The Garden Gate

by Christa J. Kinde

  “Up here,” came a familiar voice. She and Koji turned to see Abner leaning on the hayloft’s railing. Plaid flannel, twill pants, hiking boots, and a winter vest — ​he looked the part of an off-duty ranger. “Come on up.”

  “I’m not sure I can,” she replied. “Ladders and I don’t get along.”

  Light flashed, and a door opened in front of them. Padgett leaned through, offering a hand. “This way.”

  Prissie could see the hayloft floor and scattered straw under the apprentice Caretaker’s boots. “Are you in the loft?”

  “Yes, miss.”

  As grateful as she was for the shortcut, she still wasn’t thrilled to be going into the hayloft, but Prissie took Padgett’s hand. Faith had taken her this far. Her friends wouldn’t let her fall. And not looking down was sure to help.

  Koji hurried past her to greet Ephron, who sat upon the straw bales amidst a clutter of bandages, basin, and cloths. They must have been taking advantage of their visit to do a check-up on their teammate. She glanced up into Padgett’s calm face, trying to sort out the sudden sense of déjà vu. His dark eyes held a smile, and he squeezed her hand. “You’ve nothing to fear,” he murmured, gesturing for her to follow Koji.

  Abner knelt at Ephron’s side, carefully changing the bandages over his eyes. Fair lashes brushed against pale cheeks, and Ephron’s fingers lightly touched the sleeve of Abner’s shirt before lacing neatly in his lap. The senior Caretaker cocked a brow at Prissie. “Have you brought more clay for our novice sculptor?”

  Her cheeks warmed. “Not this time. Do you need more?”

  “No, thank you,” Ephron replied.

  Prissie dared to ask, “Can you make it so he can see again?”

  “No.” Abner peered at her over the top of his glasses. “What was done is done.”

  “Amen and amen,” his patient quietly replied, turning his face toward Prissie. Without his bandages, it was possible to see the gentle joy in Ephron’s expression when he said, “Hello, precious. Are you enjoying your special day?”

  Abner remarked, “She looks a little pale. Padgett?”

  “Yes, sir,” his apprentice agreed.

  Gray eyes flashed, and Abner lifted his hand with a twisting motion. A moment later, his flock of yahavim flooded into the hayloft, more festive than balloons, confetti, streamers, and fireworks combined. The well-meaning sprites quickly surrounded Prissie in a dizzying cloud. Their shepherd waded through the mob, tutting and scolding. “You’re supposed to be ministering to her, not swarming her. Gently now.”

  And then Abner was right in front of her. His warm hand cupped her cheek, and he said, “Thank you for extending hospitality to us. By doing so, many have entertained angels unaware.”

  Prissie studied the Caretaker’s human face, which really was ordinary. No one could have guessed the truth behind his disguise. With a small smile, she pointed out, “But I know you’re angels.”

  “So you do. Then this shouldn’t come as much of a surprise.” A sudden radiance nearly blinded her, and from the midst of the lightning storm, his voice rang with authority. “Take strength from the One who longs to uphold you.”

  “Give it to Tamaes instead?” she begged.

  A soft touch made her think that Abner had kissed her forehead. When her vision cleared, she and Koji were back down on the ground floor, and the barn was empty. She touched a spot just over her right eyebrow. “Abner is a force of nature.”

  “He is a Caretaker.”

  She shook her head, then remembered. “What about the next clue?”

  Five yahavim blinked into view overhead, carrying a yellow envelope together. They let it go, and it fluttered down. Koji caught it and handed it to Prissie.

  “Who’s left?” she asked, opening the message and holding it out so he could read it as well.

  Koji brightened. “It is time to reunite my group.”

  By the time Prissie walked into her grandmother’s kitchen to find Ransom and Marcus sitting at the table, playing checkers, she was mentally and emotionally prepared to welcome them to her party. “I thought it would be you guys.”

  “Hey, Miss Priss,” Ransom said offhandedly. “Happy birthday.”

  Marcus lifted a hand. “Ditto.”

  “Thanks.” She and Koji shrugged out of coats and slid into the other two chairs at the table. Judging by the mostly empty platter pushed to one side, Grandma Nell had left them with a pile of sandwiches to help pass the time. “I saw the cake.”

  Ransom’s eyes lit up. “Yeah?”

  “It’s pink.”

  He grinned. “That was my idea.”

  “Obviously.”

  Prissie searched for something else to say. “It must have taken a long time.”

  “Your dad said I’ll get faster with more practice.”

  There was a hopeful light in Ransom’s eyes, so she confided, “I think I’ve always wanted a cake like that. It really does look like it belongs to a princess. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome!”

  “And don’t you dare tell anyone at school that you made my birthday cake!”

  His eyebrows bobbled. “And risk your wrath?”

  “As long as we understand one another,” she said breezily.

  “I’m just happy to practice,” he said. “I hope the cake isn’t too dry, though. Kinda worried about that.”

  Prissie waved off his concern. “I’m sure it’ll taste as good as it looks.”

  “And it looks good, right?” Ransom coaxed.

  “I already told you that.”

  “I am a starving artist!” he exclaimed. “Feed my ego!”

  With a flat look, she asked, “Do you have anything for me?”

  “Yeah! Now that you mention it . . . .” Ransom fished in his back pocket and pulled out a crumpled yellow envelope. “There ya go!”

  “You folded it in half?” she asked in scandalized tones.

  “So?”

  “What if there was something inside that shouldn’t be folded?”

  Ransom held it up to the light, squinting critically. “Then I apologize in advance, but I think we’re okay.”

  Snatching her next clue out of his hand, she retreated closer to Koji as she opened the note. They read the message together.

  “What’s it say?” Ransom asked.

  “Back to the house,” she announced. “I think it’s party time.”

  “Awesome! I’m starved!”

  Pointing accusingly to the crumb-littered platter, she said, “You just ate.”

  “Appetizers,” Ransom replied dismissively. Glancing at the two angels who were sitting back, letting him do all the talking, he added. “A foretaste of glories to come!”

  “Don’t expect too much,” Prissie cautioned.

  “Are you kidding? I didn’t expect to be here at all!” He gave her arm a poke in passing. “You don’t have a corner on happy for the day. Thanks for sharing.”

  8

  THE CHOSEN PATH

  Jedrick folded his arms across his chest. “Have you made up your mind?”

  “Yeah. But it feels strange,” Marcus replied. “I always thought that we’re Sent. We go. End of story.”

  Amusement flashed in his mentor’s eyes. “So because you have never faced a choice before, you assumed you had none?”

  The young Protector hunched his shoulders. “Sounds stupid, but yeah . . . pretty much.”

  Nodding, Jedrick said, “You have been living with humans for long enough to grasp the complexities they face. Our lives are uncomplicated by comparison, yet we are individuals. We have thoughts, feelings, preferences, doubts, fears . . . and choices.”

  “Have you ever had to pick?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Like what?” Marcus pressed.

  Jedrick said, “Not many Flight captains become mentors, but your name came before me. It was my choice to take responsibility for your training.”

  “And now because of me, you’re stuck here.”


  “Stuck?”

  Marcus grimaced. “Okay . . . stuck is a little harsh. But you know what I mean. You coulda stayed with Aril right to the end.”

  His mentor chuckled. “Does that mean you have decided to stay?”

  “Yeah. I really wanna see this through.” With quiet certainty, he added, “Long haul.”

  “Hi!” chirped a voice over the din in the hallway at school.

  Turning from her locker, Prissie tried not to sound as surprised as she probably looked. Except for small talk at lunch, they’d barely spoken since Christmas. “Hi, Margery.”

  “Lots of stuff has happened lately, and I feel bad,” said her former best friend, all wide-eyed and serious. “So these are for you. Take a look, and we’ll talk later!”

  Prissie accepted the gift bag Margery pushed into her hands. “What is this?”

  But the other girl simply hurried off, calling, “Later!”

  She was still struggling to switch gears when another voice startled her. “Yo.” Marcus stood there, his hands in his jacket pockets. “You okay? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

  “Felt that way. The ghost of Margery past,” she said wryly, looking inside the bag. There were three smaller gifts inside, all in Valentine’s Day wrappings. After months of being ignored and insulted by turns, Prissie was having a hard time taking the sudden outpouring of generosity at face value. Was this pity? A peace offering? A prank?

  She fished out a little box wrapped in robin’s egg blue paper. The tag was a replica of a vintage Valentine featuring a bare-bottomed cherub with teensy, feathered wings and heart-tipped arrows. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she peeped up at Marcus. “You must love this time of year.”

  “Huh?”

  Showing him the card, she whispered, “All the pudgy little cherubs playing cupid.”

  He snorted. “It’s cherubim, not cherubs. And plenty of Protectors are archers.”

  Giggling, she asked, “Any resemblance?”

  Leaning close, he growled, “None.”

  Dropping the gift back into the bag, she pulled out the second one, which was dotted with pink hearts. The note bearing Jennifer’s signature said, Thinking of You. The last box, which was red velvet and obviously filled with chocolates, had April’s name on it. “I don’t understand,” Prissie murmured. “Why are they suddenly being nice to me?”

  “Dunno,” Marcus replied, glancing along the hallway. “Koji, notice anything?”

  The Observer leaned against the wall alongside one of the wide windows. “We are surrounded.”

  “I meant with the girls in class.” He straightened and called out, “Yo.”

  Ransom strolled over, looking between Prissie and his friend, then at the bag. “Whoops. Am I interrupting?”

  “Nope,” Marcus replied.

  Prissie gave Ransom a flat look. Holding up her gift, she set him straight. “This is from Margery, April, and Jennifer.”

  “Gotcha. Definitely giving off a girly vibe.” In skeptical tones, he asked, “What’s inside — ​poisoned chocolates?”

  In a way, she was relieved. “So I’m not the only one who’s finding this suspicious?”

  Taking a deep breath, Ransom dramatically sampled the air, then declared, “I smell a bribe!”

  Koji slipped to Prissie’s side. “Class will begin shortly.”

  “Lead on, O Leader!” Ransom urged. “Group time-wasting awaits!”

  Prissie smothered a smile and fell in line, but not without one quick glance out the window. She hadn’t missed Koji’s remark, but she wasn’t sure if she should be worried. “Surrounded by a Hedge, or surrounded by the enemy?” she whispered.

  Marcus, who was bringing up the rear, grimly muttered, “Both.”

  Ms. Knowles didn’t take long with her announcements before instructing the class to break up into groups to discuss their projects. Prissie was soon crowded between Koji and Marcus. Across the desk from her, Ransom pointed behind the cover of one hand. “Do you get the feeling that they’re studying us instead of the tenets of their chosen faith?”

  Elise, Margery, Jennifer, and April were whispering furiously, with frequent glances cast their way. Prissie fixed her attention on her notes. “Why does it have to feel like us versus them?”

  Ransom’s eyebrows waggled. “Probably because we’re joined and knit together, with every part doing its share!”

  She shook her head. “I may never get used to you quoting Bible verses.”

  “Only way I’ve figured out so far to keep you from arguing with me!” With a laugh and a shrug, he said, “I can think of shakier common ground.”

  Prissie never would have guessed there’d come a time when she had more in common with Ransom than Margery. Her gaze drifted back to the group of girls who still put her heart into turmoil. “What a mess,” she whispered.

  “Say, Miss Priss.”

  “Now what?”

  “I think I know what’s up with them.”

  She frowned. “How would you know?”

  “Insider information! Mrs. Burke placed an order for a hundred and twenty cupcakes yesterday.”

  “That’s a lot of cupcakes.” Prissie said, “Margery’s mom must be throwing a party.”

  “Correction!” Ransom countered. “Margery’s throwing a party, and based on details to which I alone am privy, it’ll be a Valentine’s party.”

  Prissie glanced at Koji and Marcus, but the two angels showed no signs of offering input. Shaking her head, she asked, “So the gifts . . . ?”

  “Paving the way for an invitation!”

  “And why would they want me there?” she challenged.

  “Elementary, my dear Pomeroy!” Ransom exclaimed in a wretched British accent. “Ask yourself this. What do you have that they want? And because I’m way cooler than Sherlock, this question is multiple choice!”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  Holding up a finger, Ransom began, “A. The secret to eternal life.”

  He was actually going through with it. Unable to resist, Prissie hissed, “That’s not a secret.”

  “Then why are you whispering?” he asked. She would have liked to point out that he was also speaking in undertones, but Ransom wasn’t done. “B. Access to my mad piping skills.”

  “Bag pipes?” she asked sarcastically. As if Margery needed to go through her to get to Ransom.

  “Piping bags!”

  “Hang on. You’re doing the cupcakes?”

  “Yep. The day before her party, I’ll be back in your kitchen.”

  “Wonderful,” she groaned.

  Ransom’s tone took a turn for the serious. “C. A quarterback who’s playing hard to get.”

  Prissie pursed her lips in thought. The possibility made sense. Elise could still be after Neil. In fact, her big brother’s recent remarks about pests might have been made with her in mind.

  “D. My best friend.”

  “Oh,” Prissie said in a small voice. Disappointment pricked the tiny bubble of hope that had been forming in spite of everything. They were trying to use her.

  “Odds are on an open invitation,” Ransom warned. “ ‘Come to our party, and bring any brother whose name starts with N, plus study buddies with curly eyelashes.’ ”

  She winced. “You knew about that?”

  Ransom gestured to Marcus with both hands. “I see ’em every day. Go on, Marcus. Grace us with your God-given glamour. Flutter for those less fortunate.”

  Marcus just rolled his eyes, and Prissie laughed. It was so much harder to take all the drama seriously when Ransom took it lightly.

  Suddenly, bells. Prissie slapped her hands over her ears as they were joined by the ear-pounding blare of the school’s fire alarms. Chairs scraped, and someone yelled, “Is this a drill?”

  Ms. Knowles shook her head. “Line up. Let’s go!”

  Prissie wasn’t surprised when Koji sidled up, but Marcus also pushed closer. The Protector had to remove her hand and speak directly into
her ear to be heard over the din. “You and Koji stick close to Ransom. Cover for me if anyone notices I’m gone.”

  “What! Why?”

  “I wanna check around, see if this is someone’s idea of a prank.”

  With a little pushing and a lot of complaining, the class lined up and filed out after Ms. Knowles, joining the flood of students already in the halls. The evacuation didn’t seem to have anyone worried. As far as Prissie could tell, there was an even split between those who were annoyed to have to go out in the cold without jackets and those who were happy to escape class. Nobody else noticed the golden-eyed teen jogging past in the opposite direction.

  On the stairs, Ransom glanced over his shoulder, craning to see around her. “Where’s Marcus?”

  “Coming. Watch your step,” she ordered.

  The building emptied in a matter of minutes as teachers herded their classes through side doors, out into the clear, February afternoon. Prissie spied no hints of the battle that must have been raging. Slowing to a stop, she hugged herself while Ms. Knowles counted heads. With all the goofing off and milling around, their teacher somehow failed to notice that she was short one student, and Prissie’s sigh of relief puffed in the cold air.

  A bunch of the guys decided that a snowball fight was the best way to pass the time, and Ransom leapt into the fray. Koji radiated tension, and Prissie whispered, “Is it bad?”

  “No more than usual,” he replied. “But something is wrong.”

  “What?”

  The Observer’s gaze skimmed the snow-covered field beyond the school. “This attack is . . . orderly.”

  “And that’s unusual?”

  “Very.” Seeking her gaze, he murmured, “They are being led.”

  A shiver ran up and down Prissie’s spine. “Adin?”

  Koji frowned slightly. “I do not know.”

  Heart hammering, nerves jangling like the bells, Prissie silently begged God for help. The last thing she wanted was to meet Adin again. No, what she really wanted was for Marcus to rejoin them. Her gaze slid back to the building. Was he okay? It wasn’t as if the Protector was helpless, but he didn’t exactly wear his armor to school.