Realm of Wings

Somewhere on Earth:

“Is everything ready, miss Jade?” My friend and loyal companion asked me, while I looked up towards the house that I have been living in, for the past ten years.

I was getting attached to this particular place, as it provided me comfort, peace, and enough space to store my weaponry in. Even the people from the town were growing steadily on me. They were nice, non-judgemental, and overly excited to have someone that could protect them from bandits. But I couldn’t permit myself to stay any longer than a decade as that would raise suspicion towards my healthy stature.

There was always a twinge in my mind, where I wanted to know where I came from exactly, but after searching for I don’t know how long, I had given up. I had just accepted the fact that I might be some sort of immortal, even though I could be hurt and damaged. So, besides me spending over a century on this god-forsaken world already, without showing any form of ageing, I knew that I could die someday. Hence the reason for my weaponry and my skills in combat. If people could hurt me, I’d rather not spend my days immobile and defenceless, so I had mastered myself in a variety of fighting technics.

I whipped my blond hair to the back and put my gun and dagger, which I had been carrying outside, into the trunk of the car.

“Yes Neil, let’s go.” I sighed as I stepped inside on the passenger seat while leaning the backrest to the back, for me to get some sleep. I closed my eyes and put the head of the hoody that I wore, over my face.

Some late-night adjustments to the security software of the town’s newly-placed gates, had me kept awake last night, so I wanted to get some sleep while driving over to the airstrip. With sorrow in the back of my mind, knowing that I would never come back to this place, I wanted to grant these people some sort of protection. I hadn’t had wanted for those bandits to come back in so easily, should they ever find out that I had left.

And even though the town’s people weren’t that fond of me leaving, they were happy that I could have provided them with some sort of wall, to keep themselves safe.

“Are you sure you want to go back to Europe?” Neil asked me at which I had opened one eye, to look at him, while he started the engine and drove off my property.

“No, but I have to go and see them anyway.” I replied, hoping that I could finally make the nuns see reason and tell me about my heritage. Because I’m perfectly aware they aren’t as dumb as they like to pretend they are. Besides, Sister Mary Margaret was getting old, so if she wanted to let me in on any secret that she might have of me, she would have to tell me now.

From Rio de Janeiro, it took us two flights and another long drive, towards the dark, remotely placed, and silent church that was in the middle of a small village in the south of Germany.

I got out of the car and walked away from the church as I wasn’t ready to get in right away. “Where are you going, miss?” Neil asked me, his grey brows furrowing on his old face.

His days were wearing thin, I knew that, but he would never show that to me. His back was always straight, his politeness never faltered and his loyalty would remain to me, to the end of his life. Not because I required that of him, but knowing that he had spent nearly thirty years with me, gave me the knowledge that he would never want to leave me. His British way of wanting to take care of all my needs, non-sexually meant, made him the perfect manager for all my quirks and bad behaviour. Besides, he kept my blades sharp and clean, and I trust no other person with those in their hands.

“Getting me something to brighten my day.” I answered while walking towards the local pub.

“Don’t drink too much!” Neil hollered behind me, at which I raised my hand in agreement, even though I wasn’t sure if I could stop myself, once I would taste the local beer.

I walked inside the smoky brown establishment and took a seat at the bar. Every single peasant inside turned their gazes towards me, at which I had ignored them, and ordered myself the first beer of the night.

The bartender, an old bearded man, with a belly as round as the beer-keg behind him, rose an eyebrow in question as he looked at my features.

My long blond hair, tucked inside my black hoody and my black leather leggings and combat boots, would be a rather funny sight, in a dump like this. Also, my young-looking facial features, even though I had a few scars, were odd in the sighting of all the men around me, that were worn out from their work, aching for their own couple of beers.

“Also, was machst du hier?” A burly, completely drunk German man asked me. (So, what are you doing here?)

If it weren’t for him to be as drunk as he is now, I would have appreciated the attention he had dared to give me. I mean, a good lay might get me my mood to brighten up, better than a couple of beers would, but even so, I wouldn’t want to be found dead in the near vicinity of his stinking breath.

“Get lost.” I answered in English and pushed his barstool a few inches away with my boot. The German language is perfectly understandable by me, as I can speak and write fluently in about thirteen, and I have been raised in this place. But I didn’t want to bother myself by speaking his tongue, as I was comfortable talking in English as I had been doing so ever since Neil became my new companion.

“If you don’t appreciate his attendance, maybe I could get you to come with me?” Another man that came to sit at the right of me, asked me in clear English. By the evident accent of his voice, I could tell that he wasn’t from around here, as his silky voice wasn’t something that fitted in this region. Yet, where he did come from, was unknown to me. It rose me a brow of curiosity and I took a swig of my beer before I answered him.

“And where would that be?” I asked him, as I wiped away the foam of beer from my upper lip. He didn’t look drunk at all and his body looked immaculate and strong. Besides his accent of unknown origin, I was curious as to what he could do with me, knowing that I’m not the weakest of women to be found around either.

He chuckled as he looked at my eyes as if he was boring right through them, searching for some emotion in the back of my mind. Which there wasn’t. I don’t have a conscience, I don’t own a form of self-restraint, I do whatever comes up in my mind and I don’t care what others think of me.

He pointed his finger upwards, referring to him having a room in this fine café, right upstairs.

I chuck back my stein of beer, down in one go, burped a little air up, and placed the mug back on the bar. “Let’s go. I’m going to hell anyway.” I said as I stood up from my barstool.

The man chuckled again, following my steps and guiding me up the stairs to the room he had rented. Only a small brown bed and worn-out-looking bedding laid on top of it. “Luxurious.” I commented sarcastically as he picked me up and put me on the bed.

We got to do our business, which wasn’t the most amazing thing I have ever felt, but at least he was a gentleman as I had gotten my release as well. Afterwards, we had fallen asleep as he had tucked me right in between his arms.

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of some annoying, repeating sound. I opened my eyes and looked to see where I was. ‘Right, in a room above the bar’ I reminded myself as I rubbed my hands over my face. The annoying sound didn’t stop, however, so I sat myself up and my sleepy sex companion had grunted and turned himself around, swaying his long black hair over the pillow.

“Sister Anselma raised you better than this, didn’t she Jade?” An old but still very clear voice erupted through the silent room.

The woman from which the voice came from, was tapping her black flats on the old brown wood, while her black and white habit, surrounded by a black cinch around her waist, moved along the same rhythm. Her arms were folded over her chest and her face looked wrinkled and worn, from all her days of solitude and devotion to the one and only Lord.

I know that I haven’t seen her in thirty years, and even though her face was covered in old ‘experience’ I knew exactly who this person was.

“Yes, Sister M., she did. But I guess that the Lord had other ideas with my existential crisis.” I grunted.

“Don’t talk to me like that, missy. You might be strong-willed, but I won’t tolerate this kind of language! And my name is Sister Margaret! Now, get your naked behind away from that man and follow me inside the church!” She scolded me, knowing that she was the only one that could pull this kind of attitude towards me.

Sister Anselma was the one that had taken me in when I was just a baby and then raised me until I was eighteen at which I left to scour the world. And even though I hated her strong education and tight etiquette, I had grown some sort of love and appreciation towards her. But when she died, about ninety years ago, Sister Schmitt had taken over for about thirty years, and then Sister Margaret had taken over at a rather young age to rule the Conclave. So now, she had been the one that I could confide my life to. She was the only other person, besides Neil, that knew of my immortality, and I only came back now to find out if she knew more about that.

I grunted, grabbed my clothes, and put them on, while she stood waiting at the door, not wanting to see the man completely naked, should he wake up and throw his blankets aside.

We walked downstairs, at the now-closed bar, but before leaving I jumped behind the brown wooden structure to grab myself a bottle of Jägermeister and took a swig of it, to get me to wake up a little.

“Mother of mercy…” Sister Margaret mumbled and shook her head heavily.

As we walked inside the humble cathedral, Sister Margaret bent her old and squeaky knees toward the statue of Jesus and crossed her chest accordingly. I nearly didn’t want to follow her gesture, but as the scowl on her face pointed me to act otherwise, it made me sigh and do it anyway. For a moment, the colourful rays of early sunshine broke through the stained glass windows, aiming its gaze right onto my face, but before I could appreciate the warmth from it, another dark cloud had submerged the rainbow again. I nearly had to chuckle, as it reminded me of the grey days here in the south of Germany, when I was just a youngster.

Then I took another swig of the bottle that I still had in my hand, washing away those old memories, and saluted the Jesus figure while walking downstairs, following the sister to the place where I had found my love for fighting.

Sounds of metal clanging, wood bashing, and guns being fired, accompanied by a small explosion where a pink cloud surfaced out of a glass container, reminded me of the not-so-religious way that these nuns made their way of living. These women, which were clearly different from any other nuns, had been giving me my skills in combat and survival, and their numbers had grown over the years as the world became a more dangerous place by the day.

The Conclave in the basement of the church, which was being run by Sister Margaret, was filled with a religious bunch of fighting nuns, which only acted when utterly necessary and they never killed a single soul. Accidents happened of course, but not willingly.

As they said ‘It was not in their hands, to be judge and jury of another one’s life’, which was in total contradiction of my ruling as I had killed dozens of people when they had decided to hurt others. Hence, I was no longer a part of the Conclave and thus was not allowed to live and train with them.

Not that I cared, perse, as I was never able to dedicate my life to Jesus, just as they had done, or were still doing. Yet, I still wore the little cross around my neck, to at least pay my respects to the ones that had taken care of me, for all those years.