Phoebe Wren and the Vortex of Light Read Free Page B

happened in the last four weeks, and she was still coming to terms with her ‘new normal’ – whatever that might be. Phoebe had so much to think about, so many decisions that needed to be made – where would she live? Would she stay here with the Quills? Would they become her adopted family? And what about her extended family here in Ireland? Phoebe’s Aunty Kate, her mother’s sister, had visited almost every day since Phoebe got here. She had cried and hugged Phoebe tight, and her resemblance to Eva had somehow comforted Phoebe and reassured her in her darkest moments that someday, somehow , things would get better. Phoebe knew that she would be more than welcome to live with Aunty Kate, Uncle John and their kids, eight year old Abi, five year old Jamie and two year old Caitlin. But for now at least, all she had the ability or desire to focus on was the here and now; all those other decisions would have to wait.

THURSDAY 15 th JULY
SOMEWHERE BETWEEN AFRICA AND IRELAND
    Still dazed and unsure of exactly what had just happened, Phoebe painfully dragged herself up to a sitting position and looked around her, desperate for some clue that would help reveal her whereabouts. She was aware of a searing pain in her left arm and, looking down, could see a fat trickle of blood oozing down her forearm. A quick investigation revealed the source of the bleed to be a gash in her left shoulder. Phoebe winced as she cautiously dabbed the wound, but instinctively knew that despite the pain, it was a relatively minor injury. She staggered to her feet, her head reeling, and propped herself up against a tree until she felt steady enough to move.
    Phoebe surveyed the scene around her in stunned disbelief, and the reality hit her like bolt of lightning – there, scattered across the length and breadth of a field were pieces of the aeroplane that she and her parents had boarded just a few hours earlier. The cockpit and nose of the plane were close by, with sections of the fuselage and wings strewn all around. She looked for survivors, listened for a voice or a cry, but found only silence and the grim reality of passengers lying eerily still amidst the chaos. Phoebe began to weep silently, hot terrified tears rolling uninvited down her blackened cheeks. She moved slowly and with a horrified reverence through the wreckage, numb and disbelieving at first, but panic and grief built inside her until the gentle tears became harrowing wails, and she sank back down to her knees in despair. She had no idea where she was. Still in Africa? Holland? The UK? How would anyone know where to find her? Maybe she would die here too, surrounded by the chaos that she was struggling to believe. And where were her parents? Maybe, just maybe, Jack and Eva had survived this catastrophe.
    A few feet away stood Cosain, Captain of the Heavenly Host, head bowed, sword sheathed, watching silently as Phoebe broke her heart for a life destroyed by powers beyond her comprehension.
    “Cosain, we must do something, we must make our presence felt! This young mortal’s heart cannot bear so great a tragedy!” cried Dilis, his perfect features etched with pain for the broken and devastated young girl he saw before him.
    “No Dilis, it is not yet time. The Atoner knows the end from the beginning, and He will not cause Phoebe to suffer one moment longer than she can bear. He will not leave her to her own devices. But we, like she, must trust that He works all things together for her good. The plans for Phoebe’s life far outweigh the happenings of this morning. If she is to fulfil her destiny, then we must wait and trust that the Atoner will make the way apparent.”
    Cosain surveyed the horrendous scene one more time, then his golden hued eyes moved to his faithful angelic troop – the six warriors before him were fearless and loyal, fiercely committed to the Atoner and bent on carrying out His commands. They stood majestic and strong, although he could tell that the