The Broken Window

by Christa J. Kinde

  Milo’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “My wings.”

  Snatching her hand back, she murmured, “Oooh! Excuse me!”

  “It’s all right, Miss Priscilla. Ready to see the others?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Nodding once, the Messenger gave his wings a gentle shake, then lifted them away, slowly revealing a familiar forest glade. Yahavim zipped around like golden fireflies, but for once, she ignored the little manna-makers. Prissie had been hoping to see Milo’s wings since the first moment she realized he had them, and she stared in frank admiration. Propping his chin on his hand, he wafted them playfully and asked, “Satisfied?”

  Prissie toyed with the end of her braid and mumbled an indistinct affirmative. Glancing around, she spied Tamaes leaning against a nearby tree, a faint smile on his face. Her guardian angel was garbed as usual in armor-covered raiment, and the hilt of a sword showed over his shoulder. Sleek auburn hair partially hid the scar that ran along one side of his face, and for once, his wings weren’t on full display. Instead, a vivid pattern of overlapping rings in shades of orange decorated his arms.

  When Tamaes caught her eye, he strode forward to offer one large, tanned hand, helping her to her feet. “Hello, Prissie,” he greeted, searching her face with ill-concealed concern.

  “I’m fine,” she blurted.

  He shook his head. “You are ill.”

  “I’m mostly better,” she argued, vaguely embarrassed to have worried him. “I’ll be better soon.”

  “May it be so,” Tamaes said, and his gaze drifted off to one side. “Hello, Koji.”

  She turned in surprise to find her friend hanging back, simply observing. Milo chuckled and asked, “Is Jedrick expecting you as well?”

  Koji self-consciously tucked his loose hair behind an ear that now came to a distinct point. “I was not invited, but I need to stay with Prissie.”

  “Oh, sure,” interjected a familiar voice. “Where would she be without her conscience?”

  Prissie turned to see Marcus strolling toward them through the trees beside Jedrick. It was slightly disorienting to see a classmate wearing armor and heavy boots with oddly woven straps, but Marcus looked right at home in his raiment.

  “Her conscience?” inquired the Flight captain.

  “It is a nickname,” Koji offered seriously.

  From what Prissie could tell, the warrior types in Jedrick’s Flight wore sleeveless tunics. The Protector towered imposingly over the rest of them, all broad shoulders and bulging muscles. When he folded strong arms over his chest, she noticed that his fair skin was laced by an intricate pattern of green whorls. In contrast, Marcus’s wings had settled into jagged markings that zigzagged in hues of cream and yellow over his warm brown skin.

  Standing as tall as he could beside his mentor, Marcus also crossed his arms and smirked infuriatingly at Prissie. “Took you long enough, kiddo!” Before she could work up some indignation, Jedrick rumpled Marcus’s two-tone hair, causing the younger angel to duck his head and protest, “I was only saying hi!” The apprentice Protector might have been able to carry off a tough guy aura at school, but next to the other warriors in his Flight, he was pretty puny.

  Prissie’s soft giggle put an end to the jostling, and Jedrick suggested, “Shall we begin?”

  She asked, “Are we the only ones here?”

  The captain explained, “These four spend the most time with you.” That made sense, and when she nodded, Jedrick continued. “I cannot say if you have come to know us because you are in danger, or if you are in danger because you have come to know us. Either way, the threat is real, for Adin seems to have singled you out.”

  “And he’s a demon?”

  “He has set himself against God,” Jedrick confirmed.

  Prissie didn’t exactly doubt them. Adin had been polite, handsome, and stylish … but sometimes he said or did things that made her uneasy. Frowning in concentration, she asked Jedrick, “How can you tell? I thought demons were horrible monsters.”

  Marcus snorted, and with a dramatic flash of light, he unfurled his wings, spreading them wide. Getting right in her face, he made certain she was staring into his eyes, which were an impossible shade of gold. “Look at me, Prissie,” he demanded in exasperation. “Is this how I show up to school?”

  “Obviously not.”

  “You already know the Faithful can hide their true nature in order to fit in! It’s no different for the Fallen!”

  “Fine. But if he’s an enemy, how do you know his name? Is he on some kind of Most Wanted list?”

  For several moments, an awkward silence filled the glade. Jedrick sighed and nodded at Tamaes, who took a half-step forward. “Adin and I were once close,” her Guardian said dully. “He was like a brother to me when I was newly formed.”

  “What happened?” Prissie asked, aghast.

  With a small shrug, Tamaes replied, “He Fell.”

  “That’s all?”

  Koji tapped her hand and solemnly answered, “That is everything.”

  Jedrick cleared his throat and fixed Prissie with a stern gaze. “The members of my Flight stand ready to back up Tamaes in his service to God. Come what may, we are with you.”

  Then Milo stepped forward. “I have a message for you, Miss Priscilla.”

  “An official one?” she asked warily.

  “Yep. And it’s threefold.”

  “Oh,” she managed, her heart already racing.

  Holding up a finger, Milo said, “Trust.”

  Prissie had expected more than one word, so it took her a moment to react. “Isn’t that the same message Harken gave me before?”

  Raising a second finger, Milo said, “Listen.”

  Even more stymied, she asked, “To what?”

  The Messenger replied, “At the moment, to me.” A third finger joined the others, and Milo concluded, “Remember.”

  Truly frustrated now, Prissie begged, “Remember what?”

  Marcus grumbled something about a complete lack of awe where divine messages were concerned, but Milo only chuckled. “I don’t know, Miss Priscilla. However, I can say with absolute certainty that whatever it is, it must be important.”

  2

  THE OPEN

  HOUSE

  The hum was barely there, a whisper of sound. Ephron wasn’t ashamed to be heard, nor did he fear the consequences should his captors overhear his feeble notes. Only weakness kept him from raising his voice any higher.

  Although the captive angel’s tattered raiment shed dirt, his pale skin was powdered by dust, darkened by bruises, and traced by cuts, blood, and tears. The unforgiving stone of the pit’s floor was strewn with hanks of flaxen hair, evidence of Murque’s latest game. What remained of the Observer’s former glory hung raggedly around his shoulders. He leaned his head back against the rough wall and longed for heaven’s brightness, the familiar chorus of evensong with friends, and the One whom he loved above all others.

  Heart aching, voice cracking, the lonely angel bravely continued to sing of light in the midst of an endless night. Even if it was his last breath, Ephron would spend it in worship.

  Late the following afternoon, loneliness drove Prissie from the confines of her bedroom to the kitchen table. She was much improved today, so Momma had decreed her fit for school tomorrow. Tad and Koji kept her company, both engrossed in their own studies. Prissie glanced up from her make-up homework as Neil tromped into the kitchen, his arms laden with bags, talking to Grandpa Carl.

  “Nope. Coach Hobbes bumped me up to the varsity team, but I didn’t really get a lot of time on the field.”

  “Were you disappointed?” his grandfather asked, coming in behind him and sliding a box onto the counter.

  “I was a little,” Neil said. “But Tim’s graduating. I knew if I hung in there, I’d be the starting quarterback next year. Gramps told me to look smart and learn all I could.” Shrugging nonchalantly, he added, “It’s cool.”

  Beau ambled into the room, peering c
uriously into the various bags, probably looking for something to munch. “Don’t spoil dinner,” Prissie warned.

  Grandpa Carl nudged Neil and stage whispered, “Best not mention those burgers we demolished.”

  “What?” Prissie exclaimed.

  “Unfair!” agreed Beau.

  “Kidding,” said Neil, rolling his eyes at their grandfather. Then he wrapped an arm around Beau’s shoulders. “O, brother of mine! Lend me your geek factor for a while?”

  “What for?”

  Neil tapped the box on the counter. “This is gonna be awesome. Probably. Assuming you can figure out how it works …?”

  Beau inspected the label. “A police scanner?”

  “Dad said it was okay, so we picked it up,” Neil explained. “Derrick told me that a lot of the other volunteer firemen have them.”

  “I’ll help,” Beau agreed. “Where do you want to set it up?”

  “My room!”

  As Prissie’s two brothers thumped up the back stairs, Grandpa Carl sidled over to her. “How are you feeling, fussbudget?”

  “Better today.”

  “Glad to hear it!” he cheerfully replied before taking a covert survey of the room. Then from the depths of his jacket pocket, he withdrew a small, white paper sack, which he slid across the kitchen table. “A little something to keep up your strength.”

  The bag was filled with penny candy, and she smiled. “Thanks, Grandpa!”

  He winked. “Don’t spoil your appetite.”

  After classes a couple days later, Mr. Pomeroy swung by school in the van to pick up a few helping hands for work at the bakery. Koji and Prissie piled in while her father looked over the crowd of milling students. “Where’s Ransom?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” she replied. “I’m not his keeper.”

  “There he is,” Koji said, pointing confidently. “Marcus is with him.”

  Prissie sat a little straighter as both teens ambled over to the driver’s side to talk to her father. To her astonishment, Ransom introduced Marcus, and to her chagrin, both boys circled around to get inside. As they slid into the row behind hers, she stared blankly at the apprentice Protector. “What are you doing here?”

  “Bumming a ride,” Marcus replied, casually draping his arms along the back of his seat.

  Something occurred to her, and she turned to Koji and muttered, “Please tell me Jennifer didn’t see him get into our van.”

  Koji didn’t miss much. “She is there. With Elise and Margery.”

  Following his gaze, Prissie winced at the sight of Jennifer Ruiz’s sulky scowl. Ever since Marcus rescued Prissie from the tunnels near the Deep a couple months ago, Jennifer had been convinced Prissie was trying to steal him from her. The accusation was ridiculous on so many levels, but it also hurt.

  As the van pulled out onto the highway, Ransom tapped her shoulder. “He just needed a ride into town, Miss Priss.” He gave her a searching look. “Marcus isn’t a bad guy.”

  Although she bristled at his cautionary tone, she replied honestly. “I know.”

  He seemed stunned by her frank acceptance, and Marcus hid his smile by staring out the window at passing scenery. “Never woulda saw that one coming, but I won’t complain.” Shaking his head, Ransom remarked, “You’re a hard one to figure, Miss Priss.”

  With a toss of braids, she faced the front and pretended neither of them was there. Honestly! It wasn’t as if she’d ever be rude in front of her father, and even if she could never explain why, she trusted Marcus. How could she not? Oh, she wished he’d act a little more angelic, and maybe fix his ridiculous hair. But he was a Protector. And that changed things.

  Prissie frowned to herself as she thought back to the few times she’d seen Marcus when he wasn’t masquerading as a human. His eye color had gone from brown to gold, but his hair hadn’t changed at all. If that was the case, didn’t that mean that bi-colored hair was exactly what God intended for him? She was beginning to get the idea that the Creator was quite creative in His tastes. Green hair? Purple eyes? Rainbow-hued wings? She tsk-ed softly to herself, then immediately felt irreverent.

  Prissie wanted to ask about it all, but she certainly wasn’t going to turn to Marcus. Making a mental note to bring it up later to Koji, she glanced his way. The Observer’s eyes were on her face, and his countenance seemed brighter than usual. “What?” she whispered.

  Leaning close so as not to be overheard, he replied, “When your thoughts turn toward God, it pleases Him.”

  Her eyes widened. “Are you sure you can’t read minds?”

  “Not at all,” he assured.

  “Then, how …?”

  Koji gave her question some thought, then quietly answered, “I believe I am attuned to worship, and your spirit and His Spirit were in harmony.”

  Prissie was certain she’d never cease to be amazed by the things Koji shared.

  Once they reached Loafing Around, Marcus tossed them a wave and wandered off by himself. Mr. Pomeroy herded the rest of them inside and sent them to the sinks to wash up. “Aprons all around!” he decreed before going to inspect the progress of his other assistants.

  The bakery was getting ready for its annual Christmas open house, which was always planned for the first Saturday in December. It was the day Prissie’s dad started adding holiday treats to the bakery case and accepting pre-orders for parties. His breads and Auntie Lou’s pies were very popular, but the real draw during the festive kick-off party was their cookies.

  Sugar cookies in all shapes and sizes were decorated with fussy icing, sparkling sugars, and colorful sprinkles. They were a Pomeroy tradition that Jayce shared with all his customers, with a little help from his family and friends. Grandma Nell and Grammie Esme were already in the bakery’s big kitchen, chatting with Auntie Lou as they patiently piped icing onto cookies shaped like bells, stars, trees, and snowflakes. Pearl had traded her knitting needles for a pair of tweezers and was patiently adding details to a snowman from a pile of candy confetti. Even Uncle Lou was getting into the spirit of things, adding a glossy coating of sanding sugar to an apple-shaped cookie.

  “Whoa!” Ransom exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. “I love my job!”

  “Oooh, who’s this nice, young man?” Grammie Esme asked, peering at him over the red frames of her reading glasses.

  Mr. Pomeroy quickly made introductions while Ransom tied his apron, then the teen claimed the chair next to Pearl’s and asked, “What can I do?”

  “Whatever you like, dear,” Auntie Lou invited, waving at the array of icings. “You too, Koji.”

  The Observer readily joined the group, though he seemed content to look and not touch.

  Prissie wasn’t thrilled with the idea of leaving Ransom in the same room with both her grandmothers. The potential for disaster was enormous, and she really wished Beau was there to help stem the tide of tales. At the same time, she was pleased and proud to have been singled out as her father’s helper for the afternoon. Jayce always built an elaborate gingerbread house in the bakery’s front window, assembling it right there, where everyone could watch him work.

  “Ready to do some roofing?” he asked.

  For nearly an hour, they worked in tandem, patiently overlapping rounds of dark chocolate until the whole roof was neatly scalloped. After that, he set Prissie to work braiding licorice whips while he used pillow candy to cobble a sidewalk. Time passed pleasantly, smelling of spice and peppermint and interspersed with her dad’s questions about this and that.

  Finally, he stood back. “That’ll do for today, I think. I can add the finishing touches tomorrow morning.”

  “It looks great,” Prissie declared.

  “Anything missing?”

  “How about a mailbox?”

  “Good idea!” he exclaimed, rummaging through his containers of candy for a large gumdrop, which he began to knead. “Why don’t you check on progress in the back? We’ll need to wrap up soon, or your mother will think I’ve forgotten the way home.”
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br />   Prissie was still smiling over the nonsensical remark when she pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen. Ransom glanced up, and his eyebrows did their funny little quirk thing; however, he went right back to his decorating duties without comment. She noticed that he handled a piping bag like a pro … unlike Koji. The tabletop around his workspace was liberally daubed with dribbles of icing, and there was an explosion of sprinkles on both floor and table. To his credit, his cookies looked all right, so she only asked, “Having fun?”

  “Indeed.” The Observer’s face was a picture of concentration as he added a pinch of purple jimmies to a purple-frosted star. Eyeing his handiwork, Prissie realized that he was once more reaching for stars. They were the only shape he’d decorated, and there were so many colors, the collection resembled a kaleidoscope.

  “It’s almost dinnertime,” Prissie announced.

  “So it is,” Auntie Lou murmured with a glance at her watch.

  Grandma Nell capped the jars of colored sugar closest to her. “I’ll just give your mom a call.”

  Koji quickly offered to sweep, and Prissie lent a hand with putting on the remaining caps and lids. As she moved along the table, she cast a critical glance over the cookies closest to Ransom. “Which ones did you do?” she asked curiously.

  Setting aside the icing, he gestured broadly. “Most of these are mine. Pearl was putting hers on the counter behind you.”

  There was nothing to criticize … except maybe that all the reindeer sported pink noses. But since it was sort of cute that way, she shrugged it off. “They look really good,” she admitted.

  “You sound surprised.”

  “Maybe I am,” she retorted. “None of my brothers take the time to do cookies right. All they care about is eating them.”

  Ransom grinned. “You’re my witness, Koji. Miss Priss just said I did something right!”