Natural Born Angel (Immortal City 2)

“It’s Darcy. I totally forgot I have a phone interview with Angels Weekly. We’ve been trying all week to schedule.”

“Now?” Jacks said, incredulously. “It’s night.”

“It was the only time we could fit it in. Darcy’s been trying so hard to get me this cover. I have to pick up, Jacks. It’s important.”

Jackson looked down on her, his face a mask of poorly hidden disappointment. He sighed. “Fine, do what you need to do.”

“Jacks, please don’t be angry. I – this is my job. You of all people should understand.” Jacks looked away when she said this, his eyes flashing angrily. “Jacks, Jacks.” She cradled her hand under his chin and looked at him directly. “I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

And with that she slid out from underneath him and dashed over to scoop the phone off the counter.

“Darcy?” she said, answering the phone. “I’m so sorry, I had the ringer on silent . . . Steve is on? Oh, so great to hear your voice again, Steve, I’ve been so looking forward. . .”

Jacks sat on the edge of the couch, leaned over, his elbows on his knees. He watched Maddy as she walked to the massive window, beginning the phone interview. He could see her smile in the reflection of the glass, mixing with the neon lights of Angel City below.

Sighing, Jacks picked his crumpled shirt off the floor. At least there’s something else I could be doing, he thought wearily. He pulled on his shirt and, picking up his phone, hit the button to call Mark.

CHAPTER 11

The lights of the Porsche cut a line of illumination across the parking structure as it climbed to the rooftop level. The top level was empty at this hour, except for one other car. Night had fallen on Angel City, but the stretch of Angel Boulevard just a couple of blocks away was buzzing with activity. The neon signs for glamorous hotels, along with towering billboards, gleamed in the night above the palm trees and tourists taking in the sights. The famous Divine Records building rose just beyond that, the Angel City sign presiding over it all on the hill.

The Porsche rounded the edge of the rooftop car park and pulled parallel to the other car. Its 350-horsepower engine idled for a moment, echoing across the roof. The engine turned off. The lights stayed on. Archangel Mark Godspeed stepped out of the car.

Detective Sylvester was already out of his vehicle, looking out at Angel Boulevard. The neon from the world-famous street reflected in the lenses of his wire-framed glasses. A helicopter roared over the scene, deafening for a moment before quickly disappearing into the evening, its searchlight cutting down across the innumerable streets and alleys of the Immortal City.

Suddenly the rumble of another engine echoed up the top of the parking structure, and Jackson’s Ferrari emerged and parked angled next to Mark’s Porsche. The detective raised an eyebrow.

Mark walked up to the detective’s side. “This is a little cloak-and-dagger now, isn’t it, David?”

“I don’t want any complications. Distractions. I don’t know whom I can trust,” Sylvester said.

“And you think you can trust me?”

Sylvester looked at him and shrugged. “I’ve got no one else.” The detective glanced over as Jacks emerged from his car. “I didn’t know your stepson was coming.”

Mark shrugged. “He wants to be involved. He’s smart. We can use him.”

“Hello, Jackson,” Sylvester said as Jacks reached them. “It’s been a while.”

Jacks nodded. “I never got to properly thank you for what you did for Maddy and me last year.”

Sylvester shook his head. “Don’t mention it.”

“You look tired, David,” Mark said.

“It’s been a long few weeks.”

Mark got to the point. “I heard they put you on the bombing case. Sorry to hear that. According to our own NAS investigators, there’s practically no forensic evidence. A lot of dead ends. The Council and the Archangels are less than convinced that a human police force will be going after these perpetrators with sufficient force. Which is why we’re preferring to handle the investigation ourselves.”

“The investigation . . . and the justice?” Sylvester said. “Whose side of the law are you on?”

“We’re on whatever side protects us, David,” Mark said. “You have to know that.”

“I read all the statements, and there seems to be nothing solid to go on. They all sound the same,” Jackson said, changing the subject. “There’s got to be something there, though. Innocent people died. We need to bring the bombers to justice.”

Mark and Sylvester exchanged a look. Mark seemed taken aback. He had been underestimating Jackson’s motivation.

Sylvester cleared his throat. “Well, you’re right. I double-checked the initial ACPD work, re-interviewed all the neighbours, and questioned HDF informants across the region. So far, nothing. Then again, I don’t have access to the Angel files on the case,” he said pointedly, looking at Mark. “The main body of the HDF is still denying any connection. We may have to go straight to William Beaubourg himself.” He was referring to the infamous leader of the Humanity Defence Faction, who had been released from San Quentin prison the year before.