Without thinking, she took several steps toward the door. Maybe he needed help. But what could she do?
Koji startled her by saying, “Where are your thoughts?”
“Wh-what?”
His expression was carefully neutral, but she could see emotions swirling in his eyes. “If you are Sent, then you must go.”
Prissie stole a glance in their teacher’s direction, but the woman was talking on her cell phone. Everyone else was watching the snowball fight. “I feel like I should go find Marcus,” she explained.
“Indeed.” Koji urged, “Please, hurry.”
Hesitating, she asked, “What good would it do for m – ”
“If we go,” he interrupted, “Taweel goes.”
With a soft gasp, Prissie took off. Of course! How stupid could she be? The building was surrounded by a Hedge, and every person outside had a Guardian defending them. Because humans had guardian angels. But angels didn’t. Empty halls. Vacant classrooms. None of the Faithful would have stayed back. Except for one unarmed Graft.
Hauling open the door, Prissie climbed stairs as fast as she could, chanting a breathless prayer inside her head. Not Marcus! Not Marcus! Not Marcus!
Bursting back onto the second floor where their social studies classroom was located, she paused to think. Was this even the right place? Shaking her head, she panted, “Where is he?”
Koji took the lead. “This way.”
Prissie followed him along the wide corridor, grasping at the stitch in her side. After being outside, the building felt too warm, and her lungs burned. Unbuttoning her cardigan as they turned toward the science wing, she kept her eyes open for trouble. The only problem was . . . she was as blind to invisible things as Ephron was to everything. “Is anyone here?” she asked.
Her answer came when Koji stumbled to a stop at the next corner. At first, all she could see was a crooked shadow with nothing to cast it, but the longer she stared, the more defined its edges grew. And then came an eerily familiar voice. His voice. “They’ve left you to me, whelp. All for me.”
The third door. Prissie could tell that a shadowy figure was trying to get inside. Hands tested the knob and scratched at the hinges. Long, bowed appendages rattled against the wall, their tips screeching against beige paint. Adin’s oily-sweet lies continued. “Come, boy. Open the door. We can reason together!”
From behind her, the shing of a drawn blade made her jump, and she whirled to see Taweel readying his sword. “To the left, three doors down,” he said, pitching his voice to be heard over the incessant clamor of bells. “Stay behind me until I make a way. Then go inside. Wait there.”
She managed a nod, and then the big warrior strode past them, wings outstretched so that a curtain of smoky purple light spanned the hallway. “Enough, Adin!” Taweel boomed.
As the Guardian rushed their enemy, the trailing edges of his wings lifted in a defensive posture, making it possible for Prissie to see. She froze when Adin stepped out of an ugly smear of smoke and into the guise of a friend. Hands outspread, he greeted his opposition with the air of a congenial host. “How nostalgic! This has truly been a season for reunions.” Moving away from the door, he inquired, “What brings you here? Or . . . should I say who?”
They’d come for Marcus, of course, but that wasn’t what Adin meant. Leaning to one side, the Fallen sought her gaze and smiled. “Prissie Pomeroy.”
Taweel angled his wing to block Adin’s view, but the beautiful demon’s voice carried quite well. “Your Guardians may have trained the longest, but they are the absolute worst. Tamaes left your side, and Taweel led you into danger.”
To Prissie’s surprise, Koji pushed in front of her, blocking her view and slipping his hands over her ears. His unspoken message was clear enough. Don’t listen. Recalling their purpose, she glanced toward their goal. Their Guardian had pushed Adin back enough that the second door was behind him. Just a little further, and they could get to Marcus.
“You cannot have Tamaes,” Taweel declared.
“You’re mistaken,” Adin retorted. “I have him, and you cannot have him back!”
The big warrior took a step. “Do you want me to suffer as your mentor suffered?”
“Such vanity, Taweel! Your feelings mean nothing to me. Your suffering is a windfall, but I want a different tree.”
“You hope in vain.” Taking another step, the Guardian said, “You cannot keep Tamaes. He will never share your despair, and he has tasted a joy that is sweeter than manna.”
Adin sneered. “Yet I will force bitterness down your throats. Taweel the Pierced will be pierced anew, and by the sword that hangs at your waist.”
Prissie suddenly realized that Taweel was carrying his apprentice’s sword, and seeing it there gave her a tiny boost of hope. When Tamaes returned, everything would be restored: mentor, blade, and charge.
Railing on, Adin exclaimed. “You failed him! He failed her!”
“Tamaes is Faithful. Prissie is Faithful,” Taweel countered. Hi made his way slowly toward Adin, with Koji close behind, followed by Prissie. “Are empty words the only weapon left to you?”
Adin flung wide his ruined wings. “I don’t need a blade to spatter your blood across these halls.”
“Now!” Koji exclaimed, snatching her hand and tugging her along.
Prissie had been so wrapped up in the exchange, she hadn’t noticed that the way was clear. They rushed forward, and she grabbed hold of the knob. Startled to find it unlocked, she yanked open the door, and stumbled through, pulling Koji after her.
They were closed into a smallish room with a jumble of equipment — televisions on carts, portable speaker systems, and some antiquated overhead projectors. For a fleeting moment, she made out a wild-eyed teen against the far wall, armed with nothing but a microphone stand, but then his countenance blazed. Squinting against the sudden glare, she called, “Marcus?”
“What are you doing back inside?” he asked in a tight voice.
“Looking for you.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Obviously.”
His makeshift weapon clattered to the floor, and he doubled over, gasping for air as if he’d just run a great distance. Koji crossed to his teammate’s side. As Prissie picked her way across the room, Marcus slid down the wall, scrubbing his face with his hands. “Bigger mess than I thought. Whole place in shambles. Every Guardian up in arms.”
Koji sat beside Marcus, leaning into the older angel. “Adin is in the corridor.”
“Yeah. That creep is here,” Marcus growled. “I was so sure he was after Prissie or her brothers, but that wasn’t it. He came for me.”
Prissie knelt at Marcus’s other side. Maybe it was tactless to ask, but she wanted to know. “Were you scared?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m plenty scared.” Marcus’s expression was bleak. “What Ephron suffered. I don’t think I could . . . God, help me; I’m not that strong.”
She scooted closer and awkwardly replied, “God did help.”
A faint smirk reappeared. “You guys came to my rescue?”
“I’m pretty sure Taweel is the one doing all the rescuing.”
Over the noise of the alarms, the faint wail of sirens could be heard in the distance. The fire department would make sure the building was clear, and then everyone would return to their classrooms. Prissie was grateful that the jarring sounds were muffled in this little room, but then in the hallway beyond, a sour note rang against Taweel’s blade. With a flash of golden light, Marcus unfurled his wings, bringing them around to shield them. “I can do this much.”
It occurred to Prissie that she was doing something after all. Like the first time she met Taweel, and Omri had given her something to hold onto. Only this time, she and Koji were the ones being held. Maybe because Marcus was a Protector, all he’d needed to feel better was someone to protect. Prissie tucked up her legs and propped her chin on her knees. “Thank you.”
“Likewise.” He presented his fist.
The Protector’s smirk was gaining strength. “C’mon, kiddo. You gotta know how this works.”
Feeling more than a little silly, she bumped fists with Marcus.
9
THE TRUEST LOVE
Abner gazed thoughtfully over the rims of his glasses. “Lavi, what are you doing?”
The tiny angel with a dandelion poof of green hair jumped to attention. Wings flicked. Feet shuffled. Eyes blinked.
His shepherd remarked, “You never used to sit beside the door. Do you want to leave?”
Lavi tiptoed forward, hands clasped in a silent plea.
“That door isn’t as safe as I’d like.” Abner crooked his finger, and the sprite darted to his hand. “Are you unhappy, being parted from the one you tended in darkness?”
There was no mistaking the yahavim’s intentions.
Abner bowed his head. “So be it.”
With a silvery flash, a tiny door opened, and Lavi darted through without a backward glance.
Padgett strolled into the room and asked, “Was that you, sir?”
“Make a note, apprentice,” Abner replied. “When the time comes, your inheritance is diminished by one. A small lion has left the flock, leaving you with ninety-nine.”
“Lavi has gone to Ephron?”
“For keeps.”
“For love,” countered Padgett.
“For good.”
The fresh encounter with Adin left Prissie in a pensive mood, which Beau understandably misinterpreted. He leaned through the bedroom door and asked, “Cabin fever?”
Winter weather resulting in a snow day had given them a long weekend, much of which Prissie had spent in the spare room. She’d certainly been cooped up, but she wanted to stay where it was safe. Then Taweel, Omri, and Koji were safe.
“The roads are clear, and Tad’s up for a drive,” Beau coaxed.
“I don’t know,” she said.
“And Koji wants to go.”
Prissie flushed guiltily when the Observer slipped into the room. Kneeling beside the bed, he touched her hand. “We should go. Tad says you like this holiday, for there is much lace and chocolate.”
“But the mall’s not safe,” she protested. Adin had been there before, and he could follow them again.
This time Koji took her hand between his. “You do not need to hide. No matter where you go, you will not be alone.”
With a sidelong glance at her brother, Prissie whispered, “But I’m still scared.”
Koji patted her hand. “Fear not. I will not lead you into danger.”
Relenting with a small smile, she asked, “So you’re interested in lace and chocolate?”
“I am interested in you,” he corrected. “I want to know what pleases you.”
She blinked several times, and Beau’s quiet laugh broke the awkward silence. “What?” she demanded in prickly tones.
“He’s an angel all right. I’ll go tell Tad to warm up the car.”
Prissie frowned. “Did you do something angelic?”
Koji looked as baffled as she felt. “I am uncertain.”
Finding the courage to be normal was a new struggle for Prissie. She’d always done as she pleased, confident that her plans were good and her choices were right. Leaving home had never been a hurdle before, but now she knew it wasn’t invulnerable. What if something happened to the house while she was away? What if something happened to her while she was away?
Beau tapped her shoulder, and she turned away from a spinner of Valentine’s cards to meet his concerned gaze. “Don’t worry so much, Sis.” He poked at the furrow between her eyebrows, smiling when she swatted his hand away. “Relax. You like this kind of stuff.”
“Meaning you don’t?”
He glanced around with a pained expression at the metallic glare of heart-shaped balloons, oversized boxes of chocolates, and doily-festooned sentiments. “No lie. I’d rather be in the bookstore.”
“We’ll go there next,” she promised. “And . . . thanks. I’ll be okay.”
Tad turned up. “Priss, I found something to cheer you up.”
“Do I look like I need it?”
He stepped aside, revealing Koji. Somehow, her big-big brother had convinced the young Observer to don a headband with glittered hearts bobbing at the ends of sproingy antenna. He looked so awkward and hopeful, she giggled. Reaching up to remove it, she declared, “This doesn’t suit you at all.”
Koji replied, “It seems to function like an elephant gift, serving no purpose but to bring people closer together.”
“She’s smiling again,” Tad said, taking the novelty back. “Mission accomplished.”
“Indeed.”
Peering around the shop, the eldest Pomeroy started poking through boxes of chocolates, and Prissie sidled over. “Are you looking for a gift for anyone in particular?”
“Nope. Just figured that if we’re going to the bookstore, we should stock up for a good, long loiter,” Tad explained. “Beau’s a book fiend, and Koji’s not much better. Which do you think — a whole bagful of cheap chocolate, or a little box of the good stuff?”
Prissie shook her head. “Depends on if you’re asking me or Neil. I prefer quality over quantity.”
“Don’t underestimate Neil. He just prefers quality in quantity.”
Choosing a small box of fancy chocolates to split with Koji, Prissie reached for a package of heart-shaped candies with messages on them. BE MINE. TRUE LOVE. CUTIE PIE. If she could put her own message of love on a Valentine’s Day treat, she knew what it would be — FEAR NOT.
On the spinner beside the cash register, a selection of pocket-sized flashlights caught her eye. The memory of Lavi’s joy over a very similar light the previous autumn had her smiling. She still owed Ransom for the loan, so she added a pink one to her pile. This would make them even.
After the bookstore, Tad led the way to the food court, where they shared a huge mound of french fries. When a flash of color caught her eye, she made a small noise of surprise. Koji searched her face, but quickly relaxed. “What do you see?” he prompted.
She pointed to the big music store across the way.
Tad asked, “Isn’t that Baird?”
Beau turned his seat. “Yep. Definitely Baird. Wanna go say hey?”
Prissie’s brothers scarfed down the rest of the fries before heading over, and she trailed after them. To Koji, she whispered, “Did you know he was here?”
“I did not notice,” he admitted.
Inside the music store, they found Baird in front of the Christian music section, headphones on, eyes shut, head bobbing. The Worshiper was oblivious to his audience, but his companion lifted a hand, “Pomeroys! And honorary Pomeroy,” Ransom greeted.
Koji beamed, mirroring the gesture.
Beau tapped Ransom’s shoulder. “Trade ya?”
“See how long it takes him to notice?”
“Yep!”
While her brothers sidled up on either side of the redhead, Prissie caught Ransom’s eye. “I actually bought something for you,” she said, keeping her voice low. “Come over here for a minute?”
His eyebrows jumped. “For me?”
“If you don’t want it . . . !”
Ransom’s confusion didn’t fade. “It’s not that. But you’ve got me curious.”
Even though she was embarrassed, Prissie followed through. Fishing around inside her bag, she located the little flashlight and held it out. “Yours was lost, so I kind of owed you one.” He just stared at her, so she pushed it into his hand. “Thanks for loaning it to me. It was really useful.”
“Yeah, sure. No problem.” With a crooked smile, he asked, “Pink?”
Prissie shrugged. “I thought you might like it . . . even if you couldn’t officially like it . . . since no one knows why you would like it.”
“Except you?”
“Well, yes,” she conceded.
“Thanks, Miss Priss. You didn’t have to replace it, but I
’m glad you did.” Clipping the flashlight to his belt loop, he tucked it into his jeans pocket. With a grin, he said, “See? No one’s the wiser.”
She nodded. “So you’re here with Baird?”
“Yeah. He offered to help me find some good music, so he and one of his friends picked me up.” Nodding toward the classical music section, Ransom added, “There he is.”
“Oh!” she exclaimed, hurrying toward a tall figure in a dark coat with a purple scarf. “Kester! How are you?”
Ransom dogged her steps, and Kester’s sedate smile acknowledged both of them. “Good afternoon, Prissie. I am well. You?”
“I’m okay.” She fiddled with the end of her braid. “Did you end up taking on that new student?”
“I did. He shows much promise. Are you and Ransom classmates?”
“That’s right,” Ransom piped up. “Same class for the last couple years.”
“So that is how you became friends,” the Worshiper surmised.
Prissie quickly countered, “No, no!”
“No?” Kester echoed.
“Well, we’re not really friends.”
Ransom rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s her story, and I’m stuck with it.”
Kester gestured in Baird’s direction. “Friendships have a tendency to form in unlikely places.”
Prissie protested, “But you two were put together.”
The angel’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “Most assuredly.”
Ransom pointed out, “How’s being in the same church any different from being in the same class? And alphabetical order’s been putting us in neighboring desks since day one.”
The parallel was discomfiting, so Prissie fought it. “But you and Baird obviously get along!”
“Not at first,” Kester countered.
“You . . . didn’t?” she asked.
“Is that so hard to believe?”
Ransom shrugged. “If I hadn’t seen for myself how well you two play off each other, I never woulda pegged you for friends.” Elbowing Prissie, he asked, “What’s Mr. Peverell got going for him that I don’t?”
“Kester is . . .” She didn’t know how to answer. They’d met because the Worshiper was part of Jedrick’s Flight, but he was nice, interesting, considerate. He oozed good qualities. Maybe they wouldn’t have met if he weren’t an angel, but they had. And she was glad. “I like Kester.”
The Garden Gate Page 9
