The bus passed through a wrought-iron gate supported by a stone and mortar wall. A shiver ran down her spine as the memory of her doing the same as a child resurfaced. Even a tour bus, loaded with weary passengers looking to wet their palettes, was luxurious compared to a horse and cart the farmer used to shuttle supplies back and forth to the school.

Welcome to our first stop on our wine tasting tour…

Clara looked out of her window as the bus drove onto the paved courtyard. Other than her school being converted into a vineyard, this was her first clue that much had changed since she last haunted these halls.

Established in 1836 as a school for orphaned girls. To our left…

“Retrace the steps you took in life,” Eleanor told her a few months back. “You may find what you are looking for.”

That advice had been passed on by an angel of death who went by the name, Eleanor. The one who gave those pearls of wisdom after being urged to ‘confess her sins.’ Like most life-altering questions since they yielded more confusion than they answered.

Clara had been to six out of the seven continents on this big blue marble hurtling through space. That did not include the time she spent in the Kingdom of Heaven, or within that pocket of reality that contained the Tower. 

However, the latter two were, for the moment, closed off to her. Clara needed to find her way back to the Tower, serving as the unofficial name for an order of hunters. Clara had been a hunter in life, sworn to rid the world of the creatures of myth and legend who preyed on humanity. I wonder if they’d consider me, as a fallen angel, a threat?

Clara grinned upon hearing that her gift had been delivered. She hoped the backpack and its contents would give Julia everything she required to carve out her own path. Clara expected that the werewolf would surrender to the moon’s power tonight, but would hopefully reach back when she was ready. You never know, she might prove to be a valuable ally.

She clenched her jaw in annoyance. Hecate would not be silenced, forcing Clara to hear the various personas whispering from the depths of her mind. To shake the angel’s resolve, Ethereal interjected.

“In my day, werewolves were considered a disease,” Ethereal said in that distinctive voice that sucked all the joy from the room. “Remind you of anyone else we know?”

After he passed by, she double-tapped on the screen to return to the notification, but stopped. All her senses were heightened because there was  someone watching her. 

She caught a pair of bright blue eyes staring back at her. Clara smiled warmly, at the toddler with curly blond hair, seated next to his mother. The boy giggled with glee at having Clara’s attention, which caused his mother to stir from a deep sleep. Clara pressed her forefinger against her narrow lips and shushed him.

There was disappointment in those eyes, but it was fleeting. The child looked between his legs to find a tablet and was quickly distracted by a colourful cartoon. Kids appeared to be easily taken in by shiny baubles and simplistic tunes… speaking of which.

Clara sunk back in her seat, unlocked her phone, and tapped on the most recent notification. Since the phone number was new, the list of potential senders was sparse. Nice and simple.

The man had not noticed her on account of her being plain Jane. This was a relatively recent addition to her arsenal. A power that muted Clara’s beauty and distinctive physical attributes. While invaluable for traversing crowds unnoticed, it also meant being invisible, even if she wanted to get noticed. I’m sure my light jacket, flannel shirt, and jeans aren’t helping matters…

Still, being so casually dismissed had torn a chunk of right out of her ego. His heart rate never even changed…

As a human, Clara had been a bit of a billboard. With those steel-grey eyes, elfin features, and straight brown hair, people took notice of her. God had been generous, she had the body of a dancer, but with a larger bust. I had the dexterity of a dancer, but my girls could lead to severe neck strain. 

During the Roaring Twenties, men were drawn to her, and she loved how they viewed courtship as they would a battle. In the end, Clara always won out. Sometimes the encounter would leave them scarred, but all that mattered to her was the thrill of victory. A shame they come broken out of the box these days…

Clara spotted a clean shaven man with a thin moustache walking down the aisle. Those dark brown eyes, sharp features and short hair were a refreshing change from the current trends. He reminded her of a wounded artillery officer she met during the Great War. While their brief interaction had been hurried and hushed, Clara did get her first taste of sexual intimacy that night.

The memories of barneymugging that thin moustached officer did not help her arousal brought on by the dream. Clara flashed the man a smile, but did not appear to notice her at all. Who the hell does he think he is?

Her eyes glowed blue for a fraction of a second. Cool your heels! She closed her eyes and forced herself to keep her anger in check. It’s not his fault that he can’t see past the illusion.