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‘Adam?’

Hearing my voice makes him spring into action. He grabs a bottle, shoves it under his jacket and bolts out the door.

I run out after him. Thane is right behind me. But Skinner’s head start lets him disappear into a lane. When I get there, I find it’s long and narrow with lots of doorways, and he is nowhere to be seen.

Thane puts his hand on my shoulder and instantly I feel calmer.

‘I can’t believe it!’ I shove my fists deep into the pockets of my jacket.

We start walking back to the store. ‘Well, the cops are right. He
is
hiding out up here.’

‘He was deciding to approach you. He has something he wants to say. But he noticed the police officers crossing the road and changed his mind.’

‘Man, your mind-reading rocks.’

‘It has its uses.’

‘Can you teach
me
to read minds?’

He chuckles but doesn’t answer.

The cops have spotted us and are making a beeline. I have to fight the instinct to run. Thane brushes my shoulder. ‘You’re not fourteen any more, joyriding in cars you don’t own.’

I nod. These dudes are looking for Skinner, not me, not any more.

They show me the photo. Skinner is wearing an expensive black suit with a purple shirt underneath, the tips of his short hair streaked blond and pinched out as was the rage then. ‘He doesn’t look much like a criminal.’

The shaved-head cop smirks. ‘Have you seen him? Yes or no?’

I hold the photo out at arm’s length, needing a sec to make up my mind what to say. I have to decide whether to tell the cops the truth or an outright lie. The fact is Skinner tried to kill me, but there were extenuating circumstances. Lillie would tell me to take the safe route and give him up to the cops, but part of me wants to give the guy a break. He’s had time to cool and think. Is he still a threat to me? I don’t know, but Thane says he wants to talk.

I hand the photo back. ‘Yeah, I know him from school, but we don’t hang out together.’

A half-truth is better than a whole lie. Years of shifting from one home to another taught me that. Blunt denial is a red flag to adults, especially cops, but if you give them something that sounds genuine, it’s usually enough to get them off your back.

Thane takes the photo and the cops switch their attention to him. ‘Mr Skinner ran down this lane,’ he says, pointing, then answers their unasked questions. ‘A few minutes ago. He spotted you crossing the road and fled. I suggest the third door on the left, but he’s moving fast.’

The cops thank him, glower at me and take off.

‘What was that about?’ I say.

He looks troubled but remains silent.

‘I’m the one he stabbed. It was my decision to make.’

‘He’s struggling, Jordan. He needs to be with his family and he needs help. He won’t get that on the run.’

‘But his life is over if he goes to prison.’

He looks away at the sky and sighs. ‘I’ve glimpsed inside his head. Trust me, Adam Skinner is in a prison now that’s far worse.’

But to disclose his whereabouts to the cops after all I put him through – man, that doesn’t sit well with me.

‘That’s why
I
did it,’ Thane says, listening to my thoughts.

On the way back to the house, Thane drives past his driveway. He continues along the lane until it comes to an abrupt end with nothing in sight except for forest on three sides. We get out and walk through the bush to the edge of the ridge. It’s a steep drop down to a gorge where a swift-flowing river runs along the basin with rocky outcrops on either side. ‘Whoa!’

I try to figure out where we are exactly. It’s starting to feel familiar. This is the other end of the forest where Danny and I came camping and freaked out. By day it looks harmless. I scour the trees but don’t see anything unusual, not even one sleeping, shape-shifting critter.

‘This way,’ Thane instructs.

I follow him for what feels like ages into a thick growth area where the canopy is layers deep and the sky completely obliterated.

‘Ready?’ Thane asks.

‘For what?’

‘This,’ he says, opening his hand and moving it in a wide arc.

Shimmering, flickering lights are the first clue. ‘Are we at the Crossing?’

He turns me by my shoulders. ‘Due north.’

I can only stare. Words just don’t come at first. It’s enough trying to absorb the colours of the flashing lights in the form of bursting stars surrounding a black centre large enough to fit a bus. ‘So this is how you dudes come and go from Avena?’

He nods. ‘It’s complicated though, because it will also lead to Skade. You need to know how to navigate, and of course you need wings.’

‘Oh? Why? It’s just another dimension, isn’t it?’

‘Not exactly, Jordan. It’s between dimensions. I brought you here because you need to know where this Crossing is, but you must
never
step into it.’

‘Why? Because I’m human?’

‘Because you can’t fly.’

When we get back to the house, we go for a walk through the forest there. Thane wants to show me some strategic features set up on his property, which he’s divided up into sectors for my benefit. The first is a cabin in the east sector with a safe room, then we walk to a cave in the south sector that houses the exit to one of the monastery’s escape tunnels, and finally, in the north sector, a ledge at the top of a hill with extensive views.

While we walk, I get the opportunity to ask a few questions. ‘Why can’t I see your wings? Dude, where do you keep them?’

‘There’s no trick, Jordan. Our wings are simply an
extension of our skeletal structure. You can’t see them because they retreat into our bodies when we have to assimilate with humans. If we didn’t have to assimilate, they wouldn’t retreat; it’s that simple.’

We walk into a thick wooded area where gum trees tower overhead, while at eye level vines, leafy palms and ferns create a natural curtain from prying eyes, should there be any. It’s here Thane stops, glances around and shrugs out of his jacket. I take it from him and stand back. He flexes his shoulders, rolls them around a couple of times as if loosening them up. My heart starts to pound at the thought of what I’m about to see. ‘Hey, what about your T-shirt? Won’t your wings rip it to shreds?’

‘Not this one. I brought it with me from Avena. It’s made from a special fibre. When my wings push on the fabric, the cells inside the fibres separate naturally, returning to form afterwards.’

As I think about this, Thane releases his wings. Whatever preconceived ideas I had just flew out the window. I never expected the silky whiteness of Thane’s feathers, or the softness of his wings as they unfold like the flexing of a sail. Every feather has a coloured tip, alternating dark red and gold.

He turns and walks towards me, his wings floating behind him as they gracefully respond to his every movement. He inhales a deep breath and hangs his head back for a moment, clearly revelling in the feel of their release as if he’s giving them some kind of long-awaited freedom from prison.

He comes up to me and I feel as if I should bow or drop to my knees or something. ‘Dude, they’re awesome!’

He smiles and reaches for his jacket. By the time it’s in his hands his wings have disappeared, leaving only the sound of a soft whoosh and a slight rush of air.

‘Can a human become an angel?’

‘Rarely,’ he says, ‘but it has happened, though from memory more have become dark angels or the occasional demon.’ His eyes flit sideways to me. ‘Thinking about applying?’

My laugh is loud and cynical ‘
Me?
An
angel
? You’ve got to be kidding!’

He frowns at me. He can tell I’m mocking myself but he can’t seem to grasp why. ‘Care to elaborate, Jordan? Our species aren’t that different.’

‘Not different? Oh sure!’ I watch my footing as the track grows narrow and slippery with damp leaves.

‘Jordan, all I’m saying is you don’t always know what you’re capable of until you’ve tried.’

My temper erupts. ‘This isn’t personal, Thane. I just can’t see myself as a creature of pure spirit.’

‘We don’t view ourselves any differently to how you humans view yourselves,’ he says, his eyes flickering sideways. It’s the only warning I get before he drops a heavy one on me. ‘I have a question for you.’

‘Sounds ominous. What is it?’

His eyes become serious as the sound of running water in the distance grows louder and my anticipation rises. ‘What happened between you and your childhood friend that made him so angry, so full of hatred, that he would risk spending the rest of his life in prison to exact revenge?’

Crap! If I tell him, will he think less of me?

‘Jordan, you know that won’t happen.’

‘It’s not a pretty story, Thane.’

‘I understand.’

We reach a stunning waterfall and stop.

‘Don’t you already know anyway?’

He’s silent for a second as he watches white water swirling around partially submerged boulders below us, then turns his head to me and says, ‘I’d like to hear it in your words.’

I take a deep breath and concentrate on looking at the opposite bank, hoping that what I tell Thane won’t make a difference to what he thinks of me, or make him regret …

‘Jordan, that won’t happen.’

Absently I nod. Why does Adam want revenge? That’s the easiest part to answer. ‘He believes I killed his brother.’

I wake with the lingering memory of a peculiar dream and the flawless face of a winged man, but as my eyes open and my brain registers morning light, memories rush in of red flames gorging on my house, and the dream slips away.

It’s Monday morning, the second week of the break, and I’m relieved that I don’t have to face school for another whole week.

‘Ebony, two detectives are here to talk to you,’ Dawn says, stepping through Amber’s bedroom door. She realises I’m just waking and murmurs, ‘Oh, sorry. I thought you were awake.’

‘Almost,’ I whisper a little groggily. ‘Did you say the police are here?’

She turns to Amber, who is already up and sitting at her desk letting down the hem of her favourite dress. ‘Darling, take the detectives into the dining room, make them a cup of tea and tell them Ebony will be with them shortly.’

She hands me a bag of clothes. ‘I was going to give these to charity.’ I peek inside to find several pairs of boy jeans, T-shirts and jumpers, one grey, two black. ‘They’re mostly Luke’s,’ she says when I glance up. ‘He grew the fastest of
the boys even though he’s the younger by five minutes,’ she says. ‘They’ll probably swim on you, but the length should be good.’

I pull out the pair of dark blue jeans and the grey jumper, the least masculine of the bunch. ‘Thank you.’ I muster the courage to ask, ‘Do they have news of Mum and Dad?’

‘They haven’t said anything yet, so we’ll find out together.’

Dawn sits beside me at the dining table, opposite Detective Sergeant Sawyer, the older of the two, while the other officer, Detective Constable Barrett, elects to stand.

‘Have you found my parents yet?’

Dawn squeezes my hand while Sergeant Sawyer, notebook in hand, absurdly flicks pages as if he needs to check his notes before answering me.

‘Sergeant?’ Dawn presses when neither detective volunteers an answer.

Looking up from his notebook, Sergeant Sawyer says slowly, ‘It appears that shrapnel and smoke were the culpable parties in this case.’

Not sure what he means by ‘culpable parties’, I ask my question in another way. ‘Do you know where my parents are?’

His eyes deliberately find mine. ‘Miss Hawkins, we haven’t been able to locate your parents. They’ve been missing now for twenty-four hours. Regretfully we have to assume that shrapnel and smoke from the explosion in their bedroom killed your parents. I’m very sorry for your loss.’

Silence creeps into the room with the stealth of an uninvited guest. Then, one after another, the sounds return,
beginning with my breathing, slowly in and out. Eventually Constable Barrett says, ‘If it’s any consolation, it would have been quick.’

Dawn’s arm wraps around my shoulders. ‘I’m sorry, Ebony.’

The sergeant says, ‘It’s the most likely result.’

‘That’s a bit vague, sir.’

Detective Barrett, says, ‘The explosion caused intense heat, rapid burn and massive volumes of smoke. Nothing was found to indicate your parents survived the blast.’

‘Was anything found to indicate they didn’t? If what you’re telling me is correct, where are their … remains?’

Neither officer is expecting this question. They glance at each other and consult their notes awkwardly.

The sergeant says, ‘I’m afraid there were none.’

Flicking me a cautious, worried glance, Dawn asks, ‘Nothing that could be tested for DNA? Fragments of bone or, um, teeth, I heard, aren’t always destroyed.’

‘Nothing, ma’am.’

‘Sergeant, how can you confirm my parents are dead if you found nothing that proves they were in the house at the time of the fire?’

He looks to Dawn, but when she’s not forthcoming turns back to me. ‘Miss Hawkins, we checked transport links, hospitals, medical centres, hotels and morgues. Your parents have not run away.’

‘I appreciate your thoroughness, but what about ditches, creeks or under bridges? They could have walked somewhere, dazed and confused. Who knows where they could be!’

He looks at me as he stands to leave. ‘I’m sorry we had to
bring you this sad news. We have other questions, but we can leave them for another time.’

I look away, adamant they have it wrong.

There’s nothing to identify because Mum and Dad were not in the house at the time of the explosion. The simplest answer is usually the correct one. It’s the basic principle of science.

So where are they? Could they have faked their own deaths? But that would mean they deliberately left me behind
. ‘Oh shut up, Ebony!’ I inadvertently say it out loud. Dawn and the detectives glance at me weirdly.

My parents are gone. I just turned sixteen. Parents aren’t supposed to disappear when their child is still a teenager!

The officers start walking to the front door, but suddenly Sergeant Sawyer turns back. ‘Miss Hawkins, do you know anyone who might want to harm your parents?’