“Thanks, Lola,” he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek, and headed out the door and into the hall.
The Godspeed mansion was breathtaking. A neoclas-sical, Italian palazzo — style villa, it contained vaulted ceil-ings, dramatic marble staircases, and a sleek, modern interior design. The house had been featured in numerous architecture and design magazines over the years, but to Jacks, it was just home. He headed down the stairs, pausing when he reached the bottom to look at the full wall of framed magazine covers that stood across from the landing. They were his covers and went all the way back to when he was little, the boy Angel wonder of the famous Godspeed line.
He reread some of the captions, from “SUPER TOT!” and “ANGEL IN WAITING!” in his early years to “HOLY HOTTIE!” and “HALO HUNK!” as he got older. The most recent covers depicted Jackson as a heroic Angel with smol-dering eyes and an increasingly unbuttoned shirt, his signature wings often spread just behind him. It suddenly occurred to Jacks that he had grown up on these covers, and the world had watched. Now they would be watching as he took the final step — the step he had been working toward for so long — and became a Guardian Angel.
Jackson’s entrance into the kitchen went unnoticed by his stepfather, who was scanning a work report on his laptop. Jacks thought he glimpsed the letters HDF on the screen in the report as he passed by to kiss his mother, Kris, who brightened at the sight of her only son.
“Morning, honey,” she said. Even in her bathrobe, Kris radiated the refined beauty for which she was famous.
Before she had children, she’d been one of the most popular Guardians. Now she helped administer the largest Angel charity and was always running from one fund-raising event to another across Angel City. “Ready for your big week?”
“He better be.” Mark folded his laptop screen down.
“He’s been waiting for this his whole life. Haven’t you, son?”
“Absolutely, Mark,” Jacks said, trying to sound confident.
“Ready to make that first save?” Mark asked.
It was a loaded question coming from his stepfather.
Mark had been one of the most famous Guardian Angels of all time, and his first save had been brilliant. He had gone on to become one of the most famous and powerful Archangels, though he still handled a few select Protections — in fact, apparently, he’d come home late from one the night before, although Jacks hadn’t seen any media coverage of it yet. Most of Mark’s time, though, was taken up being the lead Archangel in charge of disciplinary issues, making the tough decision when a Guardian should have his wings removed after a failed save, which was a rare but painful ordeal for the Angel community. Gabriel and the entire Council of Twelve had nothing but faith in Jackson’s stepfather, and his achievements were a lot to live up to.
Jacks’s gaze drifted down to Mark’s Divine Ring. It was the ring worn by every Guardian, a symbol of responsibility and power. It was all Jacks had ever wanted, ever since he could remember, and Mark had been an encouraging — and demanding — taskmaster on the path to getting it. Jacks watched it glint in the sunlight. Then he looked up at Mark.
“Well, I do feel unprepared,” he admitted. “I wish I had a better idea who the Archangels were putting under my protection.”
Mark gave his stepson a sly smile but said nothing, and returned to his laptop.
The side door to the kitchen swung open and the family chef, Juan, guided in a silver breakfast cart piled with pastries, fresh fruit, juice, and coffee. It had always been this way for the Godspeeds, every morning, as long as Jacks could remember. He would have been impressed, except he had never known anything else. Mark took a cup of coffee for himself and handed a glass of orange juice to Jacks.
“Jacks, you know I’m not going to say a word about your Commissioning,” Mark said. “You’re my son, and I love you, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to treat you any different than any other young Guardian out there.”
“I know that, Mark—”
“And I’m not going to take it easy on you this year, either,” Mark went on, grabbing a plate and loading it with pastries. “You’ll have to prove yourself to me like any other Angel.”
“Mark—”
“And Jackson. .”
Jacks looked up from his own plate and met his stepfather’s gaze.
“I like it when you call me Dad.”
“I won’t let you down. . Dad,” Jacks said.
Mark nodded. “I know you won’t.”
Kris cleared her throat, flashing her husband a pointed glance. “Mark. Can we please have a nice breakfast as a family and put work talk aside for a minute?”
“Sure, honey. Of course,” Mark said, but he held Jacks’s gaze a moment longer before heading to the table.
He meant what he said. Jacks leaned against the kitchen island and took a bite of pastry. He knew his stepfather was right. He thought about his training, in which he’d broken records and shocked his teachers with his prowess. He’d gotten early Angel endorsements, even as young as four-teen. And now he would be taking his place as the latest Godspeed Guardian. The eyes of the entire world would be on him this week, and on that first save. His time to perform had come.
Footsteps echoed down the stairs as Jacks’s younger sister, Chloe, burst into the kitchen. The full-blooded child of Mark and Kris, Chloe had much more the look of her father: sharp, almost severe features, a kind of beauty so intense it was almost cold. As usual, she had her head buried in her BlackBerry.
“Oh my God, did you see these pictures from yesterday?” she announced. “They actually came
“You look great, sweetheart,” Kris said lovingly.
“I know, right? Dad, can’t we sue them or something?”
“Well, it depends,” Mark said, chuckling. His cell phone rang and he rose to take the call, walking over by the window to talk in an undertone.
Chloe’s fingers flew over the keypad as she went to different blog sites, looking at the different pictures the paparazzi had gotten of her and reading the comments. She walked over to the breakfast cart and, with her free hand, poured a glass of orange juice.
“Hey, Jacks, ready for this week?” she said without looking up.
Jacks smiled at his baby sister. “I didn’t know A! paid you all to interview me over breakfast.”
Chloe rolled her eyes. “You better be ready. Don’t let the family name down.” She took a swig from her juice and made a face. “Ew. Juan!” she yelled, letting her voice carry through the kitchen as she continued to surf her Berry.
Juan’s sweating face appeared in the doorway. “This juice tastes funny. I think something’s wrong with it.”
“My apologies, Ms. Chloe,” Juan said. “I squeezed it fresh this morning.”
“Well, it tastes funny to me,” Chloe said. “Make it again, okay?” Looking confused, Juan obediently took the jug of juice away.
“. . destructive addiction that must be dealt with!”
Mark snapped, startling his family. “I want to meet with you at ten to discuss this.” He ended the call and returned to the table. “Not to worry,” he said calmly, sitting back down and pouring more coffee.
“If you say so, honey,” Kris replied, looking concerned. He leaned over to whisper in her ear.
Chloe grabbed the remote on the island and powered the downstairs TVs. Two flat screens in the breakfast room and one in the living room blinked to life, all set to A! The same breathless anchor, Tara Reeves, had moved on from headlines to photos.
The flat screen showed the image of Vivian running with shopping bags while trying to hide behind a pair of Chanel sunglasses.
