Jayce’s attention was fixed on Neil. “Son?”
“R-right,” he replied, scrubbing at his face before rambling into an explanation. “So … I was upstairs, and I had the scanner on. It’s kind of a mess out there today. All kinds of trees down, power outages, damage to buildings, broken windows at Trinity, spin-outs … and stuff.”
“Sure, sure.” Dad eyed his son with a trace of confusion. Prissie had never seen Neil so pale and subdued, and a knot formed in her stomach. The teen rubbed the back of his neck and seemed uncertain how to go on, so their dad coaxed, “What is it, Son?”
“There’s a fire.” His voice cracked as he continued, “They gave the address … on Main Street. Dad, it’s the bakery.”
After a hushed conference with his wife and parents, Jayce closed himself into the small office in order to make some calls, but he reappeared within moments. “The line’s dead, and I can’t get a signal. It must be the storm.”
“What should we do?” Naomi asked quietly.
A gust of wind rattled the windows in their frames, and Mr. Pomeroy stared at the whirl of white beyond. “I know there’s nothing I can do, but I want to head into town. See for myself.”
“I’ll go with you,” Neil immediately offered.
Grandpa Pete folded his arms over his chest, his expression grim. “It’s a fool’s errand, but if you insist on going, take the tractor.”
“To town?” Momma gasped.
The old man replied, “Slow and steady … and a long sight safer than slip-sliding around out there in one of the cars.”
Mrs. Pomeroy glanced between her husband and her father-in-law, then nodded. “Bundle up.”
“I’ll fill a couple of thermoses,” Grandma Nell interjected. “And you should eat something first.”
“Don’t think I can manage that,” Jayce wryly admitted.
“I’ll change,” Neil announced, jogging past Prissie and Koji toward the stairs.
Momma pursed her lips. “Prissie, go wake Tad and tell him to come to the kitchen. I’ll grab Beau. I think we’ll wait to tell the little boys, though. Let them have their Christmas.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Prissie murmured, moving rather numbly into the family room. What would they do if Dad lost the bakery? Shaking her head, she hoped there was some mistake, but then Koji’s fingers grazed her hand. One look at his face, and she knew it was true. Things were happening … and they were all bad.
In the family room, Tad sprawled on one of the couches, sound asleep while Zeke and Jude played together on the floor in front of the wood stove. Prissie smiled a little when she noticed that her big-big brother was putting her gift to use. Tad was forever bunching up his jacket to prop his head during his impromptu naps. After lengthy consideration, she’d bought him a small travel-sized pillow and sewn a pillowcase out of flannel. Kneeling next to him, she gave his shoulder a small shake.
Tad woke, and his gray eyes went from sleepy to solemn in a twinkling. “Priss?”
“Dad needs to talk to you,” she replied, trying to act normally. “In the kitchen.”
He pushed himself up onto his elbows, still scrutinizing her face. “Is it bad?” he murmured. Her lip trembled, and he nodded once, rolling to his feet and striding purposefully to the kitchen.
Prissie dropped limply onto the couch, and Koji joined her. “What’s going on?” she whispered.
The young angel pondered the matter, then admitted, “More than I can know, let alone understand.”
By unspoken agreement, Grandpa and Tad took charge of Zeke and Jude, coaxing the boys back to the family room in order to pop corn and roast apples over the embers in the wood stove. The bedtime snack would signal the end of a long day of fun for them, but the atmosphere was noticeably subdued. At Momma’s request, Beau moved Neil’s scanner to the kitchen, and she and Grandma Nell took over one end of the long table with a jigsaw puzzle and a fresh pot of coffee.
While Beau fiddled with the scanner settings, Prissie drifted to the table, needing something to take her mind off the waiting. Her angelic friends had been gone since sunrise, and Dad and Neil had been gone for nearly two hours. Momma would bow her head or murmur something under her breath, but praying didn’t seem to be hurrying things along. “How much longer?” Prissie sighed.
“If they’re smart, they’ll stay in town until morning,” Grandma Nell offered. “Mr. Mercer would put them up.”
Prissie straightened and looked at Koji, who stood at the kitchen window, transfixed by sights she couldn’t see. She saw the young Observer grab hold of the window sill with a white-knuckled grip. It was the only warning she had, for in the next instant, lightning flashed dazzlingly, immediately followed by the crash and boom of thunder directly overhead. The whole house rattled, and the power went out, leaving the Pomeroys in stunned silence.
Grandma Nell patted her heart and briskly said, “I’ll get more candles.”
Screeching tones and static caused Prissie to jump and look at Beau accusingly. Her brother shrugged at the scanner. “It has batteries.”
Jude trotted into the kitchen, making straight for his mother’s arms. “Do you think Maddie’s okay?” he asked worriedly.
Grandpa, who’d followed close on the boy’s heels, answered, “The coop has a good foundation, so even if she’s fussed, she’s safe. Kinda like us.”
As Tad and Zeke sidled into the room, Prissie scooted over to join Koji at the window. Another blaze of lightning forced her to squint, but once it gave way to a deep roll of thunder, her eyes widened in disbelief. “How is that possible?” she whispered.
“Nothing is impossible,” answered Koji.
“Well, I never!” muttered Grandpa Pete, who promptly headed for the back door to get a better look.
The Pomeroys crowded onto the back porch to stare up at the whirl of clouds surrounding their farm. They were in the eye of the storm, and the sky above had opened up, revealing stars overhead. Prissie had no idea what her family was seeing, but on every side, colors flashed and darted, driving back the shadows. Angels were doing battle, keeping the enemy at bay. “We’re safe!” she gasped.
Another rumble began to build in the distance, and Tad grimly said, “I don’t think that’s thunder.”
“Is there gonna be a tornado?” demanded Zeke, staring around with an awed expression.
Vibrations shook the porch, and Grandma Nell exclaimed, “An earthquake?”
Just then, a bolt zoomed across the sky, colliding with the barn, and its lightning rods danced with electricity. “Basement! Now!” Momma called, her voice ringing with authority.
They hadn’t needed to take shelter since early summer, when tornado warnings had sent them down below. The storm cellar was always stocked for emergencies, though the space wasn’t due for an airing out until spring. Tad led the way, calmly grabbing hold of Zeke’s arm before the youngster could run off. “You heard Momma,” he scolded.
“But my stuff!” the eight-year-old protested.
“It’ll keep,” Tad said with a sympathetic smile. “Come on, Jude. You bring Momma.”
“‘Kay!” agreed the youngest Pomeroy, who was holding tight to Naomi’s hand.
Grandpa Pete helped Grandma Nell snuff the scattered candles, then escorted her downstairs as well, but Prissie lingered by the door with Koji. Blinding flashes danced along the edges of the whirlwind, as if they were being held back from striking the farm buildings. Each strobe cast their orchard into stark relief, black trees against white snow; however, they brought something else to Prissie’s attention.
Something was moving in the orchard, and it was big. A spate of sleet cut through the air, stinging her cheeks, but she lingered, staring hard as she waited for the next flash. When it came, she almost couldn’t make sense of what she was seeing.
“Coming, Priss?” called Beau.
“J-just a minute,” she answered, giving her brother a pleading look.
“You shouldn’t be in the open,” he warned, hesitating at th
e top of the basement stairs.
Lightning blazed again, and Prissie’s gaze swung back to the orchard. The winds dropped, and in the strange stillness, she could hear noises—creaking, groaning, cracking. “Oh, no!” she moaned. “The trees!”
“It cannot be helped,” Koji remarked, his gaze fixed on a struggle of epic proportions.
Not one colossus, but two grappled in the midst of the orchard. The giants stood taller than the barn and its silos, and as they pushed and pulled against each other, apple trees snapped like twigs beneath their feet. Even though the scale boggled her mind, Prissie recognized the sweep of silver hair that swayed behind the brighter of the two figures. “That’s Abner,” she gasped.
“Indeed.”
While her Caretaker friend’s raiment shone as brightly as ever, his opponent seemed to be draped in rags; they hung from the gaunt frame of a demon with wild eyes that held nothing but hate. Abner’s hand was firmly planted over the enemy’s mouth, preventing him from uttering a sound. “Is he the one responsible for the storm?” she asked. “Does that mean Abner is stopping him?”
Koji solemnly said, “He will not let the enemy speak, for his words are like poison.”
From behind them, Beau asked, “What are you guys looking at?”
“What can you see?” she asked nervously.
“Not much,” he admitted, trying to follow her gaze.
The wrestling match continued over precious acreage, and she murmured, “Is there anything we can do?”
“You can pray,” Koji gently replied.
Prissie glanced nervously at Beau, who frowned deeply at something in the distance. Shaking her head, she whispered, “For what?”
From amid the swirl of colors, a single streak of blue cut into the open sky, swift as a comet … or a falling star to wish upon. Gripping her hand fiercely, Koji pointed urgently, exclaiming, “For them!”
“Is that …?” A rolling cloud of malice pursued that single beam of light, and Prissie’s hand clapped over her mouth lest she blurt out anything in front of Beau.
Her brother’s eyes narrowed, and he muttered, “Is that a meteor or something?”
“Kids!” their mother called urgently, her voice carrying up the basement stairs. “Come down here!”
“Hang on, Momma!” Prissie called back, her eyes fixed on Milo’s wavering flight pattern.
Koji’s took a half-step forward, eyes wide with concern. “He is fast, but his burden is great.”
“Where are the others?” she wailed, no longer caring if Beau heard. “Can’t they help?”
“They are,” he assured. “They part before him and close ranks behind him.”
The streak grew close enough that Prissie could make out Milo’s wings. They were tucked close to his body, giving him a streamlined appearance as he dove toward safety. Nervously, Prissie asked, “Shouldn’t he be slowing down about now?”
“Prissie,” Beau interrupted, his wide eyes fixed on the oncoming angel. “That thing’s gonna hit!”
“Y-you can see him?” she gasped.
“Him?” he echoed, shooting her a look of utter confusion.
A crack like thunder split the night, and the earth trembled underfoot as something crashed into the house, rattling it to its foundations. Momma’s voice came again. “Kids! Are you all right?”
“Yeah!” Beau answered, his face pale in the beam of the flashlight he clicked on. “Something hit the house, but don’t worry! I’ll check it!”
“No!” Momma countered, but it was too late. The teen had already dashed up the back stairs, Koji right behind him. Prissie had no choice but to follow.
“Come back!” her mother called.
For the first time in longer than she could remember, Prissie flat-out disobeyed her mother. If Koji needed to stay with her, then that meant she needed to stay with Koji. Holding her skirts high, she followed as quickly as she could in the darkness, mentally counting the stairs as she fumbled upwards.
From the top step, she could already tell something was very wrong. The upstairs hallway was quiet enough for her to hear the strange whistling of the wind. Cold as ice, it slithered past her ankles, seeping into the house from the direction of her bedroom.
The door with its quirky angled top hung open, and an eerie blue light filtered through into the hallway. Prissie tiptoed closer, afraid to look, yet needing to know. Firming her resolve, she stepped through the door.
At first, all she could do was gape at the wreckage. It was far worse than she could have imagined, for she could see the stars through what was left of her ceiling. Tree branches poked and twisted every which way, and snowflakes drifted through on faint gusts of wind. Her braided rug was littered with broken glass, and in the middle of the mess, Beau knelt beside the sagging figure propped against one wall.
The light she’d seen wasn’t coming from the moon. Luminous blue wings were draped at odd angles, and they lent a soft glow to the room. Beau’s fists were clenched at his sides, and he looked over his shoulder at her. “I know this is gonna sound crazy, Priss, but this guy looks a whole lot like Milo.”
She took a shuffling step forward, bits of colored glass crunching under her slippers. “It’s not crazy,” she managed, her voice wavering. “He’s obviously Milo.”
The Messenger’s eyes fluttered open, and he wheezed, “Hey there, Boaz. Please … don’t be afraid.”
Beau nodded dumbly, then shook his head.
“It looks like someone threw a tree at the house,” Prissie muttered.
Koji, who was now clad in raiment, stepped to her side and calmly corrected, “He was aiming for Milo.”
Prissie dragged her attention to their mailman, and her dismay reached new heights. “You’re bleeding!” she exclaimed, hurrying to his side.
“Sorry for the mess,” Milo replied with a wan smile. His ash blond curls were in wild disarray, and he pressed one hand to his side. He seemed to be dimming, and his eyelids drooped.
“Padgett is coming,” Koji quietly announced.
“S’good,” the Messenger mumbled before slipping into unconsciousness.
“Wings?” Beau interjected, shaking his head in disbelief. “Are you telling me these are wings? Like … like an angel?”
“Just like,” Prissie crisply replied, growing more frightened by the moment. Suddenly, she noticed the waif tucked against Milo’s side, half-hidden by the drape of one wing. A pallid face streaked with dirt and tears lifted slightly, turning toward their voices. Prissie immediately spotted a pointed ear poking through ragged hair, but was more disturbed by the strips of cloth that wound across his eyes. Thin hands fisted tightly into Milo’s tunic as he offered a weak, “F-fear not?”
In the awkward silence, Koji calmly stepped forward and knelt before the newcomer, slipping his arms around trembling shoulders and warmly declaring, “Welcome back, Ephron.”
The story concludes in Book 4: The Garden Gate… .
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
FOR BOOKS 3
During the Christmas Open House at the bakery, Padgett remarks, “Letting emotions dictate your decisions can be as unwise as letting appearances influence your opinions.” Do your head and your heart ever disagree? How important are first impressions? Why are second impressions worthwhile?
Who’s the trickiest person on your gift list? Why are they hard to shop for? What about you … do you like practical or impractical gifts?
When Prissie dreams that she’s in the hayloft, she sees scores of injured angels. Those Protectors and Guardians have always been nearby, but until now, she didn’t give a thought to the dangers they face for her sake. “The more she met, the more she cared.” Why does knowing come before caring? Stop and think. Are there strangers you’re taking for granted?
April Mayfair is caught in the middle of a frenemy feud. She tries to stay neutral, but Prissie ends up feeling betrayed. Have you ever been stuck in April’s shoes? Why is it such a tricky place to be?
During his mes
sage, Pastor Denny Kern of the DeeVee says, “I can hear you now, saying, ‘It’s no big deal, Denny. Don’t sweat the small stuff!’“ Can little things be important? Can you name a small thing that hurt you deeply? Is there a little thing that always brightens your day?
Prissie points out, “Lots of people wish they could fly like a bird. Or that they had super powers or magical abilities.” What about you?
Koji is an Observer, but watching isn’t enough for him. Prissie admires the way he throws himself into new experiences. How brave are you about trying new things? We all have stuff we refuse to attempt. Where do you draw the line?
Would you rather know the truth, even if it was hard to accept … or put your faith in an appealing lie?
Prissie admits that what she wants most is to matter to Milo and Koji as much as they mattered to her. Who matters to you? Who do you want to matter to? Who wants to matter to you?
“One never knows what God can use. Even if I do not understand the purpose of a thing, that does not mean it has none.” Can you think of something you thought was useless but came in handy later?
Have you ever taken part in a white elephant gift exchange? What would you bring if you were invited to one?
At Christmas, Grandpa Pete says, “Don’t lose sight of what’s right in front of you by hankering after what could have been.” What’s right in front of you?
THRESHOLD SERIES
GLOSSARY
Praise the Lord, you his angels, you mighty ones who do his bidding, who obey his word.
– Psalm 103:20 NIV
ORDER OF ANGELS
Orders of Angels. They’re variously called the hosts of heaven (Neh. 9:6), powers and principalities (Rom. 8:38), thrones and dominions (Col. 1:16), angels and authorities (1 Pet. 3:22), and ministering spirits (Heb. 1:14). Throughout the Threshold Series and its various companion stories, I’ve divided these servants of God into distinct orders. While their characteristics are inspired by the Scriptures, bear in mind that these varieties are the author’s invention. Each of their proper names is spun from a Hebrew word related to the order’s unique role … and parallels those of the two kinds of angels specified in the Bible — cherubim (Ex. 25:22) and seraphim (Is. 6:2).
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