Immortal City

by Scott Speer

  Maddy blinked. “Okay, I’ll bring back an application with your food.”

  “I was actually hoping I could apply right now,” Jacks said, a little urgently.

  “All right,” Maddy said, a little surprised, “I’ll bring you the application.” Maddy turned to go in the back, oblivious to the officers approaching just outside the window.

  “Miss?” Jacks called. Maddy turned. “Isn’t there someplace we could go in the back? So you could interview me? I’d like to get that part out of the way.” His eyes flickered to the door, where the police were just entering, their hands were on their holsters. He looked back at Maddy.

  “Please.”

  There was something different about him, Maddy thought. Something beyond the obvious good looks. It was in the way his eyes caught the light. The way he looked at her. They way he held her gaze. The funniest thing was, it made her want to trust him.

  She was surprised to find herself speaking.

  “Okay, follow me.”

  Jacks jumped to his feet and followed Maddy around the counter and into the back. He couldn’t believe she didn’t recognize him, but at this point he didn’t care. He wasn’t concerned with anything except getting out of the dining room.

  Maddy’s uncle was cleaning the griddle as they passed. Before Kevin could look up, Maddy had taken Jacks into their tiny office and closed the door.

  The room was dingy and cramped. A battered metal desk was covered in piles of receipts and bills, an old picture of Maddy and Uncle Kevin in a frame poking up out of the mess. Maddy’s backpack, exploding with textbooks and college brochures, sat on the floor. She smoothed her uniform and found an application among a stack of forms. Jacks took a seat in the creaky chair opposite the desk and pulled his hood back.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  “Sure.”

  Closed in the small room with him, the fact struck Maddy that this boy’s beauty was nearly overwhelming. Who was this guy? It didn’t even seem real. His pale blue eyes were piercing under strong, dark eyebrows, and his model good looks sat on a sturdy face, giving him a slightly rugged quality.

  “Okay,” she said, assembling her thoughts and grabbing a pen out of a nearby coffee mug. “I didn’t get your name.”

  “It’s Ja . . . Jason.” Jacks looked over to a newspaper sitting on the desk and read the headline: STOCKS SLIDE AGAIN. “Jason Stockton.”

  “Okay, Mr. Stockton,” Maddy said, “do you have any prior experience in serving?”

  “No,” Jacks said. Maddy looked up at him.

  “Any experience in the restaurant industry at all?”

  “No.”

  Maddy sat back in her chair. “You know, Jason, to get a restaurant job in Angel City it’s pretty much required to have some experience serving.”

  Jacks’s lips pulled up into a half-grin. “Well, how are you supposed to get experience if you can’t land a job to begin with?”

  Maddy folded her arms and leaned over the table. She was trying not to flirt, but she almost couldn’t help herself.

  “Okay, then, why should I hire you?”

  Jacks looked for something, anything, that would keep him safely in the back room. His eyes drifted down to Maddy’s backpack and a college brochure sticking out between two textbooks.

  “To save money for college,” he said, improvising. Maddy paused, her expression softening. Jacks looked at the image of the leafy campus on the brochure’s cover. “Somewhere back east, actually. Away from Angel City.”

  “Really?” Maddy said, her interest piqued.

  “Yeah . . .” Jacks said unsteadily. He took a deep breath and lied. “It’s always been my dream. Problem is my family, well, we don’t have a ton of money right now.”

  Maddy shook her head in empathy. “I know how that is. Did your dad lose his job or something?”

  “Actually, he . . .” Jacks trailed off, searching Maddy’s eyes. He was surprised she had unwittingly brought him back to the truth. “He died.”

  Maddy flushed. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”

  Jacks shrugged. “It’s okay, I was young. I never really knew him at all.”

  “Yeah, but that doesn’t make it any easier,” Maddy said, her defenses collapsing with startling quickness. “I mean, I know just how it is. Both my parents died when I was just a baby. I never knew them either.”

  “Wow, I’m sorry. I thought I had it rough.”

  “It’s okay,” Maddy said, looking away. Jacks watched her. He felt a sudden urge to share something with her that he’d never told anyone.

  “You know what? This might sound crazy, but I have no memories of him, right?” Jacks said. “So one day I just started making them up. Making up things we did together, places we went.” He laughed in embarrassment, shaking his head. “Pretty stupid, right?”

  Maddy was quiet for a long moment, but her eyes had returned to Jacks and studied him.

  “At the park,” she said finally.

  “What?”

  “My mother, father, and me at the park. Perfect day, you know, a carousel, swans floating on the pond, like one of those old postcards. That’s my favorite. My favorite pretend memory.”

  Jacks smiled softly. “That’s a nice pretend memory. The park. I hadn’t thought of that one.”

  “All this time I thought I was the only one,” she said. “I mean, you know the memories aren’t real, you tell yourself that, but somehow, in some crazy way—”

  “They help.”

  They said it together. Jacks and Maddy stared at each other as the seconds drew out, and she only now was aware that she had leaned closer to him. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought he had come closer too. Now they were only inches apart. She leaned in, willing the moment to sweep them into a kiss, the most delicious kiss of her life . . .

  Jacks spoke.

  “I don’t even know your name.”

  “Maddy,” she said, holding out her hand. Jacks reached for it and, ever so gently, took it. His hand was hot to the touch, and Maddy thought she could feel a crackle of electricity, as if a current of energy was passing through Jacks and into her. From the look on Jacks’s face, he had felt something too.

  A loud knock boomed at the door.

  “Maddy? What are you doing in there?” It was Kevin.

  “That’s my uncle,” Maddy whispered to Jacks. “He owns the place.” Jacks’s eyes focused, brought back to the present.

  “Listen, Maddy, I need to get out of here. Is there a back door?”

  “Yes, in the kitchen. What’s going on?”

  “I’m not sure yet,” Jacks said in a low whisper. “But I need your help. Will you help me?”

  “Okay,” she said, a little cautiously. “Stay here.” She went to the door and opened it just a crack.

  “Hey Kevin, I was just interviewing someone for the part-time position.”

  Kevin eyed her. “I do the interviews.”

  “I know, I just thought I would help out.”

  “Okay, well, I need you both to come out. There are two police officers here asking to see everyone.”

  “Okay, be right out,” Maddy said a little too brightly. Kevin walked back to the dining room and said something to one of the officers.

  “This way,” Maddy whispered as she led Jacks out of the office and toward the back door. They were halfway across the kitchen when a voice shouted from the dining room.

  “There he goes right there!” one of the officers yelled in alarm, drawing his gun. “Jackson, stop!”

  “Stop right there, Jacks!” the other echoed as he lunged forward, sending a table and dishes crashing to the floor. Jacks stepped in front of Maddy, knocking her back with such force it took her wind away.

  “Back up toward the rear door,” he whispered. “Do it now.”

  Maddy did as she was told, her lungs gasping for air. One of the officers shouted again.

  “Leave the young lady! Freeze right there or I will shoot you!”

  Jacks stopped
. He reached a hand back and touched Maddy’s side, right on the curve of her hip. She could feel the heat of his fingers through her uniform.

  “No,” Jacks replied calmly, “you won’t.” Then he took another step back, still touching Maddy.

  The officer’s trembling finger squeezed the trigger.

  BANG. The discharge of the gun was the last thing Maddy heard before a bright, white light filled the diner, as though the sun itself had risen in the restaurant. As her eyes adjusted, Maddy saw the most amazing sight of her life up to that point.

  The entire dining room was frozen.

  The two policemen were like statues, their faces masks of fear and surprise. One of them had knocked the coffeepot off the warmer, and it now hovered, mid-shatter, over the floor. Uncle Kevin was frozen too. He had dropped his spatula, and it was rendered motionless just beyond the tips of his fingers. Perhaps the most spectacular thing of all, the bullet that had been fired now hung in the air, absolutely still, like a model airplane on fishing line. Maddy looked up at the boy. His hand stretched out in front of him, as if telling the entire room to stop. He turned and looked at her with his perfect features and his piercing blue eyes. There was no other explanation. He was an Angel.

  The front door burst open, and an impeccably dressed older man rushed into the restaurant, the rest of the diner remaining stock-still. He looked around at the frozen scene and then at Jacks.

  “Jacks,” he said sternly, “let’s go.”

  Jacks held Maddy’s gaze for another breathless second and then, without saying anything, turned to leave. Nonchalantly he grabbed the bullet out of the air and put it in his pocket. Only then did he let go of Maddy.

  Time seemed to return to normal. SMASH went the coffeepot all over the floor, and glass and brown liquid rushed over the linoleum. Uncle Kevin’s spatula clanged to the ground. Jackson and the older Angel vanished out the front door. The two officers peered at each other, confused. Maddy just stood there, immovable. It wasn’t just what she had seen; it was what she had felt. As she stood there still breathing his strange, wonderful smell, a conversation came back to her, a conversation with Gwen and Jessica and Samantha from earlier in the evening. A name rose to the surface of her mind.

  “Jacks . . . Jackson . . . Jackson Godspeed.” Her face turned white with disbelief, then blushed pink with embarrassment. Finally, it turned deep crimson. With rage.

  Outside, Jacks and Mark walked quickly to their cars. Mark turned to his stepson. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. What is going on?”

  “We’ll discuss it at home. I’ll follow, and don’t ever let me lose sight of you.” Jacks got into his Ferrari and started the throaty engine. Mark went to his M7. He unlocked the door, but before he could get in, a hand seized him by the arm. Hard. With supernatural speed Mark spun around, ready to defend himself and Jacks.

  It was Kevin. His stare was cold. Mark relaxed his hand, which was already around Kevin’s throat.

  “Hello, Kevin,” Mark said calmly.

  “You know the agreement,” Kevin said, cutting him off. “I don’t ever want to see you, or your boy, around here again.”

  “I’m sorry, Kevin, it was an emergency.”

  Kevin leaned into Mark’s face.

  “Stay the hell away from Maddy.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Kris was waiting as Mark and Jacks came in from the garage. Her eyes were puffy from crying, her face creased with concern. She rushed to Jacks and hugged him. On the flat screen in the background, A! was replaying footage of Jacks’s arrival at the party.

  “I’m fine, Mom,” Jacks said in answer to her questions. “Is Chloe okay? Where is she?”

  “Upstairs, in bed,” Kris said. Jacks turned to his stepfather.

  “Mark, what’s going on?”

  Mark picked up the remote off the kitchen island and turned the TV off.

  “We don’t have long. A detective from the ACPD will be here soon. Just let me do the talking.”

  Jacks looked between them.

  “Would someone please just tell me—”

  A buzz echoed in from the foyer. Mark stepped over to the security cameras and looked at the image of the police officer waiting in his unmarked car at the gate. Mark studied the face. It was different now, he thought. The years had dulled the edges of David’s features. His eyes, though, still burned with that same righteous fury, and in that way, he was undeniably the same.

  Mark activated the gate and watched on-screen as the vehicle pulled up the drive. Jacks gave Mark an expectant look when he returned. Mark looked at his stepson evenly.

  “There’s been an incident on Angel Boulevard. There’s reason to believe an Angel was attacked. And mortalized. Perhaps even murdered.”

  It was several seconds before Jacks could fully absorb what his stepfather was telling him. Of course he knew Angels could be made mortal—he and every other Angel were warned relentlessly in Guardian training about the consequences for certain actions—but killing them wasn’t something that happened. Not in modern times. Not in Angel City.

  “What . . . how . . .”

  The doorbell echoed.

  “Remember,” Mark said, placing a hand on Jackson’s shoulder, “let me do the talking.”

  Mark walked to the door and opened it.

  “Mark,” Sylvester said.

  Mark nodded. “David.”

  “It’s been a long time.”

  “Yes, it has,” Mark said. “Come in.” The Archangel stepped out of the way and Sylvester entered with another policeman. “I thought you had retired,” Mark said. Sylvester took a quick glance around the expansive house before returning his gaze to Mark.

  “This is Sergeant Garcia,” he said.

  The two shook hands. Mark gestured toward the living room. Sylvester took a seat on one of the leather sofas across from Jacks and Kris. Garcia stood near the back.

  “I’d like to know what you thought you were doing trying to arrest my stepson,” Mark said as he came in and sat with them.

  “I could bring Jacks downtown right now, Mark,” Sylvester said. “I could detain him up to forty-eight hours. I’m here out of courtesy. And respect.”

  “How could you suspect him of anything in this matter?” Mark barked. “It’s an outrage.”

  “Jackson left the party in a hurry at the probable time the crime was committed, he was in the immediate area, and no one had seen him. Simple. We needed to bring him in for questioning. He resisted, attempted to abduct a young lady, and one of our officers was compelled to discharge his weapon.”

  Jacks stood up in protest, but Kris pulled him back down on the sofa. Mark dismissed Sylvester’s words with a wave of his hand.

  Juan, eyes bleary with sleep, pushed a tray in from the kitchen. Hot coffee, peanut butter sandwiches, cookies, and milk.

  “Thank you, Juan,” Kris said, and set out the late-night snacks. Sylvester pulled out his notepad.

  “This will only take a moment. Jackson, please, can you just tell me why you left the party and where you went afterward?”

  Jacks looked at Mark, who nodded.

  “I just left to get some air. I was driving on Sunset, and then I stopped at the diner. Two officers came in, and you know the rest.”

  “They reported you were in the back, with a waitress.”

  Mark looked at Jacks curiously.

  “Yes, we were just talking,” Jacks said.

  “Is that it? And you didn’t do, hear, or see anything else?” Sylvester asked.

  “Yes, that’s it.” Sylvester eyed him warily. Jacks cleared his throat.

  “Will someone please tell me what’s going on?”

  Mark and Kris exchanged a look.

  “They found . . .” Mark paused. “They found severed wings.”

  Very slowly, Jacks looked up at his stepfather.

  “Whose?” he asked quietly.

  “We don’t know yet,” Sylvester said, “But the wings were left on Theodore Godson�
�s star.”

  “An Archangel,” Jacks murmured, the enormity settling in. Mark and Sylvester exchanged a look.

  “And you knew nothing about this?” Sylvester asked.

  “Of course he didn’t!” Mark exclaimed.

  “I’m asking Jackson, not you,” Sylvester said calmly.

  Jacks shook his head honestly. “I’m telling the truth. I left the party, went to the diner, came here.”

  Jackson’s stepfather turned to the detective. “We’re doing this as a courtesy because even the faintest notion that Jackson could be involved with something like this is so absurd, I thought it best to get it over with. But if you want to continue this ridiculous questioning, I’m afraid there will have to be a lawyer present.”

  Sylvester narrowed his eyes. “Fine. We’ll see. For your sake, I hope it all checks out. Otherwise we’ll be coming back and won’t be as polite.” Sylvester stood up. “And Jacks? Next time an officer of the Angel City Police Department asks to speak to you, please listen.” He turned to Mark. “Thanks for your time.”

  “Let me see you out,” Kris said. Sylvester got up from the couch and walked to the door. Sergeant Garcia lingered in the living room, smiling sheepishly at Jacks.

  “Excuse me, Jackson, um, do you think I could get an autograph for my daughter?” he said.

  “Garcia,” Sylvester said stiffly, “let’s go.” Garcia hurried outside without his autograph. Mark shut the door, then turned to Jacks.

  “I don’t want you to worry about this, Jacks. I’m going to address the issue with the rest of the Archangels tomorrow, and we’ll more than likely be putting our own team on the investigation. You can’t expect too much from the police.”

  Jacks nodded. He pushed his hand through his hair. Severed wings. It was horrific to think about.

  “You’ve got a big week coming up,” Mark continued. “What’s important is that you don’t lose focus. Now why don’t you go upstairs and get some sleep.”