Angel in Training (The Louisiangel Series, Book One)

by C. L. Coffey

  “Josh, I let you out before I got that assault charge dropped. And you,” he said, rounding on me. “I let you out before I knew who you were. And now you’re wandering around the precinct.”

  “We can trust her, Leon,” Joshua told him.

  “Really?” Leon asked, talking to Joshua as though I was no longer in the room. “What makes you so certain?”

  Joshua let out a deep sigh and raked his hand through his hair. “Angel’s an-”

  “Joshua!” I cried in alarm. “That’s supposed to be a secret!”

  Joshua stared at me, puffed out his cheeks and exhaled slowly. “You’re helping out on the investigation, Angel. He’s going to find out eventually.”

  “Joshua,” I pleaded. “Please don’t.” I felt sick – I was going to be in so much trouble with Michael.

  Joshua gave me a brief apologetic look and turned his full attention on Leon. “She’s a psychic.”

  Leon looked from Joshua, to me, and back to Joshua. Then he burst out laughing. “A psychic? And you believe that?”

  It took everything I had not to let my jaw hit the floor. Joshua shrugged. “I know how it sounds, but that’s how she found me in that bar – and she knew who I was. She knows information about the Emily Montgomery homicide that hasn’t even been released yet, and when we went to see Emily’s parents, she knew the mother’s name.”

  “You took her along for a notification?” Leon asked in disbelief. Suddenly it was hard to believe he had just been laughing. “Have you run this past Asmodeus?”

  Joshua pulled a sheet out from amongst the pile in his hands. “I’ve got the forms here.”

  “I'm having nothing to do with this,” Leon muttered, quickly storming out of the room.

  I turned to Joshua, ready to start demanding explanations, but he thrust the contents of his arms into mine and dashed from the room, calling, “Wait here,” over his shoulder.

  I glanced down at the top sheet – the one Joshua had pulled out for Leon – and was surprised to find that it was only a blank statement sheet. I moved over to the table and sank down in one of the plastic chairs with a sigh. A psychic? A freaking psychic?

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Sweet Dreams

  A good forty minutes passed before Joshua re-entered the room. By then, I had grown fidgety waiting and had spread the contents of the case files over the desk.

  “What are you doing?” Joshua demanded, glaring down at me.

  “Using my psychic ability to find a murderer?” I suggested, sarcastically.

  Joshua just rolled his eyes at me. “You asked me not to say anything, and I didn’t, but I couldn’t just have you walking around here. I figured that this would be the closest thing and it’s about the only way I can give you access to the case. Which is supposed to be limited, by the way,” he said, giving me a pointed look.

  “I don’t understand half of this,” I told him. “But these two pictures look the same.”

  “I’ve told you, the two cases have completely different MO’s.”

  “Which, as I don’t really know what an MO is, means nothing too me,” I shrugged.

  “Modus Operandi,” Joshua muttered, sitting down beside me. “It’s about finding the consistencies between crimes to link them. Victims, weapons, location, time. They just don’t add up.”

  “But all the victims are female, in their late teens to early twenties, and they’ve been stabbed.”

  “Both of the victims,” Joshua corrected me. “Emily’s wound was small. I haven’t got the medical examiner’s report yet, but I had a look. It’s a small blade. Callie’s was something much larger. The ME suggested that it was probably a sword. That’s two different weapons, Angel. On top of that, Callie was killed in the Warehouse District, and the ME put time of death between nine and eleven pm. If you really were there when you say you were, the times are nowhere near each other.”

  I slumped back in my chair and pursed my lips. “I get that, but the thing is, I went to visit both victims with an archangel and the same archangel visited me. Surely that’s too much of a coincidence.”

  “Coincidence or not, that is not going to hold up in court,” Joshua pointed out. “I'd get laughed off the force. It’s bad enough there’s a psychic helping me.”

  “Only I'm not a psychic,” I returned through gritted teeth.

  “No, I know, but a psychic is slightly more believable than an angel,” Joshua said, dryly.

  “Fine,” I agreed, but not before shooting him a dark look. “Then this psychic would like to know if you’ve checked other homicides within the last six months?”

  “Do you know how many murders we investigate a year?” he asked in disbelief.

  I shrugged. “Probably far more than I would like to know. But I don’t just mean your district – I mean, the whole of New Orleans.”

  The disbelieving look remained firmly in place. “You do realize that New Orleans has an area of about 350 square miles, don’t you?”

  I nodded. “That doesn’t surprise me. And you’d probably best include everything as far west as the airport.”

  Joshua leaned back in his chair and scratched his head. “Really?” he asked, studying me. “You really think so?”

  At the feeling of that small knot in my stomach that I was beginning to associate with the fact I had to trust it, I nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

  Joshua sighed and stood up. “Tomorrow.”

  I shook my head. “We should get started on looking at the files now.”

  Joshua laughed at me. “Okay, you’re not supposed to be looking through the files – any of them,” he told me, scooping up the files from the table. “And more importantly, have you seen the time? A phone call at this hour will not be well received, trust me.”

  Deciding he was probably right, and that the trip to Madisonville had taken more out of me then I cared to admit, I stood and slunk out of the room, Joshua close behind me. According to the clock in the reception area, it was pushing midnight, and it was finally cooling off. I glanced around, looking for the Yukon and realized I had walked. Great.

  “You need a ride?” Joshua asked me quietly. I turned and gave him a questioning look, to which he rolled his eyes. “Angel or not, I’m not about to let you traipse around the city at this time of night, by yourself. Plus it will take you hours to get to Lakeview.”

  He had a point – if I was going to Lakeview. “I’m only going to the Quarter,” I informed him.

  “And you think that’s going to convince me to let you head there by yourself?” he asked me, crossing his arms. “You’re the one who keeps harping on about there being a serial killer.”

  “I’m already dead,” I pointed out. At the raising of an eyebrow, I just shrugged. “A ride would be great,” I muttered in defeat, allowing him to steer me in the direction of where we parked the car.

  “So where do you want dropping off?” he asked me, a while later as we headed down Canal Street. I frowned. Had Michael said it was alright for Joshua to know about the convent? I had a suspicion that the answer was no. “Well?” he pressed.

  “I can’t tell you,” I admitted – better safe than sorry. “It’s part of the rules. You’re only allowed to know what I am, not where we live.”

  “I know you live in Lakeview,” he pointed out.

  “You know that I used to live in Lakeview,” I corrected him. “I’m not there anymore. Here should be fine.”

  Joshua pulled over and turned to me. “Cell phone number,” he demanded, pulling out his own.

  “I… What do you need it for?” I asked, suspiciously.

  “So I can call you sometime,” he said, smirking at me.

  That earned him a punch on the shoulder. “Quit with the flirting,” I told him. “You made a deal.”

  “Oh relax,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “I want your number so I can call you to make sure you’re alright when you don’t call me first. Who doesn’t have a cell phone in this day and age?”

 
“I lost it when I died,” I admitted. “I never got around to replacing it, alright?”

  Joshua sat back, considering it. “How long will it take you to walk home from here?”

  I blinked. “Do you want to get me a LoJack?” I asked him, pulling a face. “You’re as bad as Michael, who I think actually does have me LoJacked.” At his impatient huff, I sighed. “About ten minutes.”

  He pulled out a business card from his pocket and handed it over. “My number is on there. If I don’t have a call in twelve minutes, I’m calling for backup.”

  “Backup for what?” I demanded. “I’m dead. It’s not like I can get killed again!”

  “Eleven minutes,” Joshua told me.

  “Whatever,” I muttered, getting out of the car and slamming the door behind me. I didn’t think he would follow me, but as I didn’t want to take any chances, I ducked down Bourbon Street and lost myself in the crowd before he had the chance to follow me.

  It was busy and there were people all around – hardly any of them on the right side of sober – but none of them were paying any attention to me. A wave of nostalgia washed over me as I realized I could never be carefree and join them again. I pushed it from my mind and ducked my head as I picked up speed and concentrated on winding in and out of the crowds. If the streets were clear, then yes, it might have been ten minutes, but right now, I would be looking at fifteen.

  I ducked behind a group of drunken, giggling girls to avoid the beads they were waving around, and didn’t see the group coming out of a bar until the last minute when one of them knocked into me. He didn’t seem to realize what he had done, and followed his friends. I was already in the process of forgetting what had happened, when I realized I could see color everywhere. It was like a rainbow of moving, bright light.

  I stepped back against the wall and took a deep breath. It was everybody’s auras, I realized. Michael had never mentioned how overwhelming it would be to see them all at once. They covered all the colors of the spectrum, and every shade in between – even grays which hovered like a shadow.

  Then as soon as it appeared, it was gone, leaving me wondering if I had just hallucinated the whole thing. This time I did push it from my mind. I had lost precious minutes then, and the last thing I wanted was the entire police department bearing down on the convent. I sped up, moving as fast as I could without actually running, until I hit Ursuline Street where I broke out into my fastest pace.

  The reception was empty as I burst in through the main doors, and I dashed around behind the desk to use the phone. Joshua picked up on the first ring. “I was about to call for backup,” he informed me, dryly.

  “I’m back, I’m safe, and I will see you tomorrow,” I quickly told him.

  “I should have some files by lunchtime,” he told me. There was a pause. “Thank you for calling me.”

  He hung up before I could respond. Thank you for calling him? I had only done what he had asked me to. I cradled the phone and made my way to my bedroom, down the quiet corridors. “Joshua Walsh, you confuse me,” I muttered as I pulled my nightwear on and climbed into bed. “How I wish I knew what you were thinking.” I pulled the covers over me and curled up on my side, allowing myself to drift off into sleep.

  * * *

  I knew the moment I opened my eyes that I was dreaming again. Not because I was standing on clouds or because I was back at my aunts. It’s wasn’t even the location that gave it away. It was what I was wearing.

  I was wearing a blue plaid shirt – just like the one of Joshua’s I had worn before. The sleeves were rolled up to just below my elbows and it hung open to reveal the white crochet bikini top underneath it. Michael had said that I was the one to dictate what I would wear, but the bikini was a new one on me. I was also wearing a light-wash denim skirt and down on my apparently nail-polished feet, were my flip flops.

  Surrounding wise, I was standing on a gravel track, with two great ruts where many cars had passed over time. Not far in front of me was an all too familiar car – a bright blue Dodge Charger. The shirt should probably have given it away, but I didn’t need to see Joshua to know I was invading his dream.

  Even in the dream, there were crickets and all sorts of bugs chirping away around me. Back behind me, the sky was dark, but on the horizon behind the car, it was light – that time of day where the sun is still fighting to be up against the inky night sky which was slowly drowning it out.

  I was tempted to be polite and wake myself up, but I was curious. I made my way down the track to the car, to discover it was parked right in front of a small dock on a lake. I had never been here before, and the dimming light wasn’t giving any clues away.

  I didn’t see him at first. He was lying on his back, with his legs hanging off the edge of the dock to dangle lazily into the water. I didn’t know whether to be thankful or grateful at the fact he was fully clothed. He was in his usual attire of dark jeans (the legs rolled up), and a dark shirt (the sleeves rolled up).

  It wasn’t until I walked up to him and peered down at him that I realized his eyes were closed. With a soft smile on his face which made him seem more relaxed than I’d ever seen him, I was certain he was asleep. Asleep in a dream? He worked too much. I started to back away, ready to leave him to get the rest he clearly needed, when he spoke. “I was wondering when you’d get here.”

  “You were expecting me?” I asked in surprise, looking around to see if there was someone else around whom he should have been talking to.

  I looked back at him to find one eye cracked open, a bigger smile on his face. “You’ve been in my dreams every night since I met you. Why would I expect anything else?”

  What? “And, uh, what do I normally do in these dreams?” I asked, hesitantly, unsure if I really wanted the answer to that.

  Both eyes were open now, although he was frowning. “Your hair is blonde.”

  I reached for it and pulled it in front of me. He was right. I had reverted back to my natural hair color, complete with the longer, curlier style. “This is what it used to be like,” I told him.

  Joshua sat upright and patted the wood next to him. “It makes you look…”

  “If you say dumber, I am pushing you in the water,” I informed him as I slipped my flip flops off and sank down next to him.

  “I was going to say softer – more normal.”

  “Normal?” I repeated, unable to keep the indignation from my voice. “What the hell do you mean by that?” Joshua gave me a soft smile and reached for my face. I flinched and jerked backwards. “What are you doing?” I demanded.

  He smiled again and this time, when his hand went to my face, I refrained from moving my head out of reach of his hand and settled on staring at it suspiciously. He gently twisted a stray lock of my uncontrollable hair around his finger, before brushing it behind my ear. “I like it.” His hand paused, cupping my cheek, his thumb gently stroking the corner of my mouth.

  My eyes were locked on his, unable to break the gaze as he slowly started to move his head closer to mine. I knew exactly what was going to happen next so I cleared my throat and jumped to my feet. Seconds later he was on his, his arm sweeping around my waist to draw my body flush with his.

  “No,” I muttered quietly, using the last remaining piece of willpower I had to press the palms of my hands against his chest, feeling the heat through the thin material, and pushed myself away.

  He arched an eyebrow at me – that familiar smirk appearing on his dream face. “You’re different tonight,” he told me. “And I don’t mean the hair. You’re acting like you do when I'm awake.”

  “I don’t know what we normally get up to in your dreams,” I informed him, mentally kicking myself at my quivering voice. I should have removed my hands, but somehow, I was using them to keep myself upright as much as I was ensuring that he kept his distance. “But I can assure you there will be nothing untoward happening here tonight.”

  “Untoward?” he repeated, wiggling his eyebrows at me. “How good are you
at swimming?”

  I barked a laugh. “Swimming? In that?” I asked, glancing down at the inky blue water. “That thing is probably full of gators. I'm not swimming in-” The next thing to leave my mouth was an embarrassingly girly scream as he clamped his hands around my wrists and flung us both into the water.

  I can swim. Quite well, in fact. You can blame it on the fact that when I was still living in England, the worst that I would probably encounter in a lake would be a leech (and even that would freak me out), but as far as I was concerned, if you stick me in potentially alligator infested waters – which was true of most of the bodies of fresh water in Louisiana – I panic.

  I thrashed about, trying to make it to the surface, but the shirt I was wearing was getting tangled in my face and I couldn’t tell up from down. When something fastened around my waist, I used the last of my breath in screaming, swallowing a large mouthful of water.

  There was nothing dream-like about what was happening – it was all too real for me. Then I was turned around, and pulled through the surface of the water where I gasped in several deep, desperate breaths, as I tried to fling the shirt back over my head, while also trying to break free from whatever was clutching at my waist.

  “Angel!” I heard Joshua call sharply. And then my face was free of the shirt and whatever was holding my waist let go. The next thing I was aware of was that Joshua was in front of me, his hands firmly holding my cheeks.

  “We need to get out of here,” I gasped, trying to pull myself free. “Before the alligators come.”

  He laughed loudly, but didn’t let go of me. “There are no alligators in here,” he told me.

  I didn’t believe him. “I'm not about to take that risk,” I said, trying to pull him with me. If he wasn’t going to let go of me, he was getting out too. But whatever supernatural strength I once had was now nowhere in sight.

  “Angel, it’s a dream – my dream. Trust me; there are no alligators in here.”