The Hidden Deep

by Christa J. Kinde

  Prissie straightened, finally realizing that they weren’t really talking about stained glass windows. They were talking about her, and that made it more interesting.

  “However, Shimron’s role as a master archivist is much different,” Tamaes patiently explained. “He does not often enter the created world.”

  “Does he stay in the garden behind the blue door?” Prissie asked.

  “No, Shimron looks down on West Edinton from on high,” Koji answered. With a straight face, he added, “Harken calls it his Ivory Tower, but the stones are actually white.”

  Tamaes seized control of the conversation once more. “Observers see patterns. While I keep my eyes on one special piece, Shimron sees all the pieces as they fit together and finds beauty in the picture they form.”

  “It sounds like he’s the one who’s isolated,” Prissie said. “He’s locked up in a tower!”

  “Not at all. Shimron is well acquainted with the world,” assured Tamaes. “He is one of the First, so he remembers the day when time began. And for the last two centuries, he has been watching pieces fall into place here.”

  “In West Edinton?” Prissie asked.

  “In and around,” the Guardian replied vaguely.

  Prissie looked at Koji and asked, “So you’re isolated because you’re out of touch with the … the grand scheme of things?”

  “Indeed.”

  “And that’s bad?”

  To her relief, Tamaes declared, “The plans of God are only good.”

  “I already told you my mentor is glad that I made a human friend,” Koji reminded. He waved confidently toward Daniel and the lions. “Shimron says that it is good to remember that just as the many are gathered together in the whole, the whole depends upon the many. So, for a season, I will watch over you with Tamaes.”

  “Apprenticed to an apprentice?” she asked skeptically.

  “Sent,” the young angel corrected. “I have been Sent.”

  “Why would God do that?”

  “I do not know,” Koji admitted. “I cannot see the whole picture.”

  “Can Shimron see it?”

  “You could ask him when I introduce you,” the young Observer suggested. “He often says that the ways of God are mysterious, so even angels must have faith.”

  10

  THE

  FALL

  FESTIVAL

  I have a question,” Kester announced.

  “For me?” Baird asked, glancing up from where he was fitting a new string onto his guitar.

  “You are my mentor.”

  “Good point,” the redhead conceded. “Shoot.”

  “Why did God allow a Guardian and his charge to meet?”

  “No clue,” Baird fired back. “And don’t give me that disappointed puppy-dog look. I’m totally out of the loop on this one.”

  Kester nodded solemnly and picked up his bow, but did not draw it over the cello strings. “I am merely concerned.”

  His mentor fiddled with his instrument some more, then said, “I get where you’re coming from. In fact, I did a little asking around. No one around here has even heard of such a thing. It’s like a Guardian’s dream come true.”

  “Is it for Prissie’s sake?”

  “Seems to me — and I’m just winging it here — but it seems to me, there are two ways to look at it,” Baird said with unusual seriousness. “Either their time together will provide something Prissie needs, or something Tamaes needs.”

  Kester pulled a mournful note from his instrument. “Either way, the need must be great.”

  “Yeah,” the redhead agreed quietly. “Yeah, I think so, too.”

  “Is that it? Are we ready?” Prissie asked, checking for the fifth time.

  “Talk to Auntie Lou,” her father replied with a laugh. “She stole my list.”

  Prissie swept through the door to Loafing Around’s kitchen with a satisfying rustle of full-length skirts. It was the last day of October, and all of West Edinton was readying for a local celebration that was one part Founder’s Day and one part Fall Festival. Like most of the other businesses on Main Street, the Pomeroys were adding the final touches to their front doors because the center of town would soon be filled with trick-or-treaters. Everyone chose a theme because there was an annual contest headed up by the Herald, with prizes awarded for the most creative displays. People were still talking about the corner store’s clever arcade setup from a few years back, which had sent local kids up and down aisles haunted by Inky, Blinky, Pinky, and Clyde.

  Jayce enjoyed being in the thick of things, so his bakery always took part in the festivities. He and Momma chose the theme each year, and all the staff pitched in to help pull it off. Naomi inevitably chose kid-friendly settings, and this year, they were doing a more generic castle theme — lords and ladies, knights and pages. Prissie was enormously pleased with the fancy dress Pearl Matthews had sewn for her. It made her feel like a princess in a fairy tale.

  In the kitchen, Grandma Nell was ladling thick chowder into an old brown and beige crock she usually used for baked beans. Koji, whose bicolored squire’s tunic was a match for those that would be worn by Beau and Tad, sat on a stool beside the wide work table, munching on a heel of bread. Spying Prissie, Auntie Lou said, “Come on over here and give the cocoa a stir, then fill the thermos, dear.” She bustled over to the oven and pulled out fresh loaves. “Heaven knows there will be enough candy floating around town tonight, but it’ll mostly go to the kids. That’s for Harken’s sweet tooth.”

  Prissie sniffed the steaming pot, which had a vanilla bean floating in it. It was really strange, thinking back. For years, ever since she was a very little girl, she’d helped pack Harken’s dinner on the night of the festival. Since the shopkeeper had his own preparations to make, he bowed out of supper with the Pomeroys and the bakery staff. Still, Jayce always made sure the old man received a portion of the special dinner. One or more of the kids delivered a picnic basket, and Prissie was pretty sure she’d been along for the small errand every single year. In the past, she’d always just dropped off the basket, but back then, she’d thought of Mr. Mercer as nothing but a nice old man. This year was different. Now, she thought of him as her friend, not just her dad’s.

  “Koji and I will take the basket over,” Prissie volunteered.

  “Thank you, sweetie,” Grandma Nell replied. She wrapped the crock in a towel and packed it in an oversized basket. Adding smaller containers of side dishes, she asked, “Is the thermos ready? It’ll go here.”

  Prissie carried it over and tucked it in, and Auntie Lou added two loaves of hot, crusty bread. “There!”

  As soon as the basket’s lid was secured, Prissie grabbed the handles and lifted. “Oof! This is heavy! Are you sure Mr. Mercer needs this much food?”

  “Milo lives over there, too. They can share,” Grandma Nell said in her kindly, bossy way.

  Outside, Prissie lugged the heavy basket with as much grace as she could muster. A large section of Main Street had been cordoned off, and a band was setting up in the gazebo. As she and Koji hurried past Town Hall and the newspaper office, she hoped Milo would be there this year, for even though she knew it was silly to still care, Prissie wanted to show off her dress to him.

  There was nothing scary about The Curiosity Shop’s decorations, and Harken didn’t dress up in any kind of costume. On Halloween, he invited children into his store just as he always did. In fact, when Prissie and Koji carried their burden over his threshold, he greeted them with his usual smile. “Jayce told me there was a royal theme this year!” he exclaimed. “My compliments to your seamstress!”

  Prissie curtsied. “I’ll make sure to tell Pearl.”

  Just then, Milo ducked out of the back room. “Hey, Miss Priscilla, Koji! Do I smell fresh bread?”

  “Yes, hot from the oven,” she said, as the mailman hurried forward to take her burden. “Isn’t this the first time you’re here on Halloween?”

  “It is, actually,” he replied. �
�Taweel asked me to stay close to home, so to speak.”

  Harken’s expression grew serious. “By the looks of things, it’ll be a rough night. I haven’t seen this much turmoil in some time.”

  Prissie’s eyes widened. “Is that bad? I mean, is it safe for all the kids?”

  The old shopkeeper came forward and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “To everyone in town, including you, this will be a night of fun and games. Don’t fret over things best left in the hands of God.”

  “I suppose.”

  Milo carried the picnic supper into the back room, and a moment later, he leaned through the doorway. “Say, Miss Priscilla, while you’re here, why don’t you come through and say hello to the others? Baird and Kester are here.”

  Gladly accepting his invitation, she and Koji slipped into the back. The blue door opened onto the bright glade with its carpet of soft grass, and Prissie admired the green-gold forest. “Is it always summer here?”

  “The seasons don’t turn in a place untouched by time,” Milo said. As he gestured for her to precede him over the threshold, his gaze lit on the pair of Worshipers relaxing in the glade, and he exclaimed, “Oh! Miss Priscilla, I probably should have warned you …”

  “Is that a costume?” she asked in an undertone.

  “Nooo,” the mailman replied. “It would be the other way around. That’s their true appearance.”

  Koji smiled up into her face, dark eyes sparkling. “Did you forget that we are not what we seem?”

  “Maybe I did,” she admitted, allowing Koji to lead her toward the others.

  Kester, who stood gazing into the sky, turned to them as they approached. Instead of the usual suit, he was dressed in shining raiment, a long tunic over a pair of loose pants. Varicolored stitching in rainbow hues edged the collar and cuffs, and for the first time, Prissie realized that the decoration might actually indicate his angelic order.

  Just as striking as his new wardrobe was Kester’s hair. Glossy black curls went on and on, gathered back with a series of thick leather bands. With his olive skin and large nose, Prissie thought the apprentice Worshiper looked like a foreign dignitary or perhaps the prince of a faraway land. She gaped at him with all the manners of a goldfish, and his dark eyes crinkled at the corners. “Good evening, Prissie. I trust that you are not alarmed by appearances?” With all seriousness, he reminded, “They are not the most important consideration.”

  “N-no. I was just so … You look very … angelic,” she ended lamely. It was true, though.

  Kester merely smiled and glanced at his mentor. Baird was sprawled on his back in the grass, arms behind his head and one foot propped on his knee; his eyes were closed, and he was humming softly to himself. “He is lost in song,” Kester remarked calmly.

  Prissie could only nod, for Baird’s transformation was equally distracting. His raiment was the same as Kester’s, and he looked right at home in the loose clothing. What grabbed her attention, though, was his hair. It was no longer the orange-red of human hair. Baird’s hair was red-red, just like the vibrant hue of the furled wings that decorated his skin like an audacious set of tattoos. “Is it possible for hair to be that color?” she mumbled dazedly.

  “Most assuredly,” said Kester.

  Hazel eyes drifted open, distant and dreamy, as if Baird was seeing something far away. “Say, Kester, I think I have that bridge figured out.” In that instant, Prissie thought he finally looked the part of an angel, and she found herself holding her breath as awe built up in her heart. Then, Baird grinned.

  “Prissie!” he exclaimed, bounding to his feet. “You’re here! Harken said you might be dropping by!” Giving Koji a quick cuff on the shoulder, he continued, “Aw, man, this is awesome! Your town sure knows what it’s doing when it comes to throwing a party! I can’t believe I’ve never come up for it before now!”

  Though she knew it was rude, Prissie couldn’t stop staring. While Baird had been lying down, she hadn’t noticed, but now that he was on his feet, it was impossible to ignore the Worshiper’s shaggy mane. From one ear to the other, sections of hair had been twisted into small knots; they looked almost like a headband, with the loose ends standing up like a fuzzy, red halo. The rest was longer, but hardly tame; the ends flew away in every direction at once.

  He screeched to a verbal halt. “Prissie? Uh-oh. Am I freaking you out?”

  “You do look different,” she mumbled uncomfortably.

  Baird sobered quickly and took a step back before gently pointing out, “So do you. Dresses like that went out of style ages ago.”

  She glanced down at her full skirts. “This is a costume.”

  “Okay,” he said, then thumped his chest. “This is the real deal. Think of it as me having a pajama day!”

  Kester gave his mentor a pained look. “Raiment are not pajamas.”

  “Nope, but they’re just as comfy!” Baird cheerfully countered. Turning back to Prissie, he added, “You know, this is the first time I’ve seen you without braids.”

  Prissie self-consciously touched her hair, which she’d left loose for once. The comparison hardly went far enough, for changing your hairstyle wasn’t the same as changing your hair. Still, Baird was certainly the same guy she knew. Only his appearance was altered. “You fixed your hair like this during the fair,” she recalled aloud. “Only with little clips.”

  Baird propped his hands on his hips and beamed at her. “You noticed! Yeah, I do that a lot, actually. It helps me feel like myself even if no one else realizes why it suits me so well!” With a sly glance at Milo, he added, “By now, I think you’ve realized that none of the Grafts look quite the same when they’re off duty.”

  The mailman promptly changed the subject. “Miss Priscilla and Koji brought loaves and fishes for dinner.”

  “Old school!” Baird exclaimed.

  “It’s actually chowder, but Dad did bake bread this afternoon. I think Grandma packed enough to go around,” Prissie said.

  “Thank your family for extending their hospitality to us again,” Kester requested.

  “I will,” she replied with a blush. In a valiant effort at small talk, she addressed Baird. “You sounded excited about the festival. Does that mean you’re planning to go?”

  “Jedrick would rather I lay low for tonight,” he replied. “I haven’t decided what to do.”

  Prissie’s brows furrowed, and she said, “He’s your captain. Don’t you have to do what he says?”

  The redhead fiddled with the cuff that decorated his ear. “Strictly speaking, no. He’s responsible for me, but I don’t answer to him.”

  “So you can just go off and do whatever you want?”

  Baird laughed. “Not quite. If I do take a quick turn around downtown, I’ll let Jedrick know, and he’ll make sure I have backup.”

  “So it would be dangerous for you?” she asked worriedly.

  “No more than usual,” he replied. “Grafts take a lot of flak.”

  “Then why would you …?”

  “Rush in where angels fear to tread?” he finished teasingly.

  “Yes.”

  “It’s hard to explain, so let’s call it a hunch,” Baird replied. “I can’t put up much of a fight, but there are times when all that’s needed is a light in the darkness.” He tucked her arm through his and escorted her back to the blue door. “Don’t dawdle on your way back, and don’t talk to strangers. Once you’re with your family, stay put.”

  Koji fell in step on her other side. “Prissie promised to stay with me. We will remain inside.”

  “Glad to hear it!” Baird replied with a broad grin.

  There were two ways to enjoy trick-or-treating in West Edinton’s business section. The first was to come knocking at the front doors, which faced all the lights, music, and festivities underway up and down Main Street. From one end of downtown to the other, kids were sure to find smiling faces and crazy fun. However, for those who dared, several buildings could also be approached from behind. In the all
ey that ran behind four blocks of businesses on the western side of the street, tricks and traps were laid for those who wanted to be spooked.

  Those who came knocking on back doors were met by creepy cobwebs, strange mists, and eerie faces, but only if they made it past all the obstacles. Rattling trash cans, cloaked figures, low growls, and maniacal laughter kept kids on their toes, and costumed adults did their best to send them screaming. Most of the back alley lurkers were local school teachers, who took great pleasure in spooking their students. Prissie was strictly a front door kind of girl, but Tad, Neil, and Beau ran the gauntlet every year. Zeke coaxed hard for the chance to see the horrors for himself, but when offered the opportunity, Koji had politely declined.

  Prissie and Koji made the quick trip from Harken’s to the bakery without incident, and as soon as they were through the door, Auntie Lou put them to work pulling tables together for their traditional pre-festival dinner. The Pomeroys were joined this year by Auntie and Uncle Lou, Derrick and Pearl Matthews, Ransom, and Koji, so it would be crowded.

  Once the tables were ready, Prissie noticed that Koji had moved to a spot before the front window. Instead of looking at all the busyness on the street out front, he was staring fixedly into the sky.

  His seriousness made Prissie nervous. “What do you see?” she whispered.

  “Colors,” he replied, glancing at her with a smile. She followed his gaze, and indeed, the clouds above were painted pink by the setting sun. “There are so many colors, it is like a stained glass window, and I was looking for a certain piece.”

  “Do you see Tamaes?” she gasped, searching the sky. “Is he very far away?”

  “No, he is on the roof,” Koji replied. “But I can see Taweel.”

  “Really?” Prissie asked in awe. “Is Omri with him? Isn’t it too dangerous for the little guy to be up there when there might be a battle?”

  “I do not think there is anywhere else Omri would want to be.”

  “Why are he and Taweel always together?”