Natural Born Angel (3 page)

T
he world around Jacks seemed to swim, rippling with his every breath. A blue tint filtered through the room. The light turned the Angel doctor, a specially trained Immortal, indigo in his white lab coat outside the hyperbaric immersion chamber. The doctor examined numbers on his hand-held instrument reader, dictating notes to his medical assistant. Their faces twisted and stretched like in a funhouse mirror. Even if he hadn’t been listening to his favourite playlist piped in through his headphones, Jacks wouldn’t have been able to hear them – he was fully submerged in the advanced therapeutic solution, and the glass of the chamber was too thick. Jacks’s muscular limbs drifted as he floated suspended in the chamber, breathing through a mask, his sole functioning wing outstretched behind him, a series of cables and hoses connected to his body. They trailed up to the top of the tank to send readings and numbers to the team of technicians outside.

If only the blue light had come from Jacks’s famous wings and not the series of screens along the back wall of the darkened room. But ever since the accident, his wings had lost their unique blue iridescence.

At his stepfather’s insistence, Jacks had been submitting himself three times a week to this immersion therapy, by far the most advanced and expensive of its kind, hoping to speed the recovery of his wings, one of which had been reattached in the wake of the vicious demon attack he’d survived. And three times a week, he left disappointed. The doctors always told him to be patient, that “next time we’ll see some improvement”. But there never was any.

He still couldn’t fly. And that’s all that mattered.

Inside the chamber, two incredibly complex robotic machines operated underwater where Jacks’s wings met the back of his shoulders, the outline of his Immortal Marks visible and glowing. The finely tuned machines – advanced nerve reconnectors – knit tissue and cells back together inside the solution that had been specially engineered just for Jacks. The sensation wasn’t unpleasant. It sometimes tickled Jacks a bit, but it wasn’t too bad.

The pain would come later. It always did.

A door across the room opened, and Jacks’s stepfather, Mark, entered the room. He walked up to the chamber, nodded to his stepson through the glass and began talking to the technicians. Almost every session, Mark came to check on the progress, carving out time from his packed schedule as one of the senior Archangels. Jacks, tangled in cords and hoses, briefly lifted his hand to wave at Mark.

Jacks could see the doctor and Mark talking. Mark’s face remained grave.
Great, still no good news
, Jacks thought.

The doctor looked at his hand-held computer and alerted the technicians with a circular motion of his finger. Jacks knew this meant it was time to get out.

The nerve reconnectors retracted from Jacks’s submerged body. Jacks happily pulled off some of the sensors and connectors as soon as he saw it was time. The always nervous assistant shook her head as she watched him roughly handle the multi-million-dollar equipment.

The top of the immersion chamber popped open and two assistants peered into the water. Reaching down, they lifted Jacks out of the solution and disconnected the rest of the hoses and monitors from his body. Jacks himself removed the breathing mask. He stepped down the narrow ladder to the floor, where a pretty female assistant put a robe on over his trunks and enthusiastically started towelling him off.

“I’ve got this one,” Jacks said, taking the towel from her.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” she said, disappointment colouring her eyes as she stepped away from Jacks. “And don’t forget, don’t— ”

“Retract my wings for at least one hour,” Jacks said, finishing her sentence. “I’ll remember.”

Mark walked up to his stepson.

“The doctor says that progress is being made. It’s slow, but— ”

“It’s the same thing every time, you know that,” Jacks cut him off. He looked down at the floor, trying to keep his frustration in check.

Mark placed a hand on Jacks’s shoulder.

“You – you just have to have faith.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Jacks said, hearing his voice sound snappish. “You’re not the one getting poked and prodded and practically” – he waved at the now-empty chamber – “drowned every other day.” He looked up at his stepfather, his gaze softening. “I’m sorry, I just— ”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, Jacks,” Mark said. “Your frustration is more than understandable. And if there’s anyone who should be sorry. . .” Mark trailed off. His eyes drifted away, distant. Jacks could almost see them going to that terrible rooftop downtown months ago, when Jacks had nearly lost both wings.

“The doctor said they’re bringing in a new specialist, from Germany,” Mark said. “That she’s been developing some very promising new treatments we haven’t even seen in Angel City yet.” Mark’s eyes were hopeful.

“Good . . . I mean, that’s great,” Jacks said, trying to sound at least somewhat enthusiastic. Mark’s BlackBerry buzzed. The Archangel reached for the phone, but then held back. Jacks looked at him.

“It’s OK. Go ahead, go back to work, Mark. The world doesn’t need to stop just because” – here Jacks swallowed his words for a moment – “Jackson Godspeed can’t fly any more.” He put a self-deprecating grin on, though, to make it come across like a joke.

Mark nodded, slowly. Jacks turned to walk back to the changing room, where his street clothes were waiting.

“Jacks?”

Jackson turned back.

“No matter what happens, I’m proud of you.”

The young Angel nodded, pressing his lips together.

“I’m going to fly again, Mark. I will.”

Mark pressed his hand and smiled. “Of course you are,” his stepfather said. “Of course you are.”

Jacks turned back and began walking to the dressing room. Behind him he heard the click of the door as Mark left. The medical staff didn’t even look up from their screens.

Inside his private dressing room, Jacks sat down on a chair and let out a deep sigh. He thought of the team outside, all working towards the same goal:
to fix Jacks
. And he thought of what he had just told Mark: he would fly again. But what if he could never be fixed? When would they call it a day, pack up their equipment, and head to whatever challenge awaited them next? They still got paid whether Jacks was cured or not.
What if there was no cure?

He drove the thought from his mind.

As he slowly got dressed, leaving his wings extended, his mind wandered to what, if he was honest with himself, was the most troubling thing to him right now.

Maddy.

He had known ever since he met her that Maddy could be stubborn when she decided something. He had seen it time and again over their relationship. Ever since she insisted on confronting her uncle to find out about her parents after he had saved her outside Ethan’s party. And then in the midst of her newfound celebrity, the way she insisted on turning down endorsements and photo shoots, keeping her job at the diner, finishing at Angel City High when she could’ve started training to be a Guardian and had five private tutors if she wanted.

And now . . . whenever Jacks thought of her turning her back on Guardian training, of leaving Angel City . . . his stomach felt hollowed out.

But she had made her decision.

Jacks knew they had promised to visit each other every chance they could get, and that Maddy would be back for holidays. But he knew something would be different. Illinois. It seemed so far away. A
nd I can’t even fly myself to visit her
, he thought angrily. Jacks looked at the clock. Only forty more minutes until he could retract his wings and get out of there.

He reached for the remote and powered on the flat screen. One of the twenty-four-hour news stations was on.

“. . . and polls today showing a small percentage jump for Senator Ted Linden’s anti-Angel presidential campaign. The fringe candidate has growing support in certain parts of the country, but experts say his third-party campaign is more of a statement than a real contender come November.”
Linden’s smiling face appeared on screen at an event as he waved to supporters. With a look of disgust, Jacks flipped the channel. He found Linden’s anti-Angel posturing to be so repulsive that he couldn’t even bear to follow his campaign in the newspapers.

On ANN, Tara Reeves was on screen. She never looked like she grew older by even a day. Jacks wondered if the time would come when she would age a dozen years in twenty-four hours, making up for lost time. He heard his name and snapped to attention:

“Rumours continue swirling about Jackson Godspeed’s step away from the limelight, with Immortal City tongues wagging about whether that ‘break for exhaustion’ following last year’s traumatic events is something more than just temporary. Plus exclusive footage from this morning’s thrilling save by Steven Churchson in the Santa Barbara Mountains. And more on who will be this year’s hottest Protections. But first ANN catches up with it-girl Vivian Holycross to talk about her latest perfume and rumours of a romance with hottie French Angel Julien Santé.”

Vivian appeared on-screen, flanked by a group of mad paparazzi. She looked incredible, smiling coyly from behind her oversized sunglasses as she stopped and cocked her hand on her hip, posing briefly for the cameras.

Jacks turned off the TV, feeling suddenly tired. Reaching into the breast pocket of his blazer, he retrieved his iPhone. He had some missed calls and texts, but not as many as he would’ve had a year ago – there were only three texts, plus one voicemail from his publicist, Darcy.
Huh
, he thought. He hadn’t even heard from Darcy in a week.

But there was a missed call and text that stood out from the rest, from Maddy. The text read, simply: “
Give me a call.
”

A strange feeling settled into Jackson’s stomach. He couldn’t describe why. He noticed his heart starting to beat slightly faster with nervousness. Ignoring the voicemail from Darcy, Jacks pressed the button to call Maddy back.

“Hello?” Her familiar voice made his heart thump the way it always did.

“Hey! What’s up, Mads?” Jacks tried to mask his uncertainty.

Maddy took a deep breath on the other end of the line.

“I’m so glad you called me back,” she said. She paused. It sounded like she was weighing her words. “I want to tell you something.”

Jacks couldn’t remember his gut ever feeling so knotted. Was she breaking up with him? Had she decided long distance with a deformed Angel just wasn’t worth it? “Yes?”

“Well, you know how I feel about the Angels.”

Jacks blew the air out of his lungs and took another sharp breath. “How many times do I have to tell you, Maddy,
you’re
an Angel.”

Maddy was quiet on the line.

Jacks continued: “You’re not what you think you are. You’re not a freak. You’re wonderful.”

“I’m not so sure I’d go that far.”

“Can you just trust me for once?” he said. “You
are
wonderful.”

“No . . .
you
are great,” she said. “Jacks, I don’t know how to say this” – Jackson’s stomach flipped again as he heard Maddy’s voice on the other end – “but I’ve thought about what you’ve said, about being able to help make things better, to maybe change the Angels from within, despite the past. To open up the protection programme to more disadvantaged people. About what a chance it is. And now I’m thinking about what my dad would have considered my duty.”

“What are you telling me?” Jackson said. He unconsciously held his breath, silent. Time seemed to stop.

Maddy’s voice was clear: “Jacks, I want to become a Guardian.”

Phone up to his ear, Jacks felt a smile slowly begin on the very edge of his lips, then spread until his whole mouth was open with joy. He began to laugh.

“Maddy! That’s so great! I mean, I thought, what about— ” Jacks cut himself off. “It’s just so fantastic!”

“It’s a lot right now. But I think it’s the right decision. And that means no long— ”

“Distance relationship,” Jacks finished her thought. “And I thought you were going to be all the way out in Chicago. For four years!”

“I’ll be right here.”

“You have so much to do!” Jacks couldn’t stop smiling. His voice was shot through with excitement. “What are you going to set up first?”

Maddy laughed. “How am I supposed to know, Jacks? You’re the Guardian Angel! This is all new to me.”

“You’re right, you’re right. Well, you have at
least
two years of Guardian training, so don’t be too hard on yourself, OK?” Jacks said, trying to collect his thoughts. “It’s just such great news! We have some celebrating to do. Forget ice cream. My house in forty-five?”

Maddy laughed. “OK. Just as long as there’s not champagne. The bubbles give me a headache.”

Jacks hung up when he heard her disconnect, and he quickly began gathering his stuff up from the dressing room. His mind was racing. After what seemed like the umpteenth discouraging session at physical therapy, he at last had some cheerful news. He thought of all the training Maddy would be getting, learning all the Guardian skills, including how to fly – if she got her wings – and joining the Guardian ranks presumably in a few years.