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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.

‘We’re out of time,’ Nathaneal announces. ‘Jordan, listen to me. You do not have to die today if you agree to help me find Ebrielle.’

‘And if I don’t agree?’

‘We leave.’ He points to the doctor who’s stopped everything and is staring up at the clock on the wall with a look of death on his own face.

‘Wait!’ I recall the stunning landscape he showed me. ‘My life wasn’t all peachy, you know. You gotta understand, my life sucked. Why would I
want
to return?’

‘What if I said you would return to a far better life this time around?’

‘Can you assure me of that?’

‘Once we find Ebrielle and she returns to Avena, you will have a Guardian Angel. Trust me; your life will improve dramatically.’

‘You sound so sure, but, dude, how can I trust someone I only just met?’ I take a breath quickly. ‘I suppose life wasn’t too bad when it was going all right, but … How would I know what to do? Where to look?’

‘I will be with you every step.’

I stare hard at the tall stranger before me. He says he’s an angel. I suppose he is. And if anyone has a trustworthy face, it’s this one, but what would I be getting myself into? ‘You said
every
step?’

‘You have my word.’

I remind myself how this could all be a reaction to the anaesthetic and these two ‘angels’ could be figments of my imagination. ‘This is a dream, right? I’m doped up on morphine and having a crazy hallucination.’

‘If that is the case, why not give me your promise?’ Nathaneal shrugs.

‘If you guys are real, will I wake to find I’ve sold you my soul?’

‘Free Will is the governing law of Avena.’

‘You call this “Free Will”? Dude, this is an ambush.’

‘I’ll come to your room while you’re still in hospital, and you’ll remember everything and know this was real.’

‘How long will it take to find this girl and get my new life?’

‘Hurry and make a decision, lad,’ Isaac calls out. ‘I’ve stalled for as long as I can. Your doctor fears brain damage.’

‘Assure Dr Mac that won’t happen.’

Isaac gives Nathaneal a look that says, ‘What do you think I’ve been doing for the last twenty-six minutes?’

‘Quickly, Jordan, yes or no?’

‘Will there be danger?’

‘Yes.’

‘Could I die for real?’

‘The destiny of your species is to die.’

Isaac shakes his head. ‘He’s pulling away from me!’

‘My second life will be better, right?’

‘I promise you, yes.’

Is he telling me the whole truth?

‘What is your answer, Jordan?’

‘What do you think, Thane? Of course it’s
yes
!

On Monday morning I wake at dawn with a dream lingering in my subconscious. It’s a dream I’ve had several times recently, in which I can just make out a beautiful white house shimmering on the edges of my peripheral vision.

Shaking off the dream, I dress quickly, pack a small lunch, saddle up Shadow and ride over to the Langs’.

‘Today, my beautiful friend –’ I lean forward to pat Shadow’s elegant neck and whisper in his ear – ‘you will have a chance to stretch your long Arabian legs and we will fly together as if you have wings.’

Usually I enjoy the ride down the Langs’ long driveway. In autumn it’s especially lovely, with the changing colours of the liquidambar and golden ash trees lining both sides, but today I’m keen to start on our trip. It’s a substantial distance, but with Amber for company the journey won’t seem half as long.

We meet outside her front gates and put Shadow and her horse, Pandora, into a steady canter along Gunalda Road.

‘It’s pretty sad what happened to those best friends,’ Amber says as she tries to get at an itch under her helmet. ‘Their story has been the hot topic in chat rooms ever since.’

‘They were best friends?’

‘Years ago,’ she confirms. ‘Way before you started.’

‘There must be more to it. Adam Skinner stabbing anybody is beyond me. He has everything going for him.’

‘I know! He topped our grade two years running and he’s planning to study law and become a solicitor like his mother and stepfather.’

I nod because I know this too, from Careers Day last year when Mrs Skinner-Holmes gave a talk.

Turning west on to North-West Highway One, the traffic increases, so we ride single file. We pull in at an off-road amenities park later in the morning. Truck drivers often stop to catch a nap here, but now it’s quiet.

‘How much further?’ Amber asks as she rummages around in her backpack for something to eat.

‘According to these directions –’ I bring out my map and point to a small lane near the Windhaven National Park – ‘we should arrive around noon.’

‘Just giving us enough time to do our business and make it home before being missed.’

It’s amazing how similarly we think. Last night I told Mum I’d be out riding all day with Amber, letting her assume we would be sticking to the trails in the local forests where we usually go.

The last thing I want is to hurt my parents. If this man turns out to be a criminal, I don’t want him anywhere near Mum and Dad, so if I’m going to do this, it has to be discreet.

Amber bites into a juicy red apple. ‘So, what’s so fascinating about this lane?’

‘A house.’

‘A house, huh?’ She frowns, lowering her apple, then gasps suddenly, ‘It’s not the one in your dreams, is it?’

She should know me better than to ask such a ridiculous question. This is one area of our friendship where we agree to disagree. ‘You know dreams are simply brainwaves that become active while you rest.’

‘Yeah, yeah.’

‘They’re the body’s natural way to release stress. And they’re not real events or predictors of your own or someone else’s future.’

She shrugs. ‘Psychics and mediums would disagree with you, girlfriend.’

‘Well, I disagree with psychics and mediums.’

I am dying to tell Amber everything; it would help relieve the knot in my stomach that’s been tightening since we started out this morning. I’m just not sure what her reaction would be. Will she still think I’m the same person? Will she be uncomfortable around me as she wonders, as I can’t seem to stop doing now, who my birth parents are, and if they’re out there somewhere grieving for their missing child?

It would be great, though, to have someone to talk to and share my concerns about all this.

She notices my hesitation. ‘Best friends don’t keep secrets, and I can tell when you’re scared, and when you’re lying, hon.’

‘I’m nervous, I’ll grant you that, but I’m not lying. I don’t lie.’

‘Ah, but you’re clever at omitting pertinent information when you want to keep a secret. Come on, spill. What are
you worried about and why are you worried about telling me?’

This is all the encouragement I need, and I tell her about my conversation with Mum and Dad on Saturday night and how I’m not their biological daughter.

‘Oh, my God!’ she cries out.

‘So there I was, two days old and wrapped in a black cashmere blanket being handed to a grieving couple to raise, just like that.’

‘Oh, my God! Oh, my God!’

‘Can you say something else?’

‘You’re adopted,’ she says, then swallows deeply. ‘And all these years you had no idea?’

I shake my head a little. She covers my hand with hers on the picnic table. ‘That’s lousy, hon. They should have told you.’