Immortal City

called her the

‘Immortal City Pearl.’ Now she lives out in Santa Barbara, but she could still kick my ass. Anyway, then radio came, then newsreels. You’d be surprised how many Angels got famous from radio. Once TV came around, they started televising saves, and pretty soon came the twenty-four-hour networks.”

Maddy thought about the nonstop ANN coverage on the TV at the diner, how even the non-Angel networks were dedicated to tons and tons of Angel reporting and shows like American Protection.

Jackson continued: “Now that we have SaveTube and the Angelcam, anyone anywhere can watch a save instantly.

Cool, huh?”

Maddy’s eyes lit up in alarm. “Do you have an, uh, Angel. .”

“Cam?” Jacks laughed gently. “No, not yet, they’re still testing them, and I’m not even Commissioned yet, remember?”

They took a right and the searchlights Maddy had seen earlier blazed up ahead of them now, getting closer. A horrible thought suddenly occurred to her. What if that was their destination? She realized, with an incredible surge of anxiety, that it probably was.

“Is that. .?” she said, sitting up and pointing.

“Oh. Yeah, probably,” Jacks said. Adrenaline bolted through Maddy’s veins. How had she been so naive? This wasn’t just going out. This wasn’t just a party. This was a celebration of Jackson Godspeed. It had to truly be an event.

Maddy watched the approaching scene with mounting panic. Metal barricades held back throngs of screaming fans all along the sidewalk. Men in suits with earpieces stood in the street directing a traffic jam of black limousines that were jockeying for position along the curb of sbe’s SLS

Hotel. A red carpet jammed with photographers and journalists came into view. Everywhere, cameras flashed as one glorious Angel after another arrived. Maddy could see them now, beautiful and statuesque. Rows of spotlights lit the scene, so bright they made Maddy squint. Like the glowing gaze of some kind of hungry monster, she thought. A monster hungry for her.

The men with earpieces spotted the Ferrari and waved them in. A pretty woman wearing a headset and holding a clipboard pointed to an open stretch of curb right in front, and Jacks pulled effortlessly into it. The muted sound of screaming girls filled the Ferrari’s interior. Fans, photographers, and even other Angels had turned and waited expectantly for the car doors to open. Maddy sat paralyzed in the passenger seat. She couldn’t will her limbs to move.

“What’s wrong?” Jacks asked, his face the picture of calm.

“N-nothing,” Maddy stammered, “I just. .” Her voice trailed off as she watched a photographer hold his camera over the hood of the Ferrari and take her picture. POW!

POW! POW! went the flash.

“Oh, that?” Jacks said, looking at the chaos outside the car as if noticing it for the first time. “Yeah, annoying, I know. I wish the paparazzi would just get a life. Trust me, the only way to handle them is to ignore them. Just be yourself, okay? They’re going to love you.”

Maddy nodded numbly. What else could she do? For Jacks the moment could not have been more ordinary. For her, it couldn’t be more extraordinary. Or horrific. Jacks gave her a final, reassuring smile. Then the attendants opened the car doors, and Maddy Montgomery stepped into the lights.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“RIGHT HERE!” “RIGHT HERE!” “RIGHT HERE, DARLING!” “WHAT’S YOUR NAME?!” “GIVE US A SMILE!” “GIVE US A SMILE, BEAUTIFUL!” “OVER THE SHOULDER NOW!” “OVER THE SHOULDER!”

The shouts of the paparazzi were so startling, and the explosion of light so astonishing, that Maddy almost fell right back into the car seat. She wobbled in her heels as she steadied herself with the car door, then tried her best to manage a smile. She turned to look for Jacks but was met with only more blinding flashes from the other side of the car. She was surrounded. Trapped in a prison of unwanted attention like some kind of zoo animal. As she tried to take a shaky step forward, the paparazzi shouts gave way to questions screamed at her by camcorder- wielding journalists.

“IS THAT YOU IN THE PICTURE?!” “ARE YOU JACKSON’S MYSTERY GIRL?!” “HOW DOES IT FEEL TO BE DATING AN ANGEL?!” “WHEN’S THE WEDDING, HONEY?!”

Maddy stumbled again and reached a hand back for the car door, but the attendant had closed it, and the car was gone. Her eyes darted, searching wildly for an escape.

She looked to the sidewalk and saw crowds of hysterical fans crashing against metal barricades like the waves of some violent sea. Their focus had instantly shifted from Steven and Sierra Churchson, brother and sister twins who were both getting Commissioned this year, to Jacks and Maddy. The Churchsons gave an annoyed glance back toward Jacks and began moving down the carpet. The crowds were screaming something at Maddy she couldn’t make out and reaching for her with a thousand desperate hands.

Maddy was suddenly certain that if they could get to her, they would simply swallow her up. Camera shutters whirred on automatic. Flashes exploded like relentless lightning.

The screams of fans rang in her ears. All of a sudden she felt the ground begin to move under her feet, rolling like the deck of a ship. Voices echoed now, coming to her as if she were underwater. As if she were drowning. The world spun, and she willed herself to move forward one final time. When she felt the toe of her heel catch on the curb, she was sure, at last, she was going to go down.

A hand reached out and grabbed her firmly by the arm.

It was Jacks.

“You okay?” he yelled over the roar.

Maddy nodded weakly.

“Come on, this way,” he encouraged, and led her stumbling up the carpet.

Maddy used Jacks’s arm to steady herself as she tried to reassemble the splintered pieces of her consciousness.

She kept her head down, but whenever she had to look up, she met pair after pair of disbelieving eyes. They couldn’t all be staring at her, could they? After a moment, a woman wearing a pantsuit and a scowl marched up to them.

“Where have you been?” she said to Jacks. “They’re about to close the carpet and the Angels Weekly bitch is breathing down my neck. You have a two-hour commit-ment, by the way, don’t forget that.” Then she turned and assessed Maddy coldly. “Who’s this?”

“Darcy, this is Maddy,” Jacks said, smiling so warmly at Maddy he seemed to glow. “Maddy, this is Darcy, my publicist.” Darcy’s eyes flickered over Maddy’s dress, shoes, and hair. Then she stuck out her hand.

“Hi, Maddy. Nice to meet you.”

Maddy attempted a polite smile. “Nice to—” but Darcy had already turned back to Jacks.

“You have to do the A! interview. And please do the gifting suite after, and actually take something this time.”

She looked at her Berry. “Come on; we need to hurry.” She took Jacks by the arm and led him through the crowd.

Maddy followed, trying her best to keep up. She could hear the woman hissing something at Jacks, something like, “You couldn’t have told me first so I could have at least done some damage control?” They approached a large white wall with the Angels Weekly logo repeated over and over on it and a firing squad of photographers and TV cameras standing directly opposite. Jacks turned and reached his hand back for Maddy.

“Come on!” he said.

“Jacks, no—” Maddy protested, but with seemingly no effort at all he took her by the arm and pulled her in