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  One woman, her face covered in dark soot and crimson blood, had been saved because she had been standing behind a car. She screamed in agony, her leg a mess of blood and bone. Another man rolled on the lawn, his flaming clothes melted to his body. Most of the others weren’t so lucky, the front pavement a scene of mayhem and carnage beyond what even the most terrorized imagination could envision.

  Somewhere in the distance, a police siren began. Then another. The building alarm itself had been abruptly silenced by the blast.

  The trees in front of the building rocked back and forth, their palms flaming and sizzling blood-red in the night.

  CHAPTER 7

  The offices of the NAS, where Maddy had been just yesterday, now transformed into a kind of command centre. Inside a small auditorium that also served as an enormous conference room, Archangels perched around a massive table, their faces gaunt from concern and lack of sleep. Many high-profile Guardians sat in seats in the circular auditorium, along with a number of human lawyers, who were seated just behind the main table. A number of chisel-jawed, black-suited Angel Disciplinary Council Agents stood discreetly at the exits of the auditorium, ensuring safety. Frantic assistants flitted in and out of the room. Phones rang constantly. Footage of the smouldering carnage that had been the front façade of the Angels Administration Affairs building a few blocks away played on the massive projection screen at the head of the room. Pillars of smoke swirled up from the glowing ashes of the wreckage on the screen.

  A technician readied equipment for a video conference with Angel branch headquarters in Paris, London, Rio and Beijing.

  In the far corner, Mark Godspeed looked contemplatively out of the tinted windows that formed a gleaming wall – a wall that looked down on to Beverly Boulevard from many stories up. Golden morning sun filtered through the thick glass. Behind Mark, the newscast scrolled the latest fatality count for the bombing: eighty-three and growing – all humans, but the attack had clearly been on the symbolic seat of Angel business.

  Archangel Holyoake brought his fist down on the solid oak table with a thump, causing the half-drunk cups of coffee on the table to shake. Holyoake was a hulking figure, his bulk contained under a steely blue suit, powder blue shirt and silver tie.

  “We have to come out strong. This bombing is a frontal assault, and we need to respond accordingly! We cannot be seen as weak!”

  A female Archangel shot Holyoake a glance. “William, how many times do we have to go over this? We have no solid idea where this threat is coming from, or who it could even be. No one is claiming responsibility yet. Jumping to conclusions now would be foolish and would open us up to serious criticism further down the line.”

  “We need to practise restraint,” Archangel Steeple agreed.

  A deep voice erupted down the table. It was Archangel Charles Churchson, who stood up to address the assembled Angels. Mark turned his head slightly towards Churchson as he spoke, although he still maintained his gaze out of the shimmering window.

  “Don’t play dumb. It must be Senator Linden and his people. It’s the logical next step for their organization, even if he is running a presidential campaign,” Churchson said gravely. “He’s campaigning on an anti-Angel platform, and some are starting to listen to his lies. The proposed ‘Immortals Bill’ would be the single most dangerous threat to Angels since the Great Awakening. He’s fuelling hatred, turning humanity against us. They’re making a power play, and they won’t stop until we’re totally rendered toothless, intimidated and weak. Some violent act like this was bound to happen. The question is, what will we do about it? Stand by and watch as they attack our prized institutions? Or something else.”

  More than a few heads at the table were nodding in agreement with Churchson.

  Mark Godspeed turned all the way around to the assembled Angels in the room and spoke. “Regardless of what’s decided here today, we must ensure safety and security for Angels across Angel City and the world. Whatever it takes.”

  “Mark’s right,” Holyoake said. “And part of ensuring safety is ensuring that the investigation is done properly and that we bring the perpetrators to light. That’s why we must conduct the inquiry entirely. We can’t trust a human police force. With the growing influence of Linden and his agents of hate, we can be sure there will be moles in all the human agencies.”

  Mark disagreed. “We do have friends within the police department. Perhaps we can use their resources, as well.”

  “We cannot trust them. Full stop,” Archangel Churchson said. He turned to the bank of nondescript men sitting along the wall. “How has our closing out of the police been going?”

  One of the lawyers responded. “The scene was sealed for Angels-only access shortly after ACPD arrived from the 911 call. The police complied.”

  “Good,” Archangel Churchson said. He took a drink from his coffee mug and set it back on the table.

  The glass doors to the conference room swung open. Jackson Godspeed stood there in a grey hoodie and dark blazer. A number of Angels turned to the door, surprised to see him.

  “Jacks, what are you doing here?” Mark said. “I thought you were with your mother and sister.”

  The world’s most famous Angel scanned the room, seeing Archangel Churchson’s nephew, Steven, along with a couple other Guardians from his Commissioning class last year. His cheeks burned hot with anger and embarrassment for a moment as he thought about how he hadn’t even been called for this most important of meetings. He addressed his stepfather.

  “I’m a Guardian, aren’t I? Even if I can’t fly right now,” Jacks said. “I’ve sworn to uphold and protect the ideals of the NAS.”

  A few of the Angels uncomfortably studied the table in front of them rather than match Jacks’s direct gaze.

  Mark stood up from his chair and walked over to Jackson. He put what was meant to be a conciliatory hand on his shoulder.

  “Jacks, you’ll be no good to us at all if you don’t get better,” Mark quietly said. “You need to focus on your recovery. Get your wings back.”

  Jackson’s gaze floated past his stepfather and up to the devastation and disaster of the bombing playing on the screen. Fury and determination combined in his glinting blue eyes.

  “No, Mark. I want to help. I need to help,” Jacks said emphatically. “I want to bring whatever monster did this to justice. I have to be useful somehow. Just doing anything. You’ve got to put me to work.”

  Mark seemed about to protest again when a voice spoke. Faces turned. It was Archangel Churchson.

  “Let him stay.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Maddy’s alarm woke her from a strangely dreamless sleep. It was her first day of training to become a Guardian Angel. Turning her head, she looked again at the Angel City sign perched above the Hills. It seemed different today.

  Maddy stepped into the bathroom, turning the shower on scalding hot. She looked at herself in the mirror as the water heated up. You are not scared, Maddy. You are not scared.

  She shook her head. She couldn’t lie to herself. You are totally scared, though!

  Taking off the T-shirt she slept in, Maddy turned her back to the mirror and looked over her shoulder before she stepped into the shower. Her Immortal Marks, delicate and fair, shone on her bare back. Recently the marks had become even more pronounced, and Maddy could swear she even saw them give off a sparkling light every now and then.

  After showering and towelling dry, Maddy had to choose what she was going to wear for her first day of training. Against her best efforts to discourage him, Jacks had insisted on taking Maddy shopping with his money – she would be getting her first Guardian-training stipend cheque soon, along with an enormous signing bonus, which itself would be more money than she’d ever dreamt of seeing in her life, but the Angel lawyers were still working on the contracts. Maddy was still trying to decide how far to give in to Darcy’s insistence on va
rious photo shoots and endorsements. She had heard that Nike was interested in a special “Maddy” shoe, even.

  She’d laid some of the new clothes Jacks had insisted on buying her across the back of her old wooden desk chair. She slipped into a skirt and then squeezed into a finely cut shirt by a designer whose name she couldn’t pronounce. She closed her bedroom door and looked at herself in the full-length mirror that hung on the back.

  She had to admit that the clothes had a certain charm. If she were really going to admit it, they looked great – the sales girl had definitely known what would look good on her. But Maddy looked at herself behind the clothes and saw how uncomfortable she appeared, like she was afraid she’d rip something just by sneezing. She seemed stiff and awkward.

  Walking to her wardrobe, Maddy rummaged around for a bit before ultimately coming up with what she was looking for, her old favourite pair of jeans. She slipped off the skirt and put the jeans on. Now just to find the other piece. . . Pawing through a small pile of clean laundry near the door, Maddy found it: her grey hoodie. Finishing her trademark uniform, Maddy looked at herself in the mirror. She was so much more relaxed, it was almost shocking. Jacks may complain, but Maddy wasn’t going to start her first day as an Angel wearing clothes she didn’t feel like herself in.

  She did grab one of Jacks’s purchases, a pair of Dior sunglasses she secretly loved. Sticking them on, Maddy flipped off the light switch and headed downstairs. Stealing a quick glance out of the front window, she was shocked to see the largest crowd of paparazzi she’d had to contend with yet.

  When the Archangels announced last week that Maddy would start training to become a Guardian, the response from the media had been quick and overwhelming. The press had been focused on the shocking bombing of the Angel offices and the grisly casualties, but now a scintillating and unheard of story started replacing the sombre coverage of the violence: the future Guardianship of an ordinary girl from Angel City. A! and ANN and almost all the other networks quickly put together hour-long specials about Maddy. Fox ran a new episode of American Protection as a lead-in to their “Maddy” special. The networks had got their paws on old yearbooks and showed the worst possible pictures Maddy could have imagined, including a disastrous one from seventh grade, or “The Year of the Braces”, as she shuddered to think of it. Old classmates she didn’t even really remember were interviewed, talking about Maddy like they had been best friends for years. Practically everyone who’d ever met Maddy seemed to be getting in on the action. Worst of all, Maddy thought, was how each of the specials went into gory detail over the dramatic events around Jackson’s Commissioning: Jackson saving her, the Dark Angel attack, the deadly freeway chase, Jackson’s mangling at the hands of the hired demon, and her own near-death.

  The Angel blogs were even worse, running over every piece of gossip they could pick up. Every other hour, it seemed like Johnny Vuitton had some new “blind” item, and with everything horrible that came up, Maddy would get a breathless text from Gwen at college in Arizona.

  As for Maddy’s publicist . . . Darcy was beside herself every day: her office was being swamped with requests, but Maddy was still turning down interviews, photo shoots and appearances.

  “Maddy, just be reasonable,” Darcy had pleaded yesterday, practically on the verge of anxious tears. “For the love of whatever you believe in, please let me do my job!”

  But Maddy, for now, was steadfast – she wanted to focus on her training. With the spotlight trained on her, she was going to need every last bit of concentration as she prepared to become a Guardian.

  She ran past the paparazzi to Kevin’s old station wagon, slamming the door shut and peeling out of the drive as quickly as she could. Once away from the clustered pack of photographers, she turned on the radio. DJs on every channel seemed to be talking about her.

  “Angel fanatics across the globe are beside themselves today as Madison Montgomery Godright, the human girl formerly only known as superstar Jackson Godspeed’s girlfriend, steps into the spotlight as she begins her Guardian Angel training in glamorous Angel City! Maddy, who is the only part-Angel, part-human ever known to exist, still doesn’t have her wings yet – but that isn’t stopping the Archangels from getting her into training with other future Angel nominees, like Jacks’s bestie, Mitch Steeple, and the sexy Australian Emily Brightchurch! Stay tuned all week as we cover all things Maddy, the girl who became an Angel!”

  Maddy flipped to another channel, but it was more of the same. The host, Jason Shipley, had a raspy voice, but that didn’t disguise his enthusiasm.

  “For years, hopefuls around the country, and even the world, have moved to Angel City in hopes of someday becoming a Protection and joining the sexy and elite circle of Immortals! But now they have an even bigger dream, as this week former waitress Maddy Montgomery starts training to become an Angel! And Angel Magazine is offering a cool $1 million for the first photo of Maddy’s wings! So if you’re in the Immortal City this week, have your camera ready and you could have a great payday!”

  One million dollars? Maddy hadn’t known that. A stab of anxiety hit her as she imagined having her wings come out in public. She hoped against hope that she’d have some kind of control when they decided to make their debut.

  She pulled up to the guard shack that led to the entrance to the Angel training campus. The security officer leaned down, eyeing the old station wagon suspiciously over the brim of his black hat.

  “Hi,” Maddy said, smiling tentatively.

  “Who are you here to see?”

  “Um, no one – I mean, I’m here myself – I mean, I’m here for training.”

  “ID?” the guard barked. Maddy could see another guard in the shack. It looked like he had some kind of rifle slung across his shoulder, too.

  She handed her California driver’s licence to the guard. As soon as he read the name on the plastic ID, his expression brightened.

  “Oh, right this way, miss,” he said brightly. “I didn’t recognize you. Never can be too careful, especially with those HDF wackos making more threats everyday.”

  Although the Humanity Defence Faction had yet to claim responsibility, the general consensus was that they must have been involved in the bombing, given that for years they’d been calling for the dismantling of the NAS, by violent means if necessary.

  The gleaming gate lifted silently, and Maddy drove on to the campus. Just inside, there was another pair of black-clad armed guards – the Immortals kept their training absolutely secret, and they weren’t taking any chances, especially not after the bombing. Leafy trees lined a drive that ran past a series of bungalow offices that had been built in the ’30s and kept in pristine condition. A series of gardeners worked on the immaculate lawn, trimming each blade of perfectly green grass. Monumental palm trees stood in the distance.

  The front building was a giant corner bungalow that housed the training head’s office, where Louis Kreuz, an Angel immigrant from Central Europe, had been ruling the training grounds for as long as anyone could remember. At first Maddy had wondered why he had such an “un-Angelic” last name, but then she figured out it was simply German for “cross”. Kreuz was famous, Maddy knew from Jackson, both for his tirades against Angel trainees and instructors alike as well as for his astonishing success at transforming the most unlikely Angels into overnight superstar Guardians. (He was also notorious for having an expensive Cuban cigar dangling from his mouth at all times. An old joke in Angel City was that he smoked them even in his sleep, leading to considerable difficulties for Mrs Kreuz.)

  Maddy followed the drive around the side of the bungalows to the parking area. Her first impulse was to park in the visitor section, but a sign directed her to an area in the small car park reserved for “Nominees in Training”.

  Past the offices stood two rows of low but imposing white buildings that looked to Maddy like enormous hangars. There must have been at least a do
zen of them, gleaming under the sun. If anyone wanted to know how the Angels kept their training so secret, here was part of the answer, at least.

  Maddy pulled her uncle’s station wagon into a free spot. She checked her bag one last time, making sure she had everything she needed – including a new blank journal from Uncle Kevin, along with her father’s training notebook. She got out of the car into the blinding sunshine and looked at her vehicle parked incongruously among those of the other young Angels in training: Porsche, Jaguar, Range Rover, Porsche, BMW M3 . . . and Kevin’s old station wagon with two hundred and twenty thousand miles on it. She saw he still hadn’t taken the Angel City High School honour student bumper sticker off. Maddy idly wondered if they had “My Kid Is an Honour Student at the Guardian Angel Training Academy” stickers.

  A golf cart whizzed up to Maddy, piloted by a young woman just a few years older than her.

  “Ms Godright? I’m Sadie. Mr Kreuz wishes to see you.” Her voice was sharp and clipped. She was so beautiful that Maddy thought at first she must be an Angel, but there was something earthbound about her that made Maddy decide she was human.

  “Mr . . . Kreuz?” Maddy sputtered. “Now?”

  “Yes. He specifically requested I come and fetch you as soon as you arrived on the grounds. And Mr Kreuz doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

  The ride on the cart only took thirty seconds, looping around the back of the other low-slung offices to the front bungalow. Along the way, they passed two Angels Maddy would’ve bet anything were Guardians in training, a guy and a girl. She also would’ve bet anything they glared at her as she passed by.