The Angels' Mirror Pack 2: Books Four through Seven

by Harmony L. Courtney

  “So does that mean we shouldn’t even try? Phones have evolved so much, I just wondered,” his friend replied before telling it to call Mark Jeffries.

  Moments later, to Justice’ surprise, it began to ring. The screen popped up and he saw a blurry image of Majesta Jeffries as he heard static.

  The call only lasted about thirty five seconds, but Jason had done it! He had placed a call from an unknown time and place into one that was known; the time and place they were not only from, but the one that was current – or was all time current? – and he got an answer!

  Silence followed, and as Jason put the phone back in his pocket, Justice watched Paloma reach for their hands, and they stood in a close-knit circle in the hush. With a whisper, Masao said another prayer and, this time, the four added Justice to the linked chain of hands as they made their way up the next tier of stairs.

  The next stairs were the palest of greens, mixed with white and black. Like old celadon China mixed with marble. The green areas were still transparent, while the rest was more opaque, and after that, four sets of twelve again, and another sapphire-ruby checked floor. A third time, they crossed four sets of twelve stairs, and they were fully marble.

  At the end, another rounded doorway of the same rainbow eucalyptus – like he’d heard Edward suppose it was – as the first they’d entered.

  The platform in front of it was crystal edged with half or three-quarter inch round cut sapphires on the left and right, and with rubies fore and aft. The bottom quarter of the door was made of the same celadon-marble-looking mixture, translucent mixed with opaque, while the other three-quarters of it was swirled wood, and light shimmered from the edges of it, as the first one had. Light emanated from every semi-transparent section there was; it diffused itself through each jewel, and the multicolored marble had an essence that astounded him.

  The hinges of the first door had been iron; these looked as though they were made of polished platinum, with the same swirling jeweled design as before, and there were points of light emanating from rubies and sapphires that were scattered like so many stars along the wood, where the light penetrated through the gemstones. Justice watched as Edward placed a hand against the door and smoothed over the gem-filled wood.

  “Nothing beyond this door should ever separate us,” he heard Masao say. “We’ve stuck together through this and so far, all is well. I believe this will come to good for us, but I have no idea what is ahead. We should mentally prepare for anything. Is there good? Is there evil? We will soon know for sure….”

  The man smiled, almost wanly, at each of them. Justice felt a shiver of dread walk up his spine as he considered the potential ramifications for their actions.

  Who does this, he thought. Who walks into a fence that becomes a hidden stairway? It’s like something from a book, or a movie…. That doesn’t just happen…Does it?

  Edward touched the door before him, marveling at the intricacy of its craftsmanship. The wood, metal, and gemstones, instead of being cold as he’d expected, were warm and smooth. His other hand still holding Paloma’s, he pressed it a moment before slowly squeezing the odd, yet beautiful, door handle.

  Three pieces, shaped like flower petals, came together and he twisted it clockwise as he began to pull the door open.

  Masao’s words flooded into his heart and mind.

  Good and evil; right and wrong. What was this?

  Wouldn’t it stand to reason that if Timothy created the mirror and was a man of God; a follower of Christ, as they were, that no evil would come upon them as a result of this journey? And yet, Edward thought, so much has come against us. Too much to be mere flukes and oddities. Something has fought us the whole way here, and for what reason? Since the moment this mirror entered my life, things have shifted… again and again, it has caused shifts and changes I could never explain to another.

  He pondered a moment, his thoughts flitting back to when Mary Beatrice originally gave him the angel-topped mirror; it had been an antique then, in the 1690s. When he traveled through it into Ethan and Vanessa Peacock’s Shoe Shoppe to save Paloma; when Ethan gave it to them when they married; when it was returned by Noah over at the Café? Each time, the changes happening in his life had been vast. Each time, his world had been turned upside down in one way or another.

  Why would this be any different?

  The mirror’s history was as baffling as it was intriguing as it moved from one pair of hands to another… and they still didn’t know it’s whole journey, but God had been so good, helping them learn much of it.

  Edward took a deep breath, looked into the eyes of each of his companions, and pushed the door open slowly. Light filled the stairwell in all shades of the rainbow, and colors he’d never seen before were represented, as well.

  Had he ever seen such beauty in a single place?

  He readjusted the fingers entwined with Paloma’s and took a step toward the light… it was so bright, it should have blinded him, but instead, it made for clarity as he saw seven shadows before him.

  Shadows that moved.

  He stopped to breathe, his heartbeat the only sound in his ears but for the hum coming from whatever was causing the shadows.

  Behind him, it took only moments for the others to step inside and halt in the light that surrounded them as easily as the clouds had surrounded the first set of stairs they’d climbed. He glanced at his wife and friends again, then took another five or six steps inside.

  And in that moment, the shadows turned, and light even more fully glimmered in the air.

  Before them stood seven creatures – but were they creatures, or another sort of being? And behind them, what looked like an oversized keyboard of more steps, which he could barely see through the shimmering wings of the beings before them, floated out behind the heads of those who stood between his group and the stairs.

  Flashes of Scripture came to mind and coursed through his veins; the books of Ezekiel, Isaiah, Revelation, and Daniel. He fell to his knees on the hard tiled floor, and the others did the same. Jason grabbed for his other hand even as Edward bowed his head to try to think.

  The hum before them grew and he realized it came from the subtle movements of the wings – he could see the creatures had brightly lit wings covering their hands and faces, and a larger pair that spread out beside them, which were partially folded in. Those at their sides were large enough Edward believed they could, indeed, fly with them.

  The light, Edward realized, was emanating from the creatures themselves. The words of Isaiah came flooding into his heart and mind, and he knew he was in the presence of Seraphim. Those who cried triplicate holies unto God before the throne where He sits were standing in their presence, and they in a holy hum.

  The angel in the center of the first row opened its mouth, and once more, Edward’s heart began to speed its rhythm.

  What were they here for, and what would they learn?

  Were the messengers of the Lord, Himself, there to instruct them, or was there another purpose to all of this?

  Sweat began to trickle its way down the center of his back as he awaited the words that would be spoken. From the time the angel’s mouth opened until sound came again, it felt like an eternity had passed, when Edward knew it had to have only been a few milliseconds.

  And when words came, all silence was broken and retained, simultaneously, as if life itself had imploded on the tongue of the being before them.

  And Edward?

  He placed his head onto the tile and began to weep.

  Four

  Paloma stared at the wings moving on the feet of the beings she knelt before as the one directly in front of her spoke. They were white, with a tinge of purple to them, and fascinated her in spite of – or perhaps because of? – her utter awe in the moment at what was happening to her; to her loved ones.

  What must those they’d left behind in Vancouver be thinking right now? Especially after Jason’s call went through from – wherever they were – to Mark Jeffries�
� phone?

  The man had looked more than a little shell-shocked. He looked petrified and dazed.

  Like a roar of great waters, the angel finally spoke: his voice was as brilliant as the light that emanated from each of the angels themselves, and as breathtaking.

  “The Lord is holy, ever holy, and we praise Him. Glorify Him now in this: that He has brought you to these heights, toward Him, for His good purpose and His name will be glorified evermore as a result,” he began.

  Paloma could feel a mist, as from a waterfall, cascading around her as the angel spoke, and in her awe, was all the more taken in by what he said.

  She didn’t dare pause to wonder about the mist, or why it was present. She just allowed the experience to remain as it was, and did her best to let it sync with what she knew from the Bible.

  “Beyond the Keys of Praise are three doors, and each of you must choose as you would the lintels to walk through; each of you must decide in his or her heart what you will do without explanation beyond this,” he continued, the iridescent wings on his feet flittering with each word he spoke. “They lead down different paths, and all reach into a place where you may glorify God all the more.”

  Paloma sensed the angels moving closer to where she, Edward, Jason, Justice, and Masao knelt, their faces toward the floor, and quite suddenly, she shivered. She could feel the beating of the angels’ wings; the cascade of mist, and felt faint.

  “You will walk across the Keys of Praise and note with a heart full of thanks and praise what God has done for you. Each of you have lived and walked out a journey to get here; each of you has a reason to arrive at the triad of the Triune God and praise Him in the way you see most fitting,” another angel said.

  Paloma wished to see their faces, but just thinking of doing so made her give pause.

  Were their faces covered to shelter them from the utterly overwhelming glory of God alone, or did their lesser glory go beyond what she and her family could stand face to face?

  Had God’s Word not said the people would see as through a dark mirror but then face to face?

  The irony of their mirror – Timothy’s dream mirror – shining in the light and emanating the glory of God was not lost on her. That their time of searching was dark mystery and its unveiling had begun in such an epically awesome way both frightened and delighted her.

  “Do not bow to us any longer, but to God alone,” the angel said again. “Rise to your feet and face us, knowing that the glory of the Lord shines upon and through us, but is intended to show Him off, and not us, for we, too are created beings. There is a glory in the angels, and a glory in the people, and a glory in the Creator above us all,” he continued.

  “Do not be terrified nor afraid, for He is with you, and will guide each of you into the truth you seek and are in need of. All is and will be well; only trust Him to speak to and through your hearts as you proceed, and onward forevermore.”

  Sweat where her hands joined with her husband and brothers’ made movement difficult as they stood, one at a time, until all five of them were on their feet once more.

  Finally, getting a better look at the beings before her, Paloma noted that each of them were unique, in spite of their similarities. The one who initially spoke, for instance, had freckles on his hands. Were there more on his face?

  Another had shimmers of blue mingled with the purple in his wings, and a third had hair woven into a single plait that hung over his right shoulder, shimmering threads of light within it reminding her of tinsel in the light of a Christmas tree.

  Those in the back row were more difficult to see, but still very present: one had ears larger than the rest, and another, large, dark eyes that drew her in. The two flanking the outside looked identical from where she stood, with brilliant green eyes flecked with silver and purple; eyes she could never have imagined seeing in real life. Their hair was whiter than the whitest snow she’d ever watched fall from the sky, and curled around their somewhat elongated ears.

  They reminded her of someone… but who?

  “It is time to contemplate, and to proceed,” The dark-eyed angel informed them. “No one may pass this point without becoming closer to the Father; for the closer you become, the more that is required. And the more required of you, the more you must sacrifice through praise as you continue on – for God will not allow you to remain the same. Not beyond this point. For the Keys of Praise bring new fruit and abundance unimagined, and the doors beyond? They will speak to you if you allow them into your hearts. Now, come,” he continued. “The time is upon us; it has already approached, and we must break through into realms above in order for answers to come.”

  “Might we ask,” she heard Masao say, in nearly a whisper, “what you would have us call you? Are you named, oh ministers of the Most High God and Father of Lights?”

  She could see in her peripheral vision as he stepped forward, ahead of the line of the rest of them; he was now three or four inches closer than she and the others.

  For a moment, she held her breath before letting it out slowly.

  One of the white-haired angels – the one on their right – spoke, and his voice melted into her like sun on a cool Spring day.

  “We are named, and it is with humble boldness that we declare that God alone is honored in this, and glorified for it. I,” he said, sweeping a translucent hand toward himself, “am Arieh; on the other side, whose image is similar to mine, that is Ari’el. Between us are Ezer and Elihu, left to right.”

  The angel with freckled hands then spoke. “I have been named Lemuel; to my left is Kalev and to my right, Neriah. For we belong to Him, and He is faithful; we are light, for He is Light.”

  Paloma glanced from one angel to the other; all different; all the same. She felt Edward’s hand in hers on the right, her brother’s on the left, and she sighed. It was a comfort, having them there, but for how long? If they chose different doors based on what they sensed they needed to do before God, what then?

  Would the five of them remain together, as Masao had told them was a must, or would they part ways, walking different paths? And what would they find, should they no longer be united?

  She thought about that for a few moments as Elihu summoned them forward and the angels turned. They followed until the angels ahead of them reached the first “key,” as they had called them, and, indeed, the sound of a very low enharmonic C emanated from the step as they moved onto it.

  Or was it a D flat, or a B sharp? The key was the same, but the note was different. She couldn’t wrap her mind around it, for the key seemed to emanate all three at once.

  And somehow, all seven angels, now in a row, fit nicely at the step as they halted, singing, “Holy forever is the Lamb, and is the Father, and is the Spirit, three in one united forever and always, God upon the throne. Amen.”

  They moved to the next step, and began again: “Holy forever is the Lamb,” they repeated, “and is the Father, and is the Spirit, three in one united forever and always, God upon the throne. Amen.”

  Paloma looked to her companions, shrugged, and moved to the first key together – the keys laid out like an old-fashioned keyboard where the black were white and the white were black, as opposed to the more familiar layout – and they slowly repeated together the words of the angels ahead of them.

  Something in her spirit jumped at the touch of the key beneath her feet; at the reverberation of the sound underneath and before her, and at the words coming from her mouth and the mouths of her loved ones.

  A peace washed over her she could never have imagined. It ran like liquid silk through her veins, tinged with lightening and moved like water through a gulley, quickly coursing, making her feel more alive than she ever had before.

  Following the lead of the angels, she, Edward, Jason, Masao, and Justice moved from key to key, the same prayer on their lips; the same praise, until they reached key seven, where it was altered.

  The sound of the key, rather than a basic C, voiced itself as a dominant exte
nded 13th chord, and startled her.

  But for what reason?

  The angels moved forward, their prayer continuing as Paloma and her family moved ahead to the surprisingly lovely major chord key. The next key the angels moved to was a flatted seventh interval, which startled her all the more.

  Would each key become more complex, or would the pattern continue to alter in similar chords and notes that they were used to?

  Their whole situation now reminded Paloma of something one of the prophets she listened to in the early days of her marriage to Edward had often said; something about an eighth note… but this was different. And it reminded her of the music of Claude Debussy.

  Odd, thinking about music recalling naiads and nymphs when in the realms of heavenly places, she thought quickly; fleetingly. And the music of Debussy wasn’t all that had come to mind, either. Though their thirteenths were in other configurations, she nevertheless thought of music she’d heard by Oscar Peterson, Lennie Tristano, Philip Glass, and Rodgers & Hart.

  The dissonance created a resonance all its own that she never would have considered. There was a beauty to the movement beneath their feet and the layers of sound that compressed around them, swallowing them up like a whirlpool. It was as though the heavenly places had created a harmony of dissonance without even trying. That what, on Earth, was discordant was, indeed, heaven-sent loveliness.

  The tone extended into the fullness of the notes at each key step, and rather than calming her heart, overwhelmed it in such a way that she felt she was breathing nothing but music and glory.

  Why?

  And what did it mean for them?

  A new prayer from the angels mingled with their own, and Paloma did her best to follow it in order to repeat their words.

  “Most hallowed is the Father, most hallowed is the Son, most hallowed is the Spirit of the Living God, three in one. Most hallowed, most holy, forever be glorified. Most hallowed, most holy is the Lord of Hosts, Who was, and is, and is to come. Most hallowed is the One Who sits upon the throne of grace and justice, and He is forever worthy to be praised,” the angels proclaimed, their voice louder now with this new prayer of praise.