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Speer - Immortal City

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Speer Immortal City
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Jackson Godspeed is the hottest young Angel in a city filled with them. Hes days away from becoming a full Guardian, and people around the world are already competing for the chance to be watched over by him. Everyones obsessed with the Angels and the lucky people they protect - everyone except for Madison Montgomery.
Maddys the one girl in Angel City who doesnt breathlessly follow the Angels on TV and gossip blogs. When she meets Jackson, she doesnt recognize him. But Jackson is instantly captivated by her, and against all odds the two fall in love.
Maddy is swiftly caught up in Jacksons scene, a world of glamour, paparazzi - and murder. A serial killer is on the loose, leaving dead Angels wings for the police to find on the Walk of Fame. Even the Guardians are powerless to protect themselves in the face of this threat . . . and this time its up to Maddy to save Jackson.

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Immortal City - image 1

IMMORTAL CITY

BY SCOTT SPEER

Immortal City - image 2

An Imprint of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

Immortal City

RAZORBILL

Published by the Penguin Group

Penguin Young Readers Group

345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, U.S.A.

Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, U.S.A.

Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4P 2Y3 (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

Penguin Ireland, 25 St Stephens Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd)

Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd)

Penguin Books India Pvt Ltd, 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi 110 017, India

Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Mairangi Bay, Auckland 1311, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd)

Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

Copyright 2012 Scott Speer

All rights reserved

ISBN 978-1-101-55806-5

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available

The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the authors rights is appreciated.

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

CONTENTS To my parents who taught me to believe CHAPTER ONE A t 3am the - photo 3
CONTENTS

To my parents, who taught me to believe.

CHAPTER ONE

A t 3a.m., the Pacific Coast Highway was nothing more than a gray ribbon winding through the ocean fog. Despite being more than a little buzzed, Brad downshifted, smashed the gas pedal, and sent his BMW M5 surging forward. His iPod had shuffled to California Love, by 2Pac. He turned it up.

California! Knows how to party! Brad sang out. Except when he sang it, California came out Caaafna, and party sounded more like parry. It didnt matter; in his head he was performing for a sellout crowd at the Staples Center, and they loved him. In the rearview mirror the lights of Santa Monica twinkled. The Pacific Wheel on the pier glowed like a neon disk reflecting on the black mirror of the sea. Up ahead, the rocky shores of Malibu lay dark and silent. The music roared and Brad depressed the gas pedal almost involuntarily. He couldnt help himself. Gladstones and Sunset Boulevard streaked by as the world accelerated into a violent blur.

He took each turn a little faster than the last, pushing the limits of the machine. He felt a surge of adrenaline as the headlights suddenly illuminated the churning Pacific just beyond the rocks. He stomped hard on the brake and yanked the wheel over, pointing the BMW back toward the curve he had nearly missed. He let out an exhilarated breath. This would make such a cool music video, Brad thought. Dangerous and exciting. Up ahead he saw another sharp turn in the road. This time, he would be ready. He pumped the brake, threw the wheel over, and punched the gas pedal hard. The car growled in protest but managed to stay on four wheels. Brad let out his best rock star scream as he half-skidded, half-flew around the turn.

Right into the headlights of an oncoming car.

Brad tried to brake, but he had finally pushed the BMW too far. Antilock brakes grabbing and releasing, he was a missile rocketing toward the other vehicle, a pickup, at eighty miles an hour.

Thats when it happened.

It occurred so fast Brad didnt even see it. But he certainly felt it.

It hurt like hell.

It was a hand. A hand grabbing him and pulling him out of the car. To the oncoming driver it must have looked like a magic trick. In one instant Brad was there, wide-eyed and terrified in the drivers seat, and in the next, gone.

Suddenly the pungent smell of sea air filled Brads nose. Salt-spray flicked across his neck. He realized he was standing on the side of the road, watching a fantastic collision unfold. His BMW slid across the centerline and collided head-on with the pickup. The bed of the pickup leapt up over the cab and sent the truck toppling end-over-end, over the retaining rail and down the rocky slope. Safety glass sprayed across the rocks in glittering crumbs. Then the truck hit the water, upside down, with a sickening smack. Brads BMW ricocheted off the cliff wall and spun across the road, breaking through the retaining wall on the opposite end and soaring into the air. It entered the water nose first, gracefully, like a diver. The spectacle was all so violent it was almost beautiful. Then, sputtering and steaming, both vehicles began their slow descent under the icy waves.

Brad shivered against the breeze. He was so staggered by what he had just seen that he didnt immediately notice the figure standing next to him. Turning, he at first saw only a pair of wings silhouetted against the full moon. Six feet in both directions and razor sharp, the broad appendages rose and fell with the heave of a great breath. The figure stepped forward, and Brad recognized his Guardian Angel.

Oh my God, its you, Brad said, trying his best to sound sober.

The Angel smiled but said nothing.

Brad became aware of something warm and wet dripping down his left arm, forming small, trickling droplets at the end of his fingertips. He lifted his fingers to his mouth and tasted. It was blood.

Im bleeding, he said.

The Angels eyes twinkled in the moonlight. When he spoke, his tone was even and smooth. I had to pull you out through the window, he said. It was the only way.

Brad remembered it now, as if recalling a nightmare. He remembered the white-hot pain of traveling through the glass window, the tiny slivers lodging in his face, and the way the jagged edges had felt as they sliced through the living skin. He shuddered.

The cuts on your arm and shoulder are superficial and will heal, the Angel continued. But your hip is fractured. Its very common in this type of save. Ive taken the liberty of calling an ambulance to take you to the hospital. It should be arriving momentarily.

Brad took a cautious step forward, then cried out as his right hip erupted in pain. He stepped back and quickly shifted his weight. He blew out a ragged sigh.

The Angel hadnt moved.

Oh, right, Brad said, embarrassed. He fumbled for his wallet in his pants pocket. Sorry, this is my first time, you know, he mumbled as he flipped the wallet open and struggled to pull a Platinum American Express card from its sleeve. His fingers were already numb from the cold.

Theres no need, the Angel said, dismissing the effort with a wave of his hand. The funds have already been transferred out of your account.

Oh, Brad said. He returned the billfold to his pants pocket. How much... was this?

One hundred thousand dollars, in addition to your monthly rate.

Brads gaze drifted to where the cars had landed in the water. His M5 was already submerged, but the back end of the pickup still protruded from the surf, bobbing in the swells like a corpse.

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