Immortal City

“More could end up hurt, Mark,” Sylvester said. “This isn’t about Angel publicity anymore. Something much more serious is going on here. Don’t be a fool.”

“There are those who don’t live amongst us. Those who have taken, well, how does one say it? A different path?” He turned and studied Sylvester for a moment.

Sylvester ignored the implication.

“Sure. Could be. The Archangels have made enemies.

But whoever is doing this is ripping off their wings, in some kind of twisted version of the Council’s punishment.” Mark raised his eyebrow, but Sylvester went on. “We could consider the possibility that someone feels law and order isn’t going far enough, a zealot among the Archangels who wants more control. More of their. . justice.” He cleared his throat on the last word.

Mark stared directly at the detective. When he spoke, his voice was cold and sharp: “What’s past has passed, David. We Archangels didn’t make these rules, we simply administer them for the Council. The fact that the ACPD even has you on a case of this nature, due to. .” Mark trailed off.

“Due to what, Mark?” The detective stared at him coldly.

“I think you know what I’m saying.”

“I’m not sure I do, Mark.” Sylvester pushed his glasses up the ridge of his nose. “Do you mean to say I’m unfit for this case due to the fact that I had my own wings taken by the Archangels?” Sylvester almost seemed to shake as he spit out the words. They hung in the conference room, heavy.

After what seemed like an eternity, Mark Godspeed turned to the window. His voice was calm and even.

“Bringing up the past will do no good. That you’re implying any one of my colleagues is involved in this bloodshed is outrageous. I hope you’re not spreading such filth around the ACPD. That would be unfortunate.”

The detective didn’t blink.

“The HDF has also been more active than usual recently,” Sylvester said. “Three armed operatives were arrested on their way to a safe house yesterday. Do you think a disgruntled Angel could’ve defected, be working with them?”

Mark shrugged.

“Or it could be something worse,” Sylvester continued. He placed his coffee cup on the table in front of him.

“The severity of Ryan’s wounds. . and the fact that this is potentially two Angels now in the same week. . I think we should consider another possibility, too.”

“Yes?” Mark said.

“We could be dealing with a Dark Angel, Mark,” the detective said. Mark looked at Sylvester incredulously.

“A demon?”

“It’s happened before,” Sylvester replied.

“Yes, thousands of years ago. You’re talking about stuff from the Bible,” Mark said. “They were wiped out. The blood of our ancestors, David, don’t forget.”

“Maybe not all of them. And of the two of us, I’m the one who hasn’t forgotten,” Sylvester said.

“I just find it hard to believe that some ancient creature that hasn’t been seen in millennia comes out of hiding now and starts killing Angels.”

“Whatever you believe, do the right thing, Mark,” Sylvester said. “Spread the word, and postpone any Commissioning until we know what’s going on.” He pointed a finger toward the gilded display case in the corner of the room. “I believe that armor stood for something once, represented certain—”

“Don’t lecture me, Detective,” Mark said sharply, cutting him off. “I know exactly what that armor stood for then and still does now. Need I remind you that I’m the one who has stayed and done his duty?” He walked over to the door and held it open. “This conversation is over.”

Detective Sylvester sighed as he stepped past Mark, buttoning up his jacket.

“The next star after Lance’s has yet to be installed. But it’s ready. We made a call.” He paused. “It’s your own stepson’s. It’s Jackson’s star, Mark. He’d be next.”

The Archangel said nothing.

“I’ll show myself out,” Sylvester said, and disappeared down the hallway toward the lobby.

Mark listened to the murmur of the assistants for a moment, then turned back and looked out the glass wall to the city. The door closed, leaving him alone in the silent conference room.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

After school Maddy had to tell another lie, after already hiding things from Gwen. She asked Kevin for the night off, saying she and Gwen had decided to work on their senior projects together. It was Kevin’s turn to be skeptical.

“You hate working in groups,” he said as he plated a Reuben sandwich and fries. “You end up doing all the work yourself. Especially when Gwen Moore is involved.”

“I know,” Maddy said, her thoughts racing. “I just thought I would help her out. If she doesn’t pass all her classes this semester, she won’t have enough credits to graduate. She’s really worried.” Kevin sighed deeply, sending a pang of guilt through Maddy. He picked up the diner’s old phone.

“I’ll call Suzie and see if she can fill in.”

Maddy thanked him, trying not to sound too relieved, and hurried up to the house. The light outside was turning long and golden as the sun set, sending a fresh wave of paralyzing anxiety over her.

She closed the front door behind her and locked it.

Upstairs, she walked down the narrow hallway separating her room from Kevin’s until she came to a small square hatch in the ceiling. She reached up and tugged at it. After a few smart pulls the hatch swung down with a groan and Maddy unfolded the wooden ladder that was attached to it.

With a deep breath, she climbed up into the attic.

The room under the eaves was hot, still, and silent. It smelled of stale wood and rat droppings. Dust particles danced in the air, swirling in the golden shaft of light from the window. As with most old houses, the attic was large and triangle-shaped, and Maddy found she could comfortably stand in it. She took a look around. Against the walls were stacks of cardboard boxes with labels written in black marker. Newer boxes had been added more haphazardly in recent years, mostly without labels, some even left open with their contents spilling out. Kevin was getting soft in his old age, she thought with a smile.

Maddy had only ever been in the attic once before. It was when she was a little girl, and she had still been afraid of every little bump and sound the old house made. Kevin had lifted her up through the hatch one day so she could see for herself there were no monsters living over her bed.

When she had looked around, she hadn’t seen any monsters, but she had seen something else. Today, she had come back for it.

She pulled the boxes aside one by one as she worked her way back. The newer boxes held together okay, but the old ones were brittle and crumbled in her hands. She had to slide them across the floor, which made a terrific scraping sound, and she cringed as spiders went scurrying for cover.

Finally, she saw it. Her heart gave a little leap as she spotted the box tucked far in the back, labeled with a single word.

Regina. Her mother.

Kevin never said much about her parents, and over time he had lost track of nearly all of their belongings. Her parents were gone, he told Maddy, and so it did no good to hold on to their things. So, it was with quiet amazement on the day she and Kevin went ghost-hunting that Maddy saw the box, and she had never forgotten about it.

She worked it out to the middle of the floor and pulled at the cardboard flaps. The aged packing tape snapped almost effortlessly. She opened the box and peered inside.

Jewelry. A watch. Some old books. A comb. She pulled the items out one at a time and set them carefully on the attic floor. It was a lot more emotional than she was expecting.

These were her mother’s things. Maddy’s mother had bought them. Touched them. They had been a part of