Immortal City (Immortal City 1)

“He certainly has.”

Jacks turned. Mark was at the door. Jackson eyed him warily, thinking back to what he thought he had seen on his stepfather’s jacket the night before. This was Archangel Mark Godspeed. Angels were the most important thing in the world to him. How could Jacks even consider Mark would be involved with the murders? There obviously had to be another explanation for what Jacks only thought he had seen.

His stepfather had changed clothes as well and wore the ceremonial red robes of an Archangel. He regarded Jacks sternly. “I just wanted to say good luck before we get out there.” Then his expression softened; the slightest hint of a smile crept into his eyes. “Jacks,” he said, “I know it’s been a tough week, it’s been a tough week for all of us. But I just want you to know”—he paused, looking at his stepson—“that I am proud of you. So proud.” Then he gave Jacks a smile so genuine and pleased that Jacks felt an unexpected warmth radiate through him. Mark turned to go.

“Dad?” Jacks said impulsively.

Mark turned.

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

Mark’s smile widened. “I’ll see you out there,” he said, and was gone. After a good luck kiss Kris followed, and Jacks was left alone in the room again. Things were getting back to normal, he thought. The way they should be. The way they were meant to be. He looked at himself in the mirror one last time. His father’s crest hung handsomely on him. He found it hard to suppress a smile. Then a man wearing a headset appeared in the doorway and motioned for him to follow.

Jacks was led down a backstage hallway snaked with cables and positioned behind a door at the back of the auditorium, where the other nominated Angels were already waiting. They were being formed into a line. The Churchson siblings were near the front, standing side by side. Jacks looked sidelong at Sierra as he passed, his thoughts moving back to what she had said the night before about his star. Had she known about the killer? How could she have already? It hadn’t become public knowledge until this morning. His mind began tracking rapidly, but he was brought back to the present by a hand on his shoulder.

“We have an order. So you’re standing here, Jacks,” the man in the headset said, putting Jacks at the end of the line. Steven glared back at Jackson, who looked away uncomfortably.

Through the door he could hear the murmurs of the crowd as they waited patiently for the commercial break to end. The ceremony, of course, was being watched live all over the world and so had to work within the confines of the television broadcast. Finally, Jacks heard the disembodied female voice through the door. She announced grandly,

“Ladies, gentlemen, and Angels, welcome to the 102nd annual National Angel Services Guardian Commissioning. And now, please welcome the nominees for Guardianship.”

Right on cue the door opened, the music swelled, and the twenty nominated Angels began walking into the Temple, single file. The female voice announced each name as they emerged into the grand auditorium.

“Jackson Godspeed.” At this, cheers erupted, almost overpowering the announcer.

Jacks stepped forward, the last of the Angels. He had been in the Temple many times before, but he couldn’t help feeling a stir of excitement as he walked down the aisle, surrounded by applause. He looked around the massive main hall with its double row of columns that led toward the altar on a raised stage. This had once been a sanctuary but had long since been converted to a modern theater with state-of-the-art lighting and sound. Two huge screens on either side of the stage magnified his dramatic entrance.

To his right and left, every last seat was packed with the most famous Angels, prestigious politicians, and richest potential Protections. An eager, expectant energy mixed with the applause and cheers that filled the enormous room. Everyone seemed to be waiting for the envelopes to be opened and the names of the Protections to be read. Jacks’s gaze flickered to a row of familiar faces in the seats. There they sat, the Angels he had known his entire life. Kris and Chloe. Mitch gave him a subtle thumbs-up. Vivian was there too, and her parents. With the swelling music, the cheers and excitement of the crowd, and the glittering Temple, Jacks found it impossible to ignore the happiness burning inside him. Over the past few days had he forgotten what it meant to be a Guardian? Had he forgotten what he’d worked so hard for? As he felt the exhilaration of the moment, he knew, without a doubt, this was where he belonged.

Jacks followed the other nominees, ascending the steps to the stage. On the platform stood an exquisite altar of red and gold, to the side of which stood four rows of five chairs, one for each nominee. On the walls above the stage, towering stained glass windows told the story of Angels on Earth: from their hidden beginnings, to the Great Awakening, to a Guardian flying grandly over the Angel City sign. Jacks reached the altar and stopped. He gazed down. Sitting on a red satin cloth were the twenty Divine Rings. One of them was his Divine Ring. Next to the rings sat a small stack of envelopes. And inside each of the envelopes, Jacks knew, was a list of names. The Protections.

For some reason, Maddy’s voice flashed across his mind: “Why don’t you get to choose who you’re going to protect?” He banished the memory and took his seat.

The music ended with a flourish and there was a moment of charged silence. Then the disembodied voice came over the speakers again.

“And now, please welcome the NAS Archangels.”

The music swelled again. Applause filled the Temple as a group of Archangels in red robes entered from behind the stage and took their seats in the first two rows of the audience. Jacks looked down at some of the most famous Angels of all time. Mark was, of course, with them. His stepfather’s face was drawn and serious, but his eyes glimmered with that same hint of a smile.

Once the music and applause had quieted again, the lights dimmed in the auditorium and the enormous screens flickered to a dramatic title in bold type: THE NEXT GENERATION OF GUARDIANS. Each of the other nominees had a brief clip, showing their faces as they smiled at the camera and then a quick shot of them in action, no more than ten seconds each. Jacks was notably absence from the footage . . . and he began to feel vaguely anxious. He could guess what was coming.

After this series of quick clips, the music swelled and a huge title arose: THE JACKSON GODSPEED PHENOMENON. A few of the other nominees shifted in their seat irritably. Jacks felt his cheeks growing hot, but he kept a composed look on his face. Mark’s words from last night rang in his head and now that he knew that his meteoric rise had been the Archangels’ plan all along, attention that wouldn’t have fazed him a week ago made him feel exquisitly uncomfortable. A lengthy montage played, showing Jacks through his youth, achieving at school, and spending quality time with Mark and Kris. Footage of an eight-year-old Jacks making a funny face into the camera sent a ripple of good-natured laughter through the theater. Then the images changed to the beginnings of the Jackson Godspeed hysteria, from the first few magazine covers, to photo shoots, television interviews, and crowds of screaming girls on the streets. His famous luminescent wings featured prominently in a lot of the shots, leaving no doubt that it was Jacks in action. A shot of Jackson taking Kris as his date on a red carpet elicited ahhhhs from every woman in the audience. Finally the montage finished with a dramatic shot of Jackson flying through the sky. Then, almost as an afterthought: THE NOMINEES. Applause filled the auditorium.

The screens went black, and then an image slowly appeared. Twelve figures sat in a semicircle in what looked like a small chapel. It was the Council of Twelve True Immortals, the original Angels to bring the Angel services public, begin Angel families, and found the NAS. They were watching the Commissioning from another location. They rarely, if ever, were seen in public anymore. On-screen, the Council’s faces remained hidden in the deep shadows of the gorgeous chapel. One of the True Immortals stood up and stepped to where a light shone down. His face resolved from the darkness. It was Gabriel. He wore a golden robe that seemed to glow all on its own. He was tall and handsome, with a shock of white hair and sharp, piercing features. Gabriel had looked like this for as long as any Angel could remember.

“You, young Angels, have our blessing,” he said simply, his voice booming through the loudspeakers and into the Temple.

The crowd began applauding. On-screen Gabriel returned to his seat in the shadows with the rest of the Council. The screens faded to black again. The lights went up and the applause quieted as Mark rose from his seat and ascended the stairs to the stage, approaching the altar and the microphone on a slim stand. Mark adjusted it and stole a look at Jacks before beginning.

“Before us is the next class of Guardians, those who are about to swear their lives and Immortal abilities to serve their Protections under the NAS. Each one of them has fulfilled their training and proved ready to take on this greatest of responsibilities: that of another’s life.”

Mark began calling each of the other nominees up one by one, swearing them in as Guardians and presenting them with their Divine Rings. Jackson sat in wait, knowing he probably would be last. He was surprised to find his pulse beginning to beat harder as they reached the end: he was nervous. Mark’s voice seemed to be in a distant tunnel as he called each of the remaining Angels up, including Steven and Sierra. At last all the other Angels had been announced, received their rings, and sat down again.

Mark turned to Jacks.

“This is the best and the brightest we have to offer. Jackson Godspeed represents the best in us. He is not only one of the most talented and powerful Angels, but is an Angel dedicated to the idea

ls of the Council and the NAS.” The Archangels in the front rows nodded in approval. “Step up here, please.”