conception of heaven.
Are you following, lad? Isaac asks.
I nod at Isaac. ‘Trying.’
We don’t normally appear physically until the moment of transference when the Guardian ensures the soul of their charge emerges safely.
My mother believed in angels, said she had talked to one named Solomon ever since she was a little girl. I thought it was a bedtime story.
I would have thought with my ‘troubled’ history and everything, it wouldn’t be angels from Avena coming for me, but something darker.
‘You saw dark angels, lad?’ Isaac asks, in his speaking voice.
‘Nah, I don’t think so, but I heard you two talking before you pulled me out of my body.’
They exchange a glance over the top of my head but don’t say anything.
‘If I had seen dark angels, would they have taken me to Skade?’
‘They’re called Death Watchers, lad – dark angels who live in Skade, and whose job it is to encourage the dying to choose their world.’
Nathaneal runs a hand through his hair and takes a breath. ‘Jordan, we are running out of time – you don’t have long in this in-between state.’
‘So talk to me.’
‘I need your help, as long as you’re willing.’
For all his polite asking, I don’t see how I have a choice. I wonder what he’d say if I declined.
The two glance at each other again. ‘You always have a choice,’ Nathaneal says. ‘Free Will is one of Avena’s strictest codes. However, it’s beneficial to know that many times the best choice proves to be the one first declined.’
On the operating table, the doctor gives my body another electric shock. ‘Aw, man, is my life really over?’
‘That depends, Jordan.’
‘Oh, really? Is there ever a straight answer from you guys?’
The two look at each other and frown.
Nathaneal sighs and says, ‘Angels are not men and are not guided by men’s rulings.’
‘Wait … I know what this is – a dream brought on by the anaesthetic drugs.’
Nathaneal swings around in front of me, opening his arm in a wide arc. ‘I’ll have to show you something,’ he says, ‘to make this more real for you.’
Before my eyes an image appears of a world with a shimmering pink-blue ocean under a lilac sky that sparkles so brightly I wince until my eyes adjust. He pulls at the image with his hand and it zooms in to reveal a breathtaking landscape of purple and blue mountain ranges. I see cliffs thousands of metres deep as if I’m flying closely over them, and waterfalls of staggering proportions tumbling into fast-flowing rivers. We follow one through a forest of horizontal trees with iridescent crimson leaves, and on into a vast plain covered in shades of purple and blue grass, where herds of animals I’ve never seen the likes of graze together.
Suddenly I’m back standing between the angels and pointing at the image, speechless.
‘Yes,’ Nathaneal says. ‘Avena.’
‘It’s brilliant, man.’
Another wide sweep of his arm makes it disappear, and I mumble, ‘I must be hallucinating.’ It’s the only sane conclusion. ‘When do I wake up?’
‘You are awake, Jordan,’ Nathaneal says.
‘Then what am I doing here? What do you want from me?’
‘Sixteen years ago an angel named Ebrielle was born in one of those forests I showed you on Avena.’ He stops and his eyes look glassy and pained. ‘At the precise moment of her birth, a force of dark angels swooped down and annihilated our protection forces, kidnapping the infant. Ebrielle is still missing and we have until her eighteenth birthday to find her and return her home. We have tracked her to Earth, where we believe a human family is raising her as their own daughter, keeping her unaware of her true identity.’
‘And I’m supposed to find this girl?’
He nods. ‘Yes’.
‘Sixteen years is a long time. How do you know she’s still alive?’
The corners of his mouth twitch and turn up. ‘Angels are immortal, Jordan. Our bodies can be maimed, we feel pain and take time to heal, similar to the human vessel, except faster, but we don’t grow old and die.’
I point to my body on the operating table with my guts spilled out all over it. ‘With eight billion people to pick from, couldn’t you find someone better equipped, like a karate champion or an Olympic wrestler, or a marathon runner, rather than someone who’s just been killed?’
‘You will do nicely.’
> Should I be flattered or suspicious? Normally I doubt everything so I don’t think I should change now. ‘Why me?’
Nathaneal glances down briefly. Usually this means someone is lying, but with this guy, though I don’t really know him, I’m guessing he’s just leaving something out. There’s stuff he doesn’t want me to know. He laughs a little, and I remember how he’s aware of everything I’m thinking. ‘Just be straight with me, dude, and we’ll get on fine.’
‘You and Ebrielle were born at the exact same moment, making her your Guardian Angel and linking you together through the Guardian bond for all your mortal existence.’
‘Get out of here!’
‘Isaac and I have searched the Earth since her abduction without success, until tonight, as you drew close to dying, your Guardian bond lit up the skies like a beacon.’
‘No shit.’
‘Will you help me find her, Jordan?’ His intense eyes grow even more intense as he waits for my decision. Realising how they’re making me uncomfortable, he closes them and blinks, turning to watch my physical body thrashing about under the hands of the doctor trying to revive me.
‘Why did she get stashed on Earth in the first place?’
‘Her abductors are from Skade, where the air is too toxic to raise children.’
‘What’s with having to turn eighteen?’
Isaac, who’s keeping watch over my physical body, flicks a look at me over his shoulder. ‘Believe it or not, lad, even the Dark Prince has rules, all part of a treaty negotiated a couple of thousand years ago.’
Nathaneal explains, ‘Eighteen is the age when an angel is considered mature and can …’ he takes a deep breath, as if his next words are going to hurt – ‘join lawfully with another.’
‘Oh. Ohh! So they can have sex … ual relations. So what do you want from me?’
Just as he’s about to explain, Isaac interrupts. ‘The doctor is about to call it.’
‘Call what?’ I ask.
‘Your death,’ he says without blinking.