Immortal City (5 page)

“Hot photos! Vivian Holycross was spotted as she stepped out to do some shopping yesterday on Rodeo Drive. The Angel beauty picked up accessories from Fendi and Valentino while trying to avoid those pesky paps.”

The flat screen showed the image of Vivian running with shopping bags while trying to hide behind a pair of Chanel sunglasses.

“Her boots are
so
cute,” Chloe breathed, then glanced over at Jacks. “She is so hot, Jacks. You should have never broken up with her.” As if in agreement, Tara continued on-screen.

“But while she looks amazing as always, the question we really want to know is, are they or aren’t they? Is Vivian secretly back together with drool-worthy Jackson Godspeed?”

As she spoke, the footage cut to a photo of Vivian from an ad for her own fashion line. Her wings extended out behind her, displaying finely spun gold spirals that spread out in delicate patterns, glittering. They were considered by some to be the sexiest wings of all time.
“Vivian’s publicist would neither confirm nor deny, but the rumors are swirling. Together or not, they remain, easily, the hottest Angel couple on the planet!”

The kitchen had gone quiet. Kris raised her eyebrows knowingly. Mark turned toward Jacks with a pregnant expression. Jacks sighed.

“We’re just friends,” he announced to the room. “We are
not
getting back together.”

“Well, we like her very much, son,” Mark said. “You know that.”

“Yes, that has been made abundantly clear to me,” Jacks said with a laugh.

“Jacks, we would
so
get along,” Chloe said pleadingly, coming around the kitchen island to pull on her half brother’s arm. “Now that I’m older, I can totally see her and me being best friends.”

“Let’s give the young Angel a break for now,” Mark said, winking at Jacks. “He’ll be seeing her this week.”

Feeling suddenly tired, Jacks put his glass in the sink. He went out to the foyer.

Keys hung on a rack under the security camera monitor: Jacks’s Ferrari, Mark’s M7, Kris’s hybrid Lexus, and Chloe’s Porsche—which, Jacks thought, was a little ostentatious for such a young Angel. He grabbed his keys and returned to the kitchen, where he kissed his mother and snatched a final piece of toast off the cart before heading toward the door.

“Jackson?” Mark called after him.

Jacks turned in the doorway.

“Good luck this week,” Mark said.

“There’s no need for luck when there are Angels in the world,” Jacks replied.

“Who taught you that?”

Jacks smiled. “You did.”

With that and an approving nod from his stepfather, Jacks disappeared out the door and into the blinding southern California sunshine.

•   •   •

Jacks cruised down Sunset Boulevard in his cherry-red Ferrari, passing the famous boutiques, restaurants, and rock clubs of the Halo Strip. It was going to be a busy day, as usual. In an hour he was scheduled to make an appearance at the
Angels Weekly
style lounge, where he would share his thoughts about his Commissioning in an exclusive interview and then pose for pictures with lucky fans. He wasn’t a fan of the magazine—
AW
was one of the most notorious Angel gossip rags—but Darcy, his publicist, had more or less forced him to do it.
Keep them happy,
she had told him,
keep them off your back
.

From there he would make a quick stop at the Lexus Angel’s Flight VIP room, where he would do another interview and would most likely have to decline an offer for a free Lexus LF-A. Again. He had already told them—and it was the truth—that there just wasn’t any more room in the garage, but he knew that wouldn’t stop them from offering again. Maybe he could donate it to charity, he thought, and made a mental note to do so. Then he would rush over to the EA Saved! 2 video game launch party. The new version gave players the option of being Guardian Jackson Godspeed, and experts were predicting it would easily become the best-selling game of the year. As part of the endorsement deal, he would be giving ten awestruck contest winners the chance to play against him during his agreed-upon one-hour appearance. Finally, he would try and make it to his own
Halo Magazine
Pre-Commissioning party.

Taking the turn onto Melrose, Jacks passed the Pacific Design Center and flipped a quick U-turn into the valet for Urth Caffé, an Angel City landmark and hot spot for Immortals. Girls screamed, people shouted, and paparazzi reached their cameras over the car’s hood as Jacks eased the Ferrari into the sudden human swarm.

“JACKS! JACKS! JACKS! OVER HERE, JACKS!”
A barrage of camera flashes erupted as Jacks stepped out of his car.
“WHO’S GOING TO BE YOUR FIRST SAVE, JACKSON?”
one of the photographers shouted.
“ARE YOU BACK TOGETHER WITH VIVIAN?”
another yelled. “
SAVE
ME
,
JACKS
!”

A few security personnel managed the paparazzi and fans. These guards were also useful for the occasional weirdo stalker like the one who’d followed Jacks’s every move last year, who was now in jail, or for the wacko anti-Angel activists who arrived at the café every few months or so and started making a ruckus. Jackson waved the photographers and fans off with a friendly smile as he ran up the steps to the patio, where Angels sat at tables sipping lattes and socializing. All eyes turned to the brightest star in the Immortal City as he made his way through the tables.

He found Mitch sitting at a table drinking a green tea latte and eyeing the female Angels at the next table.

“There he is!” Mitch said, getting out of his chair. “Ready for your big week?”

“Not you, too,” Jacks said, groaning, and the two friends embraced. Mitch was short for an Angel but stocky, like an athlete. He had rich brown eyes and a dimpled smile for which he was famous. They sat and Jacks ordered coffee from a gawking waitress, who brought it promptly.

“Check it out,” Mitch said, nodding toward a female Angel with long black hair who had just sat down at a nearby table. She was stealing glimpses at Jacks as she chatted with her friends.

“That’s Elena. She just did the new Versace campaign.”

“Mm-hmm,” Jacks said absently, enjoying his coffee.

“And check out by the steps.” Mitch said.

Jacks glanced over and saw a tall, striking platinum-blond Angel looking in his direction.

“I’m just saying, look at those Marks. I mean, perfect, man.” Mitch whistled. The Angel turned and Jacks could see she was wearing a backless shirt that revealed her Immortal Marks. They were feminine and ornate, with curlicues and shimmering, delicate lines that reached all the way down to the small of her back. She looked over her shoulder to see if Jacks had noticed, but he was back to drinking his coffee. “You should go talk to her,” Mitch encouraged. “She’s incredibly hot.”

“I forget her name,” Jacks said, uninterested. Mitch sighed.

“Kelsie Godchild? The face of Burberry? She’s on the entire side of that building at La Cienega.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Mitch just shook his head. “So how excited are you for this week, man? This is going to be like a weeklong party. Last night was just a taste. Here, let me read you your schedule.” He grabbed Jacks’s iPhone from the table and pretended to scroll through it. “Party. Party. Party. Get drunk. Get drunk. Get drunk.
Then
get Commissioned. And then get drunk again.” He leaned back in his chair as if visualizing it. “I don’t know about you, dude, but I can’t wait.”

Jacks put his hands behind his head and looked at his best friend. Mitch loved the Angel way of life, and it loved him right back. He always seemed to be turning up on the pages of
Immortal
and
Angels Weekly
at various events and parties, always with a new Angel beauty on his arm. But the truth was, he was a genuinely nice guy, and a bit of a class clown. They had become close friends their first year of training, ever since Mitch had started making fun of Jacks’s wings, and had stayed that way ever since. Though the public knew very little about Angel training, the NAS released tidbits about Jackson and Mitch’s progress over the years, playing up their friendship. One photo in particular of them was famous: two cocky thirteen-year-olds with their arms crossed across their chests, Jacks with his luminescent wings behind him, Mitch’s wings showing intricate mazelike patterns. Together the two had gone through the mind-numbing math of Basic Aerodynamics, all the way up to courses such as Multiple Frequencing and Advanced Flying 406, until a few months ago, in a shock, the NAS announced that Jacks would be jumping a year in his class to become the youngest Guardian ever Commissioned. Mitch had been a good sport about the whole thing, but sometimes Jacks wondered if he still hadn’t been hurt by it.

“I don’t know, man,” Jacks said, taking his iPhone back. “I’ll go to some events, sure, but I don’t want to get too crazy.”

Mitch looked stunned. “Are you
insane
? Everyone knows the whole point of becoming a Guardian Angel is the
parties
. The
females
. And this is pretty much a once-in-an-eternity thing here, your early Commissioning. This is supposed to be the best week of our life, and you’re going to miss it?”

Jacks ran a hand through his hair and took a swig of coffee. “I just . . . I’ve got to focus, Mitch.”

“Oh,” Mitch groaned. “Here we go again. Why does everything always have to be perfect with you?”

“It’s not that it has to be
perfect
—”

Mitch set down his cup. “Highest grades in school. Top of the class in simulation training. First to fly in Basic Flying—”

“Okay, I get it,” Jacks said, mildly embarrassed. “But that first save does have to be perfect. You know what they say—you never forget your first save. It’s someone’s life. It’s a big responsibility. I just want to make sure I get it right.”

Mitch leaned forward. “As your best friend, let me tell you something you already know. You’re talented. Like ridiculous. Way more talented than me—”

“That’s not true—”

“That is true. And I can tell you, whoever your Protections are going to be, they’ll be in great hands. So please. Do me a favor and at least
try
and enjoy yourself this week.”

Jacks held up his hands in surrender. “I promise. I’ll enjoy myself.”

A Mercedes G550 pulled up to the valet at the curb. As much as the attendant was clearly trying not to stare, he couldn’t take his eyes off the driver—and neither could anyone else. Emerald-green eyes, flawless features, and glossy, dark brown hair: Vivian Holycross was without a doubt the hottest female Angel on the planet. Compared to her, the human supermodels at the next table looked downright plain.

Being only seventeen, Vivian wouldn’t be Commissioned for another two years, but she was already everywhere in the media. She came from one of the older, more powerful Angel families, and her life up to that point had been nothing short of charmed and effortless.

Fans and paparazzi swarmed as security guided her up the sidewalk and onto the patio. She wore a pair of leopard-print Miu Miu shoes and a red jersey tank dress that revealed her bra and Immortal Marks. Her outfit was perfectly accessorized with a Louis Vuitton bag and Bulgari sunglasses.

“Don’t look now, man,” Mitch said as he watched the chaos of Vivian’s arrival, “but we have an unexpected visitor. Vivian’s here.”

Jacks stiffened. “Great. Any chance she won’t see me?”

“I don’t think so,” Mitch said. “She’s coming this way.”

At that moment Vivian noticed Jacks and Mitch—or pretended to—and sauntered over. She made sure to put a hand on Jacks’s shoulder as she arrived.

“Oh hey, boys, didn’t expect to run into you,” she said in a seductive, soft voice. She turned her face toward Jackson. “Hey, Jacks.”

“Hey, Viv,” Jacks said casually. There was no bad blood between them, but run-ins with Vivian could get tricky. He didn’t have anything against her; he had just had gotten tired of playing the role of the “It” Angel couple—the events together, the ravenous photographers, the magazines covering every supposed change in their relationship. It was exhausting, and even though Vivian would seem outraged every time a piece of gossip about their private life surfaced, Jacks sensed it was mock outrage and that she was secretly into it. It had caused his feelings for her to gradually fade, and they’d broken up that past summer. But since news had broken about Jacks’s early Commissioning, Vivian had resurfaced with a vengeance.

“What time are you guys going tonight?” she asked.

“You know, I hadn’t decided if I’m going,” Jacks said. Vivian blinked at him.

“It’s
your
cover and you haven’t decided if you’re going?”

“You know how those things go.” Jacks shrugged. “They’re all the same.”

Vivian smiled mischievously. “Well, if it would make you feel better, I’ll go with you and keep you company.” She looked deep into Jacks’s eyes.

“That’s okay, Viv,” Jacks said, backpedaling. “But if I end up making it, I’ll see you there, right?”

“You absolutely will,” she said, her green eyes twinkling. Vivian bent over and gave Jacks a kiss on the cheek. As she did, what sounded like thousands of shutters clicked from behind the hedges. Jacks knew she had done that on purpose—she had maybe even called the paparazzi and set the whole thing up. Vivian was a nice girl, but Jacks felt like she somehow tried too hard. After going out with her for five months, Jacks had started to feel more and more like she was with him just because he was
Jacks
and what that meant to the outside world. It was hard for him to explain even to himself, but sometimes when she was holding onto his arm, it felt like
he
wasn’t actually there. That he could have swapped in a Jacks look-alike and Vivian wouldn’t even notice.