“Leave it in the hands of God,” the Caretaker said, holding out his hand. “Accept the mercy He is extending.”
All six immediately strode past Padgett into the light, just as the first of the hoard surmounted the cliff. “A Caretaker,” the demon hissed, eyeing him warily.
“Once a Protector. Now, a destroyer,” the angel returned evenly.
“Get in our way, and you’ll suffer!”
Padgett gazed passively at the Fallen who feared his presence. “I have already accomplished what I came to do.”
The Fallen exchanged glances, and snickers rippled through the mob. “His hands are tied!” taunted one voice.
“Forward!” bellowed another.
A trollish demon bared decayed teeth in a gleeful grimace before lofting a wicked ax and bringing it down against the heavy chains that held fast the Deep. Sparks flew as the weapon skidded off the dark metal. “Not the chains, fool!” shrieked a voice from amidst the mob. “Strike the stone! Loose the anchors!”
The apprentice Caretaker quietly stepped back, taking every trace of light with him as he closed his door upon deeds best left to the darkness.
Prissie’s family arrived early at Holy Trinity Presbyterian in order to secure good seats, for even though they’d doubled the number of Pomeroys on the stage this year, they still needed pew space for nine. The Messiah performance was probably West Edinton’s most formal occasion each year, and Prissie loved to see what people were wearing. They always brought out their finest—sparkles and sequins, fringes and fur, cashmere and cufflinks.
She was feeling rather fine herself. All of her friends had long-since given up new dresses for Christmas and Easter, but it was a tradition she clung to with Grandma Nell’s help. This year’s dress was cut from deep blue fabric with plenty of swish to it, and Prissie adored the way it swirled just above her ankles when she walked. The high waist was trimmed with wide, white satin ribbon that she’d chosen because it reminded her a little of the shining raiment she’d worn in dreams. And Momma had taken the time to weave Prissie’s hair into a braided coronet that was almost like a halo, then added several hairpins decorated with tiny, pearly flowers.
Koji looked respectable in his new shirt and tie, and Momma had encouraged him to leave his long hair down. Prissie kept stealing glances, for with his black hair framing his face, he looked more like the angel she’d first met in the orchard. He noticed her stare and whispered, “Is this acceptable?”
“Very,” she said firmly. “Even your tie is knotted correctly.”
He touched the silk accessory. “Your father helped me.”
“You look quite dashing.”
Tucking his hair behind his ear, he leaned close to whisper, “I like these shoes. They do not have laces!”
Prissie knew he’d been excited about his new loafers when he’d polished them no less than three times the evening before, and she thought it was sweet.
Just then, Koji’s gaze swung toward the orchestra section in front of the stage where the dark-clad musicians were already seated. The soft flutter of pages accompanied the low hum of conversation in the sanctuary. Following the young Observer’s gaze, she spotted a latecomer working his way around to one of the empty stools on the side where the band members were set up. It took several moments for her to realize that the person picking up Baird’s blue guitar was … Baird.
The Worshiper’s wild red hair had been smoothed back, and he wore a dark sport coat and tie. While he propped his hip on a tall stool and adjusted the strap of his guitar, Koji whispered, “Does he look quite dashing?”
For the first time in her life, Prissie found herself wishing someone would dress down instead of up. Frowning somewhat, she admitted, “He looks quite uncomfortable.”
“Indeed.”
The choir began filing onto the stage, and Prissie eagerly watched for her friends and family members. Soloists had special seats, and she was thrilled right down to her toes when Milo sought her gaze and smiled. After some orchestral tuning, the director strode to center stage, and when the applause faded, the music began.
Joyous songs lifted her heart to new heights, and she was sure she’d never experienced anything so grand in all her life. Having Koji close, she could hear him humming from time to time. Momma’s smile was serene, and Prissie could just see her father tapping his toe in time to the music while he kept Zeke anchored to his side. “Is this like heaven?” she whispered.
The young angel solemnly replied, “It is a foretaste.”
Afterward, Prissie wanted to run up with Koji to compliment Milo, but Grandpa Carl tapped their heads, saying, “… and you, and you. In line, fussbudget. It’s family portrait time!”
As Grammie Esme hustled them over to a spot in front of a glittering Christmas tree, Koji tentatively asked, “Me too?”
“Sure, sure, you’re part of the family this year,” Mr. Pomeroy said with authority. “We wouldn’t dream of leaving you out!”
Koji’s expression filled with wonder, and he murmured soft thanks before hastening to Prissie’s side. She wasn’t sure if he was simply touched to be included or if he wanted to see what he looked like in a photograph. It was hard to say with Koji because he didn’t think about things in the same way she did. One thing was clear, though. He was happy. The young angel stood as close as possible, holding tightly to her hand and beaming while the shutter snapped over and over.
When Grandpa Carl declared himself satisfied, Prissie eased her hand out of Koji’s and waved for him to follow. Once they were out of her family’s earshot, she asked, “What’s put you in such a good mood?”
“Your family has made me most welcome,” he replied. “And I am glad there will be a record of my place at your side.”
It was an odd way to refer to a photograph, but Prissie shrugged it off when she spotted Kester, who sat quietly in the orchestra section. He looked perfectly natural in his dark suit, but the way his long fingers drummed against the surface of his cello betrayed some measure of restlessness. “You’re still here!” she greeted, glancing around. “Are you the only one?”
The tall angel gazed up at her with solemn eyes. “I believe so. Baird asked me to stay here.”
She smiled a little. “Did he mean here in the church or here in your chair?”
“He did not specify,” Kester replied with chagrin. “Did you enjoy the performance?”
“Very much,” she enthusiastically assured. “It was wonderful, but …”
His gaze remained locked on hers as he quietly inquired, “Is something on your mind?”
She fidgeted. “Is something the matter?”
“Why do you ask?”
Peering around the emptying sanctuary, she replied, “Harken and Milo disappeared almost as soon as the concert ended. It’s not like them not to visit with their friends and neighbors.”
He inclined his head, saying, “They had messages to carry.”
“I guess that is what they do,” she said hesitantly.
“That is so.”
Prissie still had an oddly off-kilter feeling. “And, if you don’t mind my saying so, you seem less calm than usual. Are you worried about them?” she probed.
Kester exchanged a speaking glance with Koji, then said, “I care deeply about my teammates. There are times when it is difficult to stay behind and wait.”
“Is this one of those times?” she asked nervously.
Small crinkles at the corners of his eyes accompanied a humorless smile. “Most assuredly.”
Koji shook her shoulder and whispered, “Prissie, please wake up.”
“Hmm?” she murmured into her pillow, then lifted her head, squinting at him in the darkness. “Koji? What’s wrong?”
“Shield your eyes,” he quietly urged. “I am going to turn on your lamp.”
With a soft grumble, she slapped her hand over her eyes, and she heard the soft click. Even though her bedside lamp wasn’t very bright, it took several moments to adjust. “Koji,” sh
e complained, glaring at her clock. “Please tell me why you woke me up at three in the morning. You might not need sleep, but I… .”
“I apologize,” he whispered. “But they are coming.”
“What?” she asked. “Who?”
Koji simply pointed to the ceiling, which had begun to ripple. In a rush of green light, Jedrick dropped into the room and glanced her way. “Do not be afraid, Prissie,” he said before turning his attention back to the ceiling. “Or perhaps I should have said, ‘Do not be angry’?”
Flustered by the sudden arrival of the Flight captain in her bedroom, Prissie shook her head. “I’m not mad. Not really,” she admitted. “Just confused.”
Suddenly, another huge warrior dropped through her ceiling, and she squeaked in surprise. This angel’s skin was dark as night, a striking contrast to his iridescent wings, and he had twin swords strapped to his back. Glancing her way, he smiled faintly. “Fear not, Prissie.”
Though she couldn’t imagine why, there was something familiar about this angel, and she tentatively asked, “Have we met?”
“In dreams,” he replied simply.
“Who …?”
“My name is Lucan, and that is enough for now.”
“But …!”
Lucan held a finger to his lips. “Hush, little daughter. Your own Guardian is our main concern at the moment.”
Prissie gripped her quilt with white knuckles. “Tamaes?” she whispered, glancing fearfully at Koji.
The young Observer touched her arm comfortingly. “He is stubborn.”
Meanwhile, Lucan and Jedrick moved into position, and Jedrick quietly called, “We are ready, Taweel. Lower him through.”
A pair of boots dangled into view, followed by long legs, and the two waiting angels reached up to brace the limp form supported by Taweel’s strong arms. The big Guardian leaned right through the ceiling and waited until Lucan said, “We have him,” before relinquishing his hold on Tamaes. Withdrawing momentarily, Taweel re-entered the room feet first, and suddenly, Prissie’s tiny bedroom was jam-packed. She huddled closer to Koji, who wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
“Is he …?” she choked out.
“Mending,” Taweel quickly assured, holding out his arms and reclaiming his sagging apprentice.
Jedrick turned and knelt beside Prissie’s bed. “Earlier this evening, the Deep was breached.”
“Isn’t that place full of demons?”
“Yes, and the moment the chains were ripped from the stone, those Fallen boiled up out of the pit,” said the Protector. “When the enemy finds a toehold, a crack, a weakness, there is a rush to exploit it. Many fled into the tunnels, and many more scattered across the surrounding countryside. Because your family’s farm is nearby .” With a grim shake of his head, Jedrick explained, “The Hedge was unequal to the onslaught because most of your Guardians followed your family into town for the concert.”
Prissie’s gaze swung from Taweel to Lucan, then back to Jedrick. “There are demons here?”
“They were,” the captain clarified. “By the time everyone returned, many of the Fallen were already entrenched, but with the help of each Guardian’s Flight, we have reestablished a boundary.”
“That’s been hours now!” she gasped.
“True,” Jedrick replied. “And the struggle is far from ended.”
Taweel assessed the small space her bedroom offered, then sat in the same spot Tamaes had chosen the week before. With great care, he and Lucan arranged the unconscious Guardian so that he leaned back against his mentor’s chest. Tamaes’s head lolled to one side, and he looked strangely bare without any armor covering his raiment.
“How was he hurt?” Prissie asked, eyeing the shimmering bandages swathing his shoulder and neck.
“An enemy’s arrow.” Rolling his eyes upward, Taweel gruffly said, “You can let go now.”
Omri raised his head and peered out from amidst the big Guardian’s thicket of black hair. With a blink, the yahavim took in his surroundings and immediately flew to Lucan. Hovering for a moment in front of the silver-eyed warrior, he suddenly swooped through a series of somersaults. Light intensified around the little yahavim, and a large wafer of manna drifted onto Lucan’s waiting palm. With a deep chuckle, the warrior said, “Thank you, sweetling. The refreshment is most welcome.”
The little angel flew to Jedrick next, repeating the process. The captain gravely said, “Thank you, Omri.”
Next, the tiny manna-maker zipped to Koji, landing on his shoulder and patting his cheek. The Observer whispered, “I am well, but Prissie is too pale.”
Omri hopped over to her shoulder and gently petted her cheek, as well. “I’d feel better if you helped Tamaes for me,” Prissie confided shakily.
With a flurry of wings, the yahavim launched himself at the injured Guardian. Producing another wafer of manna, Omri landed on Tamaes’s chest, creeping up until he could press the food between his lips.
“Are the other injured in the barn?” Koji asked.
Jedrick nodded. “Tamaes was billeted there, but Abner finally begged us to ferry him over here. In his determination to reach Prissie, Tamaes was making a nuisance of himself.”
“Not steady on his wings at the moment,” Lucan remarked. “I caught him crawling across the yard.”
Tamaes stirred and groaned, “Prissie.”
Taweel’s hold tightened on his apprentice. “She is here, safe and sound.”
Lashes fluttered until reddish-brown eyes opened enough to search her out, and Prissie lifted her hand. “Here I am.”
Tamaes’s gaze wandered to the others in the room, then he reached up to grasp his mentor’s arm. “All safe?” he asked.
Taweel grunted softly, and Tamaes took it as an affirmative. “May God be thanked,” he murmured, and with a sigh, he sagged back into unconsciousness.
Jedrick shook his head. “The arrowhead was poisoned. He needs time.”
“I will remain here,” Taweel declared.
“So be it,” Jedrick replied simply. “Padgett will check on him later.”
Nodding curtly to Prissie, Jedrick leapt up through the ceiling with a short flick of shimmering wings. Taweel leaned forward, giving himself a little room, and awkwardly extended his wings in the confined space. With a soft tutting, Lucan lent him a hand so the Guardian wouldn’t bump anything off Prissie’s bedside table. She watched in awe as he lifted them up, out, then forward, carefully draping their soft folds over Tamaes. Lucan briefly fussed at the edges before murmuring, “I will be on the roof. Rest easy.” Then, in a flash of pearly white light, he whooshed upward and disappeared from view.
The room felt big and empty without the looming warriors, and when Koji jumped off the bed to hurry to Taweel’s side, Prissie followed. “Is there anything I can do?” she whispered as she knelt on the braided rug.
Taweel shook his head. “Normally, our activities do not disturb our charges. Please, forgive the intrusion.”
“Don’t be silly! I want you here if it means you’ll be safe!”
His lips quirked, and he pointed out, “Your safety is our charge, little one.”
“Yours?” she asked in surprise. His thick brows drew together, and she clarified, “I thought it was your job to watch over Milo.”
“Tamaes is my apprentice. If he cannot be by your side, I will be.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize!” she exclaimed softly. “So in a way, you’re mine too!”
“In a way.”
She stared pensively into this second Guardian’s scarred face, noticing anew the faint lines that criss-crossed Taweel’s dusky skin. Tipping her head to catch his bashful gaze, she said, “Thank you.”
“Back to bed. You will only worry him if you catch cold.”
Prissie obediently returned to her place, snapping off the light before wriggling down under her covers, but Koji climbed onto her windowseat. He lay at an angle across its cushions, gazing down at his injured teammate. After a time, he dangled o
ne hand, wiggling his fingers in a silent plea for Tamaes’s attention, but the warrior was too far gone to respond. Instead, Taweel lifted one big hand and clasped Koji’s in a gentle expression of shared concern.
Their closeness made Prissie feel a little lonely, but with a flutter of wings, Omri flew over. He landed with a soft plop on her quilt and skipped lightly to her pillow. A smile crept onto her face as the yahavim blinked at her with faceted eyes that glittered darkly against his luminous skin. “You’re like a tiny drop of sunshine, aren’t you?” she murmured.
He hummed, then clambered up onto her pillow and curled up where he could watch her.
“I haven’t needed a nightlight since I was little,” she said. “But I think tonight I want one, and you’ll do nicely.”
Omri’s response was a funny little series of hums and clicks that made her look to Taweel for a translation. Both he and Koji were watching her with bemused expressions. “What?” she asked self-consciously.
The big warrior shook his head. “He is scolding you, little one.”
Her face fell, but Koji interjected, “I have only ever heard Omri scold Taweel. I believe it means he likes you.”
“He has taken to you,” the Guardian agreed.
Prissie gazed at the glowing sprite as Koji quietly explained, “A yahavim always knows what is needed.”
“And what do I need?”
Omri hummed insistently, and Taweel huffed. “You and Tamaes both need rest.”
“Oh,” Prissie breathed, carefully nestling down beside her tiny companion. She was sure it would take a miracle for her to get back to sleep after so much excitement, but miracles seemed so much more possible when you shared your pillow with a wee bit of heaven. Within minutes, she found her way into peaceful dreams.
11
THE CLASS
PARTY
Heavy chains slow his progress, but as you can imagine, he is difficult to pin down,” the cherubim reported. “Do you remember him?”
“You bet,” Baird replied, glancing up from his messages. “Shimron should too.”
“I have already conferred with him,” Jedrick assured. “However, I wanted to check with you. You are somewhat removed from the situation, and that makes your perspective … unique.”
The Broken Window Page 10
