Blind Faith (Book 1)

Chapter 4

Aimee

The thunderous roar of the jet engine screamed as the plane climbed above Liverpool's Airport and banked out over the River Mersey, on the intended flight path to Shoreham-by-sea Airport on the Sussex coast.

Aimee had no interest in the view and had closed the blind on her porthole window, waiting impatiently for the promised report from headquarters. She stared grimly at her dishevelled reflection on the iPad screen, toying with the sapphire earring in her left ear.

The jewel was a reminder of what it meant to be an Acolyte of Archangel Michael, and the empty hole in her other ear, was a reminder of her failure, of losing the other earring. An unforgivable act of disrespect and embarrassment to herself and the Holy Order of Michael.

She gnashed her teeth in frustration and sneered down at the jade-green formal blouse she wore and the symbol of the Holy Order of Raphael on the left breast pocket - a wooden staff with a snake entwined around it. Though it felt good to be out of the itchy cassock, she wasn't so sure about the grey trousers and ballerina black shoes. She would dump them as soon as she landed, and locate the nearest Safe House. She needed to blend in and wear something more appropriate. She missed her Dr. Martins.

The plane suddenly eased its climb and petered out, lulling and steadying. The Fasten Seat-belt sign switched off and like magic, Ryan appeared at her side with a mobile phone in one hand and Aimee's Lunch in the other.

It had to be him, didn't it? The Holy Council continued to punish me.

"You look tired Aimee; I thought you were meant to be relaxing on a retreat somewhere. Did you go anywhere nice?" His grin split his face in two. Aimee ignored him; she was not in the mood for his patronizing nasal tone. She had met Ryan a few times before and the guy could talk about anything and everything, as long as it was about himself or his beloved Father David.

The truth be known, she also did not trust him; he worked as a Holy Council informer and spy for the Internal Affairs unit– the Reapers. Ryan was your cliché backstabbing slimy bastard.

"Whatever," he replied. "I was just trying to break the ice; I didn't mean anything by it!" His voice peaked at an unnaturally high pitch, forcing a small smirk on Aimee's lips. Ryan reminded her of a rodent, with pointy features and mousy-coloured hair, styled in a girly sharp bob under his ears. All that was missing was the whiskers. He always dressed like an upmarket businessman and today wore a grey tailored suit and lime green coloured shirt, matching the colour of his large green eyes, the iconic colour of the Order of Raphael.

He flung the mobile onto the empty seat to Aimee's right and placed the tray of food on the table at her feet.

"Enjoy your lunch," he said, twirling away, his nose in the air, walking as if something was stuck up his ass.

Aimee stared at the chicken salad, leaving the container unopened. The imbecile continued to play childish games with her. He knew she was vegan.

"Oh, and here's your spanking new weapon, best not lose this one dear," he added with a grin. He chucked a black case at her head. Aimee snatched it from the air and flashed him a dark look. He smirked back, his eyes glinting green fire in the dim light. How she wanted to wipe that self-righteous grin off his face.

How did he know about Ardor?

A small twist of her stomach reminded her of the loss of her last weapon, Ardor, the sword of flame. Archangel Michael's sword. She knew why the Holy Council confiscated it, to punish her for the betrayal and the loss of her earring. But she didn't know it was general knowledge.