Inside his private dressing room, Jacks sat down on a chair and let out a deep sigh. He thought of the team outside, all working towards the same goal: to fix Jacks. And he thought of what he had just told Mark: he would fly again. But what if he could never be fixed? When would they call it a day, pack up their equipment, and head to whatever challenge awaited them next? They still got paid whether Jacks was cured or not. What if there was no cure?
He drove the thought from his mind.
As he slowly got dressed, leaving his wings extended, his mind wandered to what, if he was honest with himself, was the most troubling thing to him right now.
Maddy.
He had known ever since he met her that Maddy could be stubborn when she decided something. He had seen it time and again over their relationship. Ever since she insisted on confronting her uncle to find out about her parents after he had saved her outside Ethan’s party. And then in the midst of her newfound celebrity, the way she insisted on turning down endorsements and photo shoots, keeping her job at the diner, finishing at Angel City High when she could’ve started training to be a Guardian and had five private tutors if she wanted.
And now . . . whenever Jacks thought of her turning her back on Guardian training, of leaving Angel City . . . his stomach felt hollowed out.
But she had made her decision.
Jacks knew they had promised to visit each other every chance they could get, and that Maddy would be back for holidays. But he knew something would be different. Illinois. It seemed so far away. And I can’t even fly myself to visit her, he thought angrily. Jacks looked at the clock. Only forty more minutes until he could retract his wings and get out of there.
He reached for the remote and powered on the flat screen. One of the twenty-four-hour news stations was on.
“. . . and polls today showing a small percentage jump for Senator Ted Linden’s anti-Angel presidential campaign. The fringe candidate has growing support in certain parts of the country, but experts say his third-party campaign is more of a statement than a real contender come November.” Linden’s smiling face appeared on screen at an event as he waved to supporters. With a look of disgust, Jacks flipped the channel. He found Linden’s anti-Angel posturing to be so repulsive that he couldn’t even bear to follow his campaign in the newspapers.
On ANN, Tara Reeves was on screen. She never looked like she grew older by even a day. Jacks wondered if the time would come when she would age a dozen years in twenty-four hours, making up for lost time. He heard his name and snapped to attention:
“Rumours continue swirling about Jackson Godspeed’s step away from the limelight, with Immortal City tongues wagging about whether that ‘break for exhaustion’ following last year’s traumatic events is something more than just temporary. Plus exclusive footage from this morning’s thrilling save by Steven Churchson in the Santa Barbara Mountains. And more on who will be this year’s hottest Protections. But first ANN catches up with it-girl Vivian Holycross to talk about her latest perfume and rumours of a romance with hottie French Angel Julien Santé.”
Vivian appeared on-screen, flanked by a group of mad paparazzi. She looked incredible, smiling coyly from behind her oversized sunglasses as she stopped and cocked her hand on her hip, posing briefly for the cameras.
Jacks turned off the TV, feeling suddenly tired. Reaching into the breast pocket of his blazer, he retrieved his iPhone. He had some missed calls and texts, but not as many as he would’ve had a year ago – there were only three texts, plus one voicemail from his publicist, Darcy. Huh, he thought. He hadn’t even heard from Darcy in a week.
But there was a missed call and text that stood out from the rest, from Maddy. The text read, simply: “Give me a call.”
A strange feeling settled into Jackson’s stomach. He couldn’t describe why. He noticed his heart starting to beat slightly faster with nervousness. Ignoring the voicemai
l from Darcy, Jacks pressed the button to call Maddy back.
“Hello?” Her familiar voice made his heart thump the way it always did.
“Hey! What’s up, Mads?” Jacks tried to mask his uncertainty.
Maddy took a deep breath on the other end of the line.
“I’m so glad you called me back,” she said. She paused. It sounded like she was weighing her words. “I want to tell you something.”
Jacks couldn’t remember his gut ever feeling so knotted. Was she breaking up with him? Had she decided long distance with a deformed Angel just wasn’t worth it? “Yes?”
“Well, you know how I feel about the Angels.”
Jacks blew the air out of his lungs and took another sharp breath. “How many times do I have to tell you, Maddy, you’re an Angel.”
Maddy was quiet on the line.
Jacks continued: “You’re not what you think you are. You’re not a freak. You’re wonderful.”
“I’m not so sure I’d go that far.”
“Can you just trust me for once?” he said. “You are wonderful.”
“No . . . you are great,” she said. “Jacks, I don’t know how to say this” – Jackson’s stomach flipped again as he heard Maddy’s voice on the other end – “but I’ve thought about what you’ve said, about being able to help make things better, to maybe change the Angels from within, despite the past. To open up the protection programme to more disadvantaged people. About what a chance it is. And now I’m thinking about what my dad would have considered my duty.”
“What are you telling me?” Jackson said. He unconsciously held his breath, silent. Time seemed to stop.