Natural Born Angel (Immortal City 2)
Jacks held her gaze a bit longer, and then turned away.
Although she tried to stop them, a few tears began running down her cheeks. She swiped them away with the back of her hand and was able to stop them from coming uncontrollably. “It was Emily, Jacks.”
“What?”
“How the paparazzi got tipped off.”
“Maddy, you’re being paranoid,” Jacks said. “Emily’s a nice girl. Sometimes she can get a little carried away.”
“Nice girl?” Maddy said. “Why are you defending her? What’s going on, Jacks?”
“Nothing is going on, Maddy. Quit trying to change the subject.”
“You just want to think she’s a nice girl, Jacks,” Maddy said. “But she somehow followed me or something. She sent the paparazzi. Don’t you see that this right here is what she wants? To poison us?”
Jackson looked at Maddy. “I’m sorry,” he said at last, his voice lowering. “Maybe I overreacted. If you say he’s just a friend . . . I have to trust you. Out of anyone, I should know not to always believe what the media says.”
Maddy moved closer to Jackson again. He let her embrace him this time. “I’m sorry, Jacks.” She pressed her face against his shoulder.
“How did we get here?” Jacks asked, shaking his head.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know.”
“I think you should probably call Darcy now.”
“I . . . OK. That sounds like a good idea.”
Stepping away from Jacks, Maddy picked up her phone and made the dreaded call to her publicist.
Darcy wanted Maddy out, in public and looking happy, so the next day saw Maddy jaunting all over the Immortal City. The blogs were still on fire over the potential love triangle, and the Angel networks had locked on to it with a death grip.
The day started with very public morning coffee with Jacks, of which the paparazzi caught every moment. Plentiful Angel City sunshine shone down on smiling Maddy and Jacks. When asked about Tom, Maddy said, “He’s been a great help in my flight instruction,” and left it at that. Although she knew that might sting the pilot’s pride, she couldn’t worry about that now. She had to salvage things. Maddy and Jacks walked away hand in hand, the photographers’ cameras snapping and whirring.
She then went home and changed. Darcy was insisting she make an appearance at the launch of a new Angel organization that funded the arts for young Angels with the help of corporate sponsor BMW. She didn’t really want to go, but given the problems she’d just landed on the lap of her publicist, she also didn’t want to be too difficult.
“MADDY! MADDY! HOW WOULD YOU CHARACTERIZE YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH TOM? WHAT DOES JACKS HAVE TO SAY? MADDY, RIGHT HERE!”
Maddy didn’t answer; she just smiled and waved, walking in among the other Angels as the photogs did their thing.
Suddenly, to the side, Maddy saw a group of protesters penned off by metal fencing. They waved signs and were shouting at her and the other Angels as they arrived. The signs bore graphic pictures from the bombing.
They pressed angrily against the barricades, which normally held back rabid Angel fans, not Angel detractors. The ACPD and private security attempted to keep them back from the red carpet, which baked under the hot sun.
They screamed:
“ANGELS ARE MURDERERS!”
“LIARS!”
“WHY ARE YOU HIDING CHURCHSON WHEN YOU’RE ALL GUILTY?!”
“YOU HAVE BLOOD ON YOUR WINGS!”
Maddy’s brow knit in concern as she looked at the people so furiously screaming at them. Suddenly a few of the protesters reached into their rucksacks and began hurling rotten vegetables towards the Angels. The girl Angel just in front of Maddy received a disgusting splat of a tomato that exploded across her expensive, almost sheer dress. She shrieked. Other Angels began dodging the rotten veggies, and Maddy ducked under what looked like a putrid yam as the police extended their batons to try to handle the crowd, which was becoming more and more unruly.
In a daze, Maddy rushed into the reception area for the event, where she was ushered towards the back gardens. Calming classical music was playing on the speakers as she passed a priceless fountain that had been designed by one of the twentieth century’s greatest Swiss architects. The shouts of the protesters had already faded into the background. All the museum staff had big plastic smiles on their faces, as if they had no idea there was practically a mob scene just outside.
Maddy thought of the fury in the protesters’ eyes. And how strange she felt being the target of it. It was unsettling. Didn’t they know that she, too, disapproved of the terrible thing Churchson had done? That most Guardians probably also felt awful and hoped they would find the Archangel and bring him to justice?