The Angels' Mirror Pack 2: Books Four through Seven

by Harmony L. Courtney

  Ramone glanced from Jasmine over to Felix and back to Jasmine again. “So sorry this has been upsetting to you,” he said softly. “It must be tough, watching parents lose their child.”

  And with that, the dam broke: tears welled up in the corner of the woman’s eyes, and she clenched her well-nailed fists so hard Ramone wondered if she’d draw blood. She closed her eyes and swayed. Felix and Ramone caught her as she began to topple forward.

  “I’ve been so horrible,” she finally said. “How can I be so selfish to not even understand other people had pain, too? All this time, I hated her. Hated her, I tell you!”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Ramone saw Prudence Song Patil go stock still. Saw Amos wrap his arms around her and lead her forward once more toward the table of pastries, meat, fruit and veggie trays, and fruit punch. “And I wish I knew how to stop hating, but what else can I do? I’ve held onto it for so long, I have no idea how to let go,” Jasmine continued, her voice a whisper now. Her face was flushed, and she was beginning to sweat.

  “Shh,” her husband told her. “It’s alright. You’re entitled to what you feel.”

  “But how is hate…,” David began, then stopped when Ramone met his eye and shook his head. “Hate is a powerful emotion,” David tried again. “I can’t even imagine hating someone God called me to love.”

  “If God called me to love Rosemary – Calico – whatever her name is… if He really called me to love her, then how come she never loved me? And how come she ran away from us when we tried to find her?”

  Ramone patted the woman’s shoulder. “Do you know for a fact that Calico hates you? I don’t think she’d have invited you to be part of the celebration of her son’s life if she did, do you?”

  Jasmine opened her big brown eyes and looked at him then, the dark purple trails of mascaraed tears along her cheeks now dripping down her jaw and onto her neck.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just that people don’t invite their enemies to celebrate with them… to share in their pain as well as their joy… do they?”

  Jasmine tilted her head to the side a moment as the line moved forward again. Out of the corner of his eye, Ramone saw Amos and Prudence begin to load their plates, and David handed him one. Jasmine looked from Ramone to David, across the room to where Romeo and Calico sat near the opposite table, and then to Felix.

  “I never thought about it that way before,” she admitted. “And I never thought about how a parent might feel if their child was no longer…” She cut herself off, the tears coming faster.

  Felix moved to hold her, and she shooed him away. “I’m fine, really,” she told him. “I just… give me time to think,” she said as she grabbed a plate.

  In silence, the four of them followed the Patils down the line, and when it came time to find a place to sit, Ramone watched as a hesitant Jasmine Jenkins moved toward the table where Romeo, Calico and Marcos and Annabella D’Angelo were seated.

  Ramone and David sat at the next table over to the left as they heard a now-quiet Jasmine asking if she and Felix could sit with them. The Patils and Kaleo and Christine ‘Aukai were already at their table, nodding at them in greeting. And from the corner of his eye, Ramone saw Calico beam.

  “Of course you can. These seats were reserved especially for you.”

  Forty Eight

  Kuroishi, Aomori Prefecture, Japan… August 8, 2025

  “But I feel fine,” Dr. Mitsushima heard the patient in the next room telling his nurse as he looked down at Ogawa Haruto’s silent figure.

  Hooked up to breathing machines and an IV, Masao Ogawa’s father looked pale compared to most of the patients Dr. Mitsushima had seen in the time he awaited the conference he’d signed up for.

  Then again, most of them weren’t in medically-induced states of sleep, like Haruto-san.

  He looked at the chart again, praying that the man’s son would be able to come and say his goodbyes. Just then, the phone on the side table rang.

  Glancing at the number, he recognized it as the one he’d tried earlier: Masao and Anouk Chanel Ogawa’s home Andromeda.

  Taking a few deep breaths, he told the phone to answer and said hello.

  “I’m sorry to be calling so late your time,” Mrs. Ogawa began, “but I just got off the phone with Masao and our nephew, Jason, and they have agreed that it is good for Masao to see his father,” she began. “But considering the state of Haruto-san’s health,” she continued, “as much as he wants to be there in person, he has made the difficult, prayer-filled decision to see him over the phone instead. It is many, many hours from his destination, as well as mine, and my passport is not up to date. His is, but he is currently in Israel.”

  A jolt ran through Dr. Mitsushima.

  Israel?

  Then Masao had gone with those seeking to learn more about…

  Shaking off the thought, he smiled at Anouk Chanel Ogawa, bowing low. He knew the smile was weak at best, but he hoped that the bow would help make up for his lack of good manners.

  “I understand,” he told her when he rose back to a standing position. “A most difficult decision.”

  The woman nodded, her blonde hair shifting around her slight frame as she did. “It has been. My husband loves his father very much. He fears that Haruto-san might not have…” She stopped a moment, glancing around as she seemed to ponder how to say what she wanted. “He is worried that his father might not have made peace with God,” she finally said, her voice so soft that Dr. Mitsushima had to lean toward the holographic projection of her burgundy and gold-clad body to hear her.

  “Ahh, I see,” he told her. “Yes, this would be something to think about. I have spoken little with him, as he has been asleep most of the time in order to see how much his body can be repaired, but… I will speak to Dr. Kota and see if he will allow Mr. Ogawa to be awakened for a phone call. What time will your husband want to speak with him?”

  He looked into the tear-softened eyes of Mr. Ogawa’s daughter-in-law; could hear another woman singing a lullaby in the background. Could see someone moving around in the kitchen behind her.

  “It is what, about 9:20 your time now,” she asked him, glancing somewhere off in the distance on the right for a moment before returning her eyes to the screen.

  Dr. Mitsushima glanced at his wristwatch. “Yes,” he affirmed. “This is correct.”

  “Masao spoke of calling around eleven in the morning, if this is amenable to someone on that end. He doesn’t expect his father will have enough strength to say much, but…” Mrs. Ogawa’s eyes softened even more, causing his heart to quicken.

  Was she about to cry?

  “I will make sure someone is here to answer the phone, and will speak with Dr. Kota immediately in order to see that your father-in-law is awakened, as long as it is safe for him. Even still,” he said, picking up the man’s chart again to glance over it, “He is able to hear what is said around him, and so he will be able to hear what his son has to say.”

  “Then that will need to be enough,” the woman before him on the holoscreen said in return. “Thank you for your time and accommodation. And thank you, once more, for calling me earlier to let us know what was happening.”

  “You are quite welcome,” he told her, bowing once more, chart still in hand. “Quite welcome.”

  And with that, he watched the woman’s tiny thumb moving toward the screen and it blipped off.

  Now, he thought, to get Dr. Kota to do what is right by this patient so that he can have closure with his son, and with You, Oh Mighty One. That is what I pray.

  Forty Nine

  Tel Aviv, Israel… August 12, 2025

  Paloma watched her uncle as, with tears shimmering in his eyes, he made his way toward his seat next to Lovan Quimby. He carefully placed his carryon between his feet and sighed.

  She couldn’t even imagine not having been there when his father had passed, but at least he’d gotten to say goodbye and share the Gospel with him. Whether or not he
would know prior to Heaven if his father had accepted Jesus as his Lord and Savior was another thing, altogether.

  Her heart broke for him. Broke, knowing there was nothing that could be done now for her uncle’s father… nothing but hope.

  Clasping Edward’s hand, she said a silent, quick prayer for Masao as the rest of their party – as well as a few other passengers – finished taking their seats. She could feel the leather of her seat against of the back of her arms, where sweat was beginning to pool… could feel it slick against the backs of her knees. And as the plane finally began to taxi down the runway, she braced herself for takeoff.

  She could hear Kristof, in the seat directly in front of her, begin to snore and was thankful that he, at least, would get some sleep. Next to him, she could hear Quentin tapping his long, tapered fingers against the armrest in time to whatever music he was listening to.

  Glancing at her husband, she found him watching her.

  “What,” she asked quietly.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “And I want to thank you for coming along on this journey with me… thank you for our time together,” he continued.

  The look in his eyes was intense, and the heat radiating from them was one of genuine warmth. She smiled up at him, trying to keep her tears at bay.

  This was supposed to have been a joyous occasion, and it was. But with the sadness over Haruto-san’s death, there was a shadow she had not expected.

  A shadow that made the trip bittersweet.

  They had gotten the water they’d taken the trip for. Gotten to know more of Galya and Gaspar’s story through their descendent, Ferdi. Seen the Garden Tomb, the Wailing Wall, walked in Jesus’s footsteps to the Pool of Siloam. They had spent time at the Dead Sea and at the Haifa coast, and they had witnessed a traditional Jewish wedding just the day before.

  The trip, by all accounts other than Masao’s inability to get to his father in person on time, was an absolute success.

  Paloma laid her head on her husband’s shoulder and closed her eyes, their fingers entwined. Maybe with a little sleep, she thought, things will look better. And then I can think more clearly; prepare to wash the mirror.

  The excitement running through her veins at the thought of washing the mirror in the same water that helped create it made her shiver, and she smiled.

  Three more days.

  That’s what they’d agreed on: the 15th, after they’d rested a little from their journey. And those who had opted out of the trip, or who couldn’t go, well… they could be there when they prayed over and washed the mirror, too. It would be fantastic.

  Her smile widened all the more, and, finally, she drifted off to sleep.

  Quentin tapped his fingers to the beat of the rock and roll mix on the new Quantumetrix© SmoothMoves SoundMachine, Junior that Lovan had gotten for him before the trip and smiled.

  So much better than anything he’d ever heard. As the plane ascended into the sky, he flipped the optional holographic goggles over his eyes in order to watch the performances that tantalized his ears.

  Next to him, Kristof slept, kicking out with his right leg toward invisible dreamtime interactors or events. Though Quentin had gotten used to it, there was still something about it that weirded him out about the action.

  At least with the goggles, he could only sense the kicking, and not see it. He smiled as Guns N’ Roses melded into Stryper and leaned back to enjoy himself.

  An hour later, Kristof accidentally kicked him, still asleep.

  He shook his head just as the music shifted from Change of the Guard by Steely Dan to Aerosmith’s What Could Have Been Love, and suddenly, his heart began to drum a tattoo within him, hard and fast. He shoved the goggles down from his face and turned his head toward the window as tears began to stream down his cheeks. Clenching his fists, his mind began to reel from the unexpected assault on his senses.

  On his emotions.

  He tried to take a deep breath, failing miserably as he began, instead, to hyperventilate. His heart sped up even more, and he yanked the buds from his ears, not bothering to try to shut the SoundMachine off.

  “You okay,” he heard a passing bleach-blonde flight attendant ask him as she paused her cart next to him.

  He could feel her eyes on him and shook his head.

  A’course I ain’ a’ight, he thought, panicking even more as he sensed Edward, Masao, and Lovan moving toward him. Why I be havin’ issues if I be a’ight? An’ why Edward gotta be so nice to me when all I….

  Heart pumping hard inside of him, and breathing becoming more difficult, Quentin felt himself begin to shake, halting all rational thought as he felt movement happening around him.

  The next thing he knew, he was floating. Beneath him, he could see Edward and Masao performing CPR on him. In front of him, he could see Casimir and Omega. They were glowing, and had sprouted wings.

  Wings?

  Did that mean the stories of the five unexpected strangers being angels was really true? And why was he floating?

  You will live, he suddenly heard Omega say, for it is not your time quite yet. Time will be limited when you return to your body, so use it wisely.

  Omega’s mouth didn’t move, but his glow brightened and softened with the cadence of his words.

  What be happenin’ to me, Quentin thought, even as he sensed Casimir and Omega each grabbing a wrist of his air-thin being. Must be hallucinatin’ or somethin’. Why else I be seein’ and hearin’ things?

  You are not hallucinating, he heard Casimir say, only his mouth didn’t move, either, but his glow did the same dance to words as Omega’s had. You are being given a second chance. Not a long one, but nevertheless, time to make any amends that you must; time to get things right with God and with the Stuarts. The Godhead knows your heart; knows your thoughts. There is nothing hidden from the Mighty One, and there is nothing you can do to earn salvation. Accepting what Jesus did for you on Calvary is the only way to be at peace when you are face to face with the I AM.

  A panic began to set in, followed almost immediately by peace as he began to consider Casimir’s words.

  If I not be goin’ crazy, and this be real, he thought, then… then I gotta do a lot more than make amends. I gotta…

  And as suddenly as he’d awakened floating, just a suddenly did he sense a sucking sensation. The grip on his wrists tightened, and he looked from one angel-man to the other.

  The enemy seeks to destroy you; to destroy your life, and the relationships around you, Quentin Quimby, Omega’s voice said, once more without moving his lips. But Jesus paid the price for your soul, and He does not wish you to die a permanent death. Therefore, you have been given a second chance most do not receive.

  This assignment of ours, and of yours, is too important to allow satan to win out, Casimir’s voice sounded as the words glowed through him. The wings around his head beat, and then, so did Omega’s, and suddenly, Quentin could hear Edward shouting, “Come back, already, Quentin. You’re not finished here.”

  Still unable to move, Quentin’s thoughts raced. What was all this about, anyway? What was the real purpose of my being on this trip? I never did understand that.

  Casimir’s voice, once more, echoed through him. Several of the people with you passed through the mirror and stepped into the Valley of Thrones. This is one part of heaven. There are many. And in the Valley, they found peace and answers. One of those answers was the need to go to the source of water that helped create their mirror.

  But how, Quentin began to ask within his mind. Dat be nothin’ but… Dat don’ make no sense. Not dat it gotta, I guess, but…

  “Come on, Quentin,” he heard Edward say again.

  And with that, a less intense sucking sensation overcame Quentin, Omega and Casimir let go of his wrists, and each of the three sets of wings they began to move with vigor, invisible to the naked eye. He could sense it, though if someone asked, he couldn’t ever explain it.

  Moments later, Quentin’s eyes flu
ttered open, and he was looking up into Edward, Masao, Lovan, Kristof, and the worried attendant’s faces and saw relief flood through each one.

  His breathing normalized; his heart rate slowed. He tried to sigh, but no noise came out. With deliberate care, he forced his sludge-slow arms to move again until he was grasping the SoundMachine. He looked down at it, and then, slowly, over to Kristof, who took it from him with an unsure smile.

  The attendant brought him some water, and helped him to drink it slowly. He could hear Edward telling Paloma that he was alright, and heard whispers slide along the aisles of fellow passengers. Moments later, he was in a deep sleep.

  And when he woke up, somehow, he was not in New York but – as the overhead announcement blaring in the background informed him –Chicago. Someone was rolling him in a wheelchair, and from their scent, he wondered if it was Tom or Jason, since their colognes were similar.

  In front of him, he could see Lovan wheeling Kristof Sage toward the line to the exit ramp so that they could get to their final waiting room.

  He took a deep breath and then sighed. Somehow, he had slept all the way through one airport check and they’d just landed at the second of three destinations on their way back to the Portland International Airport.

  Ten hours to go before he was home.

  Ten hours, and, finally, he would never have to step onto another plane again.

  Fifty

  Vancouver, Washington… August 15, 2025

  Arthur Reynolds moved cautiously through the street, looking in each direction as he headed toward the little church that he knew Andrea Juarez’s mother, Margaretha, now attended. The hour was still early, and the sun had yet to come up, but still, the thought of anyone finding him outside of Oregon and reporting it was too much.