Scott Speer - Immortal City

“I’m just saying, look at those Marks. I mean, perfect, man.” Mitch whistled. The Angel turned and Jacks could see she was wearing a backless shirt that revealed her Immortal Marks. They were feminine and ornate, with curlicues and shimmering, delicate lines that reached all the way down to the small of her back. She looked over her shoulder to see if Jacks had noticed, but he was back to drinking his coffee.

“You should go talk to her,” Mitch encouraged. “She’s incredibly hot.”

“I forget her name,” Jacks said, uninterested. Mitch sighed.

“Kelsie Godchild? The face of Burberry? She’s on the entire side of that building at La Cienega.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Mitch just shook his head. “So how excited are you for this week, man? This is going to be like a weeklong party.

Last night was just a taste. Here, let me read you your schedule.” He grabbed Jacks’s iPhone from the table and pretended to scroll through it. “Party. Party. Party. Get drunk. Get drunk. Get drunk. Then get Commissioned. And then get drunk again.” He leaned back in his chair as if visu-alizing it. “I don’t know about you, dude, but I can’t wait.”

Jacks put his hands behind his head and looked at his best friend. Mitch loved the Angel way of life, and it loved him right back. He always seemed to be turning up on the pages of Immortal and Angels Weekly at various events and parties, always with a new Angel beauty on his arm. But the truth was, he was a genuinely nice guy, and a bit of a class clown. They had become close friends their first year of training, ever since Mitch had started making fun of Jacks’s wings, and had stayed that way ever since. Though the public knew very little about Angel training, the NAS released tidbits about Jackson and Mitch’s progress over the years, playing up their friendship. One photo in particular of them was famous: two cocky thirteen-year-olds with their arms crossed across their chests, Jacks with his luminescent wings behind him, Mitch’s wings showing intricate mazelike patterns. Together the two had gone through the mind-numbing math of Basic Aerodynamics, all the way up to courses such as Multiple Frequencing and Advanced Flying 406, until a few months ago, in a shock, the NAS announced that Jacks would be jumping a year in his class to become the youngest Guardian ever Commissioned. Mitch had been a good sport about the whole thing, but sometimes Jacks wondered if he still hadn’t been hurt by it.

“I don’t know, man,” Jacks said, taking his iPhone back. “I’ll go to some events, sure, but I don’t want to get too crazy.”

Mitch looked stunned. “Are you insane ? Everyone knows the whole point of becoming a Guardian Angel is the parties . The females . And this is pretty much a once-in-an-eternity thing here, your early Commissioning. This is supposed to be the best week of our life, and you’re going to miss it?”

Jacks ran a hand through his hair and took a swig of coffee. “I just. . I’ve got to focus, Mitch.”

“Oh,” Mitch groaned. “Here we go again. Why does everything always have to be perfect with you?”

“It’s not that it has to be perfect —”

Mitch set down his cup. “Highest grades in school.

Top of the class in simulation training. First to fly in Basic Flying—”

“Okay, I get it,” Jacks said, mildly embarrassed. “But that first save does have to be perfect. You know what they say — you never forget your first save. It’s someone’s life. It’s a big responsibility. I just want to make sure I get it right.”

Mitch leaned forward. “As your best friend, let me tell you something you already know. You’re talented. Like ridiculous. Way more talented than me—”

“That’s not true—”

“That is true. And I can tell you, whoever your Protections are going to be, they’ll be in great hands. So please. Do me a favor and at least try and enjoy yourself this week.”

Jacks held up his hands in surrender. “I promise. I’ll enjoy myself.”

A Mercedes G550 pulled up to the valet at the curb. As much as the attendant was clearly trying not to stare, he couldn’t take his eyes off the driver — and neither could anyone else. Emerald-green eyes, flawless features, and glossy, dark brown hair: Vivian Holycross was without a doubt the hottest female Angel on the planet. Compared to her, the human supermodels at the next table looked downright plain.

Being only seventeen, Vivian wouldn’t be Commissioned for another two years, but she was already everywhere in the media. She came from one of the older, more powerful Angel families, and her life up to that point had been nothing short of charmed and effortless.

Fans and paparazzi swarmed as security guided her up the sidewalk and onto the patio. She wore a pair of leopard-print Miu Miu shoes and a red jersey tank dress that revealed her bra and Immortal Marks. Her outfit was perfectly accessorized with a Louis Vuitton bag and Bulgari sunglasses.

“Don’t look now, man,” Mitch said as he watched the chaos of Vivian’s arrival, “but we have an unexpected visitor. Vivian’s here.”

Jacks stiffened. “Great. Any chance she won’t see me?”

“I don’t think so,” Mitch said. “She’s coming this way.”

At that moment Vivian noticed Jacks and Mitch — or pretended to — and sauntered over. She made sure to put a hand on Jacks’s shoulder as she arrived.

“Oh hey, boys, didn’t expect to run into you,” she said in a seductive, soft voice. She turned her face toward Jackson. “Hey, Jacks.”

“Hey, Viv,” Jacks said casually. There was no bad blood between them, but run-ins with Vivian could get tricky. He didn’t have anything against her; he had just had gotten tired of playing the role of the “It” Angel couple — the events together, the ravenous photographers, the magazines covering every supposed change in their relationship. It was exhausting, and even though Vivian would seem outraged every time a piece of gossip about their private life surfaced, Jacks sensed it was mock outrage and that she was secretly into it. It had caused his feelings for her to gradually fade, and they’d broken up that past summer. But since news had broken about Jacks’s early Commissioning, Vivian had re-surfaced with a vengeance.

“What time are you guys going tonight?” she asked.

“You know, I hadn’t decided if I’m going,” Jacks said.

Vivian blinked at him.

“It’s your cover and you haven’t decided if you’re going?”

“You know how those things go.” Jacks shrugged.

“They’re all the same.”

Vivian smiled mischievously. “Well, if it would make you feel better, I’ll go with you and keep you company.” She looked deep into Jacks’s eyes.

“That’s okay, Viv,” Jacks said, backpedaling. “But if I end up making it, I’ll see you there, right?”

“You absolutely will,” she said, her green eyes twinkling. Vivian bent over and gave Jacks a kiss on the cheek. As she did, what sounded like thousands of shutters clicked from behind the hedges. Jacks knew she had done that on purpose — she had maybe even called the paparazzi and set the whole thing up. Vivian was a nice girl, but Jacks felt like she somehow tried too hard. After going out with her for five months, Jacks had started to feel more and more like she was with him just because he was Jacks and what that meant to the outside world. It was hard for him to explain even to himself, but sometimes when she was holding onto his arm, it felt like he wasn’t actually there. That he could have swapped in a Jacks look-alike and Vivian wouldn’t even notice.

He also knew how much Mark wanted to see them together, and though he was usually anxious to please his stepfather, in this case, conversely, it made him even more hesitant.