Different Wings

By Marie Godley

As Raban lay dying, a casualty of the attack on the angel city, he implored his daughter, Miriel to build a sanctuary to keep the children safe from further attacks.

Miriel comes up with her own plan to keep future offsrping safe from the Fallen. She's going to hide them on Earth amongst humans.

Eighteen years later she goes to check on Lina.

Lina finds out a couple of days before her eighteenth birthday that she is an angel. Her life changes forever as she deals with the consequences of this discovery, fights for her life and has to make the biggest choice of her life so far.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Marie Godley
• Release date: Jan 9, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386186427

Marie Godley

Marie Godley resides in Christchurch, Dorest with her family. Lucky enough to live in a town with historical buildings to roam around, as well as having the sea and the New Forest National Park nearby, she has plenty to do when taking a break from writing.

Book preview

Chapter One

Pain shoots through my ankle as the heel of my shoe catches the ground and my foot twists.

Stupid outfit, I curse, resenting my mum for making me wear it. As usual, she is nowhere in sight. Anna wouldn’t have cared if I’d turned up in jeans. I continue to grumble to myself.

Hobbling over to the low wall, I sink onto it, and lift my leg to rub my ankle.  Grimacing at the tenderness in it, my mouth turns down even more when I notice that my shoe now bears the sign of a scuff mark across the side of it.

Angelina, what are you doing out here? My mum’s voice comes at me sharply from the church doorway.

Freezing my butt off, I mutter, but she doesn’t hear me, as her attention is caught by the sound of her name being called.

Sarah.

Sitting outside I eye the doorway, as if it’s taunting me. The pain has subsided and I can no longer use it as an excuse not to go in. A few more minutes, nobody will know. But then the shivering starts, reminding me how cold it is sitting here, with the wind rushing down the driveway. I quickly hop up and enter the vestibule. The hush and the smell greet me immediately. It looks the same, posters about groups and times of masses on the notice board. Cards and rosaries on the table neatly lined up and individually priced.

Mum comes out of a side door as I stand there, unable to move forward.

Come on, she whispers.

I dip my finger into the holy water and make the sign of the cross. The action is so familiar from years of repetition, even though these days I usually only go into churches when they are empty – I prefer them that way.

Mum pushes the door open and I have to remind myself to breathe, as the scent of the incense that I’d detected before becomes an onslaught. The remembered heady sensation threatens to engulf me and I cross my arms in front of me and dig my nails in. Following Mum to a pew, I sit down hard before my shaking legs buckle. Tears gather at the corner of my eyes when I realise that this is the same pew that she’d always shared with Anna. They had been friends all my life and had lived next door to each other until Anna and Jake had moved away to care for a relative. 

Whilst my mum kneels, her eyes already shut in silent prayer, I look around the church. I haven’t been here for a couple of years but everything is instantly recognisable, etched in my memory, until I look at the stained glass window across from me. I don’t remember seeing an angel depicted in that one before. But the more I stare at it, the calmer I feel. Then it starts. My back begins to itch. It’s been doing it a lot recently. I desperately want to scratch it but I know I can’t do it here. Pressing myself against the pew, I hope the cold wood will bring me some relief. There is none.

Coughing and shuffling seems to echo around the church. Silence descends and the congregation gets to their feet. The coffin is carried slowly along the aisle and in its wake I get my first glimpse of him for two years. Two long years. Jake. He’s taller than I remember, and judging from the back view, a lot more muscular. He sidesteps into the front pew and I see him roll his shoulders. The itching in my back flares again, stronger this time.

Hymn number sixty. The priest’s monotone voice breaks through my musings and I quickly find the right page in the book. The minute I sing the first line tears roll down my face and I struggle to get the words out as my throat constricts. Jake is all alone in the front row. My body leans as if to step out into the aisle but my feet remain stuck in position.

Please be seated. I automatically sit at the priest’s words, unaware the hymn had even finished. Anna was a beloved... I tune his words out; I have no wish to cry any harder. I’ve missed Anna’s kind, comforting presence in my life so instead fix my gaze on a symbol carved into the cornice high up in front of me. It is three pointed oval shapes, interlocked making up a triangle shape inside another triangle. I feel a pull, as if I should recognise it. I think it’s Celtic, however I can’t be sure. My eyes wander, landing on anything but the coffin. I get up when Mum does, and sit again, on command. I’m so busy avoiding the coffin I almost don’t notice when it passes me.

Angelina, Mum hisses, and I hurry out of the pew.

Standing next to the grave, a single tear runs down my face as I watch the coffin sink lower. Mum pats my arm and I nearly lean against her, except that we’re in public. Besides she isn’t the kind of mum who hugs. Pain courses through me as I remember Anna holding me tight on more than one occasion; the single tear is joined by more and they seem to be unstoppable. I swallow furiously and clear my throat. My eyes turn to Jake, just as he looks up; his own face is streaked with tears. He holds my gaze and offers me a small wobbly smile. I return it and fight the nagging feeling that I should be by his side.

He moves to the edge of the hole and throws a flower in. Mum tugs my arm and leads me forward. She hands me a rose. I throw it in trying, and failing, not to see the lid with its shining plaque. With eyes made useless by tears, I blindly follow as Mum pulls me away and we silently join the other mourners making their way to the waiting cars.

Lina, thanks for coming. Jake’s use of my shortened name takes away the awkwardness I feel as he shakes my hand – it seems such a grown up thing to do.

I’m sorry...you know. I blush. It’s good to see you again. I bit my tongue. Was that an inappropriate comment?

You too. Get yourself a drink while I say hello to everyone. I’ll see you in a minute.

Sitting alone at a table, I rip a paper serviette into little pieces, until I notice the mess, then I scrunch them together again, hoping they’ll stay rolled up.

Hi, Jake says sitting next to me, where’s Sarah?

Off talking to one of her church buddies.

Ah. He smiles knowingly.

I will words into my head, but my brain isn’t cooperating. I’d never had trouble talking to Jake in the past. But that was before he’d moved away. Before he’d lost his closest relative.

We’ll be neighbours for a short while, he says, leaning into me.

Really? My head snaps up. I knew his Nan still owned the house next door.

Yeah. I’ll be home tonight.

Cool, I say, smiling easily for the first time.

Um – I’m needed. I’ll see you soon.

Nodding, I follow his progress as he threads his way through the tables.

I’ve shredded another serviette when I notice Jake talking to Mum in a corner. She shakes her head. Frowning, I watch him put his hand on her arm while she wipes her face. Is she crying? He looks over at me and I’m about to get up when I’m nearly crippled by intense itching across the whole of my back. Shutting my eyes, I count to ten, willing it to stop.

Mum is next to me before I have a chance to go to her. Time to go home.

Surprised at our sudden departure, I get to my feet without commenting. Searching the corner, I see Jake is still there, and he is watching us.

Tomorrow night. Tree house. He mouths.

Bending my head in the briefest of nods I hurry after Mum, haunted by the grim expression on Jake’s face.

The hands of the clock go round with maddening slowness. The second hand loud in it’s, seemingly, prolonged progression. Throwing the book onto the bed, I admit defeat. I’d read the same paragraph so many times and I still have no idea what is happening. I’d been like this all day. Not being able to settle to anything. I’d spent ages looking out of the window hoping for a glimpse of Jake before our meeting tonight. Mum hadn’t been any better. Sure, we were both upset about Anna, but she seemed tense too. I kept finding her staring at me, hence why I’d escaped to my bedroom whenever I could. It was weirding me out. The clock continues to tick. I risk another glance. Only five more minutes to go. Getting up, I check my reflection in the mirror. My makeup is still intact, no smeared eyeliner or mascara but my hair is sticking up. I grab my hairbrush relieved to have something to do. My hand freezes mid-stroke as I hear my mum walking across the floor downstairs. Next minute comes the muffled sound of the radio. I finish brushing my hair and fling the brush onto the dressing table. The window is already open a crack and I tiptoe over and push it wider.

Clambering out onto the sill, I manoeuvre myself until I’m facing backwards, using the trellis like a ladder. When I’m almost at the bottom, I leap onto the grass, crouching until I’m sure Mum hasn’t heard me.

Safe, I dash across the lawn and swing up onto the branch of Anna’s tree which overhangs our fence. I shimmy along, only stopping when I reach the trunk. Catching hold of the branch overhead, I start climbing. The railing of the tree house appears above me and I grasp it, pulling myself up until I can hook my leg around it and clamber over. Then I do an ungraceful flop to the boarded floor. The door is on the other side. Ducking automatically as I reach it, even though I still fit through easily. Finding the blanket I left there I give it a squeeze; it’s still dry. Sniffing it to ensure it’s not musty, I finally unfold it and sit down; my chin resting on top of my knees, wondering when Jake will come. We obviously hadn’t had a chance to set a time, but he knows when Mum’s favourite programme is on – we used to meet up here, then, before he moved.

Rain falls, splashing onto the roof and leaves in a semi-musical way, however its arrival makes me shiver and I reach for another blanket to drape over me.

Jake appears in the doorway, grinning at me as he shakes the water from his hair.

Wow – look at this place.

He squeezes through the doorway and sits next to me. The tree house seems to have shrunk now he’s inside.

I thought it’d be all dusty and neglected, he says looking round.

Even though you’ve not been living here, I come over and sit here sometimes – I hope that’s okay? I ask worried that I’ve invaded their privacy.

Of course it is. He smiles. That’s how I’ve pictured you since we left – in the tree house where we spent so much of our time together – it made you seem nearer.

I open my mouth to speak, but he’s taken me by surprise. We’d always been good friends but I never imagined he’d think of me once he left.

You’ve grown up since I last saw you – you’re even prettier, he continues.

Thanks. I laugh, my cheeks flaming. How is it with your relative? I figure it’s time to get back to a safer subject.

Interesting.

Hmm that doesn’t tell me much.

Do you have to go back?

Yes.

My spirits drop. I can’t hear the rain anymore so I look outside, not sure what to say to that.

I guess I should go before the rain starts again and I have to find an excuse for why I’m wet, I say after a long silence.

Wait. Please. I haven’t had a chance to ask how you are.

Oh – same old, same old, I reply. School – don’t ask. Mum is...well, you know. I shrug. She is getting worse. She hardly lets me out of her sight these days.

I pick at a loose thread on the blanket.

Sarah loves you, Jake says. She’s just being protective.

I guess. I sigh. But it’s so stifling.

My back itches and I go through the usual routine trying to get it to stop.

You’d better go before Sarah’s programme finishes.

Oh no, I didn’t realise it was so late. I exclaim as I jump up, throwing the blanket over Jake.

He laughs as he uncovers himself.

I’ll see you tomorrow, he says as he folds the blankets up.

You will?

Definitely, he replies.

I wonder at the determination in his tone, but have to ignore it; I don’t have time to question him if I’m going to get back before Mum checks on me.

The landing light goes on just as I launch myself onto my bed.

Finally, I’m drifting off to sleep when voices downstairs bring me back, and have my eyes pinging open.

Shh. Lina is asleep. Couldn’t this have waited until tomorrow?

Cautiously, I ease myself out of bed and tiptoe to the crack made by my open door.

Sarah, you know there’s no time. Lina will be eighteen soon.

Jake? What does my age have to do with anything?

I know, Mum’s voice catches in a sob. After losing Anna, it’s made it harder.

There’s silence and I strain against the doorframe wondering if I should creep out onto the landing.

You know if it hadn’t been for Nan’s death we’d already be gone by now. It’s getting too close. We can’t delay any longer and risk them coming out before I get her away.

Who/what?

Nan enjoyed your chats and letters. It helped a lot, having someone to talk to about things, even if they were cryptically worded. I believe I was a delinquent, wasn’t I?

Sarah laughs quietly.

I appreciate how hard this is for you, Sarah. Anticipating it and going through it are two different things. It has to be done though. You know that.

What’s going on? I should storm downstairs and demand answers, so why don’t I?

I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep tight.

Scrambling back into bed, not wanting to be caught, I listen to Mum’s footsteps as she trudges up the stairs. She pauses outside my bedroom door and I hold my breath, luckily, she carries on into her bedroom and her door clicks shut.

Laying in the darkness, my thoughts are on a merry-go-round of confusion. Nothing makes any sense. What is this huge secret that they share, and what does it have to do with me?