The Hidden Deep

by Christa J. Kinde

  “No way! I called dibs on the candy-smashing!”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Aw, c’mon, Miss Priss,” he wheedled. “You can supervise!”

  “He’ll be handling the job from now on,” Jayce interjected, giving his daughter a pointed look. “Let him get a feel for it.”

  With a sour expression, she relented, handing over the bag of candy. Ransom took it over to one of the wooden counters and stood with hammer poised. Glancing expectantly her way, he asked, “Pebbles or dust?”

  “Pebbles would be too big, but I don’t want dust,” Prissie said with authority. “Sand is best.”

  “Right,” he replied, and the hammer fell.

  Prissie watched like a hawk, occasionally offering advice that Ransom mostly ignored. Candy-smashing was hardly rocket science, so after a while, she bit her tongue and watched the steady reduction of red disks into pinkish sugar crystals. He certainly seemed to be enjoying the process, which didn’t really surprise her. Ransom’s hair was too long, his nose was too big, and he did weird things with his eyebrows … but deep down, he was no different than any of her brothers. Put simply, he was a boy.

  As if to prove the point, Prissie’s dad strolled over to inspect their progress. “May I?”

  Ransom turned over his weapon, and Jayce gave the battered bag a gleeful thwack. Shaking her head, Prissie retreated to the other side of the kitchen to lend a hand to Auntie Lou.

  While the boys took turns making rubble, the ladies set up a long line of pie plates and rolled the top crusts. They tossed apples with flour and sugar, then dusted them with powdered cinnamon candies before mounding them in the tins. For a while, there was nothing but chaos, but before Prissie knew it, they were crimping the edges on the last of a dozen pies. Auntie Lou smiled in satisfaction before glancing at the clock. “Jayce, you’d better get those two over to the school. I’ll bake these off while you’re out.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Nodding to Prissie and Ransom, he said, “Pull yourselves together. The van leaves in five!”

  Prissie washed up, hung her apron, and rolled down her sleeves, rushing through a mental checklist — homework, lunch, library book, gym bag. She’d left everything but her purse in the van, so she thanked Auntie Lou and let herself out. In the alley behind the bakery, she found Ransom already waiting, leaning against the side of the van. Drawing herself up, she said, “You’d better not tell anyone about my recipe.”

  “It’s like your dad said. When I signed on, I swore to keep my yap shut about secret recipes and techniques and stuff. Your pretty, pink pies are safe with me.”

  His entire attitude was far too flippant. “I don’t think my dad should be trusting someone like you.”

  Ransom cocked a brow at her. “Relax, Miss Priss. I know how to keep a promise.”

  She almost believed him. But almost wasn’t enough. This was Ransom, after all.

  After school a couple days later, Prissie and Koji hurried across the wide lawn in front of town hall. Passing the post office and the Herald’s newspaper office, they turned into a small, secondhand bookstore called The Curiosity Shop. They’d skimped on their library time in order to stop in and talk to Harken.

  Soft chimes sounded as they slipped through the door, and Harken looked up with a ready smile. “Prissie Pomeroy!” he greeted in a booming voice. “What brings you to my humble establishment?”

  “You!” she blurted.

  The old gentleman chuckled and stepped out from behind the counter. “Well, now, that’s gratifying. It’s been too long since you visited.”

  “Sorry.”

  “No apologies, Prissie. We’ve all been busy lately.”

  She clasped her hands together, suddenly worried that her timing was bad. “That’s true,” she murmured uncertainly.

  Koji smiled encouragingly. “There is no one else here. It is safe to ask.”

  Prissie nodded and glanced back at Harken, who was at once strange and familiar. She’d known him all her life because he’d been a good friend to her father since Jayce was her age, and her mother loved to poke around his shop, looking for bookish treasures. It had been a big shock to learn that the old man wasn’t really old … or a man, for that matter. Harken was a Messenger like Milo.

  The elderly man gazed at her with a mixture of affection and amusement. “Do you have a question for me, Prissie?”

  “Could you deliver a message for me?”

  Harken’s smile widened. “That happens to be a specialty of mine. Who is it for?”

  “You and Milo and Baird and Kester,” she rattled off, talking too fast in her nervous excitement.

  “A whole company of angels,” he replied warmly. “As it happens, Milo is resting in the garden. Shall we join him? Then, you can tell us both at once, and we’ll carry your message along to the others.”

  “Yes, please.”

  Harken gestured for her to go ahead, and she gladly stepped into the back room. On the far wall, there were two doors — one green, one blue. The green one led to the parking lot behind the store, but the blue door was miraculous. Old and ornate, its carvings of flowers, fruit, and leaves surrounded a pair of trees with intertwining branches. The knob seemed to be made from living crystal, gleaming with shifting colors; when Prissie took hold and turned, it hummed beneath her palm.

  Beyond the blue door lay a forest glade that wasn’t so much outside as it was outside of time. Light rippled and swirled like water in the sky overhead, and soft grass covered the ground. Koji immediately shed shoes and socks and jogged across the meadow toward their friend. Milo was sprawled on his back with his arms behind his head, smiling up at a flock of bright lights that danced above him like fireflies.

  Koji all but tackled the unsuspecting mailman, who laughed. “I can tell you’ve been living with the Pomeroys. You’re picking up some of their habits!”

  “I have not been here for many days,” the young Observer declared happily. “My heart is full!”

  Milo ruffled the boy’s hair. “Dreams help, but it’s not the same,” he agreed. “C’mere and rest a while.”

  Without hesitation, Koji flopped onto his back and spread his arms wide, closing his eyes with a gusty sigh of contentment.

  Harken and Prissie reached them, and suddenly worried, she asked Koji, “Do we need to bring you into town more often?”

  He peeped at her with one eye, then shook his head. “This light is not required for my subsistence, but I long for it.”

  With half her attention already caught by the tiny fairylike angels flitting around them, Prissie asked, “Why?”

  The boy’s eyes opened fully, and he gazed at her with disconcerting steadiness, which always made her feel as if he could see right to her heart. “Can you not feel a difference?” Stretching his hand toward the sky, he added, “This is unlike starlight.”

  “I guess I didn’t notice,” she said, looking at the sky. “It’s as bright as the sun.”

  “The sun is a star,” Harken gently reminded.

  “Oh, right,” she muttered, feeling silly.

  The shopkeeper patted her shoulder. “The reason young Koji finds so much delight in this place is because we’re closer to home here. This is heaven’s light.”

  Prissie’s eyes widened, and she managed a dazed, “I had no idea.”

  Milo smiled up at her. “Now that you know, pay more attention. This is something you’ll want to remember.”

  “I don’t see how I could forget,” she replied. Then, her attention was caught once more by Abner’s flock. “Are these guys as friendly as Omri?” she whispered to Harken.

  The old man’s soft chuckle sent the tiny angels into excited spirals. “Have the yahavim charmed you?” he asked, beckoning her closer. “Taweel’s little companion is quite possibly the boldest of his kind, but since you can see them, they may respond to your wishes. Like so.” Harken extended his hand and crooked his fingers.

  Immediately, three of the luminous figures separated
from the rest and zipped over. Prissie squinted, for the yahavim were so bright, they were hard to look at. Mimicking the Messenger’s stance, she tried to coax one over, and to her delight, one of the tiny creatures dipped closer, then settled on her hand. For several breathless moments, the two simply stared at each other.

  When she’d first seen the yahavim, Prissie mistook them for fairies, but Harken had explained that they were the lowest order of angels. They were sort of like pets, not clever enough to talk, but very responsive to the needs of those they served. It was their job to make manna, the food of angels, and in Prissie’s opinion, they were the cutest things ever.

  This particular little manna-maker had chin-length blue hair tucked behind pointed ears. His translucent wings reminded her of a dragonfly’s, and his pixie face was dominated by a pair of slanted eyes that had no whites. When he blinked, their faceted depths swirled with jewel-like colors. “Hello,” she said with a soft smile. The little fellow considered her for several long moments, than sat down on her palm, tucking his knees up under his chin and wiggling his tiny toes as he smiled back. Prissie was completely smitten.

  Eventually, Harken cleared his throat and gently prompted, “Wasn’t there something you wanted to ask us?”

  “Oh! Yes,” Prissie hastily answered, glancing from Harken to Milo and back again. “Maybe. I mean, if you’re not too busy with … everything?”

  Milo rolled into a sitting position and crossed his legs, gazing at her expectantly. “What did you have in mind, Miss Priscilla?”

  With a glance at Koji for moral support, she replied, “I’d like to make you all dinner.”

  3

  THE MODEL

  STUDENT

  I asked around, sir. None of the other Flights have noticed an additional yahavim in their flocks.”

  Abner frowned somewhat, then announced, “You don’t need to call me sir when we’re not working.”

  “Yes, sir,” his apprentice replied pleasantly.

  “Where has my lamb gotten himself off to,” grumbled the Caretaker.

  “If you don’t mind my saying so, he is less a lamb and more a lion.”

  “It took more courage than sense to leave the safety of the garden,” Abner conceded. “Was that all?”

  “There is one more thing, sir. Harken wants you to know that he passed along your message to his former mentor.”

  Gray eyes sharpened. “And?”

  “He says, ‘God has chosen the weak things of the world to put to shame the things which are mighty.’ ”

  Abner slowly removed his glasses. “I wonder why that never occurred to me before?”

  “What, sir?”

  Shaking his head in a solemn manner, he replied, “Perhaps Lavi was Sent.”

  Prissie liked school. Her teachers had always put a great deal of faith in her, and she tried her best to earn their approval. Over the years, she’d climbed through the ranks, from gerbil monitor to crossing guard, from model student to class representative. A few people called her a goodie-two-shoes and the teacher’s pet, but Prissie didn’t care. She worked hard to maintain her rank and reputation within the classroom, and she walked through the school halls with her head held high.

  “I still can’t believe your locker just happened to be next to mine,” Prissie said as she stowed her math things. “Did someone somewhere pull some strings?”

  Koji twirled the dial on his combination lock. “It is a providential placement.”

  Social studies was their last class of the day, and she reached for her textbook. Excited voices and slamming doors filled the busy hallway, but it was easy to tune out the clamor. “It’s been a week. How do you like school so far?” she asked curiously.

  “It is very interesting.”

  Prissie lowered her voice a little and asked, “Is it like the school you used to go to? In heaven?”

  Koji pursed his lips, then answered, “In some ways. There was more singing.”

  “You could join the choir, I suppose,” Prissie suggested.

  “Are you in the choir?”

  “Obviously not,” she said with a careless shrug. “I’ve never been very good at singing.”

  He mimicked her shrug, saying, “Then, I will not.”

  The young angel’s class schedule was identical to hers, right down to the electives, which bothered her a little. Frowning, she pointed out, “You don’t have to do everything I do.”

  “I am here so that I can be with you,” he replied with a smile.

  She couldn’t help smiling back. If Koji had been anyone besides himself, Prissie probably would have been annoyed. To other people, he might appear to be one part tag-along, one part stalker, but his constant companionship over the last few days had been a godsend.

  Up until this year, Prissie and her best friend, Margery Burke, had always picked up where they left off after the summer break. But things had changed over the summer. Elise Hanson had completely turned Margery’s head. Prissie didn’t like Elise one bit, and the feeling was mutual. Margery, Jennifer, and April still replied to emails and took her calls, but it wasn’t the same. They followed Elise’s lead, and whether they meant to or not, they often left Prissie out of the loop.

  “You coming, Prissie?” called Jennifer from across the hall.

  Brightening, she hurried over to walk next to her friend. Jennifer Ruiz was a bit of an airhead, but her bubbly personality made her popular with just about everyone. She was sweet and silly, and Prissie sort of envied her big brown eyes. At the moment, they were wide with excitement. “Eeee!” Jennifer squealed. “I’m so glad that Marcus is in our class again!”

  Prissie’s lips thinned, but she kept her opinions to herself as she followed Jennifer’s gaze to the boy sitting next to Ransom in the back of the classroom. She supposed Marcus was good looking enough. Her friend certainly liked to go on and on about his warm brown skin, full lips, cleft chin, and gold-flecked brown eyes. Still, Prissie didn’t really approve of Jennifer’s current crush. A wide section of his hair had been bleached platinum blond, and there were rumors about him being shuffled from one foster home to another. You could tell at a glance that he was trouble with a capital T.

  Unless you were Jennifer. “I would kill to have lashes like his!” she gushed.

  “Everybody has eyelashes,” Prissie retorted.

  “Not like his!”

  The boy in question seemed completely ignorant of his admirer. Slouched in his seat, he tapped his pencil against the desk while listening to Ransom describe something using broad gestures. With a huff, Prissie turned her back on the both of them. Eventually, her friend had to run out of things to drool over. There couldn’t be much left. Maybe his shoelaces?

  At the last possible second, Prissie marched to her desk and slid into the seat, which was right in front of Ransom’s. Only then did she realize that Koji had been quietly following her the whole time. With a little half-smile, he took the desk in front of hers, another providential placement. The young Observer was always very attentive — unlike certain class clowns she could mention — and she wholly approved of his serious attitude toward their studies.

  The bell sounded in the hallway, and Miss Knowles snapped her fingers for attention. “Today, we’ll divide into groups of three for a special project,” she announced, looking quite pleased with her plan. Miss Knowles loved group projects; last year, there had been one every couple of months. Prissie didn’t particularly like them because she always ended up doing all the work. “Choose your own teams, and be quick about it!” their teacher said with another series of snaps.

  Prissie straightened and glanced Margery’s way, but the blonde girl was already arm-in-arm with Elise. Koji turned to her with a hopeful expression, and she smiled gratefully. That just left Jennifer and April, who exchanged a long look before parting company. April slipped over and leaned against Prissie’s desk. “I’m with you guys,” she said, her gray eyes bright behind the rectangular frames of her glasses.

 
“We are a team,” Koji acknowledged seriously.

  April Mayfair kept her mousy brown hair in a sleek bob, with baby bangs forming a sharp line across her forehead. She was a smart girl with quick wits and plenty of opinions, and she planned on becoming a journalist. “Are you two sticking around for the pep rally after school?” she asked eagerly.

  “Yes!” Prissie confirmed. Tonight was the first home game of the season, and there was no question that all of them would be attending. Margery and Jennifer were both on the cheerleading squad, and April covered the games for the school’s paper. Usually, she and Prissie stuck together for at least part of the evening.

  However, April nodded. “Perfect! I promised to make sure Elise has fun tonight. Sounds like she wants to stalk some of the players, so we’ll probably be on the sidelines, but whatever! You’ll be doing the same for Koji, am I right?”

  “R-right,” Prissie replied brightly, hoping April couldn’t tell how disappointed she was. Why couldn’t things go her way for once?

  Game nights had been a Pomeroy tradition ever since Neil was in the peewee leagues. Grandpa was a huge football fan, so he’d been delighted that one of his grandsons had taken an early interest in the sport. Neither Tad nor Beau had wanted to play, but Pete was already encouraging Zeke to follow in Neil’s footsteps.

  Though the whole family didn’t always attend every game, the Pomeroys were out in full force tonight. Grandma Nell and Momma carried blankets to sit on, and Beau had a book tucked under his arm. Tad wandered off to talk to some friends, and Jayce tried to corral the two youngest in the stands. Zeke and Jude scampered like monkeys up to the topmost tiers of the bleachers, with the rest following more slowly. “Careful!” Prissie called after them, but then she turned her attention to the bottom row, gave the plank a flick to make sure it was clean, and sat down.

  Koji didn’t question her choice, taking his customary place by her side. He gazed thoughtfully after her younger brothers. “Too high?”

  “Way too high,” she agreed. Prissie peeked at the young Observer out of the corner of her eye. The more time they spent together, the more he seemed to understand her. It was a nice feeling, being known. “You can sit with them if you want,” she said. “I’m sure it’s a better view.”