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“That . . . girl . . . you brought to the party tonight. She’s not part of your world, Jacks. She can never be a part of your world, and you know that. You know if anything were to happen to her, anything at all, there would be nothing you could do for her.”
“I know the laws,” Jacks said.
“And there’s a good reason for those laws,” Mark said. “It’s not a”—he paused, choosing the word—“a prejudice, Jackson. It’s a safeguard. The laws safeguard the institution of Guardianship.”
Mark rose and walked slowly to the window. He looked out at the twinkling city, the palm trees black in the night. Jacks sat on the bed, watching him. Guardianship. Duty. The words seemed empty, tied to parties and press junkets and paparazzi, all of it some kind of hollow dream being acted out in the Immortal City when he thought about how he felt standing next to Maddy. But that was over now. He tried to cast these thoughts from his mind. He was just upset, that was all. It would pass.
“As a Guardian, Jacks, your responsibility is to your Protections. If you allow yourself to be distracted worrying about . . . others, then it puts your Protections in danger.” He turned and faced Jacks again. “If a Protection were to get hurt because a Guardian was distracted, do you have any idea the damage that would cause? What would happen to the trust placed in us as Angels? What would happen to people’s belief in the system itself?”
He walked toward Jackson, who sat motionless on the bed. Jacks thought about how he would feel if Maddy was in danger, what he would do. If he were totally honest with himself, he knew what Mark was saying was right.
“Don’t you understand? Something like what you did tonight could destroy everything. Everything the Archangels have worked for, that your mother and I have worked for, even that your father worked for”—he was inches away from him now, standing over him—“fought for, and died for. Do I need to remind you why he fought the rebels? He gave his immortal life so that the good work of the Archangels, the good work of Angels on earth could continue.”
Jacks nodded wordlessly.
“There’s been another incident on the Walk of Angels, Jacks,” Mark said, narrowing his eyes at his stepson.
“Who?”
“Ryan Templeton. I wanted you to hear it from me. He was murdered. If this gets out into the media, they’ll blow these Angel disappearances out of proportion. There’s also a silly rumor going around that these Angels are being murdered in order of their stars. We’re sure it’s just coincidence. But your star would be next.”
“What?” A jolt ran through Jackson’s body. He felt something he wasn’t too familiar with: fear.
“If this gets out . . . with all eyes on you, it’s more important than ever that we keep a solid front. For years, those envious anti-Angel groups have been looking for just this type of opportunity. With Ted Linden being elected, it’s only going to get worse. You’re—I mean it’s—too important to give into fear now. We are putting your star on that sidewalk in defiance of whatever or whoever is out there trying to intimidate Angels.”
“But only an Angel can kill an Angel.” Jacks’s thoughts immediately cast back to what Sierra had said to him at the party that night—Can’t wait for your star. Was Sierra and Steven’s jealousy so great that it would lead them to something like . . . this? The look in her eyes had been dark and unblinking. But dark enough for murder?
“Jacks, this is more complicated than you could imagine,” Mark said.
The Archangel appraised his stepson. “I know all of this might not seem fair, but it’s part of the sacrifice that is asked of us,” he said.
Slowly, Mark sat next to Jacks again and let out a long breath.
“This is your Commissioning week, Jackson. I want you to think about your duty as a Guardian. Think about the Protection’s life you will be holding in your hands. Think about that. It will be your responsibility to make sure they come home to their families each night. So their children can have a parent. So their parents can have a child. So their siblings can have a brother or a sister.”
Mark put a firm hand on Jacks’s shoulder. “This is not about you anymore, Jackson. It’s about the Protections we serve. It’s about the duty we are all called to as Angels and as Guardians, and I will not have you mock that. I will not have you mock your duty, Jackson.”
Jacks stood up swiftly, irritated.
“You don’t have to lecture me about duty, Mark.”
In an instant, Mark had risen off the bed in front of Jacks, throwing him back across the room.
“Really? Then can you please tell me why I am seeing pictures of my stepson messing around with trash like that girl? Some human girl?”
Jacks steadied himself against the wall.
Mark’s tone was ferocious, echoing around the room.
“What were you thinking, Jacks? What were you thinking?” Mark spit out. “Do you think all this was coincidence, Jacks, all your media coverage, the success, the fame? Do you think we’ll just stand by and let you throw it away, that we’ll have groomed you for nothing, that we don’t need you to stand as a shining example against our enemies, who are growing every day? Do you?” The walls almost shook with his furious tone.
Jackson and his stepfather stood mere inches from each other, eye to eye. Neither blinked. After a few moments the heave of Mark’s chest quieted. He began composing himself. Jacks turned away, taking in the weight of Mark’s words. He knew it was true.
“Mark, I’m sorry, I wasn’t—” Jacks said tiredly. “It’s over.”
Mark looked at his stepson. The rage was gone from his eyes now; only the disappointment remained.
“I’ll talk to Darcy in the morning; we’ll take care of it. Try to get it killed by the Commissioning ceremony tomorrow night.”
