Immortal City

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

News choppers swarmed overhead, looking down with their telescopic eyes at the thousands of tourists and fans crowding the boulevard below. Traffic in the city had come to a standstill for what was always the event of the year in the Immortal City — the annual Commissioning and the reveal of the Protections. But the mania rose to fever pitch specifically for what was being called the “event of the century”—the Commissioning of Jackson Godspeed.

The preparation had begun before daybreak, with crews bolting together rows of bleachers, laying down hundreds of feet of red carpet, and setting up giant marble sculptures of Divine Rings at the entrance to the Temple of Angels. Teenage girls were camped out along the barricades, where they had slept for days. And, seemingly everywhere, there was security. Crews from A! ANN, and Angels Weekly laid cable, set up cameras, and double-checked their satellite linkups. The feeds would be going live all over the world.

As dawn broke, the city was gripped with excitement, a strange combination of both festivity and fear. The media coverage was nonstop, alternating between Jackson’s Commissioning and the Angel murders. The atmosphere inside coffee shops and restaurants was celebratory despite the dark news about the Angel disappearances. Commissioning was always the biggest unofficial holiday of the year, and the scandal around the unprecedented murders only added to the thrill. Many stores around Angel City had shut early, with hastily written signs in doorways reading Closed for Commissioning. By the time the shadows had grown long on the letters of the Angel City sign, the crowds at the Temple of Angels were roaring. They stomped their feet and chanted, waving signs that read PICK ME! and SAVE ME, JACKS! The news choppers had arrived shortly thereafter, eager to capture every possible angle of the story of the decade, or century.

Tara Reeves looked striking in a low-cut silver gown as she covered the lead-up from her exclusive A! stage at the start of the carpet.

“The fans have descended on the Temple of Angels, the red carpet has been rolled out, and the cameras have been turned on as the moment we have all been waiting for has finally arrived. That’s right, it’s the Commissioning of Jackson Godspeed and his nineteen other fellow nominated Guardian Angels! The guest list is elite. The most famous Angels in history are here tonight, along with the hottest Angel men and their lovely lady Angels. The mayor, the governor, congressmen and senators, luminaries of business and the arts have all been scrambling for tickets, looking for their chance to mix with the flawless Immortals. Stay with us as we bring you the Commissioning, live!”

On the Angel Boulevard sidewalk, a black cover was neatly laid over the section where Jackson’s and the other Angels’ stars would be unveiled. ANN threw their coverage to a special investigator who was kneeling at the sight of Jacks’s star. The network was doing a special story there.

The reporter spoke into the camera.

“That’s right, Jamie, there is a lone black cloud on this seemingly perfect day of happiness. The ongoing investigation into what the press has dubbed ‘The Angel of Death.’ There was some talk that these stars would not be revealed today on account of the investigation into the reported Angel murders. A theory surfaced this morning that the Angels have been disappearing based on the order of their stars — and Jackson Godspeed’s would be next. But I’m happy to report that the ACPD feels like it has the investigation well in hand and that all the stars will be unveiled as scheduled. Still, security has never been so extensive. With the city teetering in fear around the potential Angel serial killer, along with repeated threats from the Humanity Defense Front, the Angels are taking absolutely no risks. Security personnel are everywhere, setting up checkpoints and ensuring the safety of all involved. Back to you on the red carpet, Jamie!”

The Angels began emerging on the carpet, taking pictures and giving interviews, each Angel more spectacular than the last. The crowd was whipped into a new frenzy as the most popular Angels began to step out. On the carpet, correspondents maneuvered for the best Angels — of course having agreed not to bring up questions surrounding the Angel murder investigation on this happy occasion of Commissioning.

“Mitch Steeple, ladies and gentlemen!” ANN’s Jamie Campbell said as Mitch, looking handsome in a Versace pin-striped fitted suit, waved to the crowd. “A close friend of Jackson, as everyone knows, I’m hearing whispers that you’re already a lock for next year’s Commissioning. How does that make you feel?”

“You know, it’s an honor,” Mitch said. “But it’s not about me tonight, and it’s not even about Jacks or the other nominees.” He paused, as if trying to remember something.

“A lot of people might not realize it, but being a Guardian, it’s not about the fame and fortune, it’s about the people we protect. It’s about the lives we’re going to change.”

Jamie nodded, already looking for the next Angel.

“Chloe Godspeed,” a reporter for Access Angels announced over shrieks of girls in the bleachers. “Here she is stepping out for her first Commissioning by herself, is that right?”

“Yeah, well, last year I had to come with my dad,”

Chloe said. “And he kept stepping on my dress. So I didn’t want that to happen again.”

“And speaking of, this is a mature dress. There’s been some controversy lately about your fashion choices being, how do we say, somewhat revealing for a young Angel, especially showing your Immortal Marks.”

Chloe leaned into the microphone. “I think an Angel’s body is a thing of beauty, and we should celebrate it, not hide it. I know everyone fell in love with me when I was young, but I’m growing up now and I just want to express myself,” she said, and then smiled sweetly.

The sound was deafening as Vivian stepped onto the carpet. “Vivian Holycross, you look beyond stunning tonight, beyond ravishing,” Tara Reeves gushed. “I just, I have no words. Let’s get a shot of the dress, guys.” The A! camera zoomed out, taking in the red, backless Marchesa gown.

“And to think, I ran into you during New York fashion week, and you still hadn’t decided what to wear!” Tara exclaimed.

“Thank you, Tara.” Vivian smiled gracefully. “You’re always so kind. I’m just here to support Jacks the way I always have, and the way I always will. He’s a great Angel and he’ll be an amazing Guardian. The world is in good hands with him.” Vivian waved to her fans, setting off another explosion of screams.

“And speaking of,” Tara said, “my producers tell me Jackson is arriving right now with the other nominees!”

The bleachers rocked with the screams of “Jacksad-dicts,” and the whole world seemed to tremble as Jackson Godspeed emerged onto the scene. Cameras flashed madly, gobbling up the full force of his charm. The other Angel nominees emerged behind him, smiling and waving, fully aware that this Godspeed, the brilliant Angel about to become the youngest Guardian ever, was also the greatest thunder-stealer of all time. Jacks wore a perfectly cut Ar-mani tuxedo, a straight black tie, and a close shave. His blue eyes shone like beams. Darcy appeared instantly beside him, directing the press and photographers like a general at war.

“Jackson Godspeed. .” Tara shook her head and steadied herself. “Ladies, have you ever seen such a dream come true? Congratulations on the nomination and tell me, Jacks, how does it feel to be here tonight?”

Jacks felt like his polite smile had been glued on his face. “Oh, this is really exciting. It’s just a great vote of confidence from the Angel community.” Tara hung on every word.

Jacks looked around at the adoring crowds, the hungry reporters, the cascades of flashes from cameras, and he remembered Mark’s words the night before. With the story of the murders now out, the whole world was speculat-ing on whether he was a target. He wouldn’t allow them to cast him as the victim. He’d show no fear. He was finally going to be a Guardian. He was Jackson Godspeed.

Jacks smiled more widely, drawing a blush from Tara.

“And will you speculate for us on your first Protections? Everyone is on the edge of their seat for your first save!”

“I really have no idea,” he protested, laughing.

“And, now I have to ask, the girl you brought to your Pre-Commissioning party, she isn’t accompanying you tonight?”

Jacks paused, his expression becoming unreadable.

He glanced at Darcy, who stared fiercely back.

“The. . contest winner?” he said awkwardly.

“Some are calling it a publicity stunt before your Commissioning tonight; what do you have to say to that?”

“I always do my best to give back,” Jacks said. He turned and waved to the bleachers, setting off a hysteric roar of adulation.

“Jacks, I hear they unveiled your action figure today,”

Tara said. Jacks nodded.

“That’s right,” he said, smiling. “It’s a little crazy, but it’s great. I’m happy to be buried in the dirt, and stuck up noses, and floating in the bathtub. I’ll take that job.”

Darcy cut the interview short as the carpet had thinned, the other nominees having finished their interviews and gone in. The start of the ceremony was quickly approaching. Before turning and entering the Temple itself, Jacks gave a final wave to his adoring fans, who screamed and shouted for him in the deepening twilight. He gazed up at the Latin words over the door as he walked beneath them.

Do your duty.

Once inside, Jacks was conducted by temple personnel past nineteen identical doors to his own room, where a stylist waited with his ceremonial dress. It was the official uniform of a Guardian, going back hundreds of years, and for once, Jacks would look like the classic Angel of Renaissance paintings. He put on the white tunic and slipped the long white robes over his head. He felt the silken fabric against his skin as the weight of it came to rest on his shoulders. The stylist made final adjustments, then turned Jacks toward a mirror in the corner of the room. Jacks looked at himself for a long moment. The robes hung straight from his body and seemed to wrap his face in a bright, white glow. He looked celestial. A symbol of perfection and purity and good. It was the uniform he had dreamed of wearing his whole life.

There was a knock at the door. Jacks opened it to see Kris standing there. She looked at her son without speaking, then, wiping a tear away, came into the room and took out a gold sash with the Godspeed crest on it. She draped it around his neck.

“This was your father’s crest. He wore it on his Commissioning day, many years ago.” She took a step back and looked at him again. “You look so much like your father, Jacks. He would have been so proud of you.” Jacks’s heart was swelling unbearably. She wiped her face and smiled bravely. “You’ve earned this.”

“He certainly has.”

Jacks turned. Mark was at the door. Jackson eyed him warily, thinking back to what he thought he had seen on his stepfather’s jacket the night before. This was Archangel Mark Godspeed. Angels were the most important thing in the world to him. How could Jacks even consider Mark would be involved with the murders? There obviously had to be another explanation for what Jacks only thought he had seen.

His stepfather had changed clothes as well and wore the ceremonial red robes of an Archangel. He regarded Jacks sternly. “I just wanted to say good luck before we get out there.” Then his expression softened; the slightest hint of a smile crept into his eyes. “Jacks,” he said, “I know it’s been a tough week, it’s been a tough week for all of us. But I just want you to know”—he paused, looking at his stepson—“that I am proud of you. So proud.” Then he gave Jacks a smile so genuine and pleased that Jacks felt an unexpected warmth radiate through him. Mark turned to go.

“Dad?” Jacks said impulsively.

Mark turned.

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

Mark’s smile widened. “I’ll see you out there,” he said, and was gone. After a good luck kiss Kris followed, and Jacks was left alone in the room again. Things were getting back to normal, he thought. The way they should be. The way they were meant to be. He looked at himself in the mirror one last time. His father’s crest hung handsomely on him. He found it hard to suppress a smile. Then a man wearing a headset appeared in the doorway and motioned for him to follow.

Jacks was led down a backstage hallway snaked with cables and positioned behind a door at the back of the auditorium, where the other nominated Angels were already waiting. They were being formed into a line. The Churchson siblings were near the front, standing side by side. Jacks looked sidelong at Sierra as he passed, his thoughts moving back to what she had said the night before about his star.

Had she known about the killer? How could she have already? It hadn’t become public knowledge until this morning. His mind began tracking rapidly, but he was brought back to the present by a hand on his shoulder.

“We have an order. So you’re standing here, Jacks,” the man in the headset said, putting Jacks at the end of the line. Steven glared back at Jackson, who looked away uncomfortably.

Through the door he could hear the murmurs of the crowd as they waited patiently for the commercial break to end. The ceremony, of course, was being watched live all over the world and so had to work within the confines of the television broadcast. Finally, Jacks heard the disembodied female voice through the door. She announced grandly,

“Ladies, gentlemen, and Angels, welcome to the 102nd annual National Angel Services Guardian Commissioning. And now, please welcome the nominees for Guardianship.”

Right on cue the door opened, the music swelled, and the twenty nominated Angels began walking into the Temple, single file. The female voice announced each name as they emerged into the grand auditorium.

“Jackson Godspeed.” At this, cheers erupted, almost overpowering the announcer.

Jacks stepped forward, the last of the Angels. He had been in the Temple many times before, but he couldn’t help feeling a stir of excitement as he walked down the aisle, surrounded by applause. He looked around the massive main hall with its double row of columns that led toward the altar on a raised stage. This had once been a sanctuary but had long since been converted to a modern theater with state-of-the-art lighting and sound. Two huge screens on either side of the stage magnified his dramatic entrance.

To his right and left, every last seat was packed with the most famous Angels, prestigious politicians, and richest potential Protections. An eager, expectant energy mixed with the applause and cheers that filled the enormous room.

Everyone seemed to be waiting for the envelopes to be opened and the names of the Protections to be read. Jacks’s gaze flickered to a row of familiar faces in the seats. There they sat, the Angels he had known his entire life. Kris and Chloe. Mitch gave him a subtle thumbs-up. Vivian was there too, and her parents. With the swelling music, the cheers and excitement of the crowd, and the glittering Temple, Jacks found it impossible to ignore the happiness burning inside him. Over the past few days had he forgotten what it meant to be a Guardian? Had he forgotten what he’d worked so hard for? As he felt the exhilaration of the moment, he knew, without a doubt, this was where he belonged.

Jacks followed the other nominees, ascending the steps to the stage. On the platform stood an exquisite altar of red and gold, to the side of which stood four rows of five chairs, one for each nominee. On the walls above the stage, towering stained glass windows told the story of Angels on Earth: from their hidden beginnings, to the Great Awakening, to a Guardian flying grandly over the Angel City sign.

Jacks reached the altar and stopped. He gazed down. Sitting on a red satin cloth were the twenty Divine Rings. One of them was his Divine Ring. Next to the rings sat a small stack of envelopes. And inside each of the envelopes, Jacks knew, was a list of names. The Protections.

For some reason, Maddy’s voice flashed across his mind: “Why don’t you get to choose who you’re going to protect?” He banished the memory and took his seat.

The music ended with a flourish and there was a moment of charged silence. Then the disembodied voice came over the speakers again.

“And now, please welcome the NAS Archangels.”

The music swelled again. Applause filled the Temple as a group of Archangels in red robes entered from behind the stage and took their seats in the first two rows of the audience. Jacks looked down at some of the most famous Angels of all time. Mark was, of course, with them. His stepfather’s face was drawn and serious, but his eyes glimmered with that same hint of a smile.

Once the music and applause had quieted again, the lights dimmed in the auditorium and the enormous screens flickered to a dramatic title in bold type: THE NEXT GENERATION OF GUARDIANS. Each of the other nominees had a brief clip, showing their faces as they smiled at the camera and then a quick shot of them in action, no more than ten seconds each. Jacks was notably absence from the footage. . and he began to feel vaguely anxious. He could guess what was coming.

After this series of quick clips, the music swelled and a huge title arose:

THE JACKSON GODSPEED PHENOMENON.

A few of the other nominees shifted in their seat irritably. Jacks felt his cheeks growing hot, but he kept a composed look on his face. Mark’s words from last night rang in his head and now that he knew that his met-eoric rise had been the Archangels’ plan all along, attention that wouldn’t have fazed him a week ago made him feel exquisitly uncomfortable. A lengthy montage played, showing Jacks through his youth, achieving at school, and spending quality time with Mark and Kris. Footage of an eight-year-old Jacks making a funny face into the camera sent a ripple of good-natured laughter through the theater. Then the images changed to the beginnings of the Jackson Godspeed hysteria, from the first few magazine covers, to photo shoots, television interviews, and crowds of screaming girls on the streets. His famous luminescent wings featured prominently in a lot of the shots, leaving no doubt that it was Jacks in action. A shot of Jackson taking Kris as his date on a red carpet elicited ahhhh s from every woman in the audience. Finally the montage finished with a dramatic shot of Jackson flying through the sky. Then, almost as an afterthought: THE NOMINEES. Applause filled the auditorium.

The screens went black, and then an image slowly appeared. Twelve figures sat in a semicircle in what looked like a small chapel. It was the Council of Twelve True Immortals, the original Angels to bring the Angel services public, begin Angel families, and found the NAS. They were watching the Commissioning from another location. They rarely, if ever, were seen in public anymore. On-screen, the Council’s faces remained hidden in the deep shadows of the gorgeous chapel. One of the True Immortals stood up and stepped to where a light shone down. His face resolved from the darkness. It was Gabriel. He wore a golden robe that seemed to glow all on its own. He was tall and handsome, with a shock of white hair and sharp, piercing features. Gabriel had looked like this for as long as any Angel could remember.

“You, young Angels, have our blessing,” he said simply, his voice booming through the loudspeakers and in-to the Temple.

The crowd began applauding. On-screen Gabriel returned to his seat in the shadows with the rest of the Council. The screens faded to black again. The lights went up and the applause quieted as Mark rose from his seat and ascended the stairs to the stage, approaching the altar and the microphone on a slim stand. Mark adjusted it and stole a look at Jacks before beginning.

“Before us is the next class of Guardians, those who are about to swear their lives and Immortal abilities to serve their Protections under the NAS. Each one of them has fulfilled their training and proved ready to take on this greatest of responsibilities: that of another’s life.”

Mark began calling each of the other nominees up one by one, swearing them in as Guardians and presenting them with their Divine Rings. Jackson sat in wait, knowing he probably would be last. He was surprised to find his pulse beginning to beat harder as they reached the end: he was nervous. Mark’s voice seemed to be in a distant tunnel as he called each of the remaining Angels up, including Steven and Sierra. At last all the other Angels had been announced, received their rings, and sat down again.

Mark turned to Jacks.

“This is the best and the brightest we have to offer.

Jackson Godspeed represents the best in us. He is not only one of the most talented and powerful Angels, but is an Angel dedicated to the ideals of the Council and the NAS.” The Archangels in the front rows nodded in approval. “Step up here, please.”

Jacks stood and walked toward his stepfather. Everyone in the Temple seemed to hold their breath in delicious anticipation as he stepped to the altar to be Commissioned at long last. His footfalls echoed in the suddenly silent auditorium.

“Jackson Godspeed,” Mark began, “do you offer yourself in the service of mankind?”

Jacks looked into Mark’s eyes. He knew the vows by heart.

“I do,” he said.

“Do you swear to keep safe, at all times, those under your protection?”

“I do,” Jacks said.

“Do you take this burden of your own free will, to do this good work on this Earth?”

“I do.”

Mark picked up the ring and slipped it on Jacks’s finger. “I commission you Guardian Jackson, of the Godspeed Class.”

Jacks could feel the weight of it. He looked down and watched it glimmer on his finger. It was all he had ever wanted. The ring of a Guardian. The ring of a hero. A close-up of the ring on his finger towered, sparkling, on the two screens behind them. In a moment Mark would read the names of the Protections, and Jacks’s destiny would finally begin.

“Congratulations, Jackson,” Mark said. “Turn and be recognized.”

Jacks didn’t move.

He stood very still. His mind had suddenly been transported far away from his stepfather before him, from the other new Guardians, from the crowd, from the Commissioning. His face blanched white. His eyes became unseeing and distant.

“Jackson?” Mark said, his face darkening in concern.

The entire Temple sat in charged silence, waiting.

“Jacks?” Kris said, getting up from her chair.

What occurred next happened so quickly it could not be seen. The glass in the windows of the Temple rippled like water — like a wave moving from the front of the hall to the back — and then exploded. Stained glass rained down on the crowd like multicolored diamonds as the doors to the temple were blown open. Wind howled down the aisle, vicious and twisting like jet wash. The crowd outside fell to the ground, some of them covering their ears in pain.

Mark looked up from the floor of the stage, where he had been knocked over.

Jacks had flown out of the Temple and was gone.