Immortal City (Immortal City 1)

Gwen came in, utterly Angelstruck. For a moment Jacks was worried she might actually faint.

“Hey, I’m Jacks,” Jacks said.

“I know,” Gwen said, blushing impossibly red. “I’m . . . Gwen.”

“Nice to meet you, Gwen.”

“I’ve heard so much about you,” Gwen said, then caught herself. “Er . . . from Maddy, I mean. I like your car, by the way.”

Mitch laughed and Gwen punched him playfully.

Then the door flew open again. This visitor, apparently, didn’t see the need to knock.

“Once I get done spinning this, they’re going to give you the Medal of Honor, Jackson,” Darcy said as she came in. As usual she had her head buried in her BlackBerry and was furiously typing something on the keypad. In her other hand she held a heavy-looking black garment bag. She glanced over at Maddy’s bed.

“Oh, good, you’re up too. I’ve got Teen Vogue and Angels Weekly in a bidding war over your fall fashion spread. We’re going with Teen Vogue, of course, but let’s let them sweat it out. And ANN wants your first televised interview, but we’re holding out for the Today Show, which, trust me, we’re going to get.”

She threw the garment bag over a chair in the corner. “And Free People was hoping you’d wear this when you leave the hospital. They didn’t know your style or sizes, so there are four options in the bag. Keep them all if you want.”

“What?” Maddy said weakly.

Darcy paused and for the first time looked up from her Berry. “Maddy, I’m the fiercest bitch in PR, I always get my clients what they want, and you’ll never look better in the public eye, or make more money, than with me. What do you say?” She stuck out her hand.

Dazed, Maddy just blinked.

Then Darcy’s Berry went off again.

“Hang on, babe,” she said, and picked up. Her brow drew together as she listened. “What? Forget it. If you think Maddy Montgomery is showing up for that appearance fee, then you’re wasting both our time.” She held up an apologetic finger to the room and stormed out the door.

Jacks smiled. He looked over at Maddy’s bewildered expression.

“Trust me, she won’t take no for an answer.”

Maddy swallowed and spoke in a surprisingly strong voice. “Please tell her thank you, but I don’t intend on doing interviews. Or talk shows.”

Jacks turned to Mark. “What happened to the demon?”

“The Dark Angel is gone.”

“How is that possible?” Jacks asked. Mark’s expression turned heavy.

“It has the soul it came for.”

“Ethan?” Maddy asked.

Mark was silent.

“Dark Angels—demons—have been kept at bay for thousands of years. Now that Ethan has done this . . .” He trailed off. Mark’s eyes were distant. “We can only hope this is the last time.”

“Mark?” Jacks asked. His stepfather’s gaze focused.

“Yes, son?”

“That night I took Maddy to the party—when you were in my room. What was on your jacket? It looked like . . . well, like blood.”

Mark was silent for a second, looking genuinely saddened. “I’m sorry to realize that you were suspicious of me,” he said at last, “but I suppose my conduct has been such that I deserve it. The truth is that the demon left Lance Crossman’s body in the NAS lobby for us to find that night. I’m ashamed to say that I hid it rather than informing Detective Sylvester. I thought we could handle finding the killer ourselves. Obviously, that wasn’t the case. David and I have spoken at length about it.”

Then the Archangel’s face lightened. “But don’t worry about any of that now. What’s important is that you two get better. I’ll leave you to it.”