The Hidden Deep

by Christa J. Kinde

  “Pearl and I are friends,” she retorted.

  “Yeah, well, Derrick’s part of my team, and an important part, too,” he replied seriously. “He was really great tonight.”

  Tad eyed his brother. “You were right out there with him and Coach.”

  Neil rubbed his hands together, and he looked as if he was back in that tense moment. “I wanted to do something, but I didn’t have a clue how to help. Derrick did, though. He took charge and calmed Joey down. Even made him laugh a couple times. And rode with him in the back of the ambulance since his folks weren’t at the game.”

  “That’s good,” Tad said neutrally.

  Neil gazed out the van window at the starry sky and quietly repeated, “He was really great.”

  9

  THE

  FIRST

  REHEARSAL

  Rough voices filtered through Ephron’s darkness, stirring him from a dull stupor of pain.

  “Did you see that?” growled Murque.

  “Be more specific, idiot,” Dinge sneered.

  Scuffling and scraping sounds grated against the Observer’s sensitive ears, and finally the first captor said, “There it was again! Just a bit of light out of the corner of my eye!”

  “Down here?” scoffed his companion. “Your eyes are playing tricks on you.”

  “I’m going to check,” insisted Murque, and the ominous snick of a drawn blade sent a shiver down their prisoner’s back.

  With a hiss of impatience, Dinge snapped, “Fine! It’s a waste of time, though.”

  “Not if I’m right!”

  “You’re never right!”

  While the demons’ bickering faded from earshot, Ephron lifted his face toward the whisper of tiny wings. He opened the front of his shirt with fumbling fingers, offering refuge to the little one who risked so much to meet him in his dank prison. Small hands patted his cheek, then pressed a thin wafer to his lips, and as the manna dissolved upon his tongue, Ephron’s hope was renewed.

  “Mind your wings,” he murmured as he pulled his raiment over the yahavim. Its inherent glow would help to mask the little angel’s presence. Tucking his chin against his chest, the Observer curled protectively around his precious visitor, smiling softly as Lavi snuggled against him.

  Koji didn’t ask for much, so when he asked Prissie if they could attend the first Messiah rehearsal at Holy Trinity Presbyterian, she talked to Momma. “Could we go?”

  Her mother seemed surprised. “Are you planning to sing?”

  She shook her head, saying, “Koji wants to see. Do you think it’s okay?”

  “I don’t see why not, as long as your homework is done,” Naomi replied. “Tad’s driving separately from your grandpa, so let him know he’ll have two more passengers.”

  “Thanks!” Prissie hurried off to locate her big-big brother, and found him in the machine shed, tinkering with his hunk-of-junk car. Grandpa had given it to him when he was sixteen, and they’d taken it all to pieces. In their spare time, when work on the farm slowed down, they’d been putting it back together. According to Grandpa Pete, the vehicle was a practical puzzle, and it was pretty obvious that in his own quiet way, Tad enjoyed figuring it out. “Say, Priss, do you see a small metal thingamabob on the floor anywhere?”

  “Is that the technical term?” she asked.

  Gray eyes slanted her way. “Of course it has a proper name, but you don’t need to know it to find it.”

  “Did you drop it?”

  “Yeah, just now. It’s a tiny little thing,” he said, giving her an idea of the size with his thumb and forefinger. “But if it’s missing the whole lot is useless.”

  “So it’s an important thingamabob.”

  “No more important than any of the other thingamabobs. I need them all in the right place if this thing is ever going to make it out of the shed.”

  She crouched down and peered underneath the car, scooting around until she spotted something in the shadow of one of the tires. Holding up the doodad, she asked, “Is this what you lost?”

  “Lost and found!” Tad took the part from his sister and went back to tinkering. “Did you need something?”

  “Can Koji and I go with you and Neil tonight?”

  “No problem. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

  “Why?”

  “The kid likes to sing.”

  Prissie tugged at the end of one braid. “How do you know?”

  He paused, wiping his hands on a greasy rag as he gazed thoughtfully at the ceiling. “Mostly because he sings while he’s slopping the pigs. It’s interesting to listen to him because his songs are never the same.”

  “R-really?”

  “Yep. It’s like he’s always making it up as he goes along.” Tad shook his head as he went back to work. “Koji’s not what I’d call normal, but he’s a nice kind of odd.”

  The Presbyterian church on Main Street was a beautiful building constructed from locally quarried stone. As Prissie trailed after her brothers up the front steps to the big, double doors, her attention was caught by the bronze plate beside the entrance or, more specifically, by the smooth surface to which it was affixed. Many of the buildings in town were faced by the same gray stone, including Town Hall and the post office. Lightly running her fingers over the polished surface, she murmured, “I remember this.”

  “Which part?” asked Koji, who was reading the plate that commemorated the completion of Holy Trinity’s construction.

  “No, this,” she replied, tapping the wall. “It’s like the stone I saw in the caves. The one with chains.”

  Koji’s eyes widened, and he placed his hand on the building. “I did not know, but Tamaes says you are correct. This is the same stone that was used to seal the Deep.”

  Shivering at the stark reminder of her time underground, Prissie slipped through the doors and hung her coat in the foyer. Everything about the Presbyterian church felt fancy, from the rich red carpet underfoot to the wood that gleamed darkly against more gray stone. She and Koji tiptoed into the back of the sanctuary, whose high ceilings always made her wonder if this was what a cathedral might be like. The spacious room smelled of candles and furniture polish, but Prissie’s favorite things were the windows.

  Tall, stained glass windows depicting various scenes from the Old and New Testaments reached upward to the vaulted ceilings. The sun had already set, but floodlights illuminated the colored panes from outside. Prissie thought they were even more beautiful when daylight streamed through, but they were still impressive at night.

  “Pastor Bert is here,” she whispered, pointing to Albert Ruggles, the preacher from her home church. He was in his usual navy suit, and this evening he wore an October-appropriate orange tie. A quick check confirmed that his wife Laura wore a matching orange sweater. They did things like that.

  “And I see Kester,” Prissie said softly. He was listening to the choir director, who gestured broadly even when he talked.

  “I hear Baird,” Koji replied, as an electric guitar filled the sanctuary with a swiftly ascending set of scales. He crooked his fingers. “I have been here before, and there is a good place this way.”

  She followed him back out into the foyer, feeling rather sneaky. “Is it somewhere only an angel can get to?” she asked softly.

  “No. Follow me,” he urged. Just around a corner was a stairway leading up, and over it was a sign that read, BALCONY.

  Prissie hesitated. “Is it high?”

  “I believe you will feel secure,” Koji said, offering his hand.

  “I’ll manage.” She put her hand on the banister instead. As they climbed the stairs together, she asked, “Why were you here before?”

  “Harken has joined this congregation,” he explained. “He invited me.”

  “Was that before anyone else could see you?”

  “Yes.”

  Prissie didn’t protest when Koji led her to the very back of the balcony because it kept her well away from the edge. Bright silver pipes in all sha
pes and sizes took up the entire rear wall of the sanctuary, flanking a central console and its tiny bench. They looked curiously at the confusing series of knobs, and Prissie asked, “Do you think Kester knows how to play a pipe organ?”

  “I am not sure,” he admitted. “We could ask him afterward.”

  They faced forward and Prissie swallowed hard. The view was great, but that was only because they were up so high. Below, sections of pews fanned out in front of a series of wide steps that the choir would use as risers. The pulpit stood on the topmost tier, and the orchestra would use the open space between the choir and the first row of pews.

  Grandpa Pete and Grandma Nell were already there, laughing and talking with friends and neighbors, and she could see Tad and Neil sitting with a bunch of other teens from the DeeVee’s youth group. Unplugging himself from the equipment, Baird bounded down to greet a batch of newcomers, his guitar still slung from his shoulders.

  Focusing on her friends and family helped a little, but Prissie was still nervous when she edged forward enough to quickly drop into a seat. She braced her arms against the pew in front of her, feeling a little dizzy. Koji sat beside her and laid his hand on her arm. “Would you like Tamaes to join us?”

  “Is he on the roof?”

  “No, he is here,” Koji replied. He gestured to the side and relayed, “He wants you to be at ease.”

  With a nervous half-smile, Prissie admitted, “I’d like it if he joined us.”

  At first, there was only a faint blooming of orange light, which deepened in color and intensity before spreading. Then, it unfolded to reveal Tamaes, who was leaning against the arm of the pew across the aisle, his large hands folded together. Shifting colors of bittersweet and amber stretched wide for a moment, displaying the Guardian’s impressive wingspan, then settled, spilling across the wooden seat behind him as if his wings were made of fabric instead of light. The last time Taweel had dropped into sight, it had been instantaneous … and startling. This gradual revelation was more to Prissie’s liking, and she wondered if Tamaes had been hiding behind his wings so she wouldn’t be frightened.

  Reddish-brown eyes lifted to meet her gaze, and Tamaes said, “There is nothing to fear, little one.”

  Prissie was grateful for the reassurance. “How are you feeling now? Are you still hurt?” She hadn’t seen her Guardian since he was injured during the field trip two weeks ago. For someone who was almost always with her, he was actually pretty scarce.

  “I am well,” he said with a gentle smile.

  “Sit with us!” Koji eagerly invited. He stood and scooted past Prissie, sitting on her other side and encouraging her to slide down to make more room for the angelic warrior. “You would like that, right, Prissie?”

  She nodded. After a moment’s hesitation, Tamaes slowly unfastened the sword that was strapped to his back, propping it within easy reach before carefully taking a seat. Prissie barely noticed how high up she was anymore. It was much too distracting to have the big Guardian sitting so close.

  Tamaes’s wings had flicked up to settle behind the pew, and though the shifting lights didn’t come close enough to touch her, she thought she could hear a whisper coming from them. The faint ripple of sound wasn’t the same as the soft notes that Kester’s wings had made. This was less like a wind chime and more like lapping water. It was hard to tell if the warmth she felt was coming from the wings, the angel, or her own face, which was turning red. She glanced at Koji for help, but the young Observer merely smiled as if the awkward silence was the most natural thing in the world.

  Finally, she leaned forward to try to see past the curtain of sleek auburn hair that hid Tamaes’s scarred face. “Do you like music?”

  He smiled faintly. “Yes, I do.”

  “I do, too,” she admitted.

  The Guardian’s smile deepened enough to reveal a dimple, and he replied, “I know.”

  Of course he did. He probably knew her better than anyone. A soft giggle bubbled up, breaking the tension. Rolling her eyes, she said, “Obviously.”

  Just then, Baird plugged in his guitar and struck a chord for attention, and the choir director stepped to the front, getting the first rehearsal underway. Prissie was a little disappointed because it didn’t sound like there would be much singing tonight. The director spent most of his time dividing the newcomers into their appropriate parts and introducing the various section leaders.

  Tad was sorted into the tenor section with Milo, and Neil ended up a baritone, joining Derrick Matthews in their section of the pews. Grandpa and Harken were basses, of course, and Grandma Nell was in the alto section.

  After a time, Koji leaned into Prissie and said, “Shimron would like to meet you.”

  “Now?” she gasped.

  “No,” he said, looking amused. “When the time is right.”

  “He’s your mentor, right?”

  “Indeed.”

  “What’s he like?” she asked, glancing at Tamaes to include him in the conversation.

  “Shimron is very patient with me,” the young angel said seriously.

  Prissie snorted softly. “Dealing with Zeke requires patience. Why would Shimron need patience with you?”

  “Koji asks many, many questions,” said Tamaes.

  The apprentice Observer swung his feet. “Shimron says he does not mind. I can only learn if I seek answers.”

  “Seek, and you will find,” Tamaes acknowledged, his jaw tightening once the words were out of his mouth.

  To Prissie’s surprise, Koji’s eyes widened, and he reached across her to pat the big angel’s arm. “We will. I am sure of it.”

  She realized the angels must be talking about Ephron. It was awkward to see so much sadness in their eyes, so she tried to distract them. “Does Shimron mind that you’re going to my school instead of learning how to be an Observer?”

  Koji said, “I am still learning from my mentor as well.”

  “Really? Does he give you homework or something?”

  “Shimron listens to my accounts and checks my records.” With a small squirm, he confessed, “He says that my writing could be neater.”

  “Accounts?” Prissie asked suspiciously.

  Tamaes said, “Observers do not simply watch. They are archivists.”

  This was news to Prissie. “So you’re reporting on me and my family to Shimron?”

  He slowly shook his head. “No. That is not my purpose.”

  “But you’re watching,” she accused.

  “Indeed.”

  Her Guardian briefly touched Prissie’s shoulder, and she turned her gaze on Tamaes. He met it evenly. “An Observer watches that which can be seen, but he is looking for evidence of that which is unseen.” When she still seemed baffled, he explained, “Even if Koji is watching you, you are not his focus.”

  Even more confused, Prissie asked, “Then what are you looking at?”

  Koji said, “We watch for the hand of God, for He is always at work in the lives of those who are His.”

  “So when you look at me, you don’t really see me?”

  The boy quickly reacted to the note of dismay in her voice by seizing her hand. “We are friends,” he said with earnest emphasis. “I see you clearly.”

  “Jedrick has threatened to reassign Koji to Taweel,” Tamaes remarked, a glint in his eye.

  “Why would he do that?” Prissie asked, giving the younger angel a questioning look.

  “Our captain is only teasing,” Koji said. “Since becoming your friend, my perspective has changed. Shimron says I sometimes act more like a Guardian than an Observer.”

  “You seem the same to me,” Prissie replied defensively. She didn’t like the idea of Koji being teased just because they were friends.

  “I am me, but I have changed,” Koji said, releasing her hand. “I have become isolated.”

  Prissie frowned. “I suppose we do live in the middle of nowhere.”

  Koji shook his head. “No, you live in the middle of …” he began, b
ut he was swiftly interrupted when Tamaes reached from behind and tweaked his ear.

  “… an orchard,” the Guardian firmly finished. “But that is not what Koji means.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said.

  “Let me try to explain,” Tamaes requested, looking to Koji for permission to proceed. The boy pulled one knee to his chest and swung the other leg, an expectant expression on his face, so his teammate pointed to the nearest stained glass window, which depicted Daniel in the lion’s den. An angel dressed all in white was holding back a pair of lions while the old prophet prayed with hands lifted to heaven. “Do you see that single piece of clear, orange glass just above the closest lion’s right eye? It is shaped like a leaf.”

  It didn’t take long for Prissie to locate the fragment Tamaes was talking about. As he described it, the small piece of lion’s mane jumped out at her. “I see it.”

  “Look carefully at that single piece of glass,” Tamaes instructed. “Give it your full attention.”

  It was a strange request, but Prissie did as she was told. “That’s almost the same color as your wings,” she noted.

  “So it is,” he said, a smile lurking in his tone. “It is a small thing, but it is in my nature to appreciate small things. I would be pleased to spend many hours simply studying the shape of that piece of glass, how it looks by day with the sun shining through it, by night when the moon glows in the sky.”

  Prissie was amazed by her Guardian’s quiet eloquence. Since he rarely spoke, she’d assumed he had nothing to say, yet here he was, rambling on about something as random as window glass. She stole a peek into his face, earning a small smile. Maybe he was getting over some of his shyness as well?

  Directing her attention back to the stained glass window, Tamaes continued, “While I look, I might wonder what it feels like to be orange, if it wishes it were blue, or if it knows how carefully the window’s maker fitted it into its setting.”

  Koji nodded. “Yes, I would want to know all those things, too.”

  With a sidelong look at the boy, Prissie said, “That sounds kind of crazy.”

  Tamaes pointed insistently at that bright patch of orange glass. “If that one part was under my watch-care, that is how I would feel.”