Grey Wings

Chapter One

The school building was red, or rather, had been red years ago when it was first painted. Now, the paint was cracking, flaking or chipped as the building crumbled with age.

Old lunches and rainy day sport lessons left a stale, musky odour in the halls. The corridors were quiet while class was in session. Dark and still – damp coats hung on pegs while daps and old shorts covered benches.

Jason had walked past the classrooms on his way to the office, and peered in at the rows of boys and girls as they listened to the teachers. Not long ago, he had once been among their number, but not now, not today, and not ever again.

Now, he was sat in the Headmaster’s office - alone, and uncomfortable.

Well, Mr. Foster, we shall be sad to see you go, the Headmaster mumbled as he passed the signed documents to his aging secretary.

Jason watched as she fumbled with the papers. Taking a deep breath, he let the air rush out of his nose to show his irritation.

Mr. Foster? the old walrus of a Headmaster demanded.

Yes sir, Jason seethed.

He doubted the Headmaster even knew his first name without checking the records. The dumpy secretary bustled past him, her stubby fingers creasing the paperwork.

You said your father would be here? the Headmaster pursued.

Jason turned back and shrugged. He knew this question was coming. He had known the moment he left the old flat, and his dad wasn’t waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs.

He was supposed to be, sir, but it wouldn’t be the first time he was late.

Well, I can’t wait around for him all day. I’ll have Mrs. Mandolin call him.

Jason swore under his breath and jumped to his feet, reaching out to the secretary, but not touching her.

It’s not necessary, sir. He’s already signed-off on everything, you said so yourself.

The Headmaster paused and raised an eyebrow at Jason but, the slump of his shoulders made it was clear he wouldn’t argue.

True that... he mumbled, well then, I wish you all the best, he finished, offering his damp palm to Jason for a quick, rigorous shake before making his exit.

The door closed behind him with a heavy clunk. Jason wiped his hand on his jacket then let out a long breath of relief. That was easier than he thought it would be. He expected the old walrus to demand his father’s attendance, and then he would have been stuck here for days while they tracked him down.

Dad could always hide well when he went binge drinking.

Jason yanked up his backpack from sliding down his arm before striding through the school’s hallway.

It was still quiet, and only moments before class would recess. The students’ jackets lined the walls like guards, and, out of habit, Jason kept his head down. He knew most ten-year-old boys disliked school, but he doubted any of them disliked it as much as he did.

Jason tried not to breathe in the smell of the place as he made his way down the corridor, where the stale smell of clothes, shoes, and old milk only served to assault his nostrils.

He could hear voices behind closed doors, but kept striding until he walked past a bright orange door. He stopped and looked at it and, without really meaning to, he went to it and stood on his tiptoes to see through the small window.

The classroom was full, save for one empty desk. It wasn’t his desk, not really. He had sat there for the last few months, but it wasn’t his desk. He glanced to the right and spotted Ryan beside Charlie. Jason glared at the desk Charlie sat at, the desk that Jason had etched his name. That was his desk, or rather, had been, until six months ago when everything changed.

It was getting uncomfortably close to lunch, so Jason backed away from the door and hurried on. He walked the rest of the way to his peg, acutely aware of the ticking clocks on the walls. Only a few minutes more until class recessed, and then he would be surrounded on all sides.

His peg was bare, but the small locker at the bottom still had some things in it. The padlock clicked in his hand as he twisted the final number in place. He kicked his locker hard before trying to open it. The bang was horribly loud in the silent corridor, but it was the only way to open the thing.

His old locker was fine, but he had thought Ryan would break his arm when, six months ago, he demanded that he swap with Charlie. In the end, it was an easy decision, so he swapped. There wasn’t much inside now. Scraps of paper, a few books, and a yogurt he never ate.

He flinched when the bell rang - long and loud.

Jason cursed his dawdling as the corridor suddenly filled with sound. Classrooms erupted and spilled their noisy pupils. He rushed, jostled by the first wave, pulling the contents of the locker towards him and into his bag without thought or care.

A hand slapped down on his shoulder.

Hey, Jase, Ryan sneered, we thought you’d gone already. We were sad that you didn’t say goodbye.

Jason turned to face him, swallowing the lump in his throat, and hoping that said-lump would calm his stomach. The usual crowd huddled around Ryan.

Jason tried to forget when the other students, whom now glared at him, had smiled when he first walked into their classroom, waving at him, calling him over to share in their small talk.

My dad’s waiting for me, Jason said, turning away, walking fast, but refusing to run.

He knew he should be used to the bullying by now, but that kind of treatment wasn’t something you got used to. It was something you kept your head down, survived, and hoped the damage was insignificant.

Surviving hardship like this was damage control, and nothing else. No other students in the corridor even paid attention to what was going on. This kind of thing was so normal now that it just wasn’t even interesting.

Jason turned left and headed towards the school exit. He was no longer a student here. He could just leave and they couldn’t stop him.

He smells worse than usual today, Gemma muttered.

Jason kept walking, only steps ahead.

I can’t believe you used to be his friend, said Simon.

I was being nice, Ryan retorted louder than necessary, but you can’t be nice to some dogs.

Woof! Woof! Charlie whooped.

Something small hit the back of Jason’s head. He didn’t turn to see what it was as he pushed at the swing-doors to leave the building. They felt heavier today, just like his thoughts. He forced them to open and stepped out and into winter’s wind.

Outside, the sun was blinding. Jason almost paused to let his eyes adjust, but heard them behind him still, and so strode out, blind, into the car park. He knew they would stop at the doors. They had to. Already, he could hear the shouts of the dinner ladies as he stepped on the snow-covered car park.

I’ve got a pass, Jason hollered to them, holding it up for all to see without stopping.

Aw, we’ll miss you! Charlie laughed. Come back soon.

Ignoring the taunts, Jason reached into his bag and felt around until he found his phone. Although it was huge and ancient, it worked, sort of - as a phone and nothing else.

Jason tapped his dad’s home number and kept walking. The phone rang, rang, and rang before, inevitably, the answer machine clicked on the other side of the line.

Dad, where are you...? Jason snapped. Please tell me you’re stuck in traffic and you haven’t forgotten.

Your walkie-talkie broke, Jase? Ryan loudly jeered from their side of the fence.

You were supposed to be here today, Jason seethed, you need to drive me to Jillian’s.

He hung up and glanced back at his former tormenters. They waved sarcastically as he made his way for the bus.

Useless, Jason rasped.

Chapter Two

Today will always be remembered as the day that Aurelius fell from Heaven.

Aurelius, who had spent his entire existence amongst the clouds, would remember it as the day he was pushed - kicking, screaming, and cursing - from Heaven.

It was a day when everything would change. It was a monumental day that started, as monumental days often do... quietly.

The entrance to Heaven was still. The only sound of presence was the faint resonance of the Heavenly Chorus itself. The gold railings that make up Heaven’s Gate are taller and more ornate than any structure built by man.

In front of the Gate was St. Peter’s Podium - which not only towered above any who stood before it, but was also forged from the rarest minerals of Heavenly Sapphire in known existence, glittering with the radiance and energies of billions of pulsating stars - as if the Podium itself was host to its own universe.

On a normal day, the peaceful face of St. Peter would look down and smile upon those who wished to enter Heaven. However, today was a different day, and a different face stared down from the pinnacle of the podium - with irritation - on those who came before Heaven’s Gate.

Is there something wrong? asked a woman who stood in front of the Podium, fidgeting, as one of the last remaining Angels read her life story.

She looked down, when he paused in his reading, only to glare at her. He was smaller than a grown man was.

In fact, he looked more like a teenage boy. His physique delicately built. Small wrists, dainty hands, a mop of blond curls that fell to cover his shoulders and face, and great, white wings arching outwards from his shoulders.

His name is Aurelius - and he is glorious, despite his foul mood.

Unfortunately, no, he answered, pushing the big, green button on the podium.

Heaven’s Gate opened and the woman scampered into Heaven. Aurelius watched her go, then turned and considered St. Peter’s desk, which was littered with a typical collection of workplace toys. He heaved a sigh and, with a graceful sweep of his arm, all the toys clattered to the heavenly, wooden flooring with resounding chimes.

However, only one did not break. A plastic cup, with writing that expressed a strong dislike for Mondays.

With that petty revenge dealt with, Aurelius returned to the Holy Book and let his eyes skim over the lives laid bare before him. About halfway through the second paragraph, he gave up.

With elbows resting on desk, chin cupped in hands, Aurelius peered at Heaven’s Welcome Centre and was unimpressed. The tan-coloured wooden floors, edged by white cloud, gleamed in the gentle light. Wrought, golden benches filled the waiting area to the brim - and all of them stood empty.

I miss my cloud, Aurelius mumbled, even protecting Heaven from a threat, which no longer seems overly interested in being threatening, has more purpose than this.

The abrupt sound of an electric drill caused Aurelius to wince. He turned sharply to glare at the source of the noise and spotted a Soul wearing the blue uniform of a Union Worker. Her name badge read Wanda.

Aurelius instantly regretted knocking the toys to the floor. It meant he now had to climb down to retrieve his ammunition. He clambered down and collected most of the broken fragments from the floor and, with a beat of his wings, flew back up the podium and perched back on the chair.

Wanda turned at the sound of wing beats and groaned when she saw him.

Is Peter on holiday again? she asked, gritting her teeth.

Aurelius didn’t answer and Wanda went back to her drilling. She had a length of coiled-wire over her shoulder and a small toolbox at her feet.

What calamity are you forcing upon us now? Aurelius snapped after a couple of noisy minutes.

It’s not a calamity. It’s just a plug socket, Wanda returned, before putting headphones on and going back to her task.

Go away, hissed Aurelius. He always thought it best to keep his instructions simple when speaking to Souls.

Not until I finish this, Wanda answered, purposefully not looking up.

A few seconds later, something small and hard struck the back of her head. She looked at what hit her and recognised it as part of a plastic bird. Then another one struck her. She turned and saw Aurelius, sneering, his hands laden with broken toys.

Ten minutes and all the broken fragments later, the Soul had taken refuge at a safe distance whilst Aurelius searched for more ammo. Finding nothing, he instead launched himself at the busy Soul. He lacked any real weapons, save for what he was allowed to manifest into being. All he had, now, were his small, needle-like claws and heavy wings - but these were enough.

The Soul fled into the rolling clouds before he could reach her. Aurelius watched her run, and then returned