Angel in Training (The Louisiangel Series, Book One) by C. L. Coffey

that?”
    “Hopefully,” he nodded, moving past me and
over to the small table that stood next to the bed. “One day it may
be your gift too. Once you have your wings, it becomes easier for
the angels if they have to be transported quickly.” He grabbed a
large book off the table and walked back to me, offering it.
    I took it off him, frowning as I read the
title. “The Bible?”
    He nodded solemnly. “After that, I will let
you borrow the Torah.”
    “Can’t I just settle for Google?” I asked
him, the book feeling heavy and out of place in my hands.
    “Google?” he repeated, looking confused.
    He had been alive as long as he had, and he
didn’t know about Google? Although, now that I thought about it,
there wasn’t a computer on his desk. “Web based search engine?” I
offered. “The internet?”
    “We have no need for computers,” he
responded. Of course they didn’t. “It is late,” he said. “You
should get some rest.”
    I nodded, suddenly feeling the tiredness seep
through me. I thanked him again for the book and headed back to my
bedroom.
    The book was placed on the chest of drawers
although I had no intention of ever reading it. I changed into the
ridiculous nightgown, dumping my clothing on the floor as I did so,
and climbed into the bed.
    Sleep didn’t come easy. Although the bed was
comfortable, and I was tired, I couldn’t help but toss and turn. My
mind kept thinking about the girl in the hospital and Lilly, who,
for some reason, made me think about my aunt Sarah.
    That girl had been all alone and the only
people who seemed to know she was there, was an Archangel, an Angel
of Death, and me. Had someone contacted her family? Did she have
any family?
    My thoughts circled, always coming back to
Sarah. I spent hours staring at the ceiling, wondering what she
knew or what she had been told, until I finally fell asleep.
     
    * * *
     
    I awoke to the sun shining through my window
and I was in my own bed. I sat upright, looking around at the
bright yellow room that had my belongings and memories cluttering
every available surface. Even the poster of my favorite television
show was still hanging on the wall.
    I jumped out of bed, and grew even more
confused when I discovered the nightdress had been replaced with my
faded England football shirt and a pair of shorts. The shirt had
been my dad’s and although it was ragged and you could barely see
the three lions, I still wore it to bed.
    I headed for the door, pausing as I passed
the mirror. Gone was the red, instead, my hair was the golden
blonde it had been before I had died. Hell, I even had bed
hair.
    Finding myself grinning at my reflection, I
darted out of the door, ready to charge down the stairs… only I was
in the kitchen. Well that didn’t make sense. But as soon as I saw
Sarah with her back to me, kneading dough, I didn’t care. I let out
a cry of joy and bounded over to her, wrapping my arms around
her.
    “Angelina?” she questioned, turning in my
arms. “Angel!” she cried, tears forming in her eyes as she returned
a bone crushing hug.
    We stood like that for a while, just hugging,
until she pulled away and took a few steps back, the look of
happiness quickly dropping from her face. “You’ve died, haven’t
you?”
    I blinked in surprise. My aunt wasn’t a
particularly religious person but she was very intuitive. “What
makes you say that?” I asked her carefully.
    “You’re in my dreams, Angel,” she sighed,
wiping the flour off her hands and onto her apron, before she
gently cupped my face. Unlike me who still had my accent, Sarah’s
had long since faded out, although it was never as strong as some
of the locals. The only similarity between our speeches was that we
would both refer to certain things with their English counterparts
– footpath for sidewalk, for example, or we would pronounce the ‘h’
in herbs.
    “This is a dream then?” I asked her, glancing
around the kitchen which was exactly as I remembered