Immortal City

CHAPTER NINE

Kris was waiting as Mark and Jacks came in from the garage. Her eyes were puffy from crying, her face creased with concern. She rushed to Jacks and hugged him. On the flat screen in the background, A! was replaying footage of Jacks’s arrival at the party.

“I’m fine, Mom,” Jacks said in answer to her questions. “Is Chloe okay? Where is she?”

“Upstairs, in bed,” Kris said. Jacks turned to his stepfather.

“Mark, what’s going on?”

Mark picked up the remote off the kitchen island and turned the TV off.

“We don’t have long. A detective from the ACPD will be here soon. Just let me do the talking.”

Jacks looked between them.

“Would someone please just tell me—”

A buzz echoed in from the foyer. Mark stepped over to the security cameras and looked at the image of the police officer waiting in his unmarked car at the gate. Mark studied the face. It was different now, he thought. The years had dulled the edges of David’s features. His eyes, though, still burned with that same righteous fury, and in that way, he was undeniably the same.

Mark activated the gate and watched on-screen as the vehicle pulled up the drive. Jacks gave Mark an expectant look when he returned. Mark looked at his stepson evenly.

“There’s been an incident on Angel Boulevard. There’s reason to believe an Angel was attacked. And mortalized.

Perhaps even murdered.”

It was several seconds before Jacks could fully absorb what his stepfather was telling him. Of course he knew Angels could be made mortal — he and every other Angel were warned relentlessly in Guardian training about the consequences for certain actions — but killing them wasn’t something that happened. Not in modern times. Not in Angel City.

“What. . how. .”

The doorbell echoed.

“Remember,” Mark said, placing a hand on Jackson’s shoulder, “let me do the talking.”

Mark walked to the door and opened it.

“Mark,” Sylvester said.

Mark nodded. “David.”

“It’s been a long time.”

“Yes, it has,” Mark said. “Come in.” The Archangel stepped out of the way and Sylvester entered with another policeman. “I thought you had retired,” Mark said. Sylvester took a quick glance around the expansive house before returning his gaze to Mark.

“This is Sergeant Garcia,” he said.

The two shook hands. Mark gestured toward the living room. Sylvester took a seat on one of the leather sofas across from Jacks and Kris. Garcia stood near the back.

“I’d like to know what you thought you were doing trying to arrest my stepson,” Mark said as he came in and sat with them.

“I could bring Jacks downtown right now, Mark,”

Sylvester said. “I could detain him up to forty-eight hours.

I’m here out of courtesy. And respect.”

“How could you suspect him of anything in this matter?” Mark barked. “It’s an outrage.”

“Jackson left the party in a hurry at the probable time the crime was committed, he was in the immediate area, and no one had seen him. Simple. We needed to bring him in for questioning. He resisted, attempted to abduct a young lady, and one of our officers was compelled to discharge his weapon.”

Jacks stood up in protest, but Kris pulled him back down on the sofa. Mark dismissed Sylvester’s words with a wave of his hand.

Juan, eyes bleary with sleep, pushed a tray in from the kitchen. Hot coffee, peanut butter sandwiches, cookies, and milk.

“Thank you, Juan,” Kris said, and set out the late-night snacks. Sylvester pulled out his notepad.

“This will only take a moment. Jackson, please, can you just tell me why you left the party and where you went afterward?”

Jacks looked at Mark, who nodded.

“I just left to get some air. I was driving on Sunset, and then I stopped at the diner. Two officers came in, and you know the rest.”

“They reported you were in the back, with a waitress.”

Mark looked at Jacks curiously.

“Yes, we were just talking,” Jacks said.

“Is that it? And you didn’t do, hear, or see anything else?” Sylvester asked.

“Yes, that’s it.” Sylvester eyed him warily. Jacks cleared his throat.

“Will someone please tell me what’s going on?”

Mark and Kris exchanged a look.

“They found. .” Mark paused. “They found severed wings.”

Very slowly, Jacks looked up at his stepfather.

“Whose?” he asked quietly.

“We don’t know yet,” Sylvester said, “But the wings were left on Theodore Godson’s star.”

“An Archangel,” Jacks murmured, the enormity settling in. Mark and Sylvester exchanged a look.

“And you knew nothing about this?” Sylvester asked.

“Of course he didn’t!” Mark exclaimed.

“I’m asking Jackson, not you,” Sylvester said calmly.

Jacks shook his head honestly. “I’m telling the truth. I left the party, went to the diner, came here.”

Jackson’s stepfather turned to the detective. “We’re doing this as a courtesy because even the faintest notion that Jackson could be involved with something like this is so absurd, I thought it best to get it over with. But if you want to continue this ridiculous questioning, I’m afraid there will have to be a lawyer present.”

Sylvester narrowed his eyes. “Fine. We’ll see. For your sake, I hope it all checks out. Otherwise we’ll be coming back and won’t be as polite.” Sylvester stood up. “And Jacks? Next time an officer of the Angel City Police Department asks to speak to you, please listen.” He turned to Mark. “Thanks for your time.”

“Let me see you out,” Kris said. Sylvester got up from the couch and walked to the door. Sergeant Garcia lingered in the living room, smiling sheepishly at Jacks.

“Excuse me, Jackson, um, do you think I could get an autograph for my daughter?” he said.

“Garcia,” Sylvester said stiffly, “let’s go.” Garcia hurried outside without his autograph. Mark shut the door, then turned to Jacks.

“I don’t want you to worry about this, Jacks. I’m going to address the issue with the rest of the Archangels tomorrow, and we’ll more than likely be putting our own team on the investigation. You can’t expect too much from the police.”

Jacks nodded. He pushed his hand through his hair.

Severed wings. It was horrific to think about.

“You’ve got a big week coming up,” Mark continued.

“What’s important is that you don’t lose focus. Now why don’t you go upstairs and get some sleep.”

“Okay,” Jacks said, feeling himself sliding helplessly into the same pattern he’d followed his whole life — following Mark’s suggestions, which were actually not suggestions at all. He turned to walk up the stairs, then stopped. “That man at the diner. What did he want after we left?”

Mark paused, then looked at Jacks evenly. “Oh. Him?

He was just angry at the damage to the restaurant. I told him we would cover it.”

“Why’d he mention Maddy to you? I heard him say her name. What’s she got to do with anything?”

“Maddy? Who’s that?” Mark asked.

“The girl. The waitress.”

Mark shrugged. “I have no idea. Like I said, don’t worry about this. Leave the police, this alleged incident, that restaurant, all of it to me.”

Jacks looked at him, dissatisfied. Wordlessly, he headed up the stairs.

Lola had turned his bed down already, but Jacks wasn’t tired. He pulled off his shirt but stopped undressing as his gaze drifted out the window. He walked to the glass door for his private deck, unlocked it, and stepped out into the cold night.

Angel City unrolled beneath him like a carpet of twinkling stars. For the first time ever he squinted and forced his eyes to search among the tiny, individual lights of the city. He spent almost a minute examining the lights below until he found it. A tiny, blinking sign tucked into the bottom of the hill.

The sign for Kevin’s Diner.

For reasons he couldn’t explain, his mind kept returning there, to the back room, and to the girl. That flash in her eyes when their hands touched. And what had he felt? He watched the sign. It blinked and blinked. Then went dark.

Jackson let his eyes defocus, and the city returned to an unbroken, glimmering whole.