by C. L. Coffey
I had gone straight for the arm chair, but stopped short at the curled up ball of white fluff. I turned back to Joshua, my eyes narrowing. “You have a cat.”
“I do have a cat,” he confirmed, his blue eyes sparkling in amusement. “I didn’t realize that being an angel gave you such brilliant observational skills.”
I shot him a scathing look, but sat down on the opposite end of the couch to him, settling the pizza box on the coffee table. “Since when have you had a cat?” I demanded.
“I think the more appropriate question is how long has that cat had a human?” Joshua corrected me. “And the answer to that is: a few months after Katrina. His name is Dave, by the way.”
“You have a cat,” I said, staring at him in bewilderment. “And you named him Dave?”
Joshua rolled his eyes and reached for the pizza box, plucking out a slice of the extra large pizza he had ordered. “While you get over that fact, I’m going to eat,” he said, taking a bite. “Though why you’re finding that so surprising is beyond me.”
I gave the white pile of fur another suspicious look. “I just didn’t take you for a cat man,” I said. Seeing Joshua eating his slice had me reaching for my own. I had eaten three slices before I looked up and caught Joshua watching me.
“When was the last time you ate?” he asked me.
The question had me blushing, especially when I realized he had only just started his second slice. “I picked at a hospital meal,” I admitted.
Joshua continued to stare at me, his eyes narrowing. “That was weeks ago,” he pointed out.
Calmly, I licked my fingers and reached for the Pepsi, washing down the pizza before I spoke again. “It turns out that being dead means I don’t need to eat food as often as I used to.”
“I think you need to make the gaps between meals a little sooner than five weeks,” he told me. “Don’t take this the wrong way, darlin’, but when I saw you earlier, I half thought you had climbed out from a grave.” Joshua set what was left of his slice back down in the box before leaning forward. “And what about sleep?” When I shook my head, his eyes narrowed again. “Why do I suspect that the last real sleep you had was about the same time?”
“Turns out angels don’t need as much sleep either,” I shrugged, unable to look at him.
“I think you need to reassess that one too,” he informed me. “Eating gave your skin color. I think sleep will take those suitcases from under your eyes and make you look more human.”
“But I’m not human,” I snapped at him. “Much as I want to pretend that things haven’t changed, they have. I’ve changed, the rules have changed, and so have the consequences.”
“What rules?” Joshua asked, calmly. “What consequences?”
I looked away. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“If I remember correctly, you told me the rules were no drinking, no drugs, no sex, tell nobody but me what you are, and protect me,” he said. I caught him listing the things on his fingers from the corner of my eye. “I also think you’re not supposed to tell anyone where you live? So tell me, what has changed?”
The pizza seemed to turn to lead in my stomach. “Angels aren’t supposed to kill humans,” I informed him, stonily.
Joshua snorted and I turned to look at him. “Humans aren’t supposed to kill humans either,” he pointed out.
I wanted to explain it to him, but as I searched for the words, I could feel that all-too familiar feeling shoot through me. I doubled over, gasping. I should have known that if I couldn’t even think about it, I had no chance of talking about it.
It took me less time to push that pain down then it did normally, and when I opened my eyes, I found Joshua at eye level, watching me, his eyes filled with worry. “Angel?” he said, clutching at my arms.
Vaguely aware that he had said my name several times, I gave him a smile. “I’m fine,” I responded, my voice as weak as my smile.
“Bullshit,” he said, sharply, his eyes as clear as crystals. “You brushed off being shot in the back like it was nothing, but you’re acting like you’ve been stabbed in the stomach and it hurts. I thought you were supposed to be dead?”
“It comes and goes. Don’t worry,” I tried to assure him. “I’m fine.”
He shook his head: it was evident that he didn’t believe me. “Bullshit,” he repeated. He pointed at my hands. “If you’re fine, why are you clutching your arms so tight that you’re drawing blood?”
I followed his gaze, surprised to find that I was indeed bleeding where my nails had dug into my arms. I looked back at Joshua, feeling a big lump forming in my throat. “I can’t tell you,” I said hoarsely. “It’s not that I don’t want to, I just can’t.”
With a sigh, he pulled himself back onto the couch, only now he was seated so closely, I could feel the heat from his legs radiating through his pants onto me. The rules I had to abide by meant that I should probably move away and put some appropriate distance between us, but the warmth was comforting and reassuring, and I couldn’t bring myself to take that feeling away. “Okay,” he said, softly. “Okay.”
I sagged against him, relieved that he wasn’t going to push me on the subject. “It’s late,” I told him. “You should get some sleep.”
“I think you need it more than me,” he retorted. “You can have my bed.”
“You have your bed,” I told him, shaking my head. “I probably won’t sleep. There’s no point in wasting it on me.”
Joshua let out an impatient growl and I looked up at him in time to see him scooping me up in his arms again. “Joshua!” I squealed, slightly panicked as he carried me towards his bedroom.
He didn’t say anything until he set me down on the bed. “You are getting some sleep,” he told me firmly. “Tonight, in that bed,” he added. “And before you say anything, darlin’, you need it. If the only way I can make you get some sleep is to make you feel guilty that I’m taking my couch, then so be it.”
“You know, I could just leave,” I muttered.
He gave me a look which said he clearly didn’t believe me. “You could, but you won’t.”
He was right. I wasn’t going anywhere. I was also certain that I wouldn’t be visiting the Land of Nod, but I knew there was no point in disagreeing with Joshua. With a sigh, I maneuvered myself under the covers and stared up at him. “Thank you, Joshua.” He gave me a small smile and left, pulling the door closed behind him.
I stared up at the ceiling, my eyes quickly becoming accustomed to the dark. I’d spent long enough counting sheep that I didn’t think tonight would be any different. I rolled onto my side, pulling the covers tightly around me, and took a deep breath. Even his sheets smelled of him. I took in another breath, surprised at how much even his scent could calm me. With another breath, I closed my eyes.
CHAPTER FOUR
A Streetcar Carrying Desire
When I opened my eyes, I was standing in front of the Gotham City Hall in the DC Super Heroes area of the long-abandoned Six Flags theme park, on the edge of the city. Above me, the sky was as gray as it had been the last time I had been here. There were rumbles of thunder and flashes of lightning which regularly lit up the area, but the wind and rain of Hurricane Tabitha were nowhere to be seen.
The last time I had been here it hadn’t been a dream. It had been a living nightmare. This place was the reason I hadn’t slept since being in the hospital. Awake, I was constantly replaying everything that had happened that night, analyzing what I had done, and what I should have done differently. I was so scared that I was going to relive it and that I wouldn’t be able to wake myself up, I refused to let myself fall asleep.
Panic washed through me and I started to will myself to wake up, but as I did, I noticed something was off about this dream. When I was awake and remembering this, I remembered everything: I knew exactly how many cracks there were in the side of the buildings, what attractions were still around me, and how many puddles I had to run through to get here.
Now,
as I took a moment to look around me, I realized that many of the buildings were in the wrong places and that some of the rides were nothing more than dark shadows. The more I looked around, the more I began to suspect that this wasn’t my dream. I turned back to the City Hall and noticed a figure standing in front of it. He was staring up at the building, his arms folded and his head cocked. “Joshua?” I called out.
He slowly turned around and frowned. “What are you doing here?” he asked me.
“I could ask you the same question,” I responded, moving over to join him by his side.
He studied me, still frowning. “You’re blonde,” he said, instead of giving me an explanation. “You’re exactly how I remember, except you’re blonde.”
I glanced down at myself recognizing the suit I wore that night. Michael had once told me that the person dreaming had the power to control everything but what the Dream Walker was wearing. Last time I had been in one of Joshua’s dreams I had been wearing a white crotched bikini. I hadn’t picked that outfit then, and looking at my suit, I knew there was no way in hell I would ever choose to wear this now.
As I glanced back up, I noticed what he had. Far from the bright red he was used to, I was blonde. Aside from one dream I had intruded, he had never seen my natural hair color, and I suspected it was the only thing in this dream which I did have any control over. “Why are we here? Don’t we usually get up to other things in your dreams?” I asked, unable to stop myself from blushing.
He smirked, but it disappeared from his face as quickly as it had appeared. “Trust me, darlin’, I would much rather be getting up to other things with you,” he assured me. He glanced up at the half ruined building and sighed. “The problem is, I can only remember bits and pieces of what happened here, and my brain won’t let me think about anything else.”
“You don’t remember what happened?” I asked him, surprised, and somewhat jealous.
“Not all of it,” he admitted.
“Are you sure you want to?” I muttered, unable to keep the regret from my voice.
He finally looked back at me with an intensity which made me take a step back. “Yes,” he said, firmly, taking several steps to close the distance between us. “You have been holed up in a room for weeks, and when I finally get to see you, you act like you’re constantly in pain and you can’t talk about it. I need to know why. I need to remember what happened.” He reached up and gently stroked my cheek with his thumb. “I can’t help if I don’t understand.”
“I don’t think you’ll be able to help even if you do understand,” I whispered. I stared up at the building, frowning. When Michael had first discovered I had the ability to Dream Walk, he had told me that what I did was subtle – that trying to pass on a message could take several trips into a person’s dream. There was a good chance that Joshua wasn’t going to remember much of this when he woke up. I closed my eyes and sucked in a deep breath, contemplating what he was asking me. Finally, I shook my head. “I can’t, Joshua,” I told him. “This is the first time I’ve slept since it happened, and call me selfish, but I need to have some time where I don’t have to relive this.”
Joshua’s thumb paused, and then his hand left my cheek completely. Before I could open my eyes, he had cupped my chin and raised my head. “If you’re not ready yet, I can wait, but darlin’, I’m going to need to remember at some point.”
I blinked a few times, and then nodded. That was fair, though I hoped he would either remember by himself, or would no longer feel the need to remember as time passed. “Can we get out of here?”
Joshua dropped his hand, and looked around. “Anywhere in particular?” he asked, smirking.
“Not here,” I mumbled. Anywhere but here. I wanted something warm and reassuring; something with people and food… the gray overcast surroundings of the abandoned theme park faded away. When things came back into focus again, we were standing on unstable ground.
There was a lurch and I fell backwards with a startled squeal, saved at the last moment from face-planting on the floor, by Joshua's arms catching me. I allowed him to pull me upright, and then took a step back, using a wooden bench to keep my balance. I blinked a few times, trying to focus on where I was, rather than how red I could feel my face turning – I was supposed to be a graceful angel.
We were amongst a dozen or so people riding on a streetcar. It looked familiar enough that I suspected we were still in New Orleans. Despite our sudden and noisy appearance, none of the other passengers had noticed us. They just continued to stare ahead, blank expressions on their faces. I turned back to Joshua, to find he had slipped into one of the wooden seats. He was watching me with mild amusement.
“Surely being in a dream means we get to skip this part?” I asked, staring down at him.
“Sometimes it isn’t about the destination, but the journey,” he responded, patting the space next to him.
“You could have picked a more comfortable mode of transport,” I grumbled, finally sitting down beside him. I shifted a few times, trying to find a comfortable position, but failing, I let out a grunt of frustration.
“You drive everywhere too much,” Joshua chided me.
“Actually,” I corrected him, “I used to get the bus. It wasn’t worth the hassle trying to find parking. What were you doing catching a streetcar?” I turned in my seat to face Joshua. “Why are we on one now?” I asked.
“I thought I’d take you somewhere warm and comfortable,” he shrugged.
Warm, yes. Streetcars didn’t have air-conditioning; just windows that allowed the warm air to circulate a little. As for comfortable? “I can think of a dozen-” Before I could finish the sentence, Joshua had leaned forward, wrapped his arm around my waist, and pulled me onto his lap.
“Better?” he asked, resting his chin on the top of my head.
Considerably. Even asleep, my body seemed to suck the heat from him. Like a sponge soaking up water, I could feel that warmth travel along my body. The sensation was better than any analgesic. I relaxed into him and nodded.
We sat in silence for a while, and my attention drifted out of the window. It looked like we were on the Canal Street line, and a specific stretch of it, considering we had just passed the same houses for a second time. Apparently this was a route Joshua had taken several times over. Recently, judging from some of the cars we passed.
“What’s out here?” I asked him, quietly.
When I didn’t think he was going to answer me, I started to, reluctantly, pull away from him. His grip around me tightened and he let out a deep breath. “I like to come here and think,” he told me.
I had no idea how anyone could get much thinking done riding on a streetcar. The cars were uncomfortable and usually full of people on cell phones talking too loudly. Then again, my getaway spot was Café du Monde.
The warmth disappeared from my thigh, where one of Joshua’s hands had been resting. I glanced down in time to see the hand move to my face, tucking a lock of blonde hair behind my ear. His fingers trailed along my neck, stroking the skin there. “Joshua,” I squeaked, trying to object. I was urging my body to protest, to move away and show him that his behavior was inappropriate, even if my mouth wouldn’t let me tell him. For some reason, my body was responding to Joshua more than it was to me.
“Angel,” he muttered, scooping my legs up and maneuvering them over his lap. “I’m going to do something I want to do every time I see you.”
“What?” I asked; the word hardly audible as my treacherous body worked against me from breaking the spell he had somehow put me under. Before I could stop myself, I had wet my lips – an action which certainly hadn’t gone unnoticed by Joshua as he smirked at me. Then his lips found mine. If his hands had been a source of warmth, it was nothing compared to what his lips provided – even in a dream. More importantly I cleared my mind. I closed my eyes giving my body exactly what it had been craving for – even if it wasn’t real.
Forgetting every rule that had been created for
this moment, my hands snaked up behind his neck, pulling him as close to me as I could manage. Awake-me would never admit it, and bold as Dream-me was, she would never say it aloud, but I wanted Joshua.
I don’t know if it was his touch, or simply the fact that I was dreaming, but for the first time since earning my wings, I finally lost all concept of time. Eventually, Joshua pulled away from me, only to rest his forehead against mine. He stared down at me, his breath warm and heavy on my lips. “I have to go,” he muttered. I stared back at him, trying to hide the hurt I was suddenly feeling from showing in my eyes. “Trust me,” he added softly, his eyes so dark that the silver specks in them looked like stars in a clear night’s sky. “I don’t want to.”
“So don’t,” I heard myself tell him.
That smirk of his was there in an instant. “I don’t have any choice,” he said, his hand gently caressing my cheek. “I can hear my phone.” He gave me one last kiss, and then everything faded into darkness.
* * *
The sound of running water woke me up, and it took me a moment to work out that it was coming from the bathroom, rather than outside the window. I rolled over, facing the bathroom door and inhaled the lingering scent of Joshua. The other side of the bed didn’t look slept in, though I doubted Joshua had gone back on his word to spend the night on the couch. The clock on the far bedside table told me it was nearly seven am. The sun would be rising soon.
I pulled back the covers and got out of the bed, padding over to the window. Even though the rain had stopped at some point in the night, there were puddles all around the communal pool which stood in the middle of the apartment complex. It wasn’t until then that I realized that I wasn’t in crippling pain anymore. There was something still there, but compared to what it had been, the throbbing ache just above my belly was now manageable. Noticeable, but definitely not incapacitating anymore.
