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  Once he’s finished his final study of his graduate’s faces, he turns and stands in front of us. He holds out his hands, and a small cloud appears within them. Balancing the cloud on one hand, he reaches in the center with the other. When he pulls out his hand, he holds a small glowing bean and approaches me. He holds it out, and I take it from him gingerly. It feels smooth and warm. I look at him with confusion.

  “This is a bean of life. Once you receive your bean, you must swallow it for it to reveal to you the life you are to protect. Any person with ill intent who is surrounding your person must receive a conscience. Your mission is to insert a conscience into that person so they will stop pursuing the one you are protecting and possibly others. Once you are successful in completing a mission, you must return to receive another bean. Remember, you are not on Earth to kill.” He finishes handing each one of us a shining bean and says, “You may proceed.”

  I slip the bean in my mouth and swallow. It slides down with ease, just like a tablet would with a little water. When it reaches my stomach, warmth starts to spread through my abdomen. At first, it reminds me of that feeling of swallowing a large amount of coffee; then the warmth grows. It’s an unusual feeling. Visions of a face and a name start to reveal themselves to me, along with the country and precise address.

  I close my eyes for a moment, taking in the instructions. When I receive them, I open my eyes.

  Archangel Michael watches until we complete the digestion of the instructions. “Now is the time to leave. Remember, once your mission is complete, you are required to return here ready for your next. Serve well.” His image disappears, leaving the fledglings to process the information.

  I look to the side to watch my friends. Blue is watching me. He almost looks sad. I give him a little smile, trying to cheer him up.

  Yellow interrupts my thoughts. “I’m so going to miss you guys,” she squeaks.

  I turn to look at her. “Where’re you off to?”

  “Bridgeport, Connecticut, in the United States of America.” The edges of her mouth are turned down.

  I turn to Blue and raise my eyebrow. “Paris, in France,” he answers. “Where’re you going?”

  “London. I’m so glad we can’t get cold anymore.” I smile weakly. “I hope we see each other soon.”

  Blue places a hand on my shoulder. My heart sinks. I’ll miss him and Yellow. I look up into his eyes, and a thought crosses my mind. Holding out my hand I close it into a fist. After a moment, I open it to reveal three small charms. They’re golden with three angels standing together arm in arm: one blue male, one royal blue-and-green female with golden wings, and one yellow female angel. “Hopefully these will remind us of each other until we meet again.” I lace one on Yellow’s necklace and clasp the latch behind her neck. I study Blue’s physique briefly in search of a location to fasten the charm. He’s not wearing any jewelry. The heat rises to my ears, as I’m aware that I’m studying his form again. It’s a strange sensation because I don’t wish for any romance from him. He’s my new best friend, and, besides, romances are strictly forbidden. Still, I can’t help the heat from embarrassment rising to my face. My eyes finally fall on a metal loop on his long pants—the little amount of clothing he wears. It’s near his hip. Glad that the awkward search is over, I lock the clasp over the loop. My eyes wander up to his. He’s wearing that cheeky grin again. I back away and my fingers grab my bracelet and fumble with the clasp of the charm.

  After I attach the charm, Blue steps forward and embraces me. Awkwardness mixed with comfort fills me while in his firm arms. With a large smile, he steps forward, dragging me backward, and opens his large arms to embrace Yellow. I reach out to embrace her as well. She wipes a stray tear from her cheek and returns the embrace. “Bye guys,” she squeaks through her sobs, and then she disappears, leaving Blue and me in our embrace.

  I step back. “Best of luck,” I say as I lunge into the air without looking back. I hate goodbyes, I always have. Spreading my golden wings, I allow the wind to carry me. I’m in the mood for flying today.

  - Chapter Two -

  A brightness glows from the buildings and streetlights below. I’m here. I’ve reached London. It took a little while because the Coral Sea, where the island sits, is near the northern parts of Australia. The flight was long but completely invigorating. I enjoyed feeling the wind beneath my wings and the clearness of mind that comes with that freedom. Since I began as a trainee angel, I’ve had little time to ponder what’s happened. I had this time while flying to London. When I think back over my three lives, I’m glad I’ve been selected for this role.

  It’s early evening in the middle of December. It’s cold, and many people are already indoors settling in for the night. During my short lives, I didn’t have a chance to travel, and I’m looking forward to seeing the various parts of the world.

  Beneath me, I spot the street of my destination—Brick Lane. Its road and buildings are finished in brick, and only some of its walkways consist of concrete. Even at this time of night several lights are shining from the lower level of the buildings, and cars are parked out front. Curry restaurants and bakeries are still open for business. As I look for a discreet place to land, I fly over the street, making sure I’m high enough to remain out of sight. My vision is stronger now that I’m not human. The lane is lit too brightly to land there. I rise and circle the area, doing my best to keep my golden wings away from the light. Not too far away, I spot a dark alley. Quietly, I land in the darkness and transform myself by folding away my wings. That way, I look human.

  I walk out of the cramped area and into the light, passing some closed shop windows. I stop and pretend to look at the merchandise on display. It’s the first time I’ve seen myself since I’ve become an angel. As I ignore the people walking past, I observe the young lady in front of me. I look to be about the same age as I was in my past life—eighteen. My skin seems pale, my facial features are well-defined in the right places. My lips are full, and my eyes are intense between the long, dark eyelashes. I watch as the elegant hand in the reflection reaches up and strokes the long, dark-brown hair. There isn’t a curl in sight.

  Wow. It would’ve taken me ages to style my hair and face to look like this when I was a human. The image looks similar to me in my last life but better, as if I’ve been photoshopped.

  Letting my eyes wander over the reflection of my body, I see I’m wearing long pants and a long-sleeved shirt. It looks kind of like a bodysuit. I glance down my body for a better look. It’s a mixture of royal blue and a deep-green, with a few flecks of golden-yellow I’m certain would match my wings. Glancing back at the window, I turn sideways to have a brief look behind, I look to be in perfect shape. But then I shouldn’t be surprised, as training camp is a hard workout with all the fighting styles we learned from Archangel Michael.

  I turn back to the window and do one last final check, establishing it’s me.

  Making sure no one is watching, I focus on my eyes and make them glow. Within the dark shadows of my eyes, a silver gray light emerges. Yes, that’s me. Happy knowing what I look like in this form, I turn to continue walking toward Brick Lane. My deep-blue high-heeled boots click softly on the pavement.

  I find the street and walk down the lane. It’s completely different from any street of my childhood. The buildings are a mixture of shops and homes, or sometimes both together. I walk past some open restaurants and continue under the brick bridge. I pass two men on the street, and they stare at me strangely. I’ve confirmed that I look like a normal human, so I assume that it’s odd for a young female to be walking alone in these parts. I’m not frightened and have no need to be, but I need to get off the street soon or become invisible.

  I keep walking and pass a few more cars. It’s a very long street. Hearing laughter in the distance, I notice that it’s coming from one of the open restaurants. As I walk past the restaurant, I notice it’s full of people. I catch sight of a calendar and realize that it’s Saturday night. Glan
cing up at the sign, I see it’s called Aladin Restaurant, spelled with only one d. Pondering the reason for the incorrect spelling, I shrug, it’s probably just an eye-catching gimmick. Some of the smaller signage is claiming it to be “One of the Top 10 Greatest Indian Restaurants in London . . . Ever!” I don’t know if that’s true, but it sure smells good. It’s a pity that I don’t need to eat anymore.

  I pass the restaurant and search the street for numbers. I’m not too far away now, so I find a dark area and make myself invisible. I find the apartment and teleport inside.

  It’s a cramped little place with more people living inside than there are bedrooms. I step around the furniture in search for the person I’m to protect. With so many people around, it’s hard to believe this person needs protecting, though I won’t question my instruction. The archangels must know that this person is in danger.

  It’s not ideal living conditions, but at least these people have a roof over their heads. The smell of incense fills the air. I pass a living room, and my eye catches the circular motion of smoke rising from the incense stick.

  The conversation is too active for all the occupants to be permanent residents. I get the impression they have guests staying, making the small apartment seem more crowded. I can only see adults, so I assume that the younger members of the house have already gone to bed. The person I’m to protect is young.

  I move on past the living room and climb the stairs. My person is here—I can feel her. When I reach the top of the stairs, I see two doors. One of them is closed. I feel a pull toward the closed door, but in case someone’s awake, I don’t open it. Instead, I transport myself silently into the room.

  I’m in a child’s room. It’s dark with only a dim light shining from the nightlight. Sounds of several children’s deep breathing fill my ears. I relax and turn off my invisibility, letting my eyes skim the room. There are two sets of bunks and two mattresses on the floor. The room is overcrowded, though the sleeping children don’t seem to mind. As they sleep restfully, I step around them, studying their faces.

  Each face is adorable. My protective instincts instantly awaken. These are very young boys and girls with the oldest girl being about ten years of age. Each child has the look of Bangladesh descent. The dark hair and dark features of these sleeping children are melting their way into my heart. There’s nothing more adorable than a child deep in sleep.

  I notice the blanket’s fallen off the youngest child on one of the lower beds. He must be only three years old. By the appearance of the house, it’s clear the families have little money. The heat isn’t turned on, or, if it is, it’s not on very high. The added heat from the extra bodies in the room helps, but the boy’s arms are getting goose bumps.

  I bend down and pull his blanket up around his neck. He stirs slightly, without waking from the different sensation on his skin. I stroke his hair lightly then leave him alone.

  Standing up, I look at the other children. It’s then that my eyes fall on her. She’s on the other bunk bed at the bottom. Joya. She’s the one I’m to protect. I step across the small open space and sit on the edge of her bed. Her naturally tanned skin is flawless under the pale light. I sit and study her features. Her long eyelashes fall over the tops of her cheeks. Her dark eyebrows pucker with the change of a dream. Long dark-brown hair flows loose on her pillow and frames her face. Embraced within her arms is a small plush toy. It’s hard to see what it is within her clasp. A long pink ear falls over her arm.

  Laughter floats up the stairs. I glance briefly at the door wondering what’s so humorous.

  I look back at the girl; she’s only six, and for some reason she’s in danger. It’s difficult to believe when looking at her. Her family seems poor but caring. As I remain sitting at the end of her bed, I watch her sleep, listening to her faint heartbeat, and wait.

  “I won’t be leaving your side, little one,” I whisper.

  She stirs slightly and turns her head in the other direction.

  - Chapter Three -

  The next morning, she wakes, and I make myself invisible. Her eyes open and I catch my breath. Oh, the sweet innocence swimming in those dark-brown puddles. As soon as the light hits those eyes, they fill with joy and happiness.

  She throws her blanket off, flips her feet over the side of the bed, and scurries over to the nearest mattress on the floor. A pale-pink, flannelette floral nightie flaps around her ankles. She kneels on the mattress and shakes the sleeping girl in front of her.

  “Sadia, Sadia. Wake up,” she calls with excitement.

  The young sleeping girl’s eyes open a tiny crack. The girl moans softly.

  “Sadia, wake up,” Joya calls again while shaking her a little more. “Today is market day. We get to look at all the goodies in the market.”

  Sadia’s eyes open wide, and she sits up straight. Excitement gleams from her face as she leaps out of bed. The hem of her long blue nightie falls toward the carpeted floor when she stands, and soft ringlets of dark, matted hair tumble around her shoulders.

  I watch as the two girls preen themselves and get ready for an exciting day. They dress in the bathroom and hurry downstairs. Joya’s mother has breakfast ready for the excited girls.

  Looking at the two young girls brings back memories of when I was a young human. In my second life, I wasn’t much older than Joya when death snatched me away. My upbringing was different from these two girls, but the excitement and innocence of childhood were the same.

  I remember, even though I was only young, I’d already met my true love. I sigh deeply. Ah, yes, my first and only love. We’d met in the life before. Both of us emerged in a new life after our first innocent lives were taken away. It’s unusual that both of us were killed at such a young age in our first lives, and introduced again in our second after living for a only few years. It’s like we were destined to be with each other.

  While the girls eat and talk excitedly with each other, I watch in my invisible state, and my eyes glaze over. I wonder where he is now. He reemerged with me in my third life, yet now we’re separated. Last I knew, he was still a human—something I’ll never be again.

  The two girls finish their breakfast, and their mothers prepare to leave with Joya and Sadia to the Sunday Markets on Brick Lane. The need to focus on Joya and why she’s in danger pulls me from my thoughts. As they leave, I follow behind, keeping myself invisible.

  They stroll down the gray brick road toward the center of the markets. The crowd grows thicker with each step. Tired of people running into me, I discretely become visible. There are too many people wandering around for the girls and their mothers to notice that I’m following them. I watch as the girls touch and fiddle with everything within their reach. They giggle at the different items that are foreign to them.

  As a stall owner glares at the girls, Joya’s mother calls, “Joya, stop touching everything.”

  While putting the item down, Joya’s face drops into a pout as she presses on toward her mother, her pretty sari rubbing around her legs. For a moment, the crowd blocks me. I can’t see her.

  Frantically my eyes search as my heart rate rises. A few minutes pass, and I can’t see her or her friend. I begin to worry. I cannot fail on my first mission, especially with such a sweet young girl to protect. I start to push the surrounding people a little harder, trying to force my way through the crowd. I ignore the annoyed side-glances directed my way and maneuver through the tight gaps by twisting my body. The dark-brown hair of a little girl about the same height as Joya comes into view. My heart races—perhaps this’s her. The little girl’s head turns. She’s not Joya. I give the girl a half-smile and push past her.

  I continue pressing through the crowd. There’s another young girl a few people away. This time I know it’s Joya. It’s her dark-brown hair, and her sari is the same. Right after I spot her, Sadia appears next to her and grabs her hand. I breathe a sigh of relief. She’s still safe. I’ve not lost her. Sadia leads Joya back to follow their mothers. They stop at a
sari stall admiring all the different colors and textures available.

  I lean against a wall and observe them from a distance, watching closely across a less-condensed patch of people. As I watch the interaction between the mothers and daughters, my thoughts wander. Memories of my mother from my past life resurface. I remember the tender touches and hugs she gave me, the arms that’d embrace me affectionately over and again. I miss my mother. I wonder what happened to her after I died. She cared for me greatly, and day after day she put up with my abusive father. I could never understand why she didn’t leave him.

  He abused her mentally, verbally, and physically. I could see the bruises under her makeup, and I knew she hid the tears from me, expelling them during quiet times in her room. After I’d turned sixteen, I began trying to convince her to leave my dad. When he was absent, I’d plead with her to run away and start a secret life away from him—if that’s what it’d take to keep her safe.

  After two years, I was finally starting to get through to her. I could see the different look in her eye each time he abused her and the changed expression after he’d gone. It was slowly changing from hopelessness to defiance. She was about to leave when I visited from college. He started hitting her again because of some stupid reason. This time he’d hit her so hard that he’d knocked her unconscious in a matter of seconds. That’s when I stepped in to defend her, and that’s when he ended my life. The heat of anger swells inside me at the memory. He’s the reason I’m here. He ended my third life. It’s this memory that fuels my drive to protect the Innocents. People like him shouldn’t be allowed to wander freely and unpunished, taking innocent lives whenever they choose.

  I can feel my eyes tighten with anger. When I remember the reason I’m standing there, I refocus. I realize that Joya, Sadia, and their mothers are looking at me. They look haunted. I guess my face had a look of hatred on it, and they probably thought I was another racist staring at them in anger. I blink and rub my temples and give them a little weary smile. I hope this will convince them I’m not a racist or in any way casting hate in their direction. In any case, it would’ve been unnerving having a stranger watching so intensely. Because of my carelessness, I have to look away.