The Archangels were sitting around the conference table in intense discussion. Their jackets were thrown over chair backs, their ties loosened. An assistant had apparently brought in coffee and trays of sushi that were set in the middle of the table, along with glasses of imported sparkling water. On the flat screen, news chopper footage of the attack on the freeway was playing.
At Sylvester’s entrance the Archangels fell silent, looking up at him with surprised expressions. Sylvester glared back. He looked at the faces of the Archangels, backbone of the NAS. His eyes found Mark, who still wore his suit jacket and appeared stunned.
Finally, Mark spoke.
“What can we do for you, David?” he said calmly.
Sylvester came into the room, letting the door close with a clang behind him. Outside, assistants watched through the glass, horrified. One of the Archangels held up a hand to them, as if to indicate everything was all right.
Sylvester felt suddenly unsure of himself. His hands instinctively went to his glasses to polish them, but he caught himself, and instead he let them drop back to his sides. He took a shaky breath and spoke.
“You know how I feel about you and the NAS.”
He paused. They were silent.
“You know I believe all of this is wrong,” he said, motioning around at the lavish surroundings of the conference room. “I believe it was never supposed to be this way, saving mortal lives for mortal money, for mortal vices. I believe you have led us astray. I believe your greed and corruption is directly responsible for the threat this city faces.”
Mark was silent, scrutinizing Sylvester intensely.
Sylvester felt his passion loosening his tongue.
“Now I want you to prove me wrong. I want you to prove to me that you still remember the old ways. That you still remember who you are. I want you to prove to me that you can defend those who can’t defend themselves, the victims, the sufferers, and the mortally endangered. Prove to me you can do your duty.” He looked around at their flawless faces. “This city needs you. Now rise up and protect it.”
A blond, chisel-faced Archangel rose.
“David. We’re working on it. These things have to be discussed first. Plans have to be approved with the city, as well as, of course, a price.”
Sylvester’s face darkened.
“You have to understand we can’t just ask Guardians to risk their lives—”
But Sylvester had stopped listening. Reaching down to his waist, he drew his service revolver.
The blond Archangel’s eyes grew wide.
Sylvester pointed the pistol at the large glass display case in the corner, the case holding the ancient armor and sword of a Battle Angel, and fired. The glass fell instantly in a cascade of ringing pieces. The bullet ricocheted off the armor and buried itself in the ceiling tiles. The room went deafeningly silent.
The armor and weapon stood in the shattered case.
Ready.
Sylvester reached in and closed his grip around the hilt of the ancient sword. The weight of it was heavy in his hand as he brought it out. He turned to the Archangels and threw the sword onto the conference table, sending sushi rolls scattering, water glasses shattering under its tremend-ous weight.
Sylvester looked around at the startled faces of the Archangels. They had all gone silent.
“Now,” he said, his tone resolute, “where are the others?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
The cold against his face. That was the first sensation he felt, the first coherent thought Jacks had since riding in the back of the SUV. His fingers became aware of the ground, cold and absolute beneath him. The wind whistled in his ears. As he lay there, fragments of a nightmare began to return to him. Terrible images swirled in his consciousness.
Archangels ripped out of their seats next to him. Cars colliding violently with one another. Black-orange fireballs of death. And some kind of terrible thing. A monster. But the worst image of all was simpler than all the others. It played over and over like a horrible movie, refusing to stop.
A train station and a goodbye.
He opened his eyes and looked out at a sideways world. The lights of the Immortal City twinkled all around.
The moon, pale and bloated, had begun to rise. He must be on a rooftop. Then he realized he was not alone. The presence of the demon surrounded him. He could feel the heat of its horrific body and make out its shimmering presence.
It was only then that he noticed the other figure standing silhouetted against the moon, framed by the enormous rising disk. The figure stepped forward into the light and smiled.
“You. .” Jacks murmured in disbelief.
“Yes,” the figure said. “Me.”
Maddy paced back and forth in the claustrophobic elevator car, listening to her pounding heart and the mechanical whir of her seventy-three-story ascent. The mirrored walls created endless reflections of her. She looked around at all the Maddys staring back. Their hair matted, their faces lined with fear and determination, pain and guilt. Jacks’s Divine Ring dangled near her heart. She hit the palm of her hand against the gleaming steel of the compartment’s wall.
“Come on, come on!”
Trapped in the elevator, there was nothing to do but face her racing thoughts. No matter who, or what, was up there, they wanted Jacks mortal and dead. She made her decision. It really wasn’t a hard choice at all. She would offer herself. Her life in exchange for his. Instead of making Jackson mortal, she would offer them a mortal life. On some strange level, it seemed to make sense. . She had never imagined the end coming this way, and this soon, but she was surprised to find she was okay with it. Really, what else was there for her?
She was kidding herself if she thought she could go back to her old life of high school and Kevin’s Diner. Not with the knowledge of what really happened to her parents, who she really was. Yet there was no going forward, either.
To the Angels she was a perversion of nature, a revolting half breed, and to everyone else she was a now-infamous tabloid joke. It was a bitter truth to face: she could never be accepted by anyone. Maybe she really was an abomination.
If the world was better off without her, at least she could cause some good with her death.
Without warning the whir of the elevator quieted.
Maddy’s stomach leapt into her throat as the car slowed and came to a stop. The floor numbers paused at 60 and the doors slid open. Maddy punched the button for 73 again and again, but the car didn’t move, and the button would no longer light up. The elevator chimed and the doors began to close. The top floors must be restricted, she thought in a panic. It’s going to take me back down to the lobby. With a gasp Maddy leapt forward and slid between the doors just as they clamped shut.
The hallway she found herself in was dark, cool, and quiet. Motion- sensor security lights blinked on with her presence. Her eyes searched wildly for a stairwell door as precious seconds ticked by. Nothing but drab, unmarked office doors. She bounded down the hall and around the corner. More office doors, but at the end of the corridor she saw the green glow of an exit sign. She sprinted toward it and threw her shoulder into the door, nearly falling into the dark stairwell. Then she steadied herself with the handrail and began to climb.
The burning pain was everywhere, indescribable. The demon was engulfing him, smothering him in flaming arms.