by Scott Speer
He’d been expecting this. But that didn’t mean he was ready for it.
With a ding the elevator reached its destination. The door slid open, revealing chaos in the bowels of the jail. Prisoners screamed to be let out, banging anything they could against the inside of their cells. Begging. Two guards with drawn rifles stood on each side of the elevator, waiting for Sylvester. Droplets of sweat had formed on their foreheads.
“Right this way, sir,” one officer said shakily, leading him to the corridor on the right.
“Get me out of here!” a prisoner screamed as Sylvester passed. “For God’s sake let me out! You’re murderers to leave us in here!”
“They must have seen something,” the guard said, indicating the prisoners.
“I’m sure they did,” Sylvester said. He walked steadily, despite the stench of fear that hung in the air.
The solitary cells had small, thick windows looking out to the corridor.
“This is it,” the guard said. Sylvester stepped close to the steel door, drawing a deep and wary breath. His shoe stuck to the floor, leaving an imprint. Blood had seeped under the door.
The guard peered in the window quickly.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
The detective nodded.
The door opened with a squeak and a clang. The guards stood with their rifles at the ready. Sylvester stepped into the cell, followed by two of the guards.
His face remained calm, inscrutable, as he took in the sight.
Ethan’s body, or what was left of it, lay in the corner. The only recognizable feature was his face. Where his eyes had once been were two black, decomposed pits, larger than his eye sockets. The veins running away from his eyes had all turned black and gray. It was like looking into an abyss. The rest of his body looked like it had been turned inside out. As if he had been torn apart from inside. Gore covered the walls of the cell. Deep scratch marks had penetrated the concrete.
The demon had taken his payment.
“I’ve never seen anything like that before,” one of the guards said, collecting himself. He ran his sleeve across his mouth.
“I hoped I would never have to,” Sylvester said. He looked at Ethan’s gruesome remains for a few moments longer. “Thank you, Officers, that is all.” Turning on his heels, Sylvester exited the cell.
The guard took one last look before leaving Ethan’s cell. The door closed, reverberating throughout the jail.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Kevin’s Diner was unusually busy that afternoon. The booths were overflowing, the dining room filled with the chatter and laughter of customers. In the corner the dusty TV crackled, tuned, as usual, to ANN. A snowy-bearded anchor announced the day’s top story.
“Breaking news: the identity of the teen responsible for three Angel murders has been released. Ethan McKinley of Angel City was being held without bail in a Los Angeles jail but died in a mysterious incident authorities are currently investigating. In a related story, rumors are swirling that Jackson Godspeed was injured in last week’s incident following his Commissioning. Mark Godspeed as well as Jacks’s publicist will neither confirm nor deny. And in Washington, Senator Linden has pushed forward for a special congressional committee to handle Angel affairs in America.”
Maddy barely glanced at the TV as she moved between the tables, dropping off steaming plates of food and cups of coffee. She could still feel a pinch where the knife had penetrated her, but all things considered, she had healed surprisingly well. She seemed to have no ill effects from the incident downtown. Well, no physical ill effects, at least. She picked up a table of dirty dishes and headed back into the kitchen.
Kevin stood behind the fryer, as usual, pulling cook duties and plating orders.
“Hey, Kevin, can I take a break?” Maddy asked.
“Okay,” Kevin said as he whipped up another hamburger special. “But it’ll have to be quick. It’s getting pretty busy out there.”
Maddy went into the back room and sat heavily into the old chair. Her feet were aching. She felt like she hadn’t even had a chance to breathe since that first group of tourists arrived on the Angel Tours bus at the start of her shift. She reached into her book bag on the desk and pulled out her BlackBerry Miracle. She unlocked the screen and checked it. No new messages. Still. She tried her best to ignore her disappointment.
“Hey, you’ve got a new customer,” Kevin called from the kitchen. Maddy sighed. She powered off the Berry and threw it back in her bag. It was going to be a long night.
She walked back through the kitchen and out into the bustling dining room.
And stopped.
There Jacks stood, bathed in the golden afternoon sunlight shafting through the windows. Even in a simple T-shirt and jeans, he was gorgeous. He saw Maddy and gave her a delighted, unassuming smile.
“Looks like he could use a table,” Kevin said. Maddy looked at her uncle. His gray eyes crinkled around the edges. Then he squeezed her on the shoulder and disappeared into the kitchen.
Maddy tucked a stray hair behind her ear and smoothed her uniform. Then she approached him.
“Can I help you?” she said.
The slightest grin played across Jacks’s lips.
“Yeah,” he said. “A table for one, please?” His eyes danced.
“Of course,” she said, lowering her eyes. “Right this way.”
She pulled a menu from behind the counter and led Jacks to the booth she had just cleared. As they walked together, she let his presence wash over her like a wave. She couldn’t help herself. Every time she felt it the blood still raced in her veins.
“Here you are,” she said. Jacks took a seat and Maddy handed him the menu. He made a show of opening it with ceremony and inspecting it. A little laugh escaped Maddy’s lips. Then he set it down.
“Actually, I think I’d like to apply for a job,” he said.
She gave him an incredulous look.
“Well, I’m sorry to say I’m not so sure about your qualifications,” Maddy said.
His forehead creased. “Oh, I’ve got a lot of experience,” he said.
“Such as?”
“Lots of stuff.” Jacks shrugged. “And I know the cutest waitress in Angel City; that’s got to count for something, doesn’t it?”
Maddy felt her cheeks burning as she blushed.
“I think you just want to get me alone in the back.”
“Okay, maybe,” he confessed.
They both laughed.
“Actually, I’m concerned,” Jacks said, looking sly.
“Concerned? Why’s that?”
“Yeah, I mean, you’re going to have to hire someone quick, or else the restaurant is going to be short-staffed on Monday.”
Maddy smiled at him but was confused. That hadn’t been part of their exchange so far as she could remember. She looked into his eyes.
“And why would we be short-staffed on Monday?” she wondered.
A bell rang in the kitchen. An order was up.
“Because I’ve spoken to the Archangels,” Jacks said softly. “And they’ve asked me to tell you that your training starts on Monday.”
He wasn’t joking anymore. His gaze searched hers intently.
“Training?” Maddy said. “Training for what?”
Jacks smiled at her.
“Training to become a Guardian Angel.”
EPILOGUE
Maddy reached the top of the stairs, went into the bathroom, and shut the door. She had been waiting for this all day. After Jacks’s visit and his unexpected news, she hadn’t even had time to process what he was telling her because the diner was so busy. By the time they closed, she had been on her feet for almost eight hours and smelled like sweat, food, and who knows what. She had been looking forward to a shower all day—and to thinking about what Jacks had told her.
Maddy peeled unceremoniously out of her uniform and threw it on the bathroom floor. She turned on the hot water first and waited until it scalded her hand to add the
cold. When the temperature was just right, she pulled the plunger on the faucet and the shower coughed to life.
The hot water burned wonderfully against her skin. Maddy let out a sigh as she washed away the shift at the diner. She inspected her bumps and bruises. There were still some remnants of the rooftop incident to be sure, and she was still tender in places, but she felt almost well. Maddy let herself stay a full ten minutes, a luxury she rarely afforded herself. She still wasn’t fully ready to confront the decision that lay before her.
When she was finished, she stepped out onto the old bath mat and wrapped a towel around herself.
Steam had fogged the mirror around its edges, but a circular porthole of reflection in the middle had remained somewhat clear. Maddy toweled off her body, then her hair. She turned around and looked over her shoulder at the mirror to check how bad one of the bruises on her back was.
Water droplets patted noisily against the bath mat as she stood there, frozen in place.
Under her shoulder blades, the angry bruise that had formed as a result of smashing into the light pole had faded—or simply evolved—into the beginning of what could only be described as marks. They looked like graceful tattoos that ran parallel to her spine and came to rest in two elegant flourishes at the small of her back. They were simpler than others Maddy had seen, but all the same, they were unmistakable. She watched them shimmer in the fluorescent light of the bathroom.
They were Immortal Marks.
Acknowledgments
This book would not have been possible without the enthusiasm and belief of a select group of people. My mother and father, first of all, thank you for teaching me to believe in myself and to believe in the power of imagination. Mom, thank you for teaching me to believe in magic. I cannot imagine two people more brilliant and capable of being great parents, and in that way, I am absurdly lucky. My sister, Julia, whom I love very much and who has always been patient with me. Simon, my agent, who has championed and believed in me from the beginning. Thank you, brother, for reading a fifty-page draft full of typos and seeing something special. Claudia, my book agent, who decided to take on a music-video director with no writing experience and muscle through countless drafts and revisions. Brian, you know how instrumental you have been, and without you, none of this would have been possible. Alicia, another key cheerleader who decided to stand up and back the project. Without your enthusiasm, the book would still be unfinished. Ashley, for your love, faith, and support, for early morning coffees, and for all those fashion ideas. No project is accomplished without the support of great friends, friends like Lucas, Steve, Michael, and Brandon—thank you all for reading drafts and giving your feedback and notes. Finally, my editor, Laura, whose unrelenting passion for the book has seen it through its final transformation. Laura, you made the decision to invest yourself in a dream I had about celebrity Angels two years ago, and for that, I am forever grateful.
