The Blue Door

by Christa J. Kinde

  Jedrick sheathed his sword and said, “Be grateful you cannot see. The Fallen are fearsome, twisted creatures.”

  “They’ve been driven back for the time being,” Milo explained quietly.

  “Is everything okay?” Prissie timidly asked the mailman when the three warrior-like angels drew aside to compare notes.

  The Messenger’s usual smile was tainted by sadness. “No, but you’re safe, and for that I’m grateful.”

  She tugged at his sleeve and immediately felt childish, but Milo and Maddie were the only familiar things in the midst of strange people and stranger ideas. Clinging to the safety he represented, Prissie whispered, “Have these guys been around the whole time, and I just couldn’t see them before?”

  “Something like that,” Milo admitted. “They’re members of our Flight.”

  “Is that like a team?”

  “Yes. Each team is comprised of a Flight of angels,” Milo confirmed.

  “These guys don’t look anything like you and Harken, or Baird and Kester.”

  “No, they wouldn’t. They don’t need to fit in. They need to fight.”

  “Taweel said he’s a Guardian, but he’s not mine,” Prissie shared.

  Milo nodded patiently. “That’s right.”

  “Whose is he?”

  “That’s not my story to tell,” the Messenger replied gently.

  “Oh, so, what about him?” she asked, nodding toward Jedrick. “Is he a Guardian, too?”

  “Jedrick is a Protector — a warrior who battles against the Fallen,” Milo explained.

  “What’s the difference?”

  The Messenger considered, then replied, “Focus, I suppose. A Guardian concentrates on his charge, but a Protector’s eyes are always searching for the enemy.”

  “Enemy? Do you mean the Fallen?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, you’re saying that there were demons here?” she demanded, her voice rising.

  “Yes, Miss Priscilla, there were.”

  “Why?”

  Jedrick approached and answered for the Messenger. “That is not entirely clear.”

  “But you’re in charge, so shouldn’t you know?” she argued.

  “I am neither all-seeing nor all-knowing.”

  “But aren’t you guys well-connected with someone who is?”

  The captain met Prissie’s defensive gaze with a serious expression, and Prissie wondered if she had pushed too far. However, he calmly answered, “We were given as much as we needed to know in order to do that which we were Sent to do.”

  “And what was that?” she asked more meekly.

  “Protect you,” Jedrick replied.

  “And catch Maddie,” added Milo.

  “Oh.” Prissie peeped toward the other warrior-like angel. His auburn hair was sleek and straight, falling well past his shoulders and arranged so that it partially obscured the long, jagged scar that ran down the left side of his face. His armor was similar to that worn by his companions — fitted leather studded with metallic disks that gleamed dully in the sunlight. His wings fell from his shoulders in mingling shades of bittersweet and amber.

  Milo guided Prissie over and announced, “And this is Tamaes.”

  He stepped forward, and after a moment of quiet consideration, Tamaes silently extended his hand.

  Prissie offered her own, and as he gently grasped it, a soft smile played at the corners of his mouth. His reddish brown eyes gazed down at her with such warmth, she needed to look away, so she stared instead at the large, sun-browned hand enfolding hers. With a small squeeze, he said, “Do not be afraid.”

  She glanced up, then realized that everyone was watching the exchange with keen interest. “I’m not,” Prissie protested, looking to Milo for support. He nodded reassuringly, and she fully faced the angel holding her hand. “Were you hurt?”

  Tamaes brushed his fingers across his marred cheek. “A long time ago.”

  The scar looked terrible, and Prissie hesitated to ask her next question. “How were you hurt?”

  “I was defending someone precious.”

  Milo helpfully explained, “Though his teammates are always close by, a Guardian is sometimes called upon to battle a Fallen to protect his charge.”

  “You’re a Guardian, too?” she asked glancing toward the gruff angel who’d caught her.

  “Yes,” Tamaes said. “Taweel is my mentor.” He dropped his gaze. Releasing her hand, he stepped back and rejoined the other two warriors.

  For the next few minutes, Prissie couldn’t shake the feeling that the auburn-haired angel was looking at her, but eventually, she decided that he was studiously not looking at her. None of the others were paying her half as much attention, and they had no trouble meeting her gaze. It was strange. Either Tamaes was incredibly rude or incredibly shy, and she suspected the latter. Also, there was something vaguely familiar about him, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on what. Finally, Prissie nudged Milo and whispered, “What’s with him?”

  The Messenger looked at her in surprise, then realized what she meant. With a chuckle, he confided, “Guardians are notoriously bashful. I suppose it’s too much to expect him to speak up on his own. Come on.”

  Adjusting his grip on Maddie, he led her back to Tamaes, who apparently knew what was coming. He murmured, “Thank you, Milo.”

  “My pleasure,” he replied, placing his hand on the Guardian’s shoulder before turning to Prissie. “I wish I had the words to convey to you just how momentous this is. Meetings between people and Messengers are rare enough, but this is such a precious thing.”

  “Milo, you already introduced us,” Prissie muttered, feeling awkward.

  “Yes, but I left out the important part!”

  A tiny suspicion stirred in her soul, and she looked up into the Guardian’s eyes, searching for confirmation. Milo didn’t even need to say it before she knew.

  “Miss Priscilla, Tamaes is your guardian angel.”

  Milo escorted Prissie back to the edge of the fairgrounds, where Grandpa and Jude anxiously waited. Her youngest brother whooped for joy as soon as he caught sight of Maddie. Grinning toward the sky, he called, “Thank you, God!” and came running to meet them.

  “You should thank Milo,” Prissie chided.

  The mailman chuckled and said, “It’s all the same to me.”

  Still, Jude gave Milo’s leg a fierce hug, then squeezed his sister for good measure. Prissie glanced around. “Where’s Ransom?”

  “Him and Marcus had to go,” the little boy replied.

  “He and Marcus,” Prissie automatically corrected. It didn’t surprise her at all that she’d been abandoned in her time of need. Marcus was practically a stranger. At least Ransom had gotten her message through.

  Grandpa beckoned the mailman over so they could get Maddie back into her cage for the ride home. Jude followed Milo, not wanting to stray far from his beloved chicken, and while they were busy, Koji stepped forward. It occurred to Prissie that he was being unusually quiet, and she wondered how much he already knew about what had happened on the ridge. At a loss for what to say, she settled on an awkward, “Hi.”

  “Prissie?” he began, gazing at her with his hopeful expression. “May I express my relief as well?”

  “I … guess.” If she’d known what he meant, she probably would have refused, but an instant later, it was too late. Koji’s arms wrapped around her, and he hugged her even more tightly than Jude had.

  “I was afraid,” he confessed, his face hidden against her shoulder.

  Could angels be afraid? Apparently so, for the young angel was trembling. She tried to reassure him, awkwardly patting his back. “It wasn’t that bad.”

  “If you had seen what I saw …” he protested, shaking his head. “Shimron told me that friendship would bring both joy and sorrow, but I did not understand until now. It has never been so difficult to watch and wait!”

  Prissie gave in and hugged Koji back a little. “I’m obviously safe. Nothi
ng bad could have happened. Not really.”

  Just then, Milo placed his hand on Koji’s head and ruffled his hair. “We’ll be along, Pete,” he called.

  Prissie looked helplessly toward her grandfather, who was ready to head to the truck. Grandpa Pete harrumphed as he always did over open displays of affection before leading Jude away.

  Koji reluctantly released Prissie and urgently met her baffled gaze. “You saw some of our warriors, didn’t you? Do you think they carry weapons for no reason? The threat is as real as we are!”

  “I think I’m ready to go home, now,” she announced. Looking from one to the other, she repeated. “I want to go home.”

  Koji closed his mouth and lowered his eyes, and Milo quietly replied, “I understand.”

  Prissie nodded briskly and turned her back on the whole frightening morning.

  18

  THE FICKLE FRIEND

  Jedrick gazed down at Tamaes, who sat upon the sloping roof just beyond the bright pattern of colors created by the light shining from Prissie’s bedroom window. “You seem rattled,” the Protector remarked.

  The Guardian stared at his hands, which were loosely laced before him. Eventually, he dipped his head. “A little.”

  “This is the second time you were able to meet Prissie.” With a faint smile, Jedrick remarked, “I remember how dismayed you were the last time.”

  Tamaes huffed in amusement. “She cried.”

  “And this time?”

  The Guardian ducked his head and softly said, “She smiled.”

  Choosing a seat beside the other angel, Jedrick frankly broached, “There is said to be a danger amongst Guardians. When they place too much importance on their charge, they lose sight of God.”

  Leaning back to gaze into the spread of stars overhead, Tamaes lightly traced the scar that cut down his right cheek. “I am well aware of this, Captain.”

  “I know,” Jedrick acknowledged. “However, I would be a poor leader if I did not address the matter.”

  “I shall remain Faithful.”

  With a nod, the Protector moved on. “Several in our Flight have already befriended Prissie, and I see no reason why you cannot do the same.”

  Silence lingered long, but Tamaes finally broke it, wryly admitting, “That may be why I am rattled.”

  Usually after the fair closed, summer’s excitement fizzled away, but Prissie’s mind still whirled with new faces, half-formed fears, and an unsettling suspicion that even if she wished it, none of the strange things she’d seen were going to fade away. Maybe it would be better if they did, like waking from a bad dream.

  But was it all bad?

  “No,” she sighed, staring hard at her bedroom ceiling. Still, Prissie would have been happier if she could pick and choose the parts that involved her — the friendly, smiling, happy parts. Determined to put the previous days’ events behind her, she thrust all thoughts of angels from her mind.

  Prissie wandered downstairs in the vague hopes that Momma would be able to suggest something to do. A little excitement might be nice, just not the kind that involved death-defying tumbles, ominous warnings, and keen-edged swords.

  She found Momma and Grandma Nell on the back porch, sipping iced tea on the slowly swaying swing. Her grandmother was casually flipping through the pages of Beau’s new book about Sunderland State Park, but she glanced up over her reading glasses and blandly remarked, “Here comes another one.”

  One look at her daughter, and Momma smiled knowingly. “You look restless.”

  “I’m bored,” grumbled Prissie.

  Grandma Nell chuckled. “I can’t believe you young ones! Anyone with sense would thank heaven for a quiet place to collapse after all the flimflam and folderol of the fair, but here you come, begging for more!”

  “But there’s nothing to do!”

  “Oh, there’s always something that needs doing,” her grandmother retorted, a teasing sparkle in her eyes. “Are you looking for extra chores?”

  “Something fun,” she hastily amended.

  “Why don’t you call Margery?” Momma suggested. “You two are usually full of plans about how to spend your last free days before school starts.”

  Prissie gave her a pained look. “She’s probably busy.”

  Momma chased a droplet of condensation down the side of her glass with one finger, then casually asked, “Did something happen with Margery the other day? You left with one set of friends and came back with another.” Studying her daughter’s face, she added, “Neil seemed to think you had a falling out.”

  “Since when does Neil know anything about anything?” Prissie snapped, upset that he’d tattled.

  “He was only passing along something that nice young man Baird said,” Naomi explained, her voice soft.

  Momma always did get quieter when she scolded, and Prissie knew she was pushing it. Still, her tone sharpened defensively. “He has no right to stick his nose into other people’s problems!”

  “So there is a problem.” Momma shook her head and prompted, “What happened, sweetheart?”

  Prissie only hesitated a little. It felt good to finally tell someone. Momma and Grandma listened patiently as she explained how awful Margery’s birthday party had been. Being looked down on, left out, and laughed at — maybe they were small things, but they hurt in a big way. “It’s like they’ve forgotten all about me!” she exclaimed bitterly.

  “Then maybe it’s time to remind them,” Momma suggested. “Do something to show them you still want to be friends.”

  “Like what?”

  Grandma Nell interjected, “It’s not like you to sit back and wait for your friends. Don’t you usually keep them organized.”

  Prissie nodded slowly as she thought back. “I did have lots of fun things planned, but right around the middle of summer, everyone was suddenly too busy.” It had been frustrating to hear nothing but no and not this time from Margery and the others, so she’d stopped asking. “Maybe I gave up.”

  “Try, try again,” Momma cheerfully rejoined. “Why don’t you invite the girls to the mall?”

  “When?”

  “The longer you put off reconnecting, the harder it will be,” Grandma Nell warned.

  Prissie’s mother brightly agreed. “There’s no time like the present!”

  “Today?”

  “It’s short notice, but why not?” Momma replied encouragingly. “Go see if they’re free, and we’ll take it from there.”

  “I thought you were tired,” Prissie said, dragging her feet just a little.

  “Completely exhausted,” her mother acknowledged, waving her toward the door. “Which is why I’ll bribe Tad into playing chauffeur if you can get a group together.”

  Grandma Nell closed the oversized book she’d been perusing and extended it. “Put this in the office for me on your way to the phone?”

  Prissie was grateful for the advice, but it didn’t really make it any easier for her to make the first move. She shouldn’t have to remind Margery, April, and Jennifer that they were friends — should she? But a trip to the mall would be the perfect distraction.

  In the end, Prissie couldn’t quite summon up the nerve to call. Instead, she fired up the family computer in the little office area off the kitchen and copied them all on an email instead. Down in West Edinton, three cell phones were undoubtedly alerting their owners to new messages.

  While she waited for a response, Prissie idly turned the pages of the big book Grandma had passed along. It was the one Harken had given Beau. Apparently, the nearby state park’s property had once belonged to A. J. Sunderland, one of West Edinton’s founders. She’d always liked the hiking trails that meandered through the nearby woodlands, and she could remember camping there a few times when she was little. Near the center of the book, Prissie found a foldout map of part of Sunderland’s impressive cave system and traced her finger along the maze of tunnels that apparently stretched for miles.

  Just then, the computer chimed, and she felt
a zing of excitement. April had responded! Clicking the message, Prissie smiled triumphantly. Jennifer was over at April’s house, and they were both bored to tears. They could meet up. The sooner, the better!

  Margery’s reply came through a few minutes later, also agreeing to the plan. Margery used to use a lot more exclamation points, maybe because shopping was involved. Still, a yes was a yes.

  She was just logging out when Koji tapped on the door frame. “Are you going somewhere, Prissie?”

  Not quite meeting his gaze, she said, “Yes. I’m going to the mall with my friends.”

  “May I accompany you?”

  Prissie appreciated everything Koji had done for her, but she replied, “Not this time. Girls only.”

  Momma leaned into the office niche and announced, “Your brother is ready and willing, but you’ll need to leave on the early side so he can put gas in the van.”

  “Thanks,” Prissie replied with a weak smile.

  Koji’s steady gaze was discomfiting. “Tad is not a girl.”

  “He doesn’t count!” she exclaimed defensively. “He’s our driver.”

  Nodding, the young angel solemnly said, “I understand. Please, be careful.”

  As soon as he excused himself, Prissie wished she’d been more honest with Koji. She felt guilty, especially since she knew what it was like being left out, and she was kicking herself for using the very words she’d come to hate — not this time. In trying to prove she still fit in with her old friends, she’d pushed away her new one.

  The mall was packed with teenagers also making the most of their last week of summer vacation. To Prissie’s delight, Jennifer wore a long, crinkly skirt with little seashells stitched along its hem. “I bought it at the cutest little shop close to the beach!” she enthused, twirling to show off her summery souvenir.

  Prissie exclaimed over the perfect little seashell earrings that matched. “It’s perfect! You look beautiful!”

  Her friend’s big, brown eyes took on a happy shine, and she linked arms with Prissie, pledging, “We’re gonna have so much fun today! I’m so glad you called! There was absolutely nothing else to do!”