Natural Born Angel (Immortal City 2)

At his stepfather’s insistence, Jacks had been submitting himself three times a week to this immersion therapy, by far the most advanced and expensive of its kind, hoping to speed the recovery of his wings, one of which had been reattached in the wake of the vicious demon attack he’d survived. And three times a week, he left disappointed. The doctors always told him to be patient, that “next time we’ll see some improvement”. But there never was any.

He still couldn’t fly. And that’s all that mattered.

Inside the chamber, two incredibly complex robotic machines operated underwater where Jacks’s wings met the back of his shoulders, the outline of his Immortal Marks visible and glowing. The finely tuned machines – advanced nerve reconnectors – knit tissue and cells back together inside the solution that had been specially engineered just for Jacks. The sensation wasn’t unpleasant. It sometimes tickled Jacks a bit, but it wasn’t too bad.

The pain would come later. It always did.

A door across the room opened, and Jacks’s stepfather, Mark, entered the room. He walked up to the chamber, nodded to his stepson through the glass and began talking to the technicians. Almost every session, Mark came to check on the progress, carving out time from his packed schedule as one of the senior Archangels. Jacks, tangled in cords and hoses, briefly lifted his hand to wave at Mark.

Jacks could see the doctor and Mark talking. Mark’s face remained grave. Great, still no good news, Jacks thought.

The doctor looked at his hand-held computer and alerted the technicians with a circular motion of his finger. Jacks knew this meant it was time to get out.

The nerve reconnectors retracted from Jacks’s submerged body. Jacks happily pulled off some of the sensors and connectors as soon as he saw it was time. The always nervous assistant shook her head as she watched him roughly handle the multi-million-dollar equipment.

The top of the immersion chamber popped open and two assistants peered into the water. Reaching down, they lifted Jacks out of the solution and disconnected the rest of the hoses and monitors from his body. Jacks himself removed the breathing mask. He stepped down the narrow ladder to the floor, where a pretty female assistant put a robe on over his trunks and enthusiastically started towelling him off.

“I’ve got this one,” Jacks said, taking the towel from her.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” she said, disappointment colouring her eyes as she stepped away from Jacks. “And don’t forget, don’t— ”

“Retract my wings for at least one hour,” Jacks said, finishing her sentence. “I’ll remember.”

Mark walked up to his stepson.

“The doctor says that progress is being made. It’s slow, but— ”

“It’s the same thing every time, you know that,” Jacks cut him off. He looked down at the floor, trying to keep his frustration in check.

Mark placed a hand on Jacks’s shoulder.

“You – you just have to have faith.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Jacks said, hearing his voice sound snappish. “You’re not the one getting poked and prodded and practically” – he waved at the now-empty chamber – “drowned every other day.” He looked up at his stepfather, his gaze softening. “I’m sorry, I just— ”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, Jacks,” Mark said. “Your frustration is more than understandable. And if there’s anyone who should be sorry. . .” Mark trailed off. His eyes drifted away, distant. Jacks could almost see them going to that terrible rooftop downtown months ago, when Jacks had nearly lost both wings.

“The doctor said they’re bringing in a new specialist, from Germany,” Mark said. “That she’s been developing some very promising new treatments we haven’t even seen in Angel City yet.” Mark’s eyes were hopeful.

“Good . . . I mean, that’s great,” Jacks said, trying to sound at least somewhat enthusiastic. Mark’s BlackBerry buzzed. The Archangel reached for the phone, but then held back. Jacks looked at him.

“It’s OK. Go ahead, go back to work, Mark. The world doesn’t need to stop just because” – here Jacks swallowed his words for a moment – “Jackson Godspeed can’t fly any more.” He put a self-deprecating grin on, though, to make it come across like a joke.

Mark nodded, slowly. Jacks turned to walk back to the changing room, where his street clothes were waiting.

“Jacks?”

Jackson turned back.

“No matter what happens, I’m proud of you.”

The young Angel nodded, pressing his lips together.

“I’m going to fly again, Mark. I will.”

Mark pressed his hand and smiled. “Of course you are,” his stepfather said. “Of course you are.”

Jacks turned back and began walking to the dressing room. Behind him he heard the click of the door as Mark left. The medical staff didn’t even look up from their screens.