Natural Born Angel (9 page)

Detective Sylvester narrowed his eyes, looking through his glasses at the captain. “About time at least some of our commanders got out of the back pocket of the Angels.” He motioned to Garcia beside him. “So what’s our role?”

“David, we’re bringing you in special to handle the investigation from now on. Sergeant Garcia, you will be assisting in the investigation. You two were world-beaters last time around with the demon killings on Angel Boulevard. Let’s see if you can do it again.”

Detective Sylvester pulled off his glasses and cleaned them with a handkerchief. Calmly, he put them back on and looked at Captain Keele: “You know how many homeless have gone missing this week now, Captain, before and after that fire? I just came back from downtown. We could be dealing with some sort of serial kidnapper or murderer or perhaps arsonist. We need to be focusing on this, as well. Maybe I could split— ”

The captain cut him off. “
One hundred and one per cent
of your time is to be spent on this new case, Detective.” He took a sip of his coffee. “We have a mass murder, you investigate the murders. Not ghosts out on Skid Row. Have I made myself clear? Do you not see these stripes?” he said, motioning to the bars sewn into the uniform on his shoulder, indicating high rank. “Now, if I’m not mistaken, you have some police work to do. You are dismissed.”

Sylvester went home, but he wasn’t looking to relax: he was running two investigations now, whether Keele knew it or not.

The dark spires of the Blessed Sacrament Church rose beyond the window of the detective’s apartment, which was in a classic Spanish-style Angel City building from the 1920s. The detective found a glass and placed two ice cubes in the cup.

Opening a bottle of twelve-year Scotch he kept on top of the fridge, Sylvester poured himself a drink. The amber of the liquor spooled with the melting ice. He swirled the ice once, then twice, and took a drink, letting the warmth drop down his chest.

Sitting down at the couch, he turned on the small TV he sometimes pulled out from the cupboard. He’d had to buy the digital-to-analogue converter in order for it to work any more. Somehow it seemed more sensible than getting one of those flat screens. He took another sip of his drink.

As it warmed up, the TV showed footage of people huddled under blankets, being ushered away from a scene by emergency workers.

“. . . and officials worry that at least fifty have died in a train-derailing accident at St Pancras Station in London. This comes just a day after an electrical storm in Northern Germany caused a series of fatal accidents along the Autobahn outside Hamburg.”

Sylvester was watching the TV with one eye, the other on the case file in front of him. A correspondent was reporting from inside St Pancras Station, which was a combination of sleek, futuristic European styling and lighter neo-Gothic arches and details. The reporter was standing on the platform in front of a twisted and crumpled Eurostar train. It didn’t look strange for a derailment, although the reporter was saying that these modern trains had an impeccable safety record.

But Sylvester suddenly stiffened.

Standing up with the glass in one hand, he took a sip while turning the volume up with the other hand, all the while his eyes fixed on the screen. He got closer to the television and peered as the woman continued speaking.

“Experts say they have little evidence for technical failure in the high-speed train, and forensic investigators are working to find some cause for the terrible accident in London today.”

Sylvester leaned even closer, almost as close as he could to the screen. Behind the woman standing on the platform, behind the train wreck itself, along the red brick walls, were marks. Deep in the brick. They were so consistent as to almost look like stripes – or claw marks. Sylvester studied the image on the screen until it cut back to the anchors in the studio.

In a daze, the detective walked back to his couch and sat down.

The voice from the TV prattled on:

“And up next: how Angels and Protections in the Immortal City are taking Senator Linden’s latest jump in the polls only five weeks before the election and after the Council threatened to retaliate against the Immortals Bill. Is the senator as dangerous to Angels as many claim?”

He reached for the remote and turned the TV off.

Sylvester drained his glass and pulled his laptop – a piece of technology he’d begrudgingly allowed the department to give him – out from under a stack of papers. After opening the computer, he searched for “St Pancras”, and dozens of hits came up. He began scanning the images of the accident.

The clear, hideous gashes in the brick walls of the train station appeared again and again in the images. No one on the Internet seemed to comment on them; apparently they assumed the crashing train had made them. But the detective knew better.

He had seen marks like that once before.

Last year on a prison cell wall, dripping with blood.

J
ackson looked out of the tinted car window and took a breath. A dull sound could be dimly heard from outside, almost like being underwater. He looked over at Maddy, who anxiously peered out of the window. She took a big breath. Jackson wondered if she’d ever really get used to it. He’d been born into it, while the attention and chaos was being thrust upon her suddenly.

The valet opened the door, and any sense of quiet dissolved into shouts, hollers and screams. Jacks and Maddy stepped on to the red carpet to the event on Santa Monica Boulevard. A mass of photographers pressed against their barricades, shouting, their cameras flashing, their voices competing with a throng of die-hard Angel followers who screamed in delight as they saw Jackson and Maddy pull up.

The red carpet correspondent for A! gleefully announced to her viewers back home:
“Angel City’s ‘It’ couple, Jackson Godspeed and Maddy Godright, have arrived at the event tonight!”

The whole mess was held back by a cluster of security personnel who kept things in line for the Angels as well as Protections who were arriving.

Maddy and Jacks took their first steps along the carpet, adjusting to the blinding flashes.

Taking a deep breath, Jackson tried to summon the memory of what it had been like. Before the injury. He began walking down the carpet, trying to hide his still slightly noticeable limp. The crowd could sense something was slightly off – this was one of just a handful of official public appearances he’d made since he’d been injured. Nevertheless, Jackson turned, looked out into the adoring crowd, and waved, getting a large cheer from the fans. He smiled widely in appreciation.

Suddenly he heard a cheer just as big, if not bigger, as the one he had received. He saw that Maddy was no longer by his side – she had stopped and was signing some autographs.

“Maddy! Maddy!”
the photographers screamed.
“How was your first day of training? Jacks! Jacks! Jacks! Are you giving her any tips? Jacks, when do you think you’ll be back as a Guardian? Maddy, when are you going to get your wings?!”

Maddy and Jacks just smiled and lightly waved at everyone, making their way down the red carpet.

“Over the shoulder! Over the shoulder!”

Maddy had enough experience to know by now what this meant. She cocked her body slightly away from the photographers on the edge of the carpet and looked back over her shoulder at them.

“Who are you wearing?”

“It’s a new designer named Fluxe from Paris,” Maddy said. She smiled as widely as she could as Darcy and her new assistant, Christina, met them and shepherded them through the on-carpet interviews.

After a few interviews, Jackson and Maddy walked into the main event space, which was a lavishly decorated courtyard. Delicate, twinkling lighting was strung across the elegant space, as huge platters of oysters, bottles of champagne and steaming platters of seared scallops all streamed by, served to the beautiful Angel clientele, who indulged themselves with the best the Immortal City had to offer. The ruckus just outside now seemed to be a thousand miles away.

Every head turned as Jackson and Maddy entered the space.

A waiter with a tray of drinks somehow materialized at their side. Jacks pulled two full glasses off. “Thank you,” he said to the waiter before the man disappeared into a cluster of Angels across the room.

Maddy looked suspiciously at the drink in Jackson’s hand as he offered it to her.

“You’ve finished your first week of training. We have to celebrate!”

“I still have a long way to go,” Maddy said quietly, thinking of what the professor had told her about the conflicting theories on her wings. And how totally out of place she felt at Guardian training. How much she had to learn. “And I have to wake up early tomorrow. I think I’ll stick to sparkling water.”

Jackson leaned down and kissed behind her ear. “Maddy, you are going to do great. You already
are
doing great. Did you see how everybody looked when we walked in? They’re looking at you. They’re seeing what I’ve seen in you all along. I can see the Angel coming out in you. Embrace it.”

“I guess so,” Maddy said uncertainly. Looking at Jackson’s flawless features, she wondered, as she had so many times, how she could even measure up to this Angel perfection. But Jackson’s eyes were so eager. Maddy squeezed his hand. “I mean, I know so. I know what you’re saying, Jacks.”

Jacks wrapped his arm around her waist and turned away from the party-goers so that they had a private space on the periphery of the crowd.

“How was the treatment today?” Maddy asked. “Dr Liebesgott has been trying out some new method, right?”

A shadow crossed Jackson’s face at the mere word
treatment
. He couldn’t help it, Maddy knew. The Angel tried to keep his upbeat attitude, but his tone gave him away. “It’s going fine,” he growled. “But I don’t want to talk about it. Anyway, Mark’s helping me find other ways to be useful. If that’s even possible.” He seemed to realize he was sounding a bit gruff and brightened his tone. “Let’s see if we can find Mitch and my sister.”

Maddy wished she hadn’t said anything, but it worried her so much to see Jacks struggling every day and not getting better. Each day she hoped he would turn the corner to full recovery and rejoin the ranks of what she knew he wanted more than anything: to be a Guardian. What she herself was now training to become, she reflected uncomfortably.

Leading her by the hand, Jacks took Maddy across the courtyard as they looked for Mitch. It was true, everyone
was
staring at them. But Maddy was kind of used to it by now. Jacks glanced over towards the bar and saw his sister.

“I’m going to ask Chloe if she’s seen Mitch. Do you want me to bring you a seltzer?”

“Sure,” Maddy said, kissing him in thanks. Jacks started walking through the crowd. In his wake, Maddy heard a female voice say clearly, “How is she going to make a save without any wings? Take the bus to try to make it in time?”

There was no mistaking the Australian accent.

Shrill laughter came out of the small group of Angels clustered around Emily Brightchurch, who was standing with her back to Maddy just a metre away. Emily was wearing a short skirt with a pair of towering Fendi heels that complemented her fierce crimson hair – and made her legs seem to go for ever. She turned around, oh-so-casually.

“Oh,
hi
, Maddy. It’s funny, we were
just
—”

“Emily,” Maddy frostily replied. She didn’t want a confrontation. Not tonight. Maddy unconsciously pulled at the right strap of her dress, which was digging into her shoulder.

The Aussie sex symbol looked Maddy up and down. “Is your dress too small? There is a lot of pressure to size down here. And, you know, being an Angel takes a lot of work. I haven’t seen you at the gym lately. Just some friendly advice. The camera adds ten pounds.”

Maddy breathed through gritted teeth. “The dress fits just fine, thanks. The strap was just twisted. And some of us don’t have to work out for our figures.”

“Or maybe that’s just what they think.” Emily smiled bitchily, her voice dripping with malice. “And how are your wings coming? We’re all very concerned about your well-being. It must be
so stressful
being in Guardian training and not even knowing if you’ll be able to fly. If you need anything, just let us know. We’d be
so happy
to help.”

Before Maddy could put together a reply, Jackson materialized at her side with her seltzer.

“Mitch just showed up,” he said. “And I had to stop the bartender from serving my little sister a vodka tonic.” He rolled his eyes.

“Well, if it isn’t Jackson Godspeed,” Emily said, undressing him with her eyes. Maddy smouldered angrily next to Jacks, trying to hold her tongue.

“Hey, Emily,” Jacks said, looking mildly uncomfortable.

“Come on, Jacks, let’s go and hang out with Chloe,” Maddy interjected.

Jackson nodded, noticing the tension between the two girls. Wisely, he held his tongue.

“Don’t be a stranger, Jacks,” Emily said, smiling slyly. “And I’ll see you at training, Maddy. That is, if they let you back in?” There was a peal of laughter from Emily’s hangers-on, but as Jacks opened his mouth in angry protest, Maddy grabbed his arm and turned him away from the group. As Maddy and Jacks threaded their way through the crowd over to the bar on the opposite side of the room, Maddy felt Emily’s eyes watching them.

“What’s wrong?” Jackson asked quietly.

“Nothing, it’s fine,” Maddy said.

“Mads, I know you. And I know when things aren’t fine. Did she hurt your feelings? You can’t let her get to you; she’s always been a little . . . aggressive, I guess.”

Maddy was silent, looking out into the crowd. A sharp wave of laughter came from the direction of Emily and her cronies. Maddy stiffened.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Jacks asked, squeezing Maddy’s hand, knowing when his girlfriend wasn’t having a good time. “I know a nice place. It’s up in the Hills, where the Angels live. And there’s ice cream.” A slight smile danced around the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t we have to stay?” Maddy scanned the glittering courtyard for Darcy. She wasn’t exactly
afraid
of their publicist. But in close quarters, she didn’t want to see her mad. There was a reason Darcy always got what she wanted.

“We appeared, didn’t we? That’s what making an appearance is. And then we leave.”

“OK, bu— ”

Taking her hand in his, Jackson whisked Maddy out a side door of the courtyard.

Jackson’s house was dark as the headlights of the Ferrari sliced across the slumbering home and came to a stop in the garage.

Jacks flipped the lights on room by room as they entered his place. Maddy adored Jackson’s beautiful new home up in the Hills off Empyrean Canyon Drive. She took her heels off and walked barefoot into the house. She was starting to calm down after her run-in with Emily.

The lights in the massive kitchen flipped on, revealing two platters of fresh cookies under plastic wrap on the marble countertop. Jacks laughed. “Apparently Juan thinks I might starve. He’s always having Lola bring some cookies over from Mom’s house.” Jacks pulled back the plastic on the trays. “Chocolate macadamia or” – he tasted the other type of cookie – “peanut butter.”

Maddy wondered what the Godspeed fans would think if they could see him now, standing in his sexy slim-cut suit, simply eating a cookie in his kitchen.

He turned to Maddy. “What kind do you want?”

“Both, obviously. We’ve been dating a year and you don’t know me by now?” She came up behind Jacks and scooped her arms around him.

Jacks laughed. “There should be some milk in the fridge.”

Maddy opened the Sub-Zero and looked in, the tip of her nose getting cold. Everything was organized, colour-coded. It still was amazing to her how the house manager systematized everything from when the gardeners came to what order the cheese went in the refrigerator. She didn’t know if she could ever get used to having everything done for her like that. But for Jacks it was the most unremarkable thing in the world: it was just the way he had grown up and how things happened in his new place he had by himself.

Maddy extracted a carton of milk from the fridge and poured them two glasses. She took a long swallow.

Jacks looked at Maddy, who was still in her “event” dress, and chuckled, his eyes warm.

“What?” Maddy asked, wondering what she’d done.

“You’ve got a milk moustache.”

Blushing, Maddy wiped the liquid quickly away with her forearm.

Jacks leaned in and kissed her.

“It was cute,” he said. He put some of the cookies on a plate and grabbed his glass of milk with the same hand. Jacks flipped the kitchen light off. “Let’s go to the theatre. I’ve been DVRing a bunch of those old movies you like.”

Maddy and Jacks snuggled in together on the couch in the dark room, still wearing their clothes from the event. A blanket covered their legs and they nibbled on cookies, the glare of the black-and-white movie on the TV flickering across them in the dark room.

“You feel nice,” Maddy said.

“Thank you?” Jacks said, laughing.

“I mean it. It’s nice to feel you here. To have you here. It feels like . . . support.” Maddy looked up at the Angel she loved. “It doesn’t matter what the others think. As long as I have you.”

“Don’t let them— ”

“No, I mean it. I feel like you won’t let me go.”

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to. From the moment I saw you in the diner, I haven’t been able to let you go. Not for a moment.”

Maddy slowly nodded, then leaned in towards Jacks, kissing him, then pulling back. Jacks moved in and kissed her, longer this time. Their breaths seemed to intermingle.

Maddy’s pulse began racing, and her eyes deepened.

“Jacks, I’ve been thinking. . .”

“Why are you looking at me that way?” Jacks said. “Maddy, you know I’ve always said there’s more than enough time. I want you to be ready. I can wait.”

Although Maddy could hear Jackson’s words, she could also tell by his breath that he was having a hard time controlling himself.