Afterlife BoxSet Read online

  Contents

  Afterlife Trilogy

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Free Book

  Fledgling

  Title

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  The Taking

  Title Page

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Angelic Retribution

  Title Page

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Acknowledgments

  Newsletter & Updates

  Your Thoughts

  About the Author

  Also by Katrina Cope

  Copyright

  The Afterlife Trilogy

  Ebook first published in USA in January 2018 by Katrina Cope

  Ebook first published in Great Britain in January 2018 by Katrina Cope

  www.katrinacopebooks.com

  Text Copyright © 2018 by Katrina Cope

  Cover Design Copyright © DamonZa.com

  The moral right of Katrina Cope to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted

  All rights reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references or suggestions herein to actual historical events, real people or actual locations are fictitious. All names, characterisations, locations, incidents, and fabrications are solely the product of the author’s imagination, and any, and all, resemblance to actual persons alive or dead or locations or events is entirely coincidental.

  Published by Katrina Cope

  All rights reserved

  Michael ~ The wind beneath my wings

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  - Prologue -

  Breathe, I tell myself. Breathe. I try, and my body doesn’t respond. It simply doesn’t have the energy. The icy hardness of the tiles presses up through my clothes and onto my skin as I lie on the bathroom floor. Under my head is a sensation of warm liquid. My eyes are open but remain still, and tunnel vision sets in as they start to glaze over. Breathe, I command my body, and it struggles.

  Towering above me, I see a man. He’s strong and muscular, his jaw set in determination, and his teeth clenched. The wrinkles framing his muddy-brown eyes are deep and straight, pinched with anger.

  I want to move, but I can’t. I can barely hear my heartbeat—and it’s fading.

  Not again, my soul screams. It can’t be happening again. I was only trying to protect my mother.

  Images of two similar scenes flash before my eyes. My soul is reminding itself that this’s happened before. This’s the third life I’ve lived and the third time that my life has ended. I’m only eighteen, but this’s the longest life I’ve lived.

  Unwillingly, I watch from my fixed vision as the man raises his olive-skinned arm again. The short length of his dark-brown hair flicks around with force. He’s flinging the ceramic soap dispenser at my head—again and again and again and again. Surely he must know I’m already dying.

  My vision narrows to a tiny circle framing the face of my attacker, the man—my father.

  - Chapter One -

  “Are you ready, fledgling?”

  In front of me stands a tall, tanned male. Dark-blue pants define his muscular legs, and his olive-skinned torso is bare. He stands with his legs shoulder width apart, holding a firm stance. My eyes drift up his muscle-bound chest. In another world, I may’ve ogled over how his muscles bulge from his thin form. As my eyes reach his shoulders, they glide up a little more, observing the top edges of his majestic wings. Although strong, like his physique, they’re soft with thick, royal blue feathers. He opens them out to full extension, showing off their magnificence, and flaps them several times, raising him to hover above the ground. They’re a pair he should be proud of—the largest in the training group and a reflection of his character.

  He chuckles. “Hello,” he says slowly. “Are you ready?”

  I glance at his face, and he greets me with a playful grin. From under his dark-brown hair, his ocean-blue eyes study my expression. Right from day one in our new lives, he’s seen past my facade, reading my emotions and possibly even my thoughts. His handsome features hold wisdom beyond his human years, taking the sharpness from his chiseled looks.

  My face turns slightly warm under his gaze. I realize I’ve been staring. I smirk at him and clear my throat. “Ah, yes. I’m as ready as you are, fledgling,” I say, trying to hide my embarrassment, and I stand ready. Like me, he doesn’t carry an individual name.

  He lowers to ground level. We stand face-to-face, studying each other, waiting for one of us to make the first move. As his feet touch the ground, he steps closer and circles toward me. I step back so I’m always facing him while he continues to circle me. After a moment, he steps in; his leg thrusts out in a roundhouse kick aimed for my head. I dodge it and have my hands ready to block his next move, aimed at my leg. I retaliate with a flying backfist to his temple. He narrowly avoids this by stepping slightly aside, blocking my roundhouse.

  A slap sounds from the connection of skin on skin. Pushing my leg aside, he’s airborne in the same instant, causing me to dodge a jumping outside crescent kick aimed at my head. I retaliate with a sideways kick to his stomach that he twists to avoid, and I move in for an uppercut. My hand glides up his
facial skin, narrowly missing its target. He’d seen it coming again. This time it was close.

  He spins around and grabs my wings from over the top, scooping his arms down my back and embracing the full connection where my wings attach to my body. I extend them and flap with strong, expansive strokes. The heat from his body awkwardly reminds me of his closeness. I see the tips of my feathered wings fold in front of me as I push. They shine golden yellow in the sun. We rise off the ground while he still grasps me from behind. From his added pressure, my strokes are labored, but my wings are strong, capable, and reliable.

  The grassy ground shrinks away as we rise farther and the deep-blue ocean expands. Below, I can see the small tropical island. Palm trees line the edges and separate the sand from the vegetated areas. On the ground are several other colorful winged beings. They’re just like us. The island has been our training ground for the last six months.

  As I rise, I continue my fight to remove the attached being from behind me, yet he continues to grasp my wings’ attachments. He’s in a place that’s hard to reach. Farther and farther we rise. I reach over and grab his hair—it doesn’t faze him. We’re not fighting to kill, so I don’t use the finishing actions, and it makes it harder to remove him from my back.

  I look around. The sky is a crisp clear blue. We’ve risen into the clouds. Beyond this, I can see the mainland of Australia in the distance. In our winged form, we’re to keep out of sight of the humans, or there will be consequences.

  I stop rising then tuck in my wings. With my head tilting toward the ground and my body straight, I allow myself to fall. As we descend, the speed increases rapidly, and I twist. Long dark-brown strands of hair paste across my face. I twist hard enough to begin a spin and each turn increases in speed. My hair is now securely wrapped over my eyes, blocking all vision past its silky dark strands. I feel additional pressure from his body still trying to grasp the connecting point of my wings. I also feel his body pulling away from mine with the force of gravity. The wind wisps around my ears, and the force makes it hard for him to keep holding on.

  With a sudden movement, I untuck my wings. I extend the tips directly behind my back, pointing them in the opposite direction of my face. As soon as I do this, his grip slides down my golden feathers and off the ends, projecting him from the force of the spin. I’m free.

  Extending my wings out to the side, I stop my spin and turn my body so my head points to the sky. We stop falling only sixty-five feet from the ground. I look in the direction of my captor. I watch as he spreads his royal blue wings and applies pressure to the surrounding air, stopping the force that’s pushing him farther away. As he flies toward me, his face wears a smile.

  “That was an impressive tactic,” he congratulates me. “Very effective.”

  Before I can answer him, I hear a whoosh of wings from behind. I turn to see the concerned face of my female friend. Her long golden hair is pushed back from her face as she flies in our direction. Her lemon-colored wings spread wide, framing her yellow, figure-hugging bodysuit.

  “What’re you doing?” she asks, her voice sounds panicked. “Are you trying to be seen by the humans? You’re not even in your invisible forms.”

  “It’s okay. No one could’ve seen us.” I try to reassure her.

  “You never know.” She shakes her head and crosses her arms. Her wings flap enough to stay level with us. “They have technology that can see very far these days. Remember, we must remain invisible in this form or else we’ll face punishment. We’ve only just graduated. You don’t want to end in the abyss before we even start.” Her face etches with worry.

  I lower to the ground, and they follow. The other graduates are training around us, paying us no attention.

  “It’s okay, really.” I say. “They couldn’t have seen us.” I shake my head and turn to my male friend. “Do you think they saw us?”

  He shakes his head. “No. Stop worrying, Yellow, we’re fine.”

  Yellow isn’t her real name. We’ve given each other a reference until we receive our proven names, making it easier for us. We only use this within our little group.

  Yellow races forward and gives me a hug. “Good,” she says. “I want you to be around when we leave for our first missions.”

  I return her hug. “Hey, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine,” I whisper in her ear. While pulling away, I add, “You stress way too much.”

  Blue cocks an eyebrow. “Are you sure you should listen to her?” He looks me up and down. “A multicolored being. They’re unpredictable.”

  “I’m not that multicolored.” I defend myself. “I’m only a few colors.” Holding out my golden-yellow wings, I look at my formfitting clothes and study my pants. The colors reflect our aura. “I’m green, blue, and golden yellow.”

  “Not to mention the black hair and gray eyes,” Blue points out.

  I look at his dark hair and screw up my mouth. “Have you looked in the mirror lately?”

  He smiles. “There seems to be a shortage on this deserted island.”

  “Hmm!” I say. “And have you ever thought that maybe my eyes are silver, not gray?”

  “Silver eyes,” he says looking thoughtful. “Now that’d be an interesting color.”

  “Fledglings!” The deep voice is stern, sounding over the noise of the group.

  I look up. We all look up—all ten of us. In this place, we’re all called fledgling—new and ready to test our wings in the expansive world. We’re nameless, freshly graduated angels after an intense six months of training. Our human names lost to us forever. All of us were chosen from our unique human lives.

  Yes, that’s right. We were once humans. How? Well, that comes to the age-old question—What happens after we die? Do we go to heaven or hell, reincarnate, become reborn, spend our days floating around as spirits, or do we turn back to dust, never to be seen again?

  My story is different. I’ve lived three lives. Yes, that’s right, three. For the people who believe in reincarnation or rebirth, this isn’t news. What makes my lives different is that they all ended abruptly and in violence. Each life was ended by murder. In fact, every newly fledged angel here was murdered three times as an Innocent—pure of heart and doing the best they could to live a worthy life. It’s the only way to be chosen to serve and protect the current Innocents. To be honest, it wasn’t something on my list of jobs to do as a human—die three times by murder so I can spend the rest of my days in service. Though now that I’m here, I’m glad to have been chosen to protect people who’re like I was as a human—innocent.

  I study the figure that descends in front of me, the owner of the stern voice. He’s tall and built like a warrior with muscles well-defined on his bare arms. His medium length hair flows loosely, and glows golden-brown in the sun. His jaw is chiseled on his handsome face. While standing in front of his new graduates, his blue eyes observe every detail as he calls for our attention. He wears the outfit of an old-style Roman warrior tunic, cut off short above the knee. He’s our leader, Michael, the great archangel. Not only is he the leader of our group, but he’s also the leader of all the archangels. For six months, he’s been training us for this day.

  Physically we’re ready. We’ve been training hard. Our mission is to make the world a safer place for the Innocents, but it’s what we have to do to the alleged guilty that may be a problem. Ruling someone to be evil, a ruling that’ll affect them for the rest of their life, and punishing them is a hard gig, even if we’re just being directed to those who must receive the judgment. The punishment is to insert a conscience into them. Sounds painless, but I have my doubts—after all, it’s a punishment.

  Today is the day we begin putting our training into practice. We’ve been waiting for this moment, when Archangel Michael, our trainer, descends to give our instructions. Today is the day we’re released to begin our new role as protectors of the Innocents.

  By the time Archangel Michael has descended, we’re all crowding around him and waiting for his
instruction. I look around at the other fledglings’ faces. Their different auras are shining in different colors. Some of them look eager to start, and others look apprehensive.

  “Fledglings,” Archangel Michael says again. He stands firm in front of us with his white wings held out wide. His angelic form is intimidating enough, but the outspread wings give him a godlike appearance. As he studies the faces of his ten newly graduated angels, he continues. “As you know, today is the first day for you to fulfill your missions and duties in your angel life. You have all trained well, yet I know that some of you will struggle with your new role. You trained for a very important mission. It is imperative you insert the conscience, mentally maiming the evildoers from continuing in their ways. These orders must be followed closely to create a better and safer life for the humans on Earth.”

  He tucks in his wings and paces in front of us, his voice laced with authority. “Note well, if you do not follow these instructions—which we have proven for thousands of years—your trial will be before the board of archangels, and your fate decided. I am the leader of that board; however, if you break the rules, you will not get any leniency from me because you were my student. Due to the large rise in crime, it is only recently we have started employing the innocent humans of three deaths to train as future angels.” He stops pacing and turns to face us. “If you do not do as commanded, you will be punished and placed in the abyss for as long as your ruled penalty—if not for life.”

  He turns and studies his students one by one. When it’s my turn, his eyes bore into me as he examines my face. Even though I’m uncomfortable, I turn my eyes to his and hold my head high. It’s not an act of defiance. I know I’ve trained well, and I’m happy to serve and protect. The muscles along his jawline ripple as his face remains expressionless. He continues to step forward and analyze the remaining graduates.

  I breathe a silent sigh of relief as his eyes turn away. Archangel Michael stands for protection, justice, and strength. If you’re pure of heart, he’ll fight for you, but I’d hate to be on his bad side. As he studies the other graduates, I watch. They have a similar reaction to mine, so I know that I’m not alone in how I feel.