Immortal City

  Then he heard the breathing and realized he wasn’t alone.

  “Hello?” he said nervously.

  Someone was out there. In the dark.

  “Is someone there?”

  There was no response, but the breathing continued. A deep, rattling respiration. His eyes looked around wildly.

  Then he saw it.

  Even at his drunkest, he could never have imagined something so horrific. He opened his mouth, and the boulevard filled with the echoes of his screams.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Maseratis, Lamborghinis, and limousine car services jammed Sunset Boulevard, stacking up in a long line in front of the Chateau Marmont Hotel, bringing traffic on the glittering Halo Strip to a standstill. Dozens of personnel scrambled to control the scene, directing traffic, holding back the crowds, and coordinating the arrivals. Ranks of spotlights illuminated a red-carpet arrival area and a large white wall with the Halo Magazine logo repeated over and over on it. Nearby was an oversized blowup of the Halo Magazine cover featuring Jackson Godspeed crouching on a rooftop, wings out, the wind in his hair, under a caption that read “HOT HERO: Jackson Godspeed prepares to make the leap into Guardianship.”

  Directly across from the wall and the display, an army of photographers, reporters, and journalists waited. Jamie Campbell, the life and style correspondent for ANN, set the glamorous scene as she stood breathlessly in front of her camera.

  “We’re here, live at the Halo Magazine Commissioning Week release party, one of the hottest events in the Immortal City this week, so much so that word is Angels are stuck up and down Sunset Boulevard just waiting to get in. Jackson Godspeed and his famous wings are on the cover this month, and the rumor is he’ll be arriving anytime now!”

  Like a procession of supernatural perfection, the Angels began to arrive on the carpet—Guardians in sharp suits with their Divine Rings glinting in the lights and lady Angels in backless dresses that showed off their Immortal Marks. Fans swelled against the barricades and screamed their throats raw. Pedestrians passing by stopped and stared, either incredulous at the glamour before them or transfixed by it. Security was thick: last year during Commissioning Week an operative from the fringe radical anti-Angel group, the so-called Humanity Defense Front, or HDF, had actually made it onto the carpet. Dressed up as a Guardian, he’d covered himself in fake blood and made a run for the cameras, holding a sign that said THEY’RE NO ANGELS. He’d quickly been carted off, but the incident had left its mark. The European branch of HDF had made an armed attempt to kidnap an Angel in Munich five months earlier, a plot foiled when the Angel overpowered his attackers. The HDF had never gotten violent in Angel City, but they were always making some kind of threat, and the Angels were taking no chances.

  Love the Angels or hate them, you couldn’t help but feel the excitement in the air, like a kind of electricity, as if their very Immortal presence could be felt.

  The world seemed to explode as Jackson Godspeed stepped out of his car and into the lights. The sound hit his ears like a drawn-out thunderclap. He wore a gray Gucci suit, white shirt, and slim black tie. The paparazzi swarmed, and Jacks took a deep breath and smiled his practiced smile as the cameras devoured him. From behind the barricades hysterical fans screamed things like “Save me, Jackson!” and “I want to be your first Protection!” Jacks turned and made sure to wave at them. A tightly wound middle-aged woman in an all-black pantsuit hustled over to him. Jacks grinned in relief at the approach of Darcy, his publicist ever since he could remember.

  “You look incredible,” Darcy said, giving him the once-over. “I couldn’t be happier if you’d shown up naked.”

  Jacks cracked up. His stepfather liked Darcy because she had, hands down, the most elite client list in the business. Jacks liked Darcy because she was crass, honest, and unrelenting. Sometimes her antics were the only thing that got him through these events.

  “It’s the usual press, Access Angels, Angels Weekly, Angel News Network, oh, and A!” Darcy punched something in on her BlackBerry as she talked. “Vivian’s already here, so remember”—she stopped typing and pointed her Berry at him like a weapon—“do not answer questions about your status. Be vague.”

  Jacks shrugged unhappily. “Is it really that big a deal?”

  “Buzz is the really big deal, Jackson. Talk. Tweets. Gossip.” She smoothed the lapel of his jacket. “If it creates buzz, then it’s a big deal, and it does, so it is. For both you and Vivian. You want this cover to sell well? Just keep them guessing, okay?”

  Jacks searched the carpet up ahead until he found Vivian. There she was in a one-shoulder dress that was probably from her fashion line. As much as he might try, Jacks couldn’t deny it. Vivian looked incredible. He would have to remind himself to keep his distance. They weren’t getting back together, he had decided. No matter how happy it would make Mark.

  “You okay?” Darcy asked, snapping Jacks out of his reverie.

  “Sure,” Jacks said, and shook the image of Vivian out of his mind.

  “Great, let’s go.” Jacks fixed another charming smile on his face, and they started down the long press line.

  “Here he is, Jackson Godspeed and his famous wings, the Angel everyone is talking about.” It was Jamie Campbell for ANN. “You’re only a few days away from becoming the youngest Guardian Angel of all time. Can you describe what you’re feeling right now?”

  “I’ve wanted this for as long as I can remember,” Jacks said, having to yell to be heard over the screams of his fans. “I used to go to bed dreaming about that Divine Ring.”

  “Any idea about your first Protections? We have a lot of girls watching tonight who are hoping it’s going to be them!”

  Jacks had answered this question in almost every interview now, and the answer was always the same. But somehow that didn’t stop anyone from asking.

  “Well, as you know, it’s really out of my hands. The Archangels will assign my Protections, and it’s my job to safeguard their lives.”

  “And, as you likely know, William Beaubourg, leader of the Humanity Defense Front, was just released from prison two days ago. He’s already started making threats against Angels on amateur videos on the Internet, and you’ve been singled out in one of them. What do you think about that?”

  Jacks felt annoyed for a split second. He put on another smile, fake this time. “Honestly, if we worried about every crackpot with a video camera, an Internet connection, and an opinion, there wouldn’t be much time for anything else, now would there?” He realized he was basically repeating what Mark had told him to say when encountering this question. Now his annoyance was directed at himself.

  “I see.” Jamie glanced at her notes. “So let’s be honest, Jacks, can we? What is the best part of being an Angel? Is it the lifestyle? Is it the parties? The fame? What’s your favorite part?”

  “Just having this chance,” he said after considering.

  “And what chance is that?” Jamie asked.

  Jacks’s blue eyes twinkled. “The chance to be a hero.”

  Darcy gave a “time’s up” signal to Jamie, who thanked Jacks enthusiastically and turned back to the camera as he stepped away. He moved down the red carpet, stopping to answer questions here and there but using only half his attention. Watching the event unfold, he felt that strange sensation of disconnect overtake him once again. It was as though he wasn’t really present, as though all of this fuss, all of this grandeur, just needed a Jackson doll at its center and not him at all. He’d thought it was just his relationship with Vivian that made him think that way. But now it seemed this feeling had more widespread roots.

  Jacks walked past a human being interviewed—a guy on crutches with a hip cast and a bandaged face—and guessed that he was the Protection from Mark’s save last night, soaking up the limelight that came with the territory. Up ahead, Vivian modeled her dress for the Access Angels camera. The reporter, a girl with a fake tan who wore a sequined minidress, nearly fell out of her heels as she fawne
d over it. “Vivian, this dress is absolutely gorgeous! Tell us about it!”

  “Well, Courtney,” Vivian said, and spread the fabric of the skirt gracefully to give the camera a better look, “I thought this would be a great occasion to debut my new dress line. This is one of my favorites, so I’m wearing it tonight.”

  “So the line is dresses?”

  “Not just dresses,” Vivian corrected. “My line is the total package. I know that girls out there want to look like me not only for special occasions, but for everyday wear too. Even if they’re, say, just going down to get a cup of coffee at Starbucks.”

  “Wouldn’t we all like to look like you when we go to Starbucks!” Courtney gushed. Vivian smiled appreciatively.

  “I’m also working with an amazing designer on my handbag line, which will be out in the spring.” Courtney gasped.

  “Well, Vivian Holycross, have a great time tonight; you look incredible!”

  “Thank you,” Vivian said, then added in a mock whisper, “I hope Jacks thinks so too.”

  An all-new eruption of shouts drew the attention to an arrival at the curb and Jacks saw his sister step onto the carpet. Photographers shouted as they leaned in for the perfect angle. Chloe posed and smiled, then shifted her weight, posed and smiled again. Then she gave them an over-the-shoulder and revealed she was wearing a backless dress with her Immortal Marks showing, looking almost childlike in the flashing lights. Angels gasped. Fans screamed. Jacks ground his teeth. He couldn’t believe his mother had let Chloe wear that. One of Darcy’s assistants led Chloe quickly over to the press line.

  “Chloe Godspeed, how are you?” It was ANN again. “Are you here to support your big brother tonight?”

  “Yes, of course,” Chloe chirped.

  “And congratulations are due to you as well on the success of your reality show, Sixteen and Immortal. The number-one-rated reality show on cable and already picked up for a second season, isn’t that right?”

  “Yeah!” Chloe beamed. “You can see it on Monday and Wednesday afternoons at 4 p.m. on A!”

  Near the end of the carpet, Darcy pulled on Jacks’s arm; he had been watching his sister. “Talk to A! Then we’re done, okay?” she said as she led him over to Tara Reeves and her camera crew. They were broadcasting live from the event.

  “And here he is, the Angel himself, Jackson Godspeed,” Tara Reeves squealed. She looked beside herself with anticipation. “Well, it’s no secret. You’re a hit with the ladies. I’m just going to come right out and say it. You’re gorgeous!” She blushed deep crimson and corralled a strand of hair behind her ear.

  Jacks felt exquisitely uncomfortable. He shrugged self-deprecatingly. “Oh, come on—”

  “—no really, how does it feel to know every lady Angel and woman on the carpet is worshipping you?”

  “If you say so, Tara,” Jacks said.

  “So, the question on everybody’s mind, and the speculation of girls and their moms across the nation, is, are you single? The big buzz this week is that you and a certain Angel are back together.”

  “Well, I’m not in a relationship, if that’s what you mean.”

  Tara took a quick breath. “Can you characterize your relationship with Vivian Holycross, then?”

  “She’s a great Angel. I think she’ll make a wonderful Guardian.”

  “But will she be wearing your Divine Ring one day?”

  Jacks glanced at Darcy. She was glaring at him, stern and expectant. Tara’s eyes narrowed.

  “Well, I have to get it first. Then we’ll see,” he said finally.

  “So it’s still a mystery!” Tara shrieked into the camera. “Jackson and Vivian, are they secretly back together?!”

  Jacks looked back at Darcy again. Her expression had transformed into relieved approval. She gave Jacks a thumbs-up. He felt that pang again, just for a moment. As though he wasn’t even here.

  Darcy led Jacks toward the throng of Angels sipping drinks, talking, and laughing in the lobby. He recognized a few of the other Angels who were going to be commissioned this week, like Milo Trinity and the Churchson twins. They’d been a class ahead of him until this year, so he didn’t know them all that well, but it seemed they had shown up at his party despite the fact that the attention around Jacks had basically taken over their own Commissionings. Jackson had just pulled out his phone to text Mitch when he saw Vivian eagerly waving to him across the room.

  “Good job,” Darcy said while pounding the keys on her phone. “I’ll leave you here. Go have fun, okay?”

  “I will,” he lied.

  Jacks sighed as he watched Vivian walk toward him.

  • • •

  They entered the lobby together and Vivian took hold of Jacks’s arm. Despite his attempts to disengage, she made herself inseparable from him, and they worked the party together. They chatted with the Archangels. They posed for pictures. It looked like they had never broken up. Finally they walked out to the patio to get some air.

  “I just wanted to tell you I’m glad we took this break,” Vivian said as she led him to a quiet corner.

  “Great, Viv,” Jacks said. “Me too.” Maybe he had worried unnecessarily. Maybe she was starting to move on after all. Had she started to understand how he felt about the whole thing?

  “You’re young still,” he said encouragingly. “You should, you know, see what else is out there.”

  Vivian stepped in front of him and put a hand on his chest, stopping him. Her flawless brow knitted together.

  “I know what’s going on, Jacks.”

  Jacks paused. “What do you mean?”

  “I know this whole breakup thing is just for the press, a little publicity stunt before Commissioning, right? I get it.”

  Jacks blinked. He could feel the shock on his face.

  “Vivian, I told you I needed time to focus before my Commissioning, and that’s the truth,” he said.

  “Jacks, I get it.” She smiled coyly. “I’ll play along, even though, seriously, like you need any more publicity! With your wings and early Commissioning, you’re going to be the biggest Guardian ever. I just want to hear you say we’re getting back together after you get your Divine Ring.”

  He said nothing, too startled to be diplomatic. Vivian took a step forward and moved her body against his. “We’ll surprise everyone. They’ll discover our secret romance on some beach somewhere. Do you have any idea how much press that will get? The media will eat it up. And it will totally help sales for my fashion line.”

  “Vivian,” Jacks began, but she put a finger against his lips. Her emerald eyes had becoming piercing and seductive. “You’re Jackson Godspeed. I’m Vivian Holycross,” she said. “It’s just . . . right. Right?”

  Jacks’s gaze drifted desperately to a restroom sign with an arrow hanging on the wall. “Viv?” Jacks said. “Will you excuse me? I’m just going to use the restroom.”

  “Okay,” she said, her eyes dancing, “But don’t be too long.”

  He turned quickly and left. Her coy smile was still in place, but she watched him go, dissatisfied.

  Jacks made his way down the narrow hallway that led to the bathroom. But he passed the door labeled Gentlemen and went instead through a back door leading to the parking lot. One of the valets was standing by the Dumpsters, smoking.

  “Hey man,” Jacks whispered. The valet’s eyes grew wide when he saw Jacks. “Would you mind pulling my car around?” He held out his valet ticket and a hundred-dollar bill. “And would you mind being discreet about it?”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The sanctuary of the Blessed Sacrament Catholic Church on Sunset Boulevard was nearly empty. Detective David Sylvester, who, at forty, looked ancient already, sat alone in a sea of empty pews. He wore unremarkable clothes, wire-framed glasses, and a near-constant scowl. He sat hunched, as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders. His hands were clasped, fingers laced together as if he were immersed in prayer, but the detective’s eyes remained open. They drifted up past
the stained-glass windows of the sanctuary, to the vaulted ceiling, and beyond. They were intent, the eyes of a man more in conversation than prayer.

  The classic cathedral glowed with beauty, lit only by soft candlelight from the altar. In the grotto, votive candles danced and flickered, illuminating the gentle and ever-smiling face of the Virgin Mary. It all suited Sylvester fine. He preferred an old, imposing church where you could feel the presence of God Himself whispering to you through the walls. He believed in the things of yesterday. He still listened to records, and his home phone still had a cord. Sylvester believed in the Angel City of yesterday, and, if truth be told, he believed in the Angels of yesterday too.

  The silence was interrupted by the chime of the detective’s cell phone, an unfortunate necessity for police work. His fished the thing out of his pocket and looked at the number.

  “This is Sylvester,” he said into the phone tersely.

  “Sorry to disturb, Detective,” an officer from headquarters said. “But we need you on a scene. Right now.” Sylvester frowned. He hadn’t been on a real case in years. He looked around the empty church.

  “I’m a little busy,” he said, “Are you sure you need me?” The officer seemed to grunt.

  “Jones or Chu would be more qualified, if you ask me, but the captain wants you on this one. Said something about your special background.” Sylvester considered this.

  “What’s going on?” he said after a moment.

  “You better just go down there and take a look.”

  Sylvester took down the address and pocketed the phone. He lingered for a moment, looking at the altar and its shimmering candlelight. Why was he being called? And why now? He wondered what could be going on. Then he stood without crossing himself and walked unceremoniously out of the church.