Scott Speer: Immortal City

“So keep it locked to A! all week long as we bring you exclusive coverage of the parties and events, the glamorous red carpet, and the ceremony itself as Jackson Godspeed and nineteen other Immortals become Guardian Angels this Friday! And don’t forget to follow all your favorite Angels online at Aonline.com or on Twitter at AngelcrazyA!”

Jacks yawned and retracted his wings. They disappeared into his bare back, leaving only two small marks below his shoulder blades. The marks were graceful spirals, almost like tattoos that glowed supernaturally. These were his Immortal Marks — the mark of every Angel — which indicated Jacks was not human.

As he brushed his teeth, Jacks tuned out the stock footage of girls camped out outside his house, screaming for him at events, and running after his custom red Ferrari in the street. This was the biggest week of his life, and he needed to focus. Lola was making his bed when he emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed. He picked up the Calvin Klein jacket, looked at it, and threw it over a chair back. Instead he opted for a vintage-looking — but obviously new — Led Zeppelin T-shirt, J Brand jeans, and Converse. He kept the glasses.

“Thanks, Lola,” he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek, and headed out the door and into the hall.

The Godspeed mansion was breathtaking. A neoclas-sical, Italian palazzo — style villa, it contained vaulted ceil-ings, dramatic marble staircases, and a sleek, modern interior design. The house had been featured in numerous architecture and design magazines over the years, but to Jacks, it was just home. He headed down the stairs, pausing when he reached the bottom to look at the full wall of framed magazine covers that stood across from the landing. They were his covers and went all the way back to when he was little, the boy Angel wonder of the famous Godspeed line.

He reread some of the captions, from “SUPER TOT!” and “ANGEL IN WAITING!” in his early years to “HOLY HOTTIE!” and “HALO HUNK!” as he got older. The most recent covers depicted Jackson as a heroic Angel with smol-dering eyes and an increasingly unbuttoned shirt, his signature wings often spread just behind him. It suddenly occurred to Jacks that he had grown up on these covers, and the world had watched. Now they would be watching as he took the final step — the step he had been working toward for so long — and became a Guardian Angel.

Jackson’s entrance into the kitchen went unnoticed by his stepfather, who was scanning a work report on his laptop. Jacks thought he glimpsed the letters HDF on the screen in the report as he passed by to kiss his mother, Kris, who brightened at the sight of her only son.

“Morning, honey,” she said. Even in her bathrobe, Kris radiated the refined beauty for which she was famous.

Before she had children, she’d been one of the most popular Guardians. Now she helped administer the largest Angel charity and was always running from one fund-raising event to another across Angel City. “Ready for your big week?”

“He better be.” Mark folded his laptop screen down.

“He’s been waiting for this his whole life. Haven’t you, son?”

“Absolutely, Mark,” Jacks said, trying to sound confident.

“Ready to make that first save?” Mark asked.

It was a loaded question coming from his stepfather.

Mark had been one of the most famous Guardian Angels of all time, and his first save had been brilliant. He had gone on to become one of the most famous and powerful Archangels, though he still handled a few select Protections — in fact, apparently, he’d come home late from one the night before, although Jacks hadn’t seen any media coverage of it yet. Most of Mark’s time, though, was taken up being the lead Archangel in charge of disciplinary issues, making the tough decision when a Guardian should have his wings removed after a failed save, which was a rare but painful ordeal for the Angel community. Gabriel and the entire Council of Twelve had nothing but faith in Jackson’s stepfather, and his achievements were a lot to live up to.

Jacks’s gaze drifted down to Mark’s Divine Ring. It was the ring worn by every Guardian, a symbol of responsibility and power. It was all Jacks had ever wanted, ever since he could remember, and Mark had been an encouraging — and demanding — taskmaster on the path to getting it. Jacks watched it glint in the sunlight. Then he looked up at Mark.

“Well, I do feel unprepared,” he admitted. “I wish I had a better idea who the Archangels were putting under my protection.”

Mark gave his stepson a sly smile but said nothing, and returned to his laptop.

The side door to the kitchen swung open and the family chef, Juan, guided in a silver breakfast cart piled with pastries, fresh fruit, juice, and coffee. It had always been this way for the Godspeeds, every morning, as long as Jacks could remember. He would have been impressed, except he had never known anything else. Mark took a cup of coffee for himself and handed a glass of orange juice to Jacks.

“Jacks, you know I’m not going to say a word about your Commissioning,” Mark said. “You’re my son, and I love you, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to treat you any different than any other young Guardian out there.”

“I know that, Mark—”

“And I’m not going to take it easy on you this year, either,” Mark went on, grabbing a plate and loading it with pastries. “You’ll have to prove yourself to me like any other Angel.”

“Mark—”

“And Jackson. .”

Jacks looked up from his own plate and met his stepfather’s gaze.

“I like it when you call me Dad.”

“I won’t let you down. . Dad,” Jacks said.

Mark nodded. “I know you won’t.”

Kris cleared her throat, flashing her husband a pointed glance. “Mark. Can we please have a nice breakfast as a family and put work talk aside for a minute?”

“Sure, honey. Of course,” Mark said, but he held Jacks’s gaze a moment longer before heading to the table.

He meant what he said. Jacks leaned against the kitchen island and took a bite of pastry. He knew his stepfather was right. He thought about his training, in which he’d broken records and shocked his teachers with his prowess. He’d gotten early Angel endorsements, even as young as four-teen. And now he would be taking his place as the latest Godspeed Guardian. The eyes of the entire world would be on him this week, and on that first save. His time to perform had come.

Footsteps echoed down the stairs as Jacks’s younger sister, Chloe, burst into the kitchen. The full-blooded child of Mark and Kris, Chloe had much more the look of her father: sharp, almost severe features, a kind of beauty so intense it was almost cold. As usual, she had her head buried in her BlackBerry.

“Oh my God, did you see these pictures from yesterday?” she announced. “They actually came in to the store with me and were, like, hiding behind stuff, trying to see what I was buying.” She wrinkled her nose. “I hate the paparazzi; they are so annoying. That shirt looks really cute on me, though,” she said, showing her BlackBerry to Kris.

“You look great, sweetheart,” Kris said lovingly.

“I know, right? Dad, can’t we sue them or something?”

“Well, it depends,” Mark said, chuckling. His cell phone rang and he rose to take the call, walking over by the window to talk in an undertone.

Chloe’s fingers flew over the keypad as she went to different blog sites, looking at the different pictures the paparazzi had gotten of her and reading the comments. She walked over to the breakfast cart and, with her free hand, poured a glass of orange juice.

“Hey, Jacks, ready for this week?” she said without looking up.