heart.
Mum . . . Oh, Mum, you’ve been living in Skade long enough.
The sooner I break Ebony up from Nathaneal, the sooner my mother returns home.
‘Jordy, are you all right in there?’
‘Honestly, Ebony, how I’m feeling right now has nothing to do with you, so just stop trying to fix me, OK?’
‘OK, I’ll stop . . . after you tell me what happened at school today.’
She’s not letting up until I tell her something. I open the door to let her in but keep my profile to her so she doesn’t glimpse into my lying eyes. ‘They hooked up.’
‘Who?’
‘Who do you think? Danny and Sophie.’
There’s a long pause. ‘Oh. I thought she liked you .’
‘You must have got the same screwed-up vibes I did. But . . . that’s not what hurts.’
‘Danny didn’t tell you,’ she says, skimming her fingers lightly over my shoulder. ‘What a coward.’
Man , her touch feels good.
‘Jordy,’ she says, ‘I’m so sorry. Are you all right?’
‘Yeah, I just . . . It feels like I got no one left.’
Her fingers stiffen and go as still as four wooden pegs. ‘You have me.’
‘For now, sure, but what will I do when you leave this world?’ I spin round. ‘Who will I have then?’
11
Nathaneal
All the streets of Aarabyth lead to the Centre Square, a park of various coloured trees and vibrant gardens with pathways, fountains and play areas for the young. Communities hold gatherings there: feasts, festivals, weddings and occasionally a memorial.
Standing on the lowest platform, three thousand metres above ground, I locate Centre Square by the towering purple trees that surround it, and their magnolia-shaped blue, pink and white flowers, presently in full bloom.
The three remaining Thrones descend at Michael’s command. He waits for them to land before he signals me. We dive together, head first, releasing our wings only when the ground is so close it appears to come rushing up to meet us. It’s fast and exhilarating, and of the nine different angelic orders, from the highly ranked Archangels to our smallest sized Cherubs, this is a technique successfully performed only by Seraphim because our physique is the most birdlike.
Once on the road, Michael indicates the crowds beginning to gather on balconies and footpaths. ‘Word is spreading quickly.’
‘Do they know why I’ve returned?’
‘There’s been no official announcement, but, yes, everyone knows.’
We walk one paved road after another, making our way towards Centre Square. As we crest a hill, the Cathedral looms into view, spiralling several stories higher than most other city buildings. This is where royalty are crowned and married and occasionally remembered. This is where Ebony and I will wed, if she agrees, any time on or after her eighteenth birthday.
I have not lost hope that Ebony’s memories will return. The evidence is in her reaction the moment she saw me in her high-school car park. I was a stranger, and yet she appeared to recognise me, or felt drawn to me in some way. My unexpected presence triggered a memory; unfortunately it wasn’t enough to identify me. I wish I knew what happened to her memories, why they’re buried deep inside an area of her brain she can’t reach. The logical explanation points to her sixteen years on Earth, and the way John and Heather Hawkins raised her to believe only in what she could see, feel or touch. But logical reasoning can be a sheath disguising the truth. Not everything has a rational explanation.
My eyes veer slightly east to the crown apartments where members living in outer provinces will reside for the hearing’s duration. Adjacent is the city school with its nine border halls, one for each of the angelic orders, with their spiralling towers in their striking house colours. One of these, the Seraphim Hall, has left me with mixed memories. I enjoyed my time there, but after I turned seven my thoughts were always of Ebony, wondering where she was, who had taken her, if she was
Mum . . . Oh, Mum, you’ve been living in Skade long enough.
The sooner I break Ebony up from Nathaneal, the sooner my mother returns home.
‘Jordy, are you all right in there?’
‘Honestly, Ebony, how I’m feeling right now has nothing to do with you, so just stop trying to fix me, OK?’
‘OK, I’ll stop . . . after you tell me what happened at school today.’
She’s not letting up until I tell her something. I open the door to let her in but keep my profile to her so she doesn’t glimpse into my lying eyes. ‘They hooked up.’
‘Who?’
‘Who do you think? Danny and Sophie.’
There’s a long pause. ‘Oh. I thought she liked you .’
‘You must have got the same screwed-up vibes I did. But . . . that’s not what hurts.’
‘Danny didn’t tell you,’ she says, skimming her fingers lightly over my shoulder. ‘What a coward.’
Man , her touch feels good.
‘Jordy,’ she says, ‘I’m so sorry. Are you all right?’
‘Yeah, I just . . . It feels like I got no one left.’
Her fingers stiffen and go as still as four wooden pegs. ‘You have me.’
‘For now, sure, but what will I do when you leave this world?’ I spin round. ‘Who will I have then?’
11
Nathaneal
All the streets of Aarabyth lead to the Centre Square, a park of various coloured trees and vibrant gardens with pathways, fountains and play areas for the young. Communities hold gatherings there: feasts, festivals, weddings and occasionally a memorial.
Standing on the lowest platform, three thousand metres above ground, I locate Centre Square by the towering purple trees that surround it, and their magnolia-shaped blue, pink and white flowers, presently in full bloom.
The three remaining Thrones descend at Michael’s command. He waits for them to land before he signals me. We dive together, head first, releasing our wings only when the ground is so close it appears to come rushing up to meet us. It’s fast and exhilarating, and of the nine different angelic orders, from the highly ranked Archangels to our smallest sized Cherubs, this is a technique successfully performed only by Seraphim because our physique is the most birdlike.
Once on the road, Michael indicates the crowds beginning to gather on balconies and footpaths. ‘Word is spreading quickly.’
‘Do they know why I’ve returned?’
‘There’s been no official announcement, but, yes, everyone knows.’
We walk one paved road after another, making our way towards Centre Square. As we crest a hill, the Cathedral looms into view, spiralling several stories higher than most other city buildings. This is where royalty are crowned and married and occasionally remembered. This is where Ebony and I will wed, if she agrees, any time on or after her eighteenth birthday.
I have not lost hope that Ebony’s memories will return. The evidence is in her reaction the moment she saw me in her high-school car park. I was a stranger, and yet she appeared to recognise me, or felt drawn to me in some way. My unexpected presence triggered a memory; unfortunately it wasn’t enough to identify me. I wish I knew what happened to her memories, why they’re buried deep inside an area of her brain she can’t reach. The logical explanation points to her sixteen years on Earth, and the way John and Heather Hawkins raised her to believe only in what she could see, feel or touch. But logical reasoning can be a sheath disguising the truth. Not everything has a rational explanation.
My eyes veer slightly east to the crown apartments where members living in outer provinces will reside for the hearing’s duration. Adjacent is the city school with its nine border halls, one for each of the angelic orders, with their spiralling towers in their striking house colours. One of these, the Seraphim Hall, has left me with mixed memories. I enjoyed my time there, but after I turned seven my thoughts were always of Ebony, wondering where she was, who had taken her, if she was
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