“Hey, man, got a light,” a twenty-something woman, face sunken and toothless, rasped in his direction when he turned the corner to wait under the eave for the next bus. The woman’s hair was matted and her clothes, colorful layers of mismatched shirts over a black skirt and, underneath that, torn jeans, made Arthur shiver a moment before he shook his head, swallowing his food before replying.
“Nah. Cigs be bad fo’ ya, man, I ain’ got none, nor no lighter, neither,” he finally said, trying not to gag at the combined smell of his food with the woman’s clothing. He walked around her in a wide circle, preferring the rain, and found shelter underneath a tree instead, leaving her to beg from others.
Ain’ got time for none o’ that stuff, God, he thought as he moved to take another bite of his hot dog, making sure not to drip relish onto his work shirt. Don’ make me int’rac’ wit nobody like dat iffen You ‘spect me ta keep straight. Third time in two days, an’ it ain’ cool, Man.
It was bad enough on the bus, and he could handle that if he didn’t need to talk with them, but did God seriously expect him to talk to people who smelled like… like…?
Well, he had news for God.
Working at a pizza place was one thing; staying with family, even though he knew they really didn’t like having him around, he could deal with. Even taking the bus when he had to, but this? Being around people who didn’t bathe regularly and who went around asking for handouts?
He wasn’t going to deal with that. Not anymore.
If one more person came up to him asking for money, or cigarettes, or drugs, or a light, or anything other than the time, he’d just act like they weren’t even there. Because if he did, he’d round on them, and then where would he be – with God, with the State, and with his future?
Nah. Ain’ goin’ ta go down jus’ ‘cause some nobody gotta ask me some nonse’se ‘bout nothin’ impo’tant and be smellin’, b’sides. Can’t deal wit it, God, an’ You know dat better dan I do, I ‘magine, so jus’ stop wit the sendin’ em, ‘cause I ain’ goin dere.
He finished the hot dog as his thoughts tumbled around, not even caring that the occasional raindrop still hit against his dark, slim hands and forearms in the process.
Sho ain’, he reiterated to himself. An’ God best be knowin’ dat from here on.
St. Louis, Missouri… June 30, 2025
Calico Ferguson glanced down at her sleeping son, Angus, as she gently lifted him to her shoulder with a near-silent “ooof” and moved him carefully into his room.
Hospitalized twice since moving to St. Louis already, he had taken to sleeping in the room she and Romeo shared, much to his father’s surprise. But the young boy was half Jenkins – or rather, half O’Grady, she corrected herself. Sure, she’d been a Jenkins before her life-saving travel through the Stuarts’ mirror, but then she’d become Calico O’Grady, and then, when Romeo had taken her hand in marriage, Calico Ferguson, and she had been all too thrilled to take his name.
And then, to become a parent, even when she thought she might be too old for it? That had been even more amazing. Her worst fears had been eliminated only when she’d counted his fingers and toes at the hospital, and the doctor had assured her for the third time that he was alright, in spite of Angus’ rushed delivery and the strain she’d been under throughout the pregnancy.
In her arms, her son stirred as she set him down again. She waited a few moments for him to settle into the cool sheets, wiped the sleep-sweat from his brow and covered him to the waist with the thin blue sheet, making sure the quilt was near the footboard in the event he wanted it.
In the already near-sweltering heat of six fifteen in the morning, she highly doubted he would.
Careful not to wake him, she double-checked that the window nearby was cracked a few inches and then tiptoed back out of the room, leaving the door open for circulation and communication before heading back to her own room. She quickly changed her tee-shirt and laid back down softly, causing Romeo to stir, his brilliant red hair plastered around his head with sweat, and his forest green tee-shirt darkened with moisture.
Calico heard a shift in his breathing and sensed he had awakened. She tried to keep her breathing even, hoping he’d fall back asleep, but instead, felt the fingertips of his right hand graze lightly against the fleshy upper part of her arm through her shirt for a few moments.
“Thanks for putting him to bed. I really meant to do so earlier, but with the heat and exhaustion,” he whispered, stopping mid-sentence.
“It’s alright,” she murmured back to him. “I couldn’t sleep, anyway; bad dreams,” she continued. “But it’ll get better; I know it will.”
She sensed him nod behind her, and then turn more fully toward her. She could feel the heat radiating off of his body in the opening light of the day, and smiled.
It was hot, but at least she knew that, come what may, this man was for her, and not against her. That, come what may, and whatever the circumstances… that no matter how things looked, felt, or sounded, God-willing, Romeo would remain at her side metaphorically as well as literally.
“What did you dream?”
Again… without fail, he was curious about her life; about how she was, and what affected her.
Could she be any more thankful for this man if she tried?
“Can we talk about it later? I really want to share, but…”
Once again, she wondered how to broach the topic of what she’d dreamed. Nightmares had plagued her nearly every night since they’d left Mississippi, and even then, they had come on occasion; and when they were in California waiting to move to Mississippi? They had been worse than the rest of them until that Christmas service. She truly had forgiven Arthur, so why was it that she felt sick to her stomach just to think about him?
“But it’s too hot, you’re still tired, and you don’t want to wake Angus up. Is that it,” he asked her, smoothing his palm against her arm for a few moments. “I get it. And I’m even used to it by now,” he continued, moving to get up. “So, later it is. Can we set a time to discuss it, though? Because a third of the time you say later when we have a dream talk coming, it just never happens,” he said quietly.
Calico sat up quickly. “What do you mean I ne-?”
“I just mean, I love you, but you hide from me, and if we’re going to be able to fight together, we need to be on the same page, Calico,” he said, moving to get a clean change of clothes from the chest of drawers across from their bed.
“There will always be things we don’t like in this life, and things that can cause us pain, but we don’t have to perpetuate it by hiding them from each other. We need to communicate more openly, more honestly, and more often, even if it means scheduling time to do it,” he continued.
“So you’re suggesting that we… that we schedule times to discuss nightmares? And when would we do that? When Angus is in the hospital, or when he’s getting sick? When we finally get alone time, or when he’s still here because we don’t know any of the HUVA team here well enough to leave him with them for more than a few minutes at a time?”
The Hollywood Underground Victims Assistance had done wonders for her life; they’d saved her life, quite literally, more times than she might ever know, but this wasn’t the team she was used to; they were nice, granted. They were probably all lovely people, but she missed California, and she missed her friends. She missed Prudence and Amos, as well as Clementina, from their time in Mississippi.
“Shhh,” Romeo told her, moving closer to her again and setting down the clothes he’d just gotten ready for taking a shower. “It’s going to be alright. I just don’t want the enemy to come in and destroy everything that God has for us, Calico. We’re so good together, it hurts to think of us apart from one another, and secrecy – even secrecy over something that might seem trivial – has the potential to do that. We need to just…”
He sighed.
“We need to pray like we’ve never prayed before, and be there for one another, and for Angus
, no matter what happens. Because God has made a way for us out of what seemed to be no way, and the more that comes against us, the more I am convinced God wants to bless us and bless others through us… but if we’re not together, for whatever reason, then how can we bless them?”
Calico nodded.
And she knew he was right, but how was it that he could be secretive for years about his conversations for work when he was with HUVA and not expect that there were some things that she just didn’t sense were okay to share?
But life isn’t tit for tat; there was not supposed to be a record of wrongs kept. She knew that. She knew it very well; she’d learned it watching Arthur’s anger and hatred and bitterness destroy himself, and destroy Andrea and her baby’s lives in the process, and nearly her own, as well.
She knew better.
God called them to love and respect and honor one another; it wasn’t something to be done if you felt like it, or if the other person did that. It was a command, and one she knew she should take more seriously.
And the other thing was, God called for submission. Making yourself vulnerable and available and open to your spouse.
“Well, once you’re done with your shower, why don’t we set out a plan, then, and I’ll get my shower after that,” she finally said. “Because you’re right.”
On so many levels, whether she liked it or not, he was correct.
“Knock, knock,” Calico heard someone say as they literally knocked at the door simultaneously.
The voice familiar, Calico padded over to the door, hoping Angus wouldn’t wake up yet. She glanced at the clock: a quarter of nine.
“Who is it,” she asked, ever cautious.
“Zebedee and Elisabet, and Philip and Jessica,” she heard, and smiled. The McAndrews and Murphrees.
At least it wasn’t Robert Villanueva. Not that she had anything against him at all, but he was so chipper in the morning it made her head hurt. She might get up early, but she was certainly not a morning person by nature.
Quickly ushering them inside, she invited them to sit in the living room. “Is there anything I could get for you,” she asked once they’d established they wanted to talk with both she and Romeo about something.
Philip, his long braids pulled back in a ponytail, shrugged his shoulders. “If you’ve got some orange or cranberry juice, perhaps,” he said while the others remained silent, shaking their heads no.
Calico took in the sight of these people she so hoped would, eventually, be friends. They had been there for she and Romeo, and for Angus, through two trips to the hospital already, and she was thankful for them.
Elisabet, with her long blonde hair, brilliant green glasses, and angular features. Zebedee, with his big ol’ belly, warm smiling green eyes, and somewhat unruly red-brown hair. Plump, blue-eyed and raven-haired Jessica and her husband, the gangly but kind Philip.
They had become part of the Fergusons’ lives already, in a big way, as had Robert and his wife, Ursula.
For such a large city, Calico had initially been surprised by how small the HUVA team was, but thinking about it now, as she made her way to the kitchen area to prepare some orange juice for Philip, it made sense: they were nowhere near California. They were even further than they’d been in Mississippi.
This was the HUVA equivalent to an outpost in the Old West.
She smiled at the word picture, grabbed the juice carton from the refrigerator, found a clean glass in the cupboard on her right, and then a second one.
May as well have some, too, she thought, her stomach beginning to grumble at the idea of getting something to eat.
She quickly drank hers, rinsed the glass, put the carton away, and headed back into the living room. By the time she arrived, Romeo had joined them, and she could just hear Angus beginning to stir in the back bedroom.
Handing the orange juice to Philip, she excused herself to check on her son, glad for the reprieve from whatever might be coming.
For whether the news was good or not, she had no doubt there was a specific reason the two couples had come over so early in the morning.
“Mama, who’s here,” she heard Angus ask when she approached.
“Zebedee, and Philip, and Elisabet, and Jessica,” she told him softly, knowing he’d be glad to have company, even if for only a little while.
“Really,” he asked, looking at her with mischief twinkling in his eyes.
“Mmhmm,” she told him. “They came to talk to Mama and Daddy, but I’m sure that when we’re done they’d be happy to-”
“But I want Zeb’dee to play with me in the park, and Jess’ca, too,” he said, tears beginning to form in his eyes. He brushed at them as if they were a nuisance, and continued. “And Elisabet, she’s a good story-teller, and Philip is funny,” he said, pouting. “I really gotta wait?”
Calico nodded at him, and opened her arms for a hug. Instead, he curled his fists under his armpits and turned around, facing the window. “That isn’t fair.”
“Well, I’ll tell you what,” she told him. “I’ll ask them if they’ll all go with us to the park for a picnic, either today or tomorrow, then, how’s that? That way, we all have time together and get to know each other better.”
Angus shrugged, then turned back around, his chin quivering as he spoke. “Promise?”
“I promise I will ask,” she told him. “And when they let me know, I’ll let you know. Deal?”
She stuck her hand out for their familiar handshake while he eyed her warily a few seconds longer. After letting out an exaggerated sigh, he uncrossed his arms and shook her hand.
“Okay, if you promise,” he told her, a shy smile beginning to form on his face, revealing the gap from where two teeth had been knocked out in a fall.
“I promise.”
He nodded, moved in for a hug, and nodded again.
“In that case, can I watch Minkle and Stub in your room until everyone’s done talking, ‘cause it’s hot and I don’t wanna be bored,” he said as she moved to gather clean clothes for him.
She looked up at him a moment, wondering how best to answer.
“After my bath, I mean?”
“We’ll see once you’re done. They might not even be here by the time you’re finished,” she told him. “I’m going to go run your water. If you want to say hello, it’s alright, but wait until there’s nobody talking. Taking turns, remember?”
“I ‘member,” he said, smiling, as she heard someone turn on the Imagebar in the living room.
Now what was that about?
The Valley of Thrones… The Timeless Now
A hum infiltrated the quiet of the valley as seven legions of seraphs came and hovered before the triune thrones of the Most High. Their wings – a pair over their faces, a pair over their feet, and a pair at their sides – whirred and hummed and flittered until they were calm, and they pulled themselves into perfectly ordered ranks.
Behind them, seven legions of cherubim – their faces of eagle, ox, man, and lion facing the four corners of time and direction, and their eye-wheels speedily rotating, and their swords drawn and ready – toned down the brightness of the fire within their feet as they came to attention.
The original angels to interact with the mirror travelers and their loved ones already in the earth, working on their assignments, the Father, Son, and Spirit, had requested backup for what was to come. And they were ready.
We will need to display a marked presence on Earth, on many fronts, the Godhead, together, intoned into the angels’ spirits. There is more at stake here and now, in their time, than has been for many years. We blinked, and there it was, before Us, They continued. The pain and suffering of so many, but also the joy and triumph of many, and not all of them separate. Some vacillate between the two in their confusion and based on the circumstances of their lives, but it is time, in their time, to descend into the Earth once more as we did of old. It is time for a great many happenings to unfold, and We must be represented.
Not
a stir could be heard among the angels as they stood at the ready, waiting for their instructions. But in the heart of one cherub, ‘Amaryahu, – whose name means Yahweh Has Said – there was a clamoring. And within the heart of a seraph named Hevel – named after the Holy Spirit Himself, his name meaning Breath – there was a tremor of delight.
They had waited so long.
All of them had, but for ‘Amaryahu and Hevel, this was personal.
They had been present the day Timothy finished the last of the mirrors he had so lovingly sculpted, and they had been there when he had dreamed his twelve dreams. And now they would finally be able to – Godhead willing – go back to the place that started it all: Earth.
Palestine – now Israel.
Jerusalem.
Hevel had even been part of the inspiration for two of the mirrors, as the Godhead had allowed him the great privilege to speak in Timothy’s dreams before descending to the earth in the form of a carpenter who helped form some of the fire around the edges of the mirror that was left. And in those dreams, Hevel did not appear as he did in heaven, but close enough to be recognized for what he was: a warrior of the Most High God. And when on Earth, he appeared as one with a two-foot beard, squinty macadamia-nut brown eyes, and leathery, wrinkled olive skin, with hands that told the story of carpentry and knew it as though he had, indeed, lived a life preparing wood and creating objects for the use of men.
Of the twelve mirrors, the only one still unbroken in the earth was in the hands of a family who loved God. The other mirrors had been carelessly abused and, within a hundred years, only five had been left. By 800 AD, there were only three, and by 980 AD, the mirror he had been able to help Timothy build was the only one left.
And it had taken quite a circuitous journey.
Would it be transported back to Israel, or would it remain in the United States? And would he, Hevel, be able to glimpse it once more?
The Angels' Mirror Pack 2: Books Four through Seven Page 90