Immortal City

“Her boots are so cute,” Chloe breathed, then glanced over at Jacks. “She is so hot, Jacks. You should have never broken up with her.” As if in agreement, Tara continued on-screen.

“But while she looks amazing as always, the question we really want to know is, are they or aren’t they? Is Vivian secretly back together with drool-worthy Jackson Godspeed?”

As she spoke, the footage cut to a photo of Vivian from an ad for her own fashion line. Her wings extended out behind her, displaying finely spun gold spirals that spread out in delicate patterns, glittering. They were considered by some to be the sexiest wings of all time. “Vivian’s publicist would neither confirm nor deny, but the rumors are swirling. Together or not, they remain, easily, the hottest Angel couple on the planet!”

The kitchen had gone quiet. Kris raised her eyebrows knowingly. Mark turned toward Jacks with a pregnant expression. Jacks sighed.

“We’re just friends,” he announced to the room. “We are not getting back together.”

“Well, we like her very much, son,” Mark said. “You know that.”

“Yes, that has been made abundantly clear to me,”

Jacks said with a laugh.

“Jacks, we would so get along,” Chloe said pleadingly, coming around the kitchen island to pull on her half brother’s arm. “Now that I’m older, I can totally see her and me being best friends.”

“Let’s give the young Angel a break for now,” Mark said, winking at Jacks. “He’ll be seeing her this week.”

Feeling suddenly tired, Jacks put his glass in the sink.

He went out to the foyer.

Keys hung on a rack under the security camera monitor: Jacks’s Ferrari, Mark’s M7, Kris’s hybrid Lexus, and Chloe’s Porsche — which, Jacks thought, was a little ostenta-tious for such a young Angel. He grabbed his keys and returned to the kitchen, where he kissed his mother and snatched a final piece of toast off the cart before heading toward the door.

“Jackson?” Mark called after him.

Jacks turned in the doorway.

“Good luck this week,” Mark said.

“There’s no need for luck when there are Angels in the world,” Jacks replied.

“Who taught you that?”

Jacks smiled. “You did.”

With that and an approving nod from his stepfather, Jacks disappeared out the door and into the blinding south-ern California sunshine.

Jacks cruised down Sunset Boulevard in his cherry-red Ferrari, passing the famous boutiques, restaurants, and rock clubs of the Halo Strip. It was going to be a busy day, as usual. In an hour he was scheduled to make an appearance at the Angels Weekly style lounge, where he would share his thoughts about his Commissioning in an exclusive interview and then pose for pictures with lucky fans. He wasn’t a fan of the magazine— AW was one of the most notorious Angel gossip rags — but Darcy, his publicist, had more or less forced him to do it. Keep them happy, she had told him, keep them off your back.

From there he would make a quick stop at the Lexus Angel’s Flight VIP room, where he would do another interview and would most likely have to decline an offer for a free Lexus LF-A. Again. He had already told them — and it was the truth — that there just wasn’t any more room in the garage, but he knew that wouldn’t stop them from offering again. Maybe he could donate it to charity, he thought, and made a mental note to do so. Then he would rush over to the EA Saved! 2 video game launch party. The new version gave players the option of being Guardian Jackson Godspeed, and experts were predicting it would easily become the best-selling game of the year. As part of the endorsement deal, he would be giving ten awestruck contest winners the chance to play against him during his agreed-upon one-hour appearance. Finally, he would try and make it to his own Halo Magazine Pre-Commissioning party.

Taking the turn onto Melrose, Jacks passed the Pacific Design Center and flipped a quick U-turn into the valet for Urth Caffe, an Angel City landmark and hot spot for Immortals. Girls screamed, people shouted, and paparazzi reached their cameras over the car’s hood as Jacks eased the Ferrari into the sudden human swarm.

“JACKS! JACKS! JACKS! OVER HERE, JACKS!” A barrage of camera flashes erupted as Jacks stepped out of his car. “WHO’S GOING TO BE YOUR FIRST SAVE, JACKSON?” one of the photographers shouted. “ARE YOU BACK TOGETHER WITH VIVIAN?” another yelled. “SAVE ME , JACKS!”

A few security personnel managed the paparazzi and fans. These guards were also useful for the occasional weirdo stalker like the one who’d followed Jacks’s every move last year, who was now in jail, or for the wacko anti-Angel activists who arrived at the cafe every few months or so and started making a ruckus. Jackson waved the photographers and fans off with a friendly smile as he ran up the steps to the patio, where Angels sat at tables sipping lattes and socializing. All eyes turned to the brightest star in the Immortal City as he made his way through the tables.

He found Mitch sitting at a table drinking a green tea latte and eyeing the female Angels at the next table.

“There he is!” Mitch said, getting out of his chair.

“Ready for your big week?”

“Not you, too,” Jacks said, groaning, and the two friends embraced. Mitch was short for an Angel but stocky, like an athlete. He had rich brown eyes and a dimpled smile for which he was famous. They sat and Jacks ordered coffee from a gawking waitress, who brought it promptly.

“Check it out,” Mitch said, nodding toward a female Angel with long black hair who had just sat down at a nearby table. She was stealing glimpses at Jacks as she chatted with her friends.

“That’s Elena. She just did the new Versace campaign.”

“Mm-hmm,” Jacks said absently, enjoying his coffee.

“And check out by the steps.” Mitch said.

Jacks glanced over and saw a tall, striking platinum-blond Angel looking in his direction.

“I’m just saying, look at those Marks. I mean, perfect, man.” Mitch whistled. The Angel turned and Jacks could see she was wearing a backless shirt that revealed her Immortal Marks. They were feminine and ornate, with curlicues and shimmering, delicate lines that reached all the way down to the small of her back. She looked over her shoulder to see if Jacks had noticed, but he was back to drinking his coffee.

“You should go talk to her,” Mitch encouraged. “She’s incredibly hot.”

“I forget her name,” Jacks said, uninterested. Mitch sighed.

“Kelsie Godchild? The face of Burberry? She’s on the entire side of that building at La Cienega.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Mitch just shook his head. “So how excited are you for this week, man? This is going to be like a weeklong party.

Last night was just a taste. Here, let me read you your schedule.” He grabbed Jacks’s iPhone from the table and pretended to scroll through it. “Party. Party. Party. Get drunk. Get drunk. Get drunk. Then get Commissioned. And then get drunk again.” He leaned back in his chair as if visu-alizing it. “I don’t know about you, dude, but I can’t wait.”

Jacks put his hands behind his head and looked at his best friend. Mitch loved the Angel way of life, and it loved him right back. He always seemed to be turning up on the pages of Immortal and Angels Weekly at various events and parties, always with a new Angel beauty on his arm. But the truth was, he was a genuinely nice guy, and a bit of a class clown. They had become close friends their first year of training, ever since Mitch had started making fun of Jacks’s wings, and had stayed that way ever since. Though the public knew very little about Angel training, the NAS released tidbits about Jackson and Mitch’s progress over the years, playing up their friendship. One photo in particular of them was famous: two cocky thirteen-year- olds with their arms crossed across their chests, Jacks with his luminescent wings behind him, Mitch’s wings