Immortal City

shirt hanging in shreds around him, exposing his perfectly sculpted upper torso, his wings still extended. A plume of smoke rose in the distance. Fans circled all around, screaming and taking pictures. The patrons in the diner all watched, hypnotized by footage of the save.

Some were already logging on to SaveTube on their phones to rewatch the clip and find any other footage. Ethan wore a frustrated expression.

“When you see these people saved by Angels, do you sometimes not think about the Angel or the Protection? I mean, do you ever think about the other people? People that maybe got hurt. People that maybe got killed. Do they deserve to be saved any less?”

He looked up from his mug right into Maddy’s eyes.

She gazed at Ethan, sensing the invitation of the moment, but stood silent, tongue-tied. After another second, Ethan’s face broke out into a smile. “Sorry. I guess I’ve been hanging around Tyler too much.”

“It would be easier to ignore them — the Angels, I mean,” Maddy said, thinking of Jackson and picking her words carefully, “if everyone didn’t talk about them all the time.”

“Seriously. I’m so glad you feel the same way,” Ethan said, still looking at her. Was he blushing? “What I mean is, I knew we had a lot in common.”

Now it was Maddy’s turn to blush. Sensing her dis-comfort, Ethan got up.

“Well, I gotta get going. Thanks again for the coffee.”

“Anytime,” Maddy managed to say, and took the mug from him.

“The other reason I came by was to say I really hope you can make it to my party,” he said very softly, leaning forward so she could hear him over the noise of the customers. With that he turned and left.

Maddy watched him until he disappeared from sight. Maybe she’d be able to forget Jackson Godspeed after all.

When Kevin’s finally closed, Maddy had nearly run herself off her feet. Worse, her nerves were raw. Kevin sat in the office, adding up receipts at the till.

“Biggest weekday night. . ever,” he said, typing in figures on his calculator. He looked up at her over the rim of his glasses. “Or any night, for that matter.”

“Sleep tight, Kevin,” she said as she passed him. Despite everything, she was glad he was happy. She walked out the back of the restaurant and up the adjoining yard to the house. It was an unusually clear night in Angel City, with a light, crisp autumn breeze. She went straight up to her room, peeled out of her uniform, and threw on an old shirt, a lace-trimmed tee from Anthropologie she’d found with tags still on at Goodwill. By now she’d worn it into the ground. Her best pair of jeans were finally dry from the wash and she laid them over the back of her desk chair, along with her gray hoodie. She didn’t often have the chance to get new clothes, so she took good care of the things she did get so they lasted longer — even if a lot of the time they came from Target. She ran a washcloth over her face in the bathroom and fell into bed, utterly exhausted. Outside her window the Angel City sign glowed, casting its pale fingers of light into the dark room.

She tried to just go to sleep and not think, but the thoughts came anyway. They gathered like storm clouds in the emotional tumult of her mind. Jackson coming into school and the feel of his presence in the dusty classroom.

The evening shift in the diner and the incessant talk of him.

That conversation in the back room that her mind kept returning to, and what she had felt.

Then there was Ethan, with his easy way about him and how comfortable he made her feel. Why couldn’t she let him in? He was nothing but nice to her. Why was she so self-destructive when it came to friendships, keeping everyone out except Gwen? Thinking about her conversation with Ethan, she realized something: it was the only time tonight she had forgotten about Jacks. Well, she would never see Jackson Godspeed again. And she was happy about that, she thought. After an hour of staring at the ceiling, she finally felt her mind slipping into unconsciousness.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Jackson looked in the rearview mirror. His sharp blue eyes met him, filled with uncertainty. He wasn’t used to that look — and neither was the world. He was Jackson Godspeed, after all. He was confident. He was trained. Nothing could shake him. Or so he had thought.

Jacks tried that uncertainty on for size. It felt strange, like the stiff tuxedo he wore once a year at the gala black tie Angel charity event his mother put on. His iPhone beeped again and he turned it to silent. It’d been going off steadily for a couple hours, but he’d just been ignoring it. Knowing it couldn’t be her.

That night Jacks had eaten a quick dinner at home, then left, telling his mom and Mark he was going out to meet Mitch. But instead of meeting up with his friend he’d driven out toward the Santa Monica Pier. Halfway there he had just parked. He’d needed to think. The occasional car crawled past sleepily on the dark residential street. Nobody around seemed to recognize him, and so no one bothered him.

The school — Jacks leaned his head on the steering wheel. He still couldn’t believe Maddy’s fury. He had gone there to apologize, and she wouldn’t even talk to him. Who did that? He was just trying to do the right thing.

After leaving Angel City High, Jacks raced across town to a press junket for the Guardian nominees at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel. Driving there after his jarring encounter with Maddy, Jacks felt like he was in a dream — everything was blurry and distant and muffled. His phone rang. It was Mark. He decided to take the call.

His stepfather was calling to let him know the ACPD had cleared him of any connection with Theodore Godson’s disappearance. They’d investigated Jacks’s alibi and decided his story checked out. His stepfather told him to get back to preparing for the Commissioning.

“Thanks, Mark,” Jacks said. He supposed he should’ve been more relieved. The last thing he needed was to get tied up in a potential murder investigation. But he wasn’t. As strange as it seemed, what had happened at the school with Maddy continued to weigh on him. “I’ve gotta go now; I’m pulling up to the junket. Think I’m late.”

“Sure thing, kiddo. Call me after,” his stepfather said.

Darcy was borderline panicked when Jacks arrived.

“Where have you been!?” she whispered harshly under her breath as she whisked him toward the suite where he’d be giving interview after interview after interview. She looked ahead, flashing a thousand-watt smile at the journalists eagerly eyeing Jacks. “Well, our star is here!”

“Sorry, Darcy. I had some, uh, business to take care of,” Jacks whispered, thinking back to the Angel City High classroom.

“Jacks, this is your business!” Darcy had responded under her breath. Jackson looked at all the photographers and journalists, hungry for their story. This time he blocked out that disconnected pang before it had a chance to reach his gut.

The interviews all pretty much went the same. How do you feel about becoming the youngest Guardian ever?

Who do you think your first Protections will be? Will you be getting a lottery Protection your first year? What does it mean for you to be a Guardian? They’d all had to sign doc-uments agreeing not to ask about the incident at the diner the night before, per Mark.

Jacks repetitively answered the questions as each interviewer came one by one into the suite. Occasionally, Jacks sipped from a water bottle. Even the most hardened reporters were starstruck in his presence, fumbling over their words and blushing. Jackson usually pretended not to notice, but this time he actually didn’t. After a while it was like he wasn’t even really answering the reporters himself, that instead he had drifted away and someone who looked like Jacks was taking questions. Yes. No. Very excited! Can’t wait for the responsibility. Just part of being a Guardian.

The click and whir of the shutters, the lights, the microphone attached to his shirt, recording his every syllable: it all began once again to seem unreal. His mind focused on what had seemed real that day: Maddy.

Finally, a reporter’s question broke him out of his dazed state, bringing him back to the hotel suite.