Natural Born Angel

by Speer, Scott

  The computer was open to his email, and he saw he had a number of new messages. Mostly mass emails from the department, with some spam. But the latest was only a few minutes old. And it was from someone simply called “A Friend”. The email address was just a series of nonsensical letters in front of a gmail.com domain name. The subject line read: “Please Read Me, Detective.”

  Puzzled, Sylvester opened the email.

  Inside was simply a link to an online newspaper – no other sign or note of who could have left it for him. Sylvester clicked the link.

  It opened an article about the fire and collapse of a brand-new high-rise apartment complex in Beijing, which had been designed by a prestigious Swedish architect. The Chinese tragedy had happened a week before, but officials had only been coming out publicly with details over the past day, after everything was cleaned up. Over five hundred had died in the horrific accident.

  In the article was an eyewitness photo taken as the building burned. Sylvester cleaned his glasses, leaning closer to the screen to investigate the photo. The building was on fire, smoke roiling from the glass windows, residents streaming out in a panic. It was horrible. But what was Sylvester supposed to see? He continued looking, and looking, but could find nothing.

  Frustrated, he zoomed in further on the photo on the screen, which only began to slightly pixellate.

  And then he saw it – far off on the side of the building in the background, unnoticed, there were flames. But these were a slightly different colour, the smoke darker, the fire more intense. If you didn’t know what to look for, you’d never have noticed anything in the chaos.

  Sylvester looked even closer. A jolt ran through his body.

  If he examined as closely as possible, he thought he could see eyes burning darkly in the fire. The eyes of a Dark Angel.

  CHAPTER 17

  Jackson’s Ferrari rumbled under the Immortal City sun as he slowed along Ventura Boulevard in Angel Oaks, looking for his destination. He rarely came out to the Valley, and he didn’t know his way around this part of town as well. Last night’s visit with Detective Sylvester was still resonating in Jackson’s brain as he drove down the street, looking for the unfamiliar address. The detective’s tale had haunted Jackson’s dreams that night.

  He wanted to somehow help further with the investigation. He may not be able to serve as one of the Angels, but he could still help his kind. That’s what he should be doing. Instead of doing things like this, out in the Valley. Caught in his thoughts, Jacks missed a turn. He grumbled as he pulled a U-turn.

  At last he saw it. Wow. You really couldn’t miss it, he thought. He pulled around the side of the building and parked near the back. The thrumming engine of the car went silent as he turned off the ignition key. Jacks sighed as he looked out of the window at his job for the day.

  Out in front of the modern, curved-glass-and-steel showroom of the giant car dealership was strung a number of multicoloured balloons, along with a large banner that read GRAND OPENING in big lurid letters, hanging over sparkling Range Rovers and Porsches.

  Was this what it had come to? Jacks tried to remain positive. He thought about how he had a long road ahead of him and tried to chase away thoughts of just a year before, when his image had been splayed across buildings throughout Angel City. Darcy had convinced him that this car-dealership opening was a great appearance, that they really wanted Jackson to make it a glitzy event. And his publicist said he needed to do whatever came his way, to “get back out there”. But Jackson was still reluctant.

  Stepping out of the sports car, he scanned the car park for Darcy – where was she? She was always early.

  All of a sudden, Christina, Darcy’s assistant, materialized at Jackson’s side.

  “You’re here, Jackson, that’s just wonderful,” Christina said, keeping one eye on her phone. “Now let’s get you in to talk to the owner, Mr Rahimi, who’s so excited to meet you before the event begins.”

  “Where’s Darcy?” Jacks asked, looking around.

  “She’s with Maddy, of course,” Christina replied, tapping at her BlackBerry. “But I’m here for anything you need.”

  “Oh,” Jacks said. Now Darcy wasn’t even dealing with him directly?

  “JACKSON!” A voice boomed loudly. A tan man in a sleek suit approached Jackson, all smiles. “Willy Rahimi, so terrific to see you. Welcome, welcome. Would you like a snack? A glass of wine? A Perrier?”

  “No, I’m fine, thank you,” Jacks said uncomfortably as the big man shook his hand up and down a few times too many. Jackson could see that on the other side of the lot, underneath the balloons, was a little table set up for him to sign autographs. There was a small line of people waiting patiently. Above was a sign: MEET JACKSON GODSPEED.

  Mr Rahimi looked over to Jackson’s car. “No Maddy?” he said with a nervous chuckle. “We were hoping maybe she might just happen to come along. Heh.”

  For a second Jacks looked back at his Ferrari – his potential escape. Darcy’s assistant picked up on it.

  “Jackson is so excited to be here today, Mr Rahimi,” Christina said. “Come on, Jacks, just this way.”

  Swallowing his doubts and pride, Jackson walked over towards the cheerful balloons and table, where some people were waiting.

  A teenaged girl accompanied by her dad was at the front of the line. She had a pink cast on her broken wrist. She introduced herself as Aimee. Smiling, she had her dad take a picture with Jacks and had him sign her cast.

  “Thank you,” the girl said, starting to turn away. “Before I go, one last thing, though,” she said bashfully.

  “Yes, Aimee?” Jacks asked expectantly.

  “Can you tell Maddy hi for me?” she asked hopefully, looking up at Jacks with batting eyelashes and her broken arm.

  “Oh. Uh, of course,” Jacks said, forcing a smile. “She is pretty great, isn’t she?”

  The next person in line was even more blunt as Jacks signed a Nike Wings poster from his campaign a couple of years ago. The young man asked point blank: “What’s it like being with Maddy?”

  “Maddy’s going to be a great Guardian someday,” Jackson answered through set teeth. This was getting a little too personal. “Next?”

  The rest of the event continued pretty much the same way, Mr Rahimi standing behind Jacks and shaking hands with potential customers. And Jacks getting asked by everyone about Maddy.

  “You were great out there,” Christina said as she walked Jacks back to his car after he finished his contractual hour appearance.

  His shoulders and neck taut, his entire body feeling just wrong, Jacks came to a firm decision. “I’m not doing one of those again.”

  “But— ” Christina started.

  “I don’t care what Darcy says. No,” he said. “This isn’t what I’ve been working for my entire life – to be a. . .” He couldn’t even finish the sentence as he waved his hand towards Rahimi’s car dealership. “No,” he repeated, slamming his car door shut, wheels squealing as he peeled out of the lot.

  “So you’ll watch me this time,” Tom said to Maddy. The array of gauges, dials, lights and meters in the cockpit was dizzying. She had studied the instrument panel from the book the pilot had given her, but facing it right now was a daunting prospect. Still, she thought this time she’d get a chance behind the controls.

  “But this is our second lesson already. How am I supposed to— ” she blurted.

  “Maddy. This is my show. I know you’re used to getting your way everywhere else out there.” His hand gestured over to the hills that stood between them and Angel City. “But here, what I say goes. If you don’t like it, you can get out right now.”

  Maddy bit her tongue, although it took everything she had. Something about this pilot just got under her skin. She wanted to impress him, but he was making that impossible.

  “OK,” Tom said. “So I have one
commandment: Do. Not. Touch. The. Controls. Full stop.” Tom looked at her.

  “But what if we’re, like— ”

  “Even if I have a heart attack and I’m keeled over the controls and we’re plunging to our deaths, don’t even try it.”

  “I can fly on my own, you know. I have wings,” Maddy said defensively.

  “I’ve read the report. I think that depends on your definition of ‘flying’.”

  A slight smile broke through the pilot’s normally serious expression, and Maddy felt suddenly better. His words might sound mocking, but underneath, it was as though he understood what she was going through.

  “Let’s go.” The propellers suddenly roared to life, a raucous whirlwind outside Maddy’s window. After a brief taxi, Tom lined the plane up along the small runway. In fact, now that Maddy thought about it, the runway seemed really small. She realized she’d never flown in a plane this small before.

  “Are you sure this is long enough to— ” Before she could finish her sentence, she was pressed back in her seat as the aircraft began speeding forward. Her nails dug into the side of the seat as the end of the runway approached.

  With a quick lurch, the Cessna lifted off the ground, and then, after a quick ascent, it levelled off. The weightlessness lifted Maddy’s stomach up into her chest for a moment. She peered down as the earth receded below them.

  She looked over at the young pilot. His eyes flipped from instruments to the sky in front of him and then back again. His hands moved quickly, smoothly. It was simple, automatic for him, manipulating the controls. He looked like he was just tying his shoes. It just seemed so effortless. Maddy couldn’t explain it, but as they banked to the left, it seemed almost like he and the plane were fused somehow. She began to see why he had come so highly recommended from Professor Archson. After their first lesson, Maddy had done a Google search on “Tom Cooper fighter pilot”, and dozens of results had come up: he had graduated summa cum laude from the Naval Academy in Annapolis with a degree in history, had been selected for the prestigious Navy Strike Fighter Tactics Instruction Programme, and had got many accolades for his flight prowess. She even found some of the navy message boards, and they were calling him the greatest pilot of his generation.

  “When reaching sufficient altitude, you have to decrease the— ”

  “Angle of attack,” Maddy said, finishing Tom’s sentence. “That’s the way to ensure stability.”

  Along the horizon, the peaks of the mountains extended into the distance, poking out of a low line of wispy clouds.

  Tom looked over at Maddy, raising an eyebrow. “That’s right,” he said. “But what if you want to also assume zero bank angle?”

  “Since this is fixed wing, I use the gyroscope to observe yaw and use the controls accordingly.”

  “Good,” Tom said, looking over at Maddy from behind his aviator shades. “You’ve been doing what I asked.”

  Maddy suppressed a smile. Ha.

  “Now watch me. The key is to integrate all the information at once: the tension of the controls, what you’re seeing, what the instruments are telling you, what your intuition is telling you.”

  The plane gracefully climbed and rolled to the right, through a bank of clouds that had rolled in from the ocean. Above the clouds was crystal blue sky as far as they could see. They both seemed taken with the sight for a moment.

  “How did you learn?” Maddy said at last, breaking the spell.

  “To fly?”

  Maddy nodded.

  “I may not have wings like an . . . Angel,” Tom said. “But ever since I was a boy flying the crop duster with my uncle back in Pennsylvania, we knew something special happened when I got up in the air. I was a natural-born flyer. They couldn’t keep me out of the air.”

  Maddy studied him. “What do you have against Angels?”

  “I don’t have anything against Angels,” Tom said. “Susan referred me to you, didn’t she?” He looked down across the horizon. “Now please pay attention as I make this manoeuvre.”

  “You’re changing the subject. Every time something about Angels comes up, you get this look on your face.”

  The young pilot glanced over. “I’d prefer not to talk about it. My politics are my business. Let’s just say I don’t agree with everything the Angels stand for.”

  Maddy’s thoughts cast to her long discussions with Jacks about this, and the process she went through to choose joining the Angels over college.

  “I don’t agree with everything either,” she said.

  Tom looked at her incredulously. “You’re becoming a Guardian.”

  “So I can get a chance to maybe change things,” she said, colour rising in her cheeks. “I resent your tone. You don’t know anything about me.”

  Tom looked over at her. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I hope you can change some things. I really do, Maddy.”

  A brief patch of turbulence shook the plane, then smoothed out. She tried to bring the topic around to less controversial subjects.

  “So you flew so much with your uncle you became a professional pilot?”

  “Nothing seemed more natural.”

  “And now you fly . . . jets?” Maddy asked.

  He nodded. “F-18s. And I’m here in Angel City testing a new prototype of my aircraft carrier in the Angel City Bay. Next-generation fighter.”

  She remembered the awards and accolades she’d come across when she did a search on the pilot. She looked over at Tom. Even though he was serious and put on airs, he was just a boy a couple of years older than she was. A boy with a lot of responsibility. And he was helping her – even if he did feel obliged.

  “Lieutenant Cooper,” Maddy said. “I know we may have got off to a rocky start. But thank you. I mean it.”

  Tom looked over at her uncomfortably for a moment. She had caught him off guard. “Of course,” he said hurriedly. “Now what about when a precipitous drop in altitude occurs and you need to. . .”

  The polished steel elevator doors in Maddy’s apartment building slid open with barely a whisper. She stepped out into the hallway, her cheeks glowing from the sun of the flight lesson, her hair windswept. She was met by Jacks, who was standing in the hall outside her apartment.

  “You’re late,” Jacks said.

  She checked the time on her phone. He was right. “Oh. Only ten minutes, Jacks,” she said. “I had my flight lesson and it went longer than I thought.”

  She opened the door and threw her bag down.

  “How’s that going?” Jacks asked, following her inside.

  “Good. I think. Although the pilot still won’t let me fly. And other training stuff is OK, too.” She poured herself a glass of orange juice from the fridge. “Except I can’t really bend time yet.”

  Maddy cast her glance to her father’s old notebook, which was on the side table with her other books. At night she had been studying it. It was filled with useful tips and tactics for mastering the training subjects. But she’d only managed to bend time briefly, just for the slightest moment, not enough to successfully pull off a hard save under pressure. Or do anything as complicated as when Jacks froze the policeman’s bullet in Kevin’s Diner the year before.

  “You won’t have that class for another couple of years, anyway. It’s very advanced,” Jacks said.

  “Well, I still want to try, Jacks,” she responded, taking a gulp of her juice.

  Jackson didn’t answer. He walked over and turned the TV on.

  “. . . numbers for Senator Linden’s presidential bid continue to rise day by day. The increasing verbal threats from Angels have drawn more and more supporters to his camp. Self-described ‘former Angel addicts’ are flocking to the charismatic politician, who claims he will clean up the, quote, ‘Angel— ’”

  The TV went black. Jacks had turned it off, shaking his head.

  “I
don’t know why you watch that station sometimes,” Jacks said.

  “What, PBS? I like the shows with the lords and ladies and stuff,” Maddy said defensively.

  The phone in Maddy’s bag buzzed. With one hand still sipping her orange juice, she pulled it out and checked it: a text from Darcy.

  “Oh no,” she said.

  “What?” Jacks asked.

  “I totally forgot I have the Teen Vogue gala at the museum tonight,” Maddy said.

  Jacks looked at her evenly. “I told you I wanted to do something.”

  “I know, I’m sorry. It’s just that this came up and it seemed like a good thing to agree to. Why don’t you come with me?”

  Walking to the window and looking out, Jackson let out a long breath. “I . . . I don’t know. I don’t know if I feel like it.”

  “Why not?”

  Jacks spun around. “I guess I didn’t realize that events had become so important to you.”

  Maddy’s face burned. “It’s not the event that’s important, it’s just part of the process. It’s part of what I have to do to get the respect of all these people whose world I’m supposed to be joining. You told me this yourself, Jacks!” Maddy was frustrated, embarrassed and angry all at once. “You wanted this for me, Jackson. Becoming a Guardian. And now it’s almost here. Isn’t this what happens?”

  Jacks bit his lip and turned back towards the window. Silence lingered between them. On the horizon, an ACPD helicopter criss-crossed the sky.

  At last, Jacks spoke. Bitterness and hurt edged his sardonic voice. “I didn’t get invited.”

  “What? Of course you’re invited,” Maddy said, walking closer to him. “I mean, are there even invitations?”