month, and the rumor is he’ll be arriving anytime now!”
Like a procession of supernatural perfection, the Angels began to arrive on the carpet—Guardians in sharp suits with their Divine Rings glinting in the lights and lady Angels in backless dresses that showed off their Immortal Marks. Fans swelled against the barricades and screamed their throats raw. Pedestrians passing by stopped and stared, either incredulous at the glamour before them or transfixed by it. Security was thick: last year during Commissioning Week an operative from the fringe radical anti-Angel group, the so-called Humanity Defense Front, or HDF, had actually made it onto the carpet. Dressed up as a Guardian, he’d covered himself in fake blood and made a run for the cameras, holding a sign that said THEY’RE NO ANGELS. He’d quickly been carted off, but the incident had left its mark. The European branch of HDF had made an armed attempt to kidnap an Angel in Munich five months earlier, a plot foiled when the Angel overpowered his attackers. The HDF had never gotten violent in Angel City, but they were always making some kind of threat, and the Angels were taking no chances.
Love the Angels or hate them, you couldn’t help but feel the excitement in the air, like a kind of electricity, as if their very Immortal presence could be felt.
The world seemed to explode as Jackson Godspeed stepped out of his car and into the lights. The sound hit his ears like a drawn-out thunderclap. He wore a gray Gucci suit, white shirt, and slim black tie. The paparazzi swarmed, and Jacks took a deep breath and smiled his practiced smile as the cameras devoured him. From behind the barricades hysterical fans screamed things like
“Save me, Jackson!”
and
“I want to be your first Protection!”
Jacks turned and made sure to wave at them. A tightly wound middle-aged woman in an all-black pantsuit hustled over to him. Jacks grinned in relief at the approach of Darcy, his publicist ever since he could remember.
“
You
look incredible,” Darcy said, giving him the once-over. “I couldn’t be happier if you’d shown up naked.”
Jacks cracked up. His stepfather liked Darcy because she had, hands down, the most elite client list in the business. Jacks liked Darcy because she was crass, honest, and unrelenting. Sometimes her antics were the only thing that got him through these events.
“It’s the usual press, Access Angels,
Angels Weekly
, Angel News Network, oh, and A!” Darcy punched something in on her BlackBerry as she talked. “Vivian’s already here, so remember”—she stopped typing and pointed her Berry at him like a weapon—“do
not
answer questions about your status. Be vague.”
Jacks shrugged unhappily. “Is it really that big a deal?”
“
Buzz
is the really big deal, Jackson. Talk. Tweets. Gossip.” She smoothed the lapel of his jacket. “If it creates buzz, then it’s a big deal, and it does, so it is. For both you and Vivian. You want this cover to sell well? Just keep them guessing, okay?”
Jacks searched the carpet up ahead until he found Vivian. There she was in a one-shoulder dress that was probably from her fashion line. As much as he might try, Jacks couldn’t deny it. Vivian looked incredible. He would have to remind himself to keep his distance. They weren’t getting back together, he had decided. No matter how happy it would make Mark.
“You okay?” Darcy asked, snapping Jacks out of his reverie.
“Sure,” Jacks said, and shook the image of Vivian out of his mind.
“Great, let’s go.” Jacks fixed another charming smile on his face, and they started down the long press line.
“Here he is, Jackson Godspeed and his famous wings, the Angel everyone is talking about.” It was Jamie Campbell for ANN. “You’re only a few days away from becoming the youngest Guardian Angel of all time. Can you describe what you’re feeling right now?”
“I’ve wanted this for as long as I can remember,” Jacks said,
Like a procession of supernatural perfection, the Angels began to arrive on the carpet—Guardians in sharp suits with their Divine Rings glinting in the lights and lady Angels in backless dresses that showed off their Immortal Marks. Fans swelled against the barricades and screamed their throats raw. Pedestrians passing by stopped and stared, either incredulous at the glamour before them or transfixed by it. Security was thick: last year during Commissioning Week an operative from the fringe radical anti-Angel group, the so-called Humanity Defense Front, or HDF, had actually made it onto the carpet. Dressed up as a Guardian, he’d covered himself in fake blood and made a run for the cameras, holding a sign that said THEY’RE NO ANGELS. He’d quickly been carted off, but the incident had left its mark. The European branch of HDF had made an armed attempt to kidnap an Angel in Munich five months earlier, a plot foiled when the Angel overpowered his attackers. The HDF had never gotten violent in Angel City, but they were always making some kind of threat, and the Angels were taking no chances.
Love the Angels or hate them, you couldn’t help but feel the excitement in the air, like a kind of electricity, as if their very Immortal presence could be felt.
The world seemed to explode as Jackson Godspeed stepped out of his car and into the lights. The sound hit his ears like a drawn-out thunderclap. He wore a gray Gucci suit, white shirt, and slim black tie. The paparazzi swarmed, and Jacks took a deep breath and smiled his practiced smile as the cameras devoured him. From behind the barricades hysterical fans screamed things like
“Save me, Jackson!”
and
“I want to be your first Protection!”
Jacks turned and made sure to wave at them. A tightly wound middle-aged woman in an all-black pantsuit hustled over to him. Jacks grinned in relief at the approach of Darcy, his publicist ever since he could remember.
“
You
look incredible,” Darcy said, giving him the once-over. “I couldn’t be happier if you’d shown up naked.”
Jacks cracked up. His stepfather liked Darcy because she had, hands down, the most elite client list in the business. Jacks liked Darcy because she was crass, honest, and unrelenting. Sometimes her antics were the only thing that got him through these events.
“It’s the usual press, Access Angels,
Angels Weekly
, Angel News Network, oh, and A!” Darcy punched something in on her BlackBerry as she talked. “Vivian’s already here, so remember”—she stopped typing and pointed her Berry at him like a weapon—“do
not
answer questions about your status. Be vague.”
Jacks shrugged unhappily. “Is it really that big a deal?”
“
Buzz
is the really big deal, Jackson. Talk. Tweets. Gossip.” She smoothed the lapel of his jacket. “If it creates buzz, then it’s a big deal, and it does, so it is. For both you and Vivian. You want this cover to sell well? Just keep them guessing, okay?”
Jacks searched the carpet up ahead until he found Vivian. There she was in a one-shoulder dress that was probably from her fashion line. As much as he might try, Jacks couldn’t deny it. Vivian looked incredible. He would have to remind himself to keep his distance. They weren’t getting back together, he had decided. No matter how happy it would make Mark.
“You okay?” Darcy asked, snapping Jacks out of his reverie.
“Sure,” Jacks said, and shook the image of Vivian out of his mind.
“Great, let’s go.” Jacks fixed another charming smile on his face, and they started down the long press line.
“Here he is, Jackson Godspeed and his famous wings, the Angel everyone is talking about.” It was Jamie Campbell for ANN. “You’re only a few days away from becoming the youngest Guardian Angel of all time. Can you describe what you’re feeling right now?”
“I’ve wanted this for as long as I can remember,” Jacks said,
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