Karma

By S C Cunningham

At the age of four, Amy was taken... She survived.
A week later, another little girl was taken...She didn't.

Angry that a bad man has gotten away with murder, justice-seeking Amy makes a deal with the heavens. When she dies, if she’s been a good girl, would they let her sit on a cloud for a while, invisible, and get the bad people who slip through God’s fingers?

Decades later her deal and God long forgotten, career girl Amy mysteriously dies. Her lifeless body is found beneath a London underground commuter train.

She awakens in the afterlife to discover an international network of like-minded souls who’ve all made the same deal. A sophisticated MI5-esque justice machine sits in the skies. The only evidence they leave behind during their earthly visits is a small white feather sashaying to the ground.

Amy has never worked so hard in her entire earthly life. She has to wonder if making the deal was a mistake.

"Wow! Great book. Make a great film."

"You are a very gifted writer and have created a rich, complex, believable world and characters. My senses have rarely been engaged so viscerally while reading."

“Completely different, outstanding."

"Blissfully raw, absolutely perfect. 5 Stars!”

"Hard to put down, a must-read that keeps you guessing."

"Wow! Great book, make a great film. Raw, edgy, and completely addictive.”

“Cunningham sent me on a vivid acrobatic journey. The text is detailed, flawless, and wonderful."

"So descriptive I felt as if I was reading line for line an investigative report.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: S C Cunningham
• Release date: Jun 24, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463877203

S C Cunningham

Attracting Hollywood attention, SCCunningham writes with a skilled mix of fueled tension, dark humor, and pulsating passion. Having worked in the industries she writes about, her books offer a fresh level of sincerity and authority, rare in fiction."Am lucky to have in your novel such an embarrassment of riches to work with." Danial Blake Smith, Film Producer. 'Evil's Match' in film development.​​​​​As a respite from crime, she writes inspiring children's books, helping our young learn important life messages through a fun-loving family of pets and their adventures. And a How-to Series; a writing guide, and an anti-anxiety well-being guide.BIO​​​​​​​An ex-model, British-born of Irish roots, she married a rock musician and has worked in music and film production, sports celebrity management, children's charity, and crime (CID, Crime Investigations, Wanted/Absconder Unit, Major Crime Team, Intelligence Analyst).SUPPORTED CAUSES​​​​​​​Veterans | Mental Health | Animals, Environment, & Child Protection |BOOKS​​​​​​5⭐ Steamy Psycho Thriller​​​​​​​THE DAVID TRILOGY (standalone)​​​​​​The Penance List​​​​​​Unfinished Business​​​​​​For My Sins"Writing doesn't get better than this...""Blown away to the point of speechless, shocking, vivid, bloody well written!""I read the book in one sitting.""I raise a glass, I'd love to meet anyone who writes like this.""Cunningham has done it again! What a fantastic writer."5⭐ Supernatural Rom Thriller​​​​​​​THE FALLEN ANGEL SERIES (standalone)​​​​​​​The DealKarmaThe Calling​​​​​​​Already Dead (tba)"Blissfully raw and absolutely perfect. 5⭐ for days.""Completely different from anything I have ever read." outstanding book.""It got me! Couldn't put it down and didn't want it to end!""Plots intertwine twist and turn, it's addictive."5⭐ Children's Teaching ToolsTHE GINORMOUS SERIES (3-12yrs)x 13 books in series"These books should be available in every home and school.""Cannot wait to share with my school class as part of PSHCE lessons.""A way for parents to educate their children on important topics in a way that children will listen.""WOW! I absolutely loved these books! What a great teaching tool. A fantastic series!"5⭐ How-to GuidesTHE HOW-TO SERIESWrite That BookFeel Good⭐REVIEWS - Write That Book"​​​​​​​A must-have guide for aspiring writers, new business, product launch, memoir, how-to skill, marketeer, advertiser, coach, or side-hustle start-up success​​​​​​​."“Cunningham provides a pep talk and call to action that will have you inspired and motivated to get writing! There is so much for writers to take away from this helpful and inspiring guide, and I cannot recommend it highly enough!”​​​​​​​​​"A crisp guide with easy-to-follow simple instructions for new writers to get started on their journey as an author. It helps to debunk worries and empower with feelings of self-accomplishment. A short, thorough, supportive, effective, well-written handbook, with plenty of advice, suggestions, and tools. I recommend reading in one sitting and then revising it again to make a list of action items to follow. For motivation, read it every few months to keep track of your progress and to give yourself a boost."⭐REVIEWS - Feel Good​​​​​​​“Such a sweet short book to help you when you most need it!”“As a person who struggles with depression and anxiety, this book felt like a gift.”“When I feel down or sad it’s difficult to grab a book, each page feels too long, but this one had short paragraphs with the main message and a sprinkle of positivity on each page.”“It includes the necessities, and what a person needs when going through a tough time. It talks about burnout, happiness, sadness, activities, and much more. It includes the importance of journaling, and arts and has different techniques on how to calm anxiety, and how to build patterns of happy thoughts.”“This is a KIT for helping yourself because no one can help you unless you want to get better!”​​​​​​​​​​​​​​WEBSITEhttp://www.sccunningham.com/​​​​​SOCIAL MEDIA LINKShttps://linktr.ee/AuthorSCCunningham​​​​​​AMAZONhttp://viewauthor.at/SCCunninghamDIGITAL STOREShttps://books2read.com/ap/xqDgw8/S-C-CunninghamMERCH​​​​​​​https://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/GiNORMOUSLoVE

Book preview

Chapter 1

Earls Court, London, UK

Tara Warr stood anxiously on the bustling street, trying to find her lawyer’s offices. She knew it was here somewhere. She dug into her handbag and pulled out a scrunched-up piece of paper with an address and telephone number scribbled on it.

She heard the impatient screech of wheels and looked up to see a black four-by-four speed toward her, with two guys shouting at each other in the front and two anxious-looking women in the back. One had pink hair.

The driver was moving dangerously fast. As it raced past her, she raised an open palm in the air and gave the driver a verbal blasting.

For fuck’s sake, dickhead, slow down! she shouted. Grow up!

But he didn’t notice her; he was concentrating on his rear-view mirror.

A screeching motorbike had charged up behind him, its rider dressed in black, getting too close. It looked as if they were racing, battling for position, causing cars and pedestrians to scatter.

Tara stood in horror at their stupidity.

What the fuck is this? Le Mans? Grow up, boys. Put your dicks away. You’re gonna kill someone, she shouted after them, shaking her head.

The bike rider pulled something from his pocket, raised his hand and pointed at the rear of the car. Two gunshots rang out, puncturing both back tyres, causing the driver to lose control. The car grazed the length of four parked cars and smashed into the pillared entrance of a mansion block.

The front passengers were thrown forward against airbags. The girls in the back were thrown forward and rag-dolled back by seatbelts. Pedestrians turned to see what the noise was. Traffic came to a halt.

Incredulous, Tara looked up and down the street, wondering if she’d walked onto a film set, expecting to see a director, cameras and film crew cheering from the pavement. But no, this was real; people screaming, dogs barking, car horns blaring. Real.

The motorbike calmly slowed and pulled up beside the rear passenger door. The rider shot through the lock, opened the door, reached inside and pumped two further rounds into each of the startled female passengers. He then revved his engine and rode off at full speed.

Pedestrians threw themselves to the ground; horns stopped blaring.

Tara stood staring, squinting, trying to read the number plate as he weaved his way round cars, pedestrians and pavements before disappearing into city traffic. She finally lost sight of him behind a London bus. No number plate.

Shit.

She turned back to the four-by-four. With the shooter gone, pedestrians came out of hiding; fellow drivers abandoned their vehicles and ran to the smoking car. Tara remained still for a second, not knowing what to do. Who the hell would do this?

Cautiously she followed the others and stood quietly by as helpers sprang into action, pulling the girls out of the wreckage and laying them on the road, a girl with pink hair and a blonde.

As two men tentatively lifted the blonde from the car, her arm flopped to the ground. Something small and black fell from her hand but everyone was too busy screaming instructions and shouting for the emergency services to notice.

The girls lay side-by-side. Onlookers circled them, some crying, some praying, some just ashen faced, staring. A few seemed to know what to do. They knelt down on either side of the girls and started talking to them, putting pressure on the wounds to stem the flow of blood, tilting heads back, unblocking airways, listening for breathing, pinching fingertips and earlobes, feeling pulse points, looking for any signs of life, then thumping down hard on the girls’ chests, with intermittent breaths into their mouths, desperately trying CPR to kick-start them alive.

Tara felt useless. She considered calling the police but there were already four or five people shouting into their phones, reporting the incident, and she could hear a siren working its way through the traffic.

Feeling a sudden chill, she buttoned up her coat as a cold heaviness filled the air.

She looked up into the sky. From nowhere, a storm had started to brew. Granite grey clouds rolled in, bringing swirling winds as the light dimmed, treetops bent, coattails flapped, and hats flew. The onlookers didn’t seem to notice, their minds on the girls.

She thought she heard someone shout the name Jack but could see no one there.

She looked back at the girls, lifeless, surrounded by people fighting for their lives. She felt uncomfortable. They may be dying; it didn’t feel right to gawk. Unless actively helping, she shouldn’t be there. She turned away and noticed a small black phone lying in the gutter. It must have fallen from the blonde girl’s hand when they pulled her from the car.

Tara picked it up and looked around for someone to hand it in to, but who? The police hadn’t arrived. An ambulance had just pulled up but it’s crew would be too busy. She looked for the men who’d sat in the front seats, but they were leaving the back of an ambulance, staggering away from the scene in the direction of the motorbike, talking rapidly into their phones. It looked like they had handguns, but she couldn’t be sure.

Bleep Bleep - Croak Croak - Bleep Bleep - Croak Croak

Her bloody annoying ‘laughing frog’ ringtone rang out from her phone. She vowed for the umpteenth time to change it, if she ever worked out how.

She pulled the phone from her bag. Her lawyer’s snooty secretary chastised her for being late.

Yes, yes . . . I’m on my way. I’m just around the corner. There’s been a shooting. I..

Mr. Smythson is a very busy man, Miss Warr, interrupted Miss Snooty.

I’ll be with you in a minute, sighed Tara. Two girls have been badly hurt. I’m not sure they’ll live.

Yes, yes, Miss Snooty interrupted. He has back-to-back meetings scheduled. If you wish to cancel . . .

No, no. I’m nearly there, sighed Tara as she clicked off. Silly cow, she thought. What is it with blinkin’ condescending secretaries? Give them a bit of diary power and a telephone and they go all high and bloody mighty. She needs to remember who pays her wages - the clients!

Tara popped both phones into her bag with a view to taking the blonde’s phone to a police station later, and charged down the street, skipping around rubberneckers and abandoned cars.

Looking back over her shoulder, her heart sank as reality hit. The girls were someone’s daughter, someone’s best friend, lover, sister or mother. There may be a loved one or pet sitting at home right now, waiting for them to return. That biker needs to be sorted.

Not big on religion, she preferred to cut out the middleman and pray alone; she stood still for a moment, closed her eyes and said a quick prayer for the girls to make it. But from the crowd’s sullen silence, it seemed unlikely. Life can turn on a sixpence, she thought. One minute you’re there, the next you’re not.

David Howard, she mumbled as she unfolded the scrunched-up piece of paper with Mr. Smythson’s address on it. You’re not going to ruin mine anymore. I’m coming to face you and take mine back.

She looked up to the sky as a flock of black birds screeched overhead. She knew the girls had gone.

Chapter 2

Ten Days Later, Over the Ocean

The rocket climbed steadily into the sky, leaving the gawping crowd of onlookers falling away.

What the hell, Pyke? This isn’t fair! You know I’m not good with confined spaces. Why me? Get the Americans to do it.

Jack leaned into the warhead’s workings, his body half in and half out of the shaking, red hot casing. His eyes searched the mass of complex data boards, none of which made any sense to him. He’d worked the bomb disposal unit during his time with the SAS, but this was way out of his league.

Because that’s what you’re here for. Pyke’s voice could be heard in Jack’s ear. And I owe the Washington office a favour; they’re a bit busy at the moment.

This is so not my thing. Can’t I just bash the whole lot? It’s gonna explode anyway. Who’ll know?

No, you have to do it my way. The camera is on. I’ve got eyes on you. Just follow my instructions.

It’s fucking hot in here and the noise is unbearable. Hurry up.

The launched missile had just left its silo, burning its way up into the skies. Jack’s legs dangling out its side, he was not amused but very pleased no one could see him.

When will these ego-tripping, penis-wagging leaders get their act together? If they don’t learn to manage their dicks, Erthfolk’ll be toast. Where’s Amy? he moaned.

She’s saving a herd of sheep on a mountain.

Why does she get all the soft stuff and I get all the ball ache stuff?

Errr . . . don’t let her hear you say that. She’s furious. She can’t control the little blighters. They keep wandering off, running her ragged. It’s a Benny Hill sketch down there.

Jack giggled, I’d like to see that. She’ll be cussing like a fish wife.

Yep, the airways are a little blue right now, grinned Pyke.

Okay, Pykey Boy, guide me through this bitch of a rocket. I wanna get back for a cuppa tea.

Right, we are almost in the right position. Put your hand over the third board on the left, second level up from where you are.

Urgh, I hate all this data stuff. With all your cyber fixing, can’t you just crash this thing?

No, cos when the forensics boys do a search, they’ll be looking to blame it on someone else, like an opposition cyber-attack infecting the internal guidance and control systems or infiltrating the supply chain and planting malware viruses. It’ll make things worse. If blame is accounted to an enemy, retaliation will escalate. It’s better if we make it look au-natural. Just warm things up a bit, Jack. Make it look like overheated mechanical failure and no one gets held responsible. Simple.

Jeez, they ought to be saving their planet, not smashing it up.

Sadly, the knowledge of how to destroy themselves is here to stay. The problem is how to live with it and keep erratic leaders’ fingers off the buttons.

Jack placed his hand over the panel and used his energy to warm it up. The metal and its components beneath began to melt, their red glow lighting up Jack’s chiselled, scarred face. Pyke watched from HQ via his eye camera.

Okay, amore-mio, mission accomplished. You’d better get out of there It’s gonna explode and could give you a seriously dodgy headache, smiled Pyke. Right about now.

Jack eased his torso out of the casing and flashed away from the missile just as it exploded mid-air, its particles hovering and glowing in the atmosphere before spiralling down to sea.

The world’s cameras were on the show of power. The image went viral within seconds, with an international sigh of relief.

No one saw Jack.

Chapter 3

County Wicklow, Dublin, Ireland

Amy abandoned the sheep once their shepherd and trusty sheepdog had found them. No longer needing her help, she brushed down mud and leaves from her only suit.

On the way back to head office, Cloud 9 as Pyke had nicknamed it, she did a quick hospital sweep - something she and Jack liked to do from time to time - walk through wards and palliative care homes, checking up on those about to transfer over, giving Erthfolk comfort through a frightening transmission and chasing off bloodthirsty Witnesses waiting to take souls below ground.

The visits weren’t allocated to their workload, but if completed on the way to or from a job, they could sneak them in without having to wait for authorisation. Most Fallen around the planet did it, an unspoken rule. When they could, they would be there.

Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, the Erthfolk’s transfer experience was a pleasant one. Finally, all their pain, angst and suffering lifted as a warm bright light welcomed them into a state of bliss, their soul adding to a universal energy.

Only the loved ones left behind felt pain.

Some souls returned to earth almost immediately, starting the cycle of life again. Some requested the same deal as Amy and joined the Fallen, to dish karma from the skies. And some had behaved so badly that their life deeds totted up enough to join the Witnesses below ground, commonly known as Hell.

When walking the wards looking for those in transition, if a Witness sat at the end of the bed, the Fallen tended to walk on by as their help was more deserved elsewhere. There were a few occasions when an Erthfolk was on the cusp, and the Fallen and Witnesses could tussle over ownership.

Amy liked walking the wards. She could fit in ten or twenty transitions per trip if she got her skates on and didn’t get too involved. But today wasn’t one of those days.

As she peered through the top floor window of a hospital, she saw nurses rushing around, checking on patients. An old lady lying on a bed in the corner caught her eye, with signs of imminent transmission; body energy fading, breathing slowing and tears trickling from closed eyes.

Aware it was nearing her time, the old lady was putting up a fight. She tucked her blanket neatly under her chin, pressed her hands flat to her chest and willed her lungs to keep breathing and her heart to keep beating. She wasn’t ready to go just yet.

Amy swept to her bedside and laid a calming hand on her shoulder. Noticing a card on the bedside table, she picked it up and read it. The lady’s granddaughter had written saying she would be able to visit the next day. Amy smiled.

I see you’re hanging on to see your granddaughter.

Amy leaned over the lady’s chest, placed a hand on each shoulder and filled her with energy.

Relax. You’re not going anywhere today, honey. You’ll see her tomorrow. Tell her that you love her, to be a good girl, to follow her heart, that life is short so don’t take bullshit from anyone, and to choose a soul mate that’ll make a good father. I’ll be back another time to hold your hand as you go. You have nothing to fear.

She waited a few seconds before the lady opened her eyes and took a large sigh. Feeling energised, she sat up in the bed and waved sweetly at a passing nurse, asking for a glass of water.

‘Of course, Milly,’ replied the surprised nurse, shocked to see colour in her cheeks and that she had the energy to pull herself up. Let me get it for you. Did you want to read today? Shall I pass your book to you?

Milly nodded and smiled. Yes, please, and my glasses if you would.

Amy turned away from Milly’s bed to check the room, to see if anyone else needed help.

Three men in suits stood over a patient in the next bed. They leaned in close, talking to him. Amy hovered over the patient, checking his energy levels. He looked frightened, trying to keep a brave face. She listened to their conversation.

The largest of the three men took a brown envelope from inside his jacket. His sweaty fingers prised it open and pulled out three documents. He placed them on the bed’s tray-table, spreading them out in a neat row. Joseph eyed them nervously.

You’re dying, Joseph. You’re in no position to stop us. We’ve worked hard as managers for you these past years. We’re sick of seeing you reap the benefits and us living on a wage. It’s our turn to earn the big bucks. Why should you get it all?

He pulled out a pen, clicked the nib into action and pushed it into Joseph’s semi-paralysed hand.

Sign these contracts and we’ll go away and leave your family alone.

Amy scanned the papers. They were agreements handing over ownership of three carpet shops.

Joseph stared up at the men, defiant, shaking his head at their callousness. In pain, half paralysed, his organs giving up, barely able to speak, he wanted to smash their faces in.

He had trusted these men, given them jobs when no one else would, taught them all they knew about the carpet business, promoted them to manage each of his stores, and looked after them when they or their young families needed help. And now here they were, waiting for him to die, threatening him when helpless, trying to take away all he had, all his wife and five children would have to support them when he’d gone. Fuck them; he wasn’t having it.

Nur…nurse, he tried to shout out, to get help, his voice shaky.

The men leaned in closer. The large man put a hand over Joseph’s mouth.

Now you know what will happen if you don’t sign, Joseph. Your lovely wife and children are on their own. You don’t want anything to happen to them, do you? They’re lonely and frightened right now, worried about you, and I’m sure they’d like a little help and guidance from us right now, your trusted right-hand men, don’t you think?

He laughed a sneaky, guttural laugh that made Josephs heart leap with fear.

And your eldest - how old is she now? Sixteen? Sweet and innocent as a flower. We’ll look after her, good and proper, he grinned.

A nurse popped her head into the group.

Are you okay, Joseph? Did you call? she smiled.

Oh, don’t worry, nurse. The large man poured a glass of water into a tumbler and rested the rim of the glass against Joseph’s mouth, tipping liquid into his mouth. He just wanted a sip of water. He’s okay.

How lucky you are to have your friends around you, Joseph. If you need anything else, let me know, beamed the nurse as she turned away, walking back to her desk.

Joseph spat the water out, spraying the large man’s suit.

Temper, temper, scoffed the large man. Now sign here or your family will be going to more than one funeral.

Joseph stared up at the men with disgust. They would never have the guts to do this if he was fit and well. They’d worked sufficiently under his guidance, but give them the businesses and they’d run them into the ground within months. The same thing would happen even if he didn’t sign. His wife would trust them to carry on with the businesses and they may get her into financial trouble, more so than not having the businesses. He knew they were sexual pigs, unfaithful to their wives and disrespectful of women. His daughter would not be safe.

He had no choice.

Amy stood watching. The large man held Joseph’s paralysed hand steady as he signed the three agreements. Seething, he stared at the men, deciding what to do. A hospital ward was not the place to cause mayhem.

The men grabbed the documents and left, grinning, punching each other in the shoulder, high fiving. They couldn’t get out of the hospital fast enough. Joseph watched as they stormed through the ward doors, laughing, and joking. With tears rolling down his cheeks, he closed his eyes.

Amy walked around to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder.

You’re not ready to die, Joseph, she whispered into his ear. You will survive this time. You will be there for your family until the time is right. Have hope. Have faith.

Leaving his body energised, she walked to the window and saw the three men running across the car park to the large man’s Jeep, laughing, joking, and waving contracts in the air. She rose up through the roof to follow them.

A nurse bent to pick up a white feather from the floor by Joseph’s bed. She stood to see another nurse pick a white feather from Milly’s blanket. Holding out the feathers, the two women smiled at each other, knowing. Placing the feathers on the ends of the beds, they went about their work.

The Jeep left the car park and followed the traffic to the motorway. They picked up speed and drove the two miles to the next town, pulling to the inside lane in preparation to turn off at the next exit. Busy chatting, the large man didn’t notice the lorry ahead had broken down until it was too late. The three men drove into the stationery HGV at full speed.

The front of the vehicle buckled, the engine joined the front seats, which concertinaed into the back seats, sandwiching the men. Flames from the fuel pump flickered into life.

Amy patiently waited outside the front passenger window, watching Joseph’s contracts sizzle and burn on the dashboard. Once the pages had turned to ash, she waved her hand over the flames that were creeping into the body of the car, putting them out. The three men had enough to deal with.

Moaning and groaning, they cried out for help. She wondered if they would get to see Joseph again, maybe from beds in his ward. Karma is a bitch.

A siren could be heard in the distance announcing help was on its way. She rose up into the clouds and hovered over the fast-building motorway traffic, one of the things she didn’t miss about being alive.

She needed to get back; she’d spent too much time on her hospital sweep.

She and Jack had a date.

Chapter 4

Cloud 9

Jack strode through the office, straight to the bathroom where Amy waited for him.

Leaning up against a wall, trousers and shoes strewn across the floor, she gave a Cheshire cat grin as their eyes met.

They didn’t speak.

Jack moved toward her, undoing his trouser buckle. He leaned in, his delicious weight flattening her against the wall with a thud. He placed his warm mouth on hers, catching her exhale of breath.

She loved having sex with him. Once they realised they wouldn’t die from making love; explode into the ether or be thrown below ground, they did it at every opportunity, stealing private moments between jobs.

Amy liked to think of it as releasing pent-up energy, charging batteries, rejuvenating each other so they’d be ready to walk into the next shitstorm - a perk of the job.

She held onto his shoulders and skipped up. Jack’s hands slid under her buttocks and steadied her as she wrapped her legs around his hips. She held his face and looked into his eyes. She loved this man; this complicated, stubborn, complex, annoying man.

Bringing his face to hers, she kissed his mouth, loving the taste, smell and feel of him. His hard cock nudged against her panties.

Hard day at the office, dear? she smiled.

A bitch of a day, saving the world. You know how it is.

She caught her breath as he yanked her panty material aside.

Me, too. I’ve been herding very disobedient sheep. I need to relax. She was wet.

Well, m’lady. He slid slowly into her. Will this do?

Her head lolled back. Her mouth fell open. She couldn’t answer.

Jack smiled as she held on tight. He gently bounced her up and down, watching every nuance in her face as she rode the wave. She ground her hips into him with every thrust. It turned him on.

Yes, yes, yes, she cried.

Pyke’s call bleeped in Jacks ear. Fuck!

Jack, past the point of caring, unable to stop even if he wanted to, hit his ear, closing the call.

Annoyed at being cut off, Pyke flicked on Jack’s eye camera and saw a close up of Amy’s face thrown back in ecstasy shouting, Yes, yes, yes!

Urgh! Not again, Jack, he winced. For fuck’s sake, we really do need a password. This is getting ridiculous. He switched abruptly off, leaving them to it.

Chapter 5

Jack and Amy fell back against the wall. getting their breath back. Jack slid to the ground, heaving with exhaustion.

Shit, I love you, Amy Fox.

And shit, I love you right back, Jack Mallan, forever and ever, Amy leaned to kiss the top of his head.

He closed his eyes and silently thanked the heavens for her. Their relationship had hit a few hard times, but they were now on an even keel, and he loved it.

I still expect us to get blown up or something for having sex up here. They must be okay with it. Amy handed Jack his trousers.

Actually, I checked with the boss.

What? You told him we have sex!

Yep.

Oh my God, you didn’t! What did he say? Amy put her hand to her mouth, cringing.

He gave me one of those steely, under-brow looks and said if it was from a loving place it’s okay with him, but to keep it private. Others may not look too kindly on it.

"Ahhh, really? Awe, I love him, he’s so cute," smiled Amy, sighing with relief.

Cute? Honey, he’s the main man, the Commander, the Lord of the Skies. You can’t call him cute, Jack laughed. Hmmm, cute, I’ll tell him that. It’ll make him smile.

You two are close, aren’t you, Amy pulled on her clothes. How did that happen?

Not sure, but I think he got to notice me when I did something stupid in the army. Well, I call it stupid; others called it brave.

What kind of stupid?

Under fire, I kept returning to a collapsing orphanage building, saving a load of kids.

Well, that’s brave for an Erthfolk. You could’ve died.

"Exactly. That’s what I wanted. I didn’t