“It sold the first day it went on the market. A guy called Alex has moved in with his girlfriend. He’s a lawyer, she’s a chef. Delightful couple. They’re going to have two kids and a badly behaved dog.” Another beam.
The way Desiree stressed the words girlfriend and couple brought Joe up short for a moment, but didn’t send him down another memory path. Instead he thought about the kids, the dog and the words going to have.
“You know everything that’s going to happen? You knew I was going to die?” He got up gingerly, bracing himself for another mouthful of carpet.
“No, we don’t know everything. G likes to keep us on our toes, so there are always surprises. He doesn’t have everyone’s fate written in some big book.”
“G?”
“You know.” She looked up. “The big G.”
“Oh God, God.” Joe’s shoulders slumped and one wing jerked back so he was pulled upright.
“You were a surprise. We hadn’t expected you. A good surprise though.” Desiree looked him up and down and winked. “Nice abs.”
Joe tightened his mouth. He was not in the mood to be flirted with, even if she did have stupendous breasts. He swallowed his drool.
“I know it’s hard to understand,” Desiree said.
Or maybe you’re a crap teacher, Joe thought.
“This apartment will be your place until you move on. You’ll share it with the new owners, in fact you’re sharing it with a previous owner, another seeker like yourself, but while you’re in here, none of you, seeker or mortal, are aware of each other. You can see your furniture and possessions, although in reality they’re no longer here. They see theirs. Fully fledged angels have a choice over where they reside. They can stay in their seeker home if they wish or go somewhere else. They’re invisible even to each other unless they decide otherwise.”
Joe’s mind whirled. “I thought…”
“Fluffy clouds, halos and harps?”
He didn’t say anything.
“I did try to learn to play the harp but it’s too hard. Halos are a myth but the fluffy clouds are fun to fly in. We play dodge the planes.”
Fun? Joe didn’t find anything funny about this.
“Trouble is, we’re overcrowded in heaven. Multiple occupancy is G’s way of dealing with it. Some very old houses have over twenty stacked inhabitants—angels, seekers and mortals. None of them are aware of each other.”
Joe wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that. He could be using the bathroom at the same time as someone else. But maybe he didn’t have to use the loo now.
“Yes, you still need to use the bathroom,” Desiree said and sniggered.
“You can read my mind?”
“No, that’s the question everyone asks.”
Damn. Joe hated to be predicable.
“So what other benefits do I get when I pass the probationary period, apart from a change in wing color and a possible new address?”
She smiled. “Sex.”
Joe gulped. “W…what?”
“Angels have great sex.”
A familiar image of a cute face with green eyes, button nose and silky brown hair flashed into Joe’s head. Hot sex.
“But you can’t have sex until you’re fully fledged.”
The sweet face vanished. There was a long silence before Joe spoke again. “Let’s see if I have this right. I have to earn my place as an angel, I have to figure out what I have to do to earn it and until I do, I can’t have sex with anyone.” Joe tried to keep the tone of his voice even, despite the fact that he was seriously pissed off.
Desiree looked pleased. “Hey, you’ve got it. That’s exactly right.” She jumped up.
He cast her a sly glance. “Can I have sex with myself?”
She giggled. “You won’t be able to. You won’t be able to get…er…”
Shit! But Joe thought of his earlier erection and wondered if she was wrong.
“Can I fly?” That might be some compensation.
“Only by commercial airline, although I’ve never seen anyone manage to hit the ceiling before when they first woke. You’re going to be a natural.” Desiree shook her head in wonder. “The scouts will be fighting over you for the AAA. We have an Annual Aerial Acrobatic competition. Flying lessons start the day your wings turn white.” She smiled. “Well, that’s about it.”
Joe panicked at the thought of her leaving. “How long is this going to take? How do I get dressed?” He glanced over his shoulder. “How do I hide them?”
“Your clothes will fit, don’t worry. Your wings sort themselves out. How long? Well, it takes some seekers…er…quite a while to find the right thing to do.”
Desiree looked shifty and Joe didn’t need his copper’s nose to tell him she was hiding something. “How long did it take you?”
“Twelve months.” She backed away.
“Twelve months with no sex!” Joe’s cock perked up in alarm.
“It’ll pass before you know it. Anyway lots of people move to the next level within days.”
Desiree’s wings unfurled, and she turned and walked through the wall. Joe blinked, tempted to run at the wall himself and see what happened. Instead he ran to the window dragging his wings behind him. He jumped back when her face appeared the other side of the glass and she stuck out her tongue.
“I love doing that,” she said with a giggle.
The street was a long way down. Her wings appeared to be vibrating at high speed. Apart from the jiggling boobs, she reminded Joe of an exotic, inflated humming bird.
“Don’t worry. You’ll find your way,” Desiree said through the glass. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you for a while to make sure you’re okay.”
Joe watched as she flew off, her wings glistening in the morning sun.
He carried on watching until the woman was a mere dot in the distance and then not even a dot. Joe slumped onto the bed, remembering at the last minute to move his wings. He struggled to take it all in, wondering even now if he’d gone mad and was lying paralyzed in a coma in some hospital ward. Yet one thought predominated. No sex. When did he last have—? Joe straightened up.
He’d been on duty. He was a DI in the Metropolitan Police. Detective Inspector Joe Dalziel working out of New Scotland Yard and operating undercover in a people-trafficking investigation. He’d been on a roof and he’d gone over the edge. All moisture left Joe’s mouth. Now he remembered. His girlfriend Poppy had killed him.
Chapter Three
Poppy stared at the piece of card on her desk, ordering her to report to her boss as soon as she got in. Dr. Martell had wasted no time emailing his report. Poppy began flipping Jeff’s message in her fingers. She had a sinking feeling that in a few minutes she would be suspended, and neither her boss nor the doctor knew the half of it. Bad enough to have claimed Joe was in the room, but if she’d revealed that for the last six months she’d talked to her dead lover as if he were in her shower, in her bed, in her body, she’d have been out of the force, no question.
When Poppy walked into his office, Jeff had two stab vests lying on his desk, both hers, both with knives sticking out. Joe was nowhere to be seen.
“Even before I had the doctor’s email, I should have put you on IS or ISL,” Jeff said. “What on earth is the DPP going to say? Do you know the chances of this happening twice?” He gestured at the vests. “I’ll have to tweak the PPAF now and the bloody NCRS. TNP is supposed to be straightforward.”
Poppy only heard IS—indefinite suspension. It wasn’t for nothing that Jeff was known as AM, Acronym Man.
“You’re not only a danger to yourself, but to your partner.”
True. She’d already killed one policeman. Not that anyone reminded her. They went out of their way to avoid mentioning Joe, tiptoeing around the subject of the warehouse disaster and her three months off work. Their reticence made it even more important for Poppy to keep him alive in her head. She used to have a lot of friends, but not now. When all she seemed able to talk about was Joe
, they stopped listening. Her police colleagues were the same. No one wanted to talk to her. The men looked anywhere but her face, and women fled in the opposite direction. It made no difference. Joe was always in her mind. Often by her side. In fact, he rarely left her alone.
I love that.
I hate that.
“Are you listening to me, Poppy? Or planning what you’re going to have for dinner.”
She tried to look attentive.
“Graham thinks you should be up for a bravery award.”
Poppy’s jaw dropped, hit the wooden floor and bounced.
“I, on the other hand, am more inclined to think your action was a complete FU. A knife in the chest twice, in the space of two weeks? Are you a bloody magnet for trouble?”
She squirmed.
“Last chance, Poppy. Pull yourself together.”
“Yes, sir.”
Pulling herself together seemed an impossibility. She was like a broken doll that could never be fixed because pieces were missing. Poppy had thought about quitting the police, but it was all she’d ever wanted to do—be a detective, solve crimes, catch the bad guys and lock them up. The idea that she might be putting others in danger alarmed her, even if it was idiot Graham. She gave herself one week to banish Joe from her head—but only while she was at work. At home she wanted him around, even angry Joe who hated her.
* * * * *
At the end of a long day, Poppy opened her fridge, looked at the contents and closed it again. She didn’t want to eat. Weight had fallen off her because eating seemed pointless. She didn’t want to do anything, barely wanted to live. She slumped on the couch and imagined Joe sitting on the chair opposite.
“I miss you,” she whispered.
She missed the Joe who teased and tickled her, the Joe who rubbed her aching feet when she came in exhausted. He knew exactly how to touch her. He could make her come just by talking dirty to her, telling her how he wanted to fuck her, what he was going to do to her. Poppy missed pressing her mouth against his cheeky smile, stroking his beautiful backside, hearing that sexy groan he gave just before he came. She missed the bad things too, the way he left the lights on everywhere, how he always made her jump when he sneezed because he sounded like a freaked-out elephant, and the way he drove too fast and too close to the car in front, and then drove even faster and closer if she complained.
Poppy didn’t miss the scowling Joe, who seemed to come to her more often than the happy one. She was afraid of this angry man who kept reminding her she’d cocked up, who blamed her for his death. But his face was still Joe’s even though it was filled with hate.
She tucked her feet beneath her and curled into a ball at the corner of the couch. She’d grow old and Joe never would. His face would stay the same forever. Poppy wanted to keep his image in her mind for as long as she could, and that was why she kept talking to him, to keep him part of her life.
Her eyes closed. The day Joe died, she’d thought she’d have done anything to have him back by her side, given anything including her life—which she was aware didn’t make sense, but the man she’d conjured up wasn’t the Joe she’d lost and Poppy knew if she didn’t make him go soon, he would drive her insane, if she wasn’t there already.
* * * * *
Joe wanted to see Poppy. In all the bewilderment of the morning, it was the one thought that occupied his mind. He took a deep breath before leaving his apartment, unsure of the world that awaited him. As he closed his door, he saw his nosey neighbor, Mrs. Hanley, stagger down the hallway, struggling with several bags of groceries.
“Need some help?” Joe reached out and his hand went right through her. He yelped and shot back. She was a ghost. Then he remembered he was invisible. And dead. Joe shot her the finger for all the times she’d complained about his noise. Then felt guilty. As he walked down the stairs, he passed a pale-faced, curvy redhead he’d never seen before. Great tits, Joe thought. He gave a wolf whistle and reached out for the sheer fun in pushing his fingers through a woman’s breasts without her knowing. The next moment, his cheek was stinging. A reminder to be careful. If the wings were hidden, maybe he couldn’t tell the living from the dead.
Joe found his motorbike still chained up under the overhang. He stretched out his hand and sighed with relief when the bike remained solid. Was it just people he couldn’t touch? He looked at the bike. Unless he could do something with his wings, Joe couldn’t see how he could ride it.
He tried thinking them back in. Nothing. Flexing his back. Twisting. Still nothing. He swept the wings up and immediately shot into the air. Fuck. Joe panicked, swerved from under the overhang at the last moment to avoid braining himself and continued to ascend. Jesus, what if he couldn’t stop? Was he about to find out if fluffy clouds were fun?He came level with the second-floor window. It was the redhead’s place. Oh, they really werenice tits. She yelled at him and yanked the curtains closed.
It was a miracle he got down in one piece. He managed a clumsy glide into a flowerbed, closing his eyes as a rose bush loomed, and landed on his butt with a thump. As he levered himself upright and relief that he’d broken nothing rushed through his body, his wings began to shrink and Joe exhaled.
Trying not to think about the consequences of the damn things sprouting while he negotiated London traffic, Joe wheeled out his bike. His mouth dropped open when a car appeared in the spot he’d vacated. He pushed the bike back and the car disappeared. He pulled the bike out again and laughed as the dark blue sports car rematerialized. He hadn’t got a handle yet on how this worked. Maybe the car belonged to the new owners of his place, or maybe the previous one.
Joe put on his crash helmet out of habit, rather than need. For all he knew, there were angel police on patrol, ready to give him a ticket for not wearing one or slap a fine on him for going into the Congestion Zone without paying. That made him wonder if he was supposed to go to work. He should have asked Desiree. There were a lot of things he should have asked her. Did he need to eat? Probably, if he still needed to use the bathroom. He felt hungry. Where did he get food? How could he get money? Could he even buy anything?
He started the engine and rode out on to the street to be greeted by the blare of a horn as a car swerved to avoid him. Joe presumed it was driven by another seeker. The traffic was horrendous. Joe realized he was looking at mortal traffic mixed with seekers’ vehicles. He couldn’t tell which was which until they slowed and one car merged into another. Joe shook his head. Maybe he was very drunk and dreaming all this.
In six months, nothing much seemed to have changed. The water authority was still digging holes in every other road and the weather was crap. But as Joe negotiated his way across Blackheath Common, he realized things had changed. Walking on the pavement alongside people who were still alive, were others who were dead, seekers like him and he could tell the difference. A few looked ill, their sallow skin a similar shade to their wings. Even without wings, Joe recognized what were now his kind. He could have done with this extra sense a little while ago. His cheek still stung from the slap.
Joe accelerated and overtook a bus. One fleeting bit of good news had occurred to him. He couldn’t kill himself when he was already dead.
* * * * *
Joe fingered his key to Poppy’s place. He wondered if he was going to get into trouble for barging into her apartment, but he had to see her even if she couldn’t see him. It didn’t feel like six months had passed, but he assumed Desiree had been telling the truth. What had happened to Poppy? Joe needed to know how she was, if she missed him, if she was with someone else. That brought him up short. What would he do if he walked in and found her in bed fucking another guy? Well, he couldn’t do anything, but he’d think plenty.
By the time he pushed open the door to her living room, Joe’s heart was jumping like a jackrabbit. Poppy lay curled up on the couch. Alone. As Joe stared at her, his throat choked with a lump the size of the Millennium Wheel. His loveable, gorgeous, bright-eyed, sexy, clumsy, stubborn, stu
pid Poppy. If she’d done as he told her, he would still be alive. They’d be together. Joe wanted to strangle her. He wanted to fuck her. He couldn’t even touch her.
“I told you I was sorry. How many times do you want me to say it? It won’t change anything.”
Joe froze at the sound of Poppy’s voice. Who the hell was she talking to? No one else stood in the room and she couldn’t see him. Her mobile phone sat blank-faced on the coffee table.
“I know it was my fault you died. But what do you want me to do? Kill myself?” Poppy gulped back a sob.
Joe moved to the other side of the couch. Her huge eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she stared at the empty leather chair by the window. His chair. The one he liked to sit on to watch football because if he stayed on the couch, the little minx kept distracting him by sticking her hand down his pants and squeezing his cock. He always moved back to the couch at half-time to let her try again. Sometimes before half-time. Sometimes he didn’t return to the chair. Poppy looked desolate and Joe felt the same. He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her happy, and he couldn’t even touch her. Joe wished he could switch over to the football and hear her yell at him.
“You always want to watch football.” She gave a deep sigh.
He recoiled. Football? Why had she said that? Poppy continued to stare at his empty chair. Joe walked over and sat on it.
“For fuck’s sake. Have the bloody football on,” she shouted and threw the remote.
Poppy never could aim. Thank God she wasn’t in the firearms unit. Joe’s hand shot out and caught the remote before it hit the window. Poppy didn’t move for a moment, her eyes fixed on his hand. She shook her head as though she didn’t want to believe what she was seeing, and then stared straight at him.
She was so beautiful and so bloody obstinate. Joe wanted to kiss the dimple in her cheek, lick away the dark shadows from under her eyes, and yell at her for being fucking stupid. But more than anything he wanted to feel her arms holding him, because he was scared shitless and it wasn’t a feeling he was used to. He was supposed to be the strong one, the protector, and deep down, Joe knew, in a way, by dying he’d failed her.
Power of Love Page 3