It didn’t take long to coax the tiny angels through the blue door. Prissie did her best to tally them up just to be sure, but it was even harder than counting chickens. “I can’t even guess if they’re all there!” she admitted in exasperation.
“Abner will manage it,” Harken assured with a chuckle. “He calls them by name.”
“Tamaes!” greeted Koji, trotting over to the Guardian.
Prissie studied the tall warrior closely, checking for bandages. “Are you all better?”
“I am well,” he replied, gesturing to the soft grass. “Take your ease so we can talk.”
“About what?” she asked.
“Forces are gathering,” Harken said solemnly. “I could try to give our news a positive spin. Of all those who escaped from the Deep, only one eluded our search.”
“One demon can’t do much … right?” she asked uneasily. Looking from face to face, she asserted, “If it’s just one, it’s not a big deal.”
Tamaes and Harken exchanged a long look, and the Messenger sighed. “Let me see if I can explain. Having met us, I think you’ll understand the gravity of our situation.”
“Okay?” she prompted.
“I’m a Messenger. Tamaes is a Guardian. Koji’s an Observer. Malakim, hadarim, adahim—we’re all Faithful.”
Prissie knew this much, so she nodded. “Orders of angels.”
Harken continued, “Before they Fell, the enemy were as we are. They once served God as Messengers, Guardians, Protectors, and so on.”
When he paused again, she said, “That makes sense.”
“A few … a very few of the fallen were Caretakers.”
That had an ominous sound to it, and Prissie asked, “Is that a problem?”
With a nod, Harken explained, “Caretakers were given great power, surpassing that of all the heavenly host.”
Tamaes chimed in, reciting, “Star-movers, earth-shakers, sea-stirrers, storm-bringers.”
Harken added, “Caretakers tend the heavens and earth at God’s command. Not one of them acts on their own initiative.”
Prissie thought she understood. “But an enemy doesn’t listen to God anymore?” she asked in a small voice.
“Indeed,” Koji replied solemnly.
“Does that mean …?”
Tamaes confirmed, “The one who eluded recapture was a Caretaker.”
“He’s a disaster waiting to happen,” Harken said. He waved a hand to indicate the darkened shop and blizzard on the other side of the blue door. “It has already begun.”
13
THE
LIVING
NATIVITY
Dinge and Murque traded jabs, each trying to force the other to voice the question on both their minds. Their scuffling standoff grew tiresome, so with a faint sneer, Adin sweetly inquired, “Something to say?”
Clearing his throat, Dinge asked, “Why her, my lord?”
“Are you questioning my taste in prey?”
“There’s easier pickings,” Murque pointed out.
“She’s cozy with that whole Flight,” Dinge added peevishly. “They crowd around her like a misbegotten Hedge!”
“Let them fret and flutter,” Adin replied dismissively. “The girl’s only a means to my ends.”
“Isn’t that what you said about the Observer we snatched?” Murque grumbled. At his superior’s narrow glance, he hastily added, “No offense, my lord. I just don’t see what you’re aiming for. If it’s not the apprentice … and it’s not the girl … then, what?”
With a superior sniff, Adin announced, “I hear interesting things.”
“Do tell, my lord,” Dinge coaxed with a sly smile.
“That Tower, for instance.”
“There’s plenty of towers,” Murque remarked.
“True,” Adin conceded, his eyes glittering. “But this one moves.”
Prissie couldn’t have been more frustrated, for a thousand little things seemed to be going wrong. Gum in her hair. Spiders in the bathtub. Missing library books. Her Saturday had ranged from one small catastrophe to another, and she was in no mood to smile by the time her father dropped them off at the door of First Baptist. She’d have to dredge one up, though. Tonight was their church’s annual living nativity, and she and Tad would be reprising their roles as Mary and Joseph.
“Careful! There are still icy patches,” called the shepherd who was scattering salt on the walks.
Prissie thanked him for the warning. “A sprained ankle would top off a day like today nicely,” she whispered with a sour face.
Koji offered, “You may hold onto me.”
“Says the angel who can’t skate,” she teased.
“Angel?” interjected Beau, who was walking right behind them. “Koji’s a shepherd tonight.”
“O-obviously,” Prissie floundered. Really. Could the day get any worse?
It felt as if someone was out to get her, and stepping through the doors into the foyer only confirmed her suspicions. She was sure Milo would have called it some kind of providence, but she was convinced it was a divine conspiracy. With a hearty groan, she asked, “Not you too?”
Ransom exchanged a glance with Marcus, then shrugged. “You talking to me, Miss Priss?”
“Not tonight.” Prissie shook her head and walked on by. She was too worn down by disasters to bicker with an annoyance.
“Blunt,” Ransom said with a mock wince.
Marcus only grunted and fell into step behind her.
With a quirk of an eyebrow, Ransom followed suit, remarking, “Brave.”
Koji laughed softly, and Prissie threw him a questioning look. “Ransom is good at seeing the heart of things,” he whispered.
Two long tables in the foyer were arrayed with coffee makers and cookie platters for those who wanted to stop in for some fellowship. For the most part, however, the living nativity was a drive-by scene, and folks came from all around to inch past a makeshift stable set up in the corner of the parking lot. There were plenty of live animals, people in costume, and seasonal music.
All Prissie needed to do was dress warmly, hold a bundled-up doll, and spend a couple of hours in the spotlight. She was just heading over to get into her costume when Tad came jogging through the foyer. “Priss!” he called urgently.
She turned as her big-big brother slowed to a stop. “The sheep are loose, and they need my help to herd them back into the pen. Can you quick find a stand-in?” He was already jogging backward toward the entrance. “Sorry!”
“It’s okay!” she replied, then sighed as she turned to Koji. “What next?”
“Stand-in?” Ransom asked curiously. “You have a part in the nativity?”
“Yes,” she replied curtly, looking around for help, then waving urgently. “Momma!”
Mrs. Pomeroy hurried over and listened calmly to the explanation. “I see!” she said, her gaze sweeping the foyer. Almost immediately, she zeroed in on Marcus and Ransom. With a hopeful smile, she asked, “Gentlemen?”
Marcus cuffed his friend’s shoulder. “He’ll do it.”
“No!” Prissie protested. She lifted pleading eyes to her mother’s face. “Momma!”
“It’s settled,” Naomi said with finality.
Prissie knew better than to argue when her mother took that tone, so she said nothing more as Mrs. Pomeroy grabbed Ransom and Koji and hustled them to the changing rooms. Marcus watched them go, then fixed Prissie with a stern look. “Be nice,” he growled.
“Why should I?” she countered peevishly.
“Because he’s my friend.”
That took her aback. She knew firsthand what it meant for an angel to claim a human friend. It was a rare thing, counted as precious, and her face fell. “Oh … right.”
The Protector smiled. “Thanks, kiddo.”
“Well, this is definitely not a role I ever planned on playing,” Ransom said out of the corner of his mouth.
“It was nice of you to step in.” Prissie replied with grim politeness. They could h
ear the whoops and hollers of those still trying to herd the sheep back toward the church. “I was really surprised to see you here.”
“At church?” he replied, pausing to smile as flashbulbs went off from the window of a passing car.
“At my church.”
“What’s the big deal? Do I need a membership card or something?”
“Of course not,” she grumbled, adjusting her grip on the swaddled bundle in the crook of her arm. “I was just really surprised to see you and Marcus.”
“Your brother invited me,” he explained, giving a small wave to the kids staring at them from the windows of a slow-rolling minivan.
“Which one?”
“Jude this time,” he replied. “He said if I came, I’d get to see angels.”
She gaped up at him. “What?”
“Oh, hey! There they come!” Ransom exclaimed, rolling his eyes at the robed figure making his way over. “Hey, Mr. Mailman! Are you Gabriel?”
“That’s the general idea,” Milo replied with a grin. Someone had sprayed golden glitter in his hair, and he wore a halo made from silver pipe cleaners; still, he maintained a certain dignity. “I heard you were pinch-hitting this evening. How does it feel to be in Joseph’s shoes?”
“Awkward.”
The Messenger chuckled. “Sounds about right, given all he was going through at the time.”
Ransom said, “Guess so.” With a wave, Milo moved on, and the teen frowned thoughtfully. “Huh.”
Prissie peeked at him out of the corner of her eye. “What?”
He gazed into the starry sky overhead and remarked, “Crazy dreams, road trip, no vacancies, new baby who’s someone else’s, and a bunch of shepherds showing up in the middle of the night telling stories about an angel invasion.” With a wry smile at the bundle in Prissie’s arms, he muttered, “Talk about having your life turned upside down.”
Prissie looked skyward as well and wondered how many invisible angels were winging overhead. “I think it must have been nice … having angels promise them there was nothing to fear.”
A car horn honked, and they turned in time to see Neil race past, his shepherd’s robe flapping as he pursued a pair of bleating sheep. “Head them off!” he hollered to Tad, who was circling around from the other direction.
Ransom snickered. “I think I lucked out landing the Joseph schtick. Marcus and the rest of them are playing Little Bo Peep.”
“How long have you and Marcus been friends?”
“About as long as you and me have been not-friends,” he joked. Her lips thinned, and he answered more seriously. “A couple years … going on three. I’d just moved here, and we were both new at the same time.”
It was difficult to see anything past the spotlights trained on them, so she couldn’t tell where Marcus was. If he was as good with sheep as he was with chickens, she supposed he was doing his part quite well. “Why are you friends?”
“Why?” he repeated, giving her an odd look. “Beats me. Just happened that way. How ‘bout this, Miss Priss. Why are we not-friends?”
Another car full of kids rolled by, and they paused to smile for another series of camera flashes. Prissie scrambled for an answer but came up empty. As the vehicle moved on, she eyed him skeptically. “You want to be friends?”
“Dunno,” he replied. “Maybe. Any reason we shouldn’t be?”
She couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. “Are you messing with me just because I can’t get away?”
His eyebrows shot up, and then he grinned. “Gosh, Miss Priss! That’s a good point. You’re at my mercy.”
“Figures,” she muttered.
“I’m kidding,” he sighed. “Just humor me and answer the question.”
Prissie gave the baby doll in her arms a gentle pat and swayed as she tried to make sense of Ransom’s demand. Finally, she tentatively admitted, “I don’t like you.”
“Yeah, you said so before, but I thought maybe that was changing.” At her sullen look, he pointed out, “You and Koji pulled me inside that bookstore the other day. Very heroic. Almost friendly.”
She was rescued from answering when a jeep paused in front of the nativity. Its window lowered, and a ringing voice declared, “Glory to God in the highest, And on earth peace, goodwill toward men!”
Prissie squinted against the lights. “A-abner?”
“Hey, Mr. Ranger!” Ransom said with a wave. “And … other Mr. Ranger.”
Padgett sat forward, a hand upraised in greeting. “Good evening.”
Abner leaned even further out the jeep’s window to gaze at the twinkling stars, “It is a good evening. Weather cleared up nicely, don’t you think?”
“Yes, sir,” his companion patiently agreed. “However, I was simply greeting Prissie and Ransom.”
“As was I,” the Caretaker retorted.
“Say, Abner!” Prissie dared to call, then ducked her head when she remembered they were in public. “I mean, Mr. Ochs?”
He peered at her over the top of his glasses, gray eyes patient and piercing. “Yes, Miss Pomeroy.”
“Are you good with sheep? My brothers are having herding issues.”
With a wintery smile, he replied, “As it happens, I do know a thing or two about straying flocks. Fear not, Prissie.”
“Thank you!” she called as they moved along and turned into a vacant parking spot.
“Friends of the family?” Ransom murmured as they smiled for the next carload.
“Friends of mine, actually.” She cringed the moment she realized what she’d said.
“Yours, huh?” He mulled that over for a while before saying, “I think you broke my brain.”
“Excuse me?”
At that precise moment, the side door of a red minivan slid wide, briefly blasting them with strains of the Nutcracker Suite, and a familiar voice exclaimed, “Nice togs, Koji! Very ancient nomadic! But where’s your flock?”
The young Observer, who was stationed just beyond the corner of the makeshift stable, gravely replied, “Abner will lead them back.”
“Wagging their tails behind them?” Grinning ear-to-ear, Baird spread his arms wide. “Prissie! Ransom! You’ve got that whole re-enactment thing going on! Totally brings back memories! Right, Kester?”
“It is nostalgic,” replied his apprentice, with a nod to each one present.
The other members of Baird’s band waved and offered Christmas wishes before moving along, and this time it was impossible to ignore Ransom’s hard look. “Friends of yours?”
“Obviously,” she muttered, avoiding eye contact by attempting to burp her baby.
“What am I missing here?”
His amusement made her uncomfortable. “What do you mean?”
“When it comes to making friends, you draw from a pretty wide range of citizenry. Why am I disqualified?” She tossed her head, and he pressed, “Did I really blow it that big when I tied your braids together in the sixth grade?”
He was laughing, but his gaze was steady, and Prissie hated being put on the spot. She cast a longing look at Koji, but her good friend was clearly not Sent to her aid. On her own and out of options, she cut to the heart of the matter. “Habit.”
Ransom’s eyebrow quirked. “Really?”
She faced forward, trying to look like a serene mother instead of a flustered girl. “It’s tradition,” she said defensively. “That’s the way it’s always been.”
“Habit,” he reiterated, shaking his head in wonder. “And here I thought … huh.”
“What?”
“Smile for the camera!” he said through his teeth. She managed a lopsided smile, and he muttered, “Should I be amazed that Jesus still pulls in the paparazzi?”
“Don’t make fun,” she warned.
“Wouldn’t dare,” he assured.
After a few more cars passed by, Ransom gave her a nudge. “I was just thinking … if you don’t like me, but you don’t know why you don’t like me; doesn’t it make sense that if you
found something likeable about me, we could be friends? Hypothetically.”
Her promise to Marcus about being nice weighed heavily on her mind. “I suppose that’s possible. Remotely.”
“A challenge!” he exulted.
“This is unbelievable. Doesn’t anything embarrass you?”
“Not much,” he admitted. “Why? Are you embarrassed?”
“Mortified.”
“Why?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious.
“Because you’re you, and I’m me,” she replied. “And this whole conversation is ridiculous!”
“How about I tell you something embarrassing about me,” he proposed.
“Like what?” she asked, curious in spite of herself.
“What if I told you my favorite color is pink?”
She blinked. “You’re kidding.”
Ransom gestured broadly. “Why would I lie about something so stupid?”
“Has anyone ever asked you your favorite color before?”
“Well, sure.”
“And you told them pink?”
“Are you kidding?” he scoffed.
Dripping sarcasm, Prissie asked, “So you’ve lied to everyone except me?”
“What can I say? I’m turning over a new leaf.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Ransom folded his arms over his chest. “Does that mean you’ll be watching?”
“Watching my back,” she returned tartly.
“In case I try to tie another knot in your hair?” he inquired, reaching behind her.
She shied away, and he relented as another car pulled into the church parking lot, illuminating a rather subdued flock of sheep trotting obediently to their pen. Neil slumped gratefully onto a straw bale beside Koji to catch his breath. “All woolies present and accounted for. Good thing Ranger Ochs showed up when he did. Him and the other guy did good.”
“Padgett,” Prissie supplied. “I hope you thanked them.”
“Several times,” he assured.
Tad sloped over and said, “Not sure who’s more worn out—us or them.”
The Broken Window Page 13