Immortal City

“There he goes right there!” one of the officers yelled in alarm, drawing his gun. “Jackson, stop!”

“Stop right there, Jacks!” the other echoed as he lunged forward, sending a table and dishes crashing to the floor. Jacks stepped in front of Maddy, knocking her back with such force it took her wind away.

“Back up toward the rear door,” he whispered. “Do it now.”

Maddy did as she was told, her lungs gasping for air.

One of the officers shouted again.

“Leave the young lady! Freeze right there or I will shoot you!”

Jacks stopped. He reached a hand back and touched Maddy’s side, right on the curve of her hip. She could feel the heat of his fingers through her uniform.

“No,” Jacks replied calmly, “you won’t.” Then he took another step back, still touching Maddy.

The officer’s trembling finger squeezed the trigger.

BANG. The discharge of the gun was the last thing Maddy heard before a bright, white light filled the diner, as though the sun itself had risen in the restaurant. As her eyes adjusted, Maddy saw the most amazing sight of her life up to that point.

The entire dining room was frozen.

The two policemen were like statues, their faces masks of fear and surprise. One of them had knocked the coffeepot off the warmer, and it now hovered, mid-shatter, over the floor. Uncle Kevin was frozen too. He had dropped his spatula, and it was rendered motionless just beyond the tips of his fingers. Perhaps the most spectacular thing of all, the bullet that had been fired now hung in the air, absolutely still, like a model airplane on fishing line. Maddy looked up at the boy. His hand stretched out in front of him, as if telling the entire room to stop. He turned and looked at her with his perfect features and his piercing blue eyes.

There was no other explanation. He was an Angel.

The front door burst open, and an impeccably dressed older man rushed into the restaurant, the rest of the diner remaining stock-still. He looked around at the frozen scene and then at Jacks.

“Jacks,” he said sternly, “let’s go.”

Jacks held Maddy’s gaze for another breathless second and then, without saying anything, turned to leave.

Nonchalantly he grabbed the bullet out of the air and put it in his pocket. Only then did he let go of Maddy.

Time seemed to return to normal. SMASH went the coffeepot all over the floor, and glass and brown liquid rushed over the linoleum. Uncle Kevin’s spatula clanged to the ground. Jackson and the older Angel vanished out the front door. The two officers peered at each other, confused.

Maddy just stood there, immovable. It wasn’t just what she had seen; it was what she had felt. As she stood there still breathing his strange, wonderful smell, a conversation came back to her, a conversation with Gwen and Jessica and Samantha from earlier in the evening. A name rose to the surface of her mind.

“Jacks. . Jackson. . Jackson Godspeed.” Her face turned white with disbelief, then blushed pink with embarrassment. Finally, it turned deep crimson. With rage.

Outside, Jacks and Mark walked quickly to their cars.

Mark turned to his stepson. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. What is going on?”

“We’ll discuss it at home. I’ll follow, and don’t ever let me lose sight of you.” Jacks got into his Ferrari and started the throaty engine. Mark went to his M7. He unlocked the door, but before he could get in, a hand seized him by the arm. Hard. With supernatural speed Mark spun around, ready to defend himself and Jacks.

It was Kevin. His stare was cold. Mark relaxed his hand, which was already around Kevin’s throat.

“Hello, Kevin,” Mark said calmly.

“You know the agreement,” Kevin said, cutting him off. “I don’t ever want to see you, or your boy, around here again.”

“I’m sorry, Kevin, it was an emergency.”

Kevin leaned into Mark’s face.

“Stay the hell away from Maddy.”

CHAPTER NINE

Kris was waiting as Mark and Jacks came in from the garage. Her eyes were puffy from crying, her face creased with concern. She rushed to Jacks and hugged him. On the flat screen in the background, A! was replaying footage of Jacks’s arrival at the party.

“I’m fine, Mom,” Jacks said in answer to her questions. “Is Chloe okay? Where is she?”

“Upstairs, in bed,” Kris said. Jacks turned to his stepfather.

“Mark, what’s going on?”

Mark picked up the remote off the kitchen island and turned the TV off.

“We don’t have long. A detective from the ACPD will be here soon. Just let me do the talking.”

Jacks looked between them.

“Would someone please just tell me—”

A buzz echoed in from the foyer. Mark stepped over to the security cameras and looked at the image of the police officer waiting in his unmarked car at the gate. Mark studied the face. It was different now, he thought. The years had dulled the edges of David’s features. His eyes, though, still burned with that same righteous fury, and in that way, he was undeniably the same.

Mark activated the gate and watched on-screen as the vehicle pulled up the drive. Jacks gave Mark an expectant look when he returned. Mark looked at his stepson evenly.

“There’s been an incident on Angel Boulevard. There’s reason to believe an Angel was attacked. And mortalized.

Perhaps even murdered.”

It was several seconds before Jacks could fully absorb what his stepfather was telling him. Of course he knew Angels could be made mortal — he and every other Angel were warned relentlessly in Guardian training about the consequences for certain actions — but killing them wasn’t something that happened. Not in modern times. Not in Angel City.

“What. . how. .”

The doorbell echoed.

“Remember,” Mark said, placing a hand on Jackson’s shoulder, “let me do the talking.”

Mark walked to the door and opened it.

“Mark,” Sylvester said.

Mark nodded. “David.”

“It’s been a long time.”

“Yes, it has,” Mark said. “Come in.” The Archangel stepped out of the way and Sylvester entered with another policeman. “I thought you had retired,” Mark said. Sylvester took a quick glance around the expansive house before returning his gaze to Mark.

“This is Sergeant Garcia,” he said.

The two shook hands. Mark gestured toward the living room. Sylvester took a seat on one of the leather sofas across from Jacks and Kris. Garcia stood near the back.

“I’d like to know what you thought you were doing trying to arrest my stepson,” Mark said as he came in and sat with them.

“I could bring Jacks downtown right now, Mark,”

Sylvester said. “I could detain him up to forty-eight hours.

I’m here out of courtesy. And respect.”

“How could you suspect him of anything in this matter?” Mark barked. “It’s an