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Gabriel’s eyes came back into focus as he left behind memories of his ancient love and returned to the present.
“Even though they are simply humans, Jackson, they are dangerous. Don’t ever let them have you forget that.”
They’d circled back to the main atrium in front of the inner Council chambers. Gabriel stopped and looked right at Jackson.
“Jackson, you know how much I have enjoyed getting to know you,” he said.
“I’m humbled to hear you say that,” Jacks said.
“But there’s another reason I asked you to come see me today, in private,” Gabriel said. “I’ve already discussed this with Archangel Godspeed, and he believes you might be ready.”
“Sir?”
“Even here, deep in the sanctuary, there are Angels I cannot trust,” Gabriel said. “Those who would work against us, for whatever reasons they foolishly believe.”
“I . . . have heard some rumors.”
“Those rumors are, perhaps, sadly true. Not even the NAS is clean. I need someone I can trust, someone who’ll remain close to me, to help me find the rotten apples in the ranks. I know your mettle and your convictions, Jackson, which is why I’m asking for your help. These are trying times, and we need to fish out the traitors together. When I do call upon you, I will be entrusting you with the most important tasks.” Gabriel looked at Jackson. “If you’ll accept, naturally.”
“Of course I will, sir,” Jacks said without hesitation. He immediately thought of how having some kind of higher duty here could help him move on and get over all the pain he’d endured these past few days. As he moved on, he could help Gabriel and the Angels become stronger.
“It makes me happy to hear it, Jackson,” Gabriel said, smiling. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time for the afternoon session with the Council.”
With a short word of goodbye, Gabriel was escorted by an assistant into the inner Council chambers.
Jacks’s mind was swimming as he was led back to the sanctuary by another Council assistant. Maybe Jacks really was being groomed by Gabriel, and all that talk amounted to more than just rumors. Gabriel was bringing him in as a confidante. For Jacks to go from an injured, washed-up Guardian to working as a personal aide to the True Immortal responsible for bringing the Angels into the modern age . . .
He was so caught in this tumble of thoughts that he almost didn’t feel his phone vibrating in his pocket.
He had a text message.
And it was from Maddy.
“Hey.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Just like every other establishment in town, the old dive bar on the far side of Angel Boulevard had been closed for the four days the curfews and checkpoints had been in place. The owner, who doubled as the bartender, had ignored the evacuation warning and was now trapped in Angel City with the rest of the civilians. But where would he have gone, anyway? Angel City was his home, and this bar was his life.
Tonight, just as he’d done the previous four nights, he crept down to the bar, which was conveniently located below his apartment, to check in and make sure everything was safe and sound. He opened the door as slowly and quietly as possible, looked in on the dark and empty space, and sighed. Closed again. He wished the demons would just come in and get it over with.
Well, almost closed.
The bar was officially closed to the public, but he did have a few especially loyal customers who had permission to call him at home and request a nightcap at their favorite dive. Two such customers were Detective Sylvester and a mysterious, beautiful older woman who gave the bartender an Angel vibe, but he couldn’t be totally sure she was Immortal. He knew better than to ask too many questions. But they were allowed in whenever they felt like it—Detective Sylvester had really helped him out during the vice squad crackdowns of ’94, so the bartender owed him, and was a man of his word.
His special customers were in tonight, and they’d brought along a short, stout man in a snazzy suit who looked strangely familiar. The windows had been blacked out to prevent anyone from seeing any activity, and inside a single candle burned atop a table in the back.
The bartender wiped the layer of dust off the tabletop and nodded to the group.
“Whiskey rocks, Jim,” Sylvester said.
“I’ll have the same,” Susan Archson said.
“Just a Seven-UP for me,” said the third man. “And go easy on the fizz—I gotta drive back.” Sylvester was glad to see that even in this dark hour Louis Kreuz still had his sense of humor. He was a remarkable Angel who had held the Guardian training program together for nearly a century through sheer force of will and a stand-up personality. His style was old school—he hailed from Central Europe and had been around since the Golden Age of Angel City—but it was still more than effective. Sylvester saw him as an essential part of Angel culture, and a colorful symbol of the Immortals’ past and present in Angel City.
And he was also the resistance’s mole working inside the sanctuary. The Thorn.
Kreuz liked the code name. It tickled his particular sense of humor.
