by Scott Speer
Maddy thought back to the Vespa girl on the 101. “I saw a demon in the first wave. . . . It was about to attack me, but then, it’s like he heard something, and suddenly he left. Just like that. And he seemed . . . angry about it.”
Sylvester nodded. “We’ve heard similar stories all over the city. They pulled back. As if by design. As if they were getting orders.” He coughed into his hand. “This is more dangerous than we could have even imagined. The chaos of a demon army could be enough to topple the city. But with their forces of darkness organized and focused . . .” He trailed off. “But if we could somehow get to this leader, if we could cut the head off the body of the army, it could make all the difference. But humans alone wouldn’t be able to do that. We need Battle Angels. Battle Angels willing to risk it all.”
“How are we supposed to find this . . . head demon?” Maddy asked.
“There’s no way to get at the head demon before they attack. But once they start moving in, that’s when we think it will be exposed. That we can figure out how to identify and exterminate it. Before it’s too late.”
“But this isn’t about the Angels,” Susan said. “This is about you.”
Maddy eyed them two cautiously. “What do you mean?”
Sylvester and Susan shared a look, as if each was daring the other to be the one to deliver the news. Finally the detective answered.
“We’re speaking for Linden now,” Detective Sylvester said.
“What?” Linden? Maddy’s head whirled. Susan and the detective were working with the president?
“Linden is done with talking with the Angels,” Susan said.
Maddy cast a questioning look to Sylvester and Susan.
“Maddy. We need your help. In the war,” Sylvester said.
“But . . . what can I do? Don’t get me wrong, I want to help. More than anything,” Maddy said. “But I’m not a Battle Angel. I was barely even a Guardian.”
“You have something that’s more important than any Battle Angel. You have expertise,” Susan said.
“Expertise?” Maddy said.
“You have actual firsthand experience with demons,” Sylvester said. “That’s more than any of Linden’s four-star generals can say. He—and we—need your experience more than you can imagine.”
“But that was just one demon at a time. This is . . . we don’t know how many,” Maddy said.
“You’ve seen them up close and personal,” Susan said. “You know what they’re about. But there’s something they need even more. Linden’s team knows you have a certain power.”
Premonition.
Maddy didn’t say it out loud. She didn’t need to. Her eyes darted to Susan.
“You don’t have to tell them how it works,” Sylvester said. “But they are asking you to help them. On the front lines.”
“But what exactly would I do? I’m not trained for anything like the military.”
“The generals and colonels are positive you can give us a strategic edge,” Sylvester continued. “That you can warn the military forces before . . . something happens. So they can get ready to defend and then counterattack.”
“But what if it doesn’t work?” The prospect of having such a huge responsibility all of a sudden got her heart thumping in her chest.
“Maddy, you’re nearly the best I’ve ever seen,” said Susan. “Your frequencing is incredible. Your premonition ability may be the best among all active Angels. You can help us hold them off while we try to hunt the leader.”
“There are more demons than you can possibly imagine. Their numbers are beyond counting,” Sylvester said. “They have been waiting for centuries, quietly causing chaos around the globe when they needed to feed, but otherwise remaining in the shadows. Building their numbers. Stocking their army. All for this opportunity. We can’t let them win. We need you, Maddy.”
She looked at their pleading faces and knew what she had to do.
“When do I start?”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The sanctuary’s artificial sun had already set by the time Jacks made his way back to his quarters. The corridors were strangely quiet, the only sounds being the classical music that was piped in through skillfully hidden speakers, and Jackson’s own footsteps. This was nothing compared with the noise in his head, however.
Meeting Maddy had sent him in a tailspin, and he wondered why he’d ever agreed to see her in the first place. As if anything good could have come of it. He knew that a small part of him thought that maybe Maddy had changed her mind, was going to come running to him, beg for his forgiveness, want to join the Angels. But he knew now that was only wishful thinking. She had rejected him and the Angels twice already. Why would things change now? This was his stubborn Maddy, not just some fickle Angelstruck girl.
Jackson wasn’t going to tell Gabriel about Maddy. If Jacks had just listened, really listened, to what the elder Angel had been telling him about the difference between Angel loyalty and human “loyalty,” he wouldn’t be in this whirlpool of sadness to begin with.
Rounding the corner toward his rooms, Jackson passed a small garden studded with slender trees and a series of reflecting ponds surrounded by grass and flowers.
Suddenly, from the garden shadows, he heard a voice.
“Hello, Jackson.”
Jacks wheeled around. He thought he recognized the voice.
And deep in his mind, he associated it with danger.
Glass glinted, catching a ray of light as the speaker leaned forward.
“Will you come and sit with an old friend, just for a minute?”
Jacks felt a shock as a small shaft of light gave the face a brief moment of clarity.
“Detective Sylvester?”
“Shhh,” Sylvester said. “I’m not exactly welcome here.”
Leery, Jacks kept his distance. “They say you’re with the anti-Angel group.”
“They say a lot of things. Some of them are false, some of them are true. You’ll have to decide which is which. Will you listen to me, just for one moment?”
“If anyone sees us . . .”
“No one will bother us. I’ve arranged for that.” Sylvester said this with such confidence that Jackson was taken aback. Was the detective here to do more than just talk?
“How did you get in here?”
“We have friends everywhere, Jackson. There are many who do not want to just stand by while humanity is crushed by the demons. Even some in the sanctuary.”
Jacks stared hard at the detective. He had seen him recently during the Angel bombing crisis, but that seemed like a lifetime ago.
“The humans made their own choices,” Jacks said. “Now they must face the consequences.”
“That may be true. But many in human history have made mistakes only to learn from them later. That’s what being human is. They’re not perfect, Jacks, but they still deserve the opportunity to survive.”
“Five thousand years of war is a little less than perfect, Detective Sylvester.”
“You sound a lot like someone else I once knew.”
Jacks looked away. “It’s right there in the Book of Angels,” Jackson said.
“Scholars and Archangels have been struggling for centuries to fully explain the Book of Angels,” Sylvester said. “Those who think they understand fully its prophecies are worse than fools—they are dangerous.”
“Gabriel is one of your fools, then,” Jackson said. “But trust me, if there’s one among us who knows the truth, it’s him.”
Sylvester stared into the reflecting pools, silently, considering Jackson’s words.
“Why are you here, Detective Sylvester?” Jacks went on. “If anyone finds you . . .”
“I know the danger. Which is why this isn’t purely a social call.” Sylvester leaned in and pushed his glasses down the ridge of his nose, intensifyin
g his stare. “We need your help, Jackson.”
“I’m sorry you wasted your time by coming all the way down here. Mad . . . she already tried to talk me into joining your side, and bringing the other Angels with me. Like I have that kind of power, anyway. I’m a soldier, not a general.”
“You have more influence than you think, Jackson.”
“Even if that was true, I wouldn’t be using it against the Angels.”
“Not against the Angels. For the humans. For Earth.” Sylvester took a breath, pausing before his next words. “Maddy’s going out there. She’s doing it alone.”
“Don’t say her name around here,” Jacks growled. “She can do whatever she wants. She’s made her choices. And I’ve made mine.”
Sylvester regarded the Angel in front of him.
“You’ve changed, Jacks.”
“You’re not the first to tell me that,” Jacks said. “But I’m not the one who’s changed. The world has changed. There’s a war afoot, and it’s my duty to help the Angels be on the winning side.”
“You may need to think about your larger duty.”
“I am an Angel, and the Council has decided that this is my duty.”
“The Council does not represent the voices of all Angels,” Sylvester said. “You know that. You can decide what you want to do.”
Jacks thought about Sylvester’s tortured history as a Guardian, about his illegal save and his failure to save that young girl, the one person who had seemed to matter to him. And then he’d lost his wings and was banished from the Angel community. How could Sylvester know anything about Jackson’s duty?
“And you’re one to lecture me about duty?” Jackson said. “After what happened to you?”
“Wow. I would have thought you were above low blows, Jackson.”
Jacks was silent. He was not about to apologize.
“The demons control through chaos, Jackson. They dissolve all faith through anarchy and disorder.”
What was he talking about? Jacks hadn’t heard anything about this. . . .
“What do you mean?”
“There’s a head demon out there. Organizing them. Strategizing. This is different behavior, something new, and much more dangerous.”
“A head demon? Controlling them? But there has always been a war between Angels and demons, and there’s never been any rationale for their violence. They’re indiscriminate. They are the embodiment of complete, mindless evil.”
“It’s different this time. I know it in my bones. If we can get to the leader, this whole thing could stop. Think how many lives could be saved, Jackson. But there’s no question here. We need the Angels’ help.”
Jackson turned away, his face shrouded in bleakness. “I’m sorry to hear that. But humanity was ready to imprison us, to fight us. And now they want our help?”
“You know it was more complicated than that, Jackson. It was about Protection for Pay—it was about the system.”
For a moment, Jacks looked as if he might give in. But then his face turned grim again.
“It’s too late.”
“It’s never too late,” said Sylvester.
“It is this time.”
• • •
Detective Sylvester quietly slipped away, disappearing down whatever secret passage he had used to come in. Jacks knew he should probably report the intrusion immediately, but instead he just stood there, still as a statue in the garden. His strong hands turned into fists, his fingernails digging into his palms until they turned white.
He turned to meet his own face in the fountain’s reflection. The ripples distorted his perfect Angelic features, crumpling and distorting his face into a picture of rage and unalloyed pain.
With another flex of his fist he swiped at his image in the water, sending up a mighty splash, and headed toward the main hallway.
• • •
“Hi, handsome,” said Emily Brightchurch, smiling. She had snuck up behind him in the hallway, looping her arm through his. Her makeup was perfect, with lips glossed the perfect shade to complement her blazing-red locks. “What are you up to?”
Jackson murmured something noncommittal. Why was he always keeping her at such a distance? She was a pretty girl, he thought. She might try too hard, but he couldn’t blame her for that. And she did seem to like him a lot.
“Can I show you my new dress?” Emily asked, as if the bright idea had just hit her. “You can tell me if it looks good on me or not?”
As if in a daze, Jacks agreed, and the next thing he knew, Emily was leading him to her quarters. He sat down on the sleek couch while she scooped up a shopping bag and brought it with her into her walk-in closet.
“Won’t be more than a second,” she said, her eyes smoky as she cooed at Jacks.
Emily left the closet door slightly open, and then pretended not to notice that the mirror on the other side gave Jacks a full view of her changing. She shimmied into a tight black dress, then made her grand re-entrance into the living room. She pinned her hair up and strutted back to Jacks.
“Well? What do you think?” Emily asked.
“You look great,” Jacks said.
She turned around, and Jacks saw that the back of the dress was unzipped.
“Can you get it for me?” Emily asked with doe eyes.
She leaned up against Jacks. He started to pull up the zipper, but before he’d made it even a centimeter, she turned around and pressed her body against his. In an instant their mouths were at each other, and they were kissing. Emily exhaled heavily and grabbed the back of Jackson’s head to pull him even closer.
The moment took hold of them both—Emily by design, Jacks by surprise—and for a brief moment Jacks let himself give in, surrendered all his pain and doubt to this girl in his arms. He grabbed her waist and pulled her closer. She nodded and bit his lip as they kissed.
Suddenly, it hit Jacks what he was doing. “Emily . . . ,” he said, pulling away and ending their kiss. Emily rubbed her mouth with the back of her hand and smiled at Jacks.
“It’s okay, Jacks. We can take it slow,” she said. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about what kind of girl I am.”
“I—” Jacks tried to speak, but felt too overwhelmed. Had he really just made out with Emily? After he’d already decided so long ago that he didn’t feel anything for her?
“I should go,” Jacks mumbled.
Emily smiled at him and gave him a peck on the cheek.
Jacks just nodded and slipped out the door, wondering what he had just gotten himself into.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The Pacific waves pushed west toward what seemed like infinity under the bright sun. The whitecaps on the swells appeared like flourishes of sugary frosting cresting in lines across the horizon toward Angel City. Maddy relished the sight as she gazed out the thick glass of the helicopter.
“Five minutes to landing,” a voice crackled in her earpiece.
They were moving Maddy to the ocean front line, to fight. She had volunteered; they needed her. She leaned into the window again, her eyes scanning the distance for the sign of the aircraft carrier.
Maddy suddenly realized that the last time she’d seen the ocean from this height was when she’d saved her Protection, Jeffrey Rosenberg and, illegally, his assistant. Maddy could still conjure the bloody vision of Rosenberg’s demise, could feel the gravitational pull of the plummeting jet once again, the adrenaline, the split second she had to make the decision to save the cowering assistant, who was certainly going to die without her help. Her muscles ached as she remembered the incredible effort it had taken to freeze time long enough to make the double save. And then she remembered the aftermath. Her illegal save sparked the passing of the Immortals Bill, drawing support from Tom and fury from Jackson.
The memory made her heart quicken for Jackson, but she stuff
ed the feelings down. Maddy didn’t have time for them now.
She was with Tom. And it would stay that way.
• • •
Finally, Maddy saw the aircraft carrier, so far away it looked almost like a toy boat bobbing in a bathtub. But as they drew closer, it became more and more massive, a giant among giants. It was a steel juggernaut against the waves, and humanity’s last best hope to stem the coming tide of Dark Angels. Her heart beat faster in her chest.
Maddy saw there was a line of carriers and warships extending out in both directions into the distance, along the great blue ocean swells. The entire fleet had been mobilized. She knew the Chinese and the Russians were sending reinforcements, but there was no telling if they’d show up in time.
The helicopter drew over the deck of the carrier, and Maddy clutched onto a stabilizing strap as they descended. They touched down on the deck, the helicopter shuddering sharply as it made contact.
A sailor in a dress uniform ducked under the whirlwind of the spinning rotors and reached in to help Maddy out of the chopper. He grabbed her bag and gave a hand signal to the pilot, who then raised the helicopter slowly up off the deck. Maddy tucked her hair under her hoodie to keep it from whipping her face.
Clutching her elbow with one hand, the sailor led her off the deck, up some stairs, and into the relative silence of the bridge room. Along the way she was met with the gawking stares of sailors and military personnel, and it took all her strength to keep her head held high.
The captain was waiting on the bridge. He was about fifty-five, in good shape, with clear, sharp eyes. His khaki uniform was impeccably pressed and his boots reflected the bright, warm sunshine spilling through the bridge window.
The sailor snapped his heels together and saluted.
“Captain Blake—Madison Montgomery Godright, sir!”
“Ahem,” the private said, lightly elbowing Maddy and looking at her sidelong.
Maddy got the hint, and, blushing, she brought her hand up in a salute before being waved off by the captain.