The Garden Gate

by Christa J. Kinde

  “What does that mean?” she asked.

  “High ground . . . a narrow place . . . something like that,” Marcus answered. “A Hedge would be useful about now.”

  “Where are all the Guardians for the kids from school?”

  “As scattered as we are! And we’re seriously shorthanded since Koji and I don’t have hadarim.”

  “Taweel is here,” panted the Observer.

  The three of them skidded to a stop as the big Guardian dropped from overhead, planting himself between them and an unseen foe. Taweel tossed a sword to Marcus as purple wings flung wide. “Stay behind me,” he growled.

  Prissie was grateful for Taweel’s arrival, but he was only one angel.

  As if he overheard the thought, her guardian angel’s mentor glanced over his shoulder at her. “Have faith. Tamaes is close.”

  Marcus grabbed Prissie and Koji by their elbows, pulling them over to a rocky outcropping. “Keep this at your backs,” the young Protector commanded. “Koji, don’t let go of her for nothing!”

  “I will,” he replied. Then paused. “I will not?”

  “Double negatives,” groused Prissie.

  “Whaddya want? ‘Thou shalt cleave to her’?” With a burst of golden light, Marcus’s wings blazed into view. “Be not parted from her side, spake the cherub.”

  “Fine.” Prissie stared blankly at their surroundings, wishing she could tell why her friends were literally up in arms. “But it might help if you were more specific?”

  “There’s things you can do that are outta my league,” he replied with a smirk. “Think on it, kiddo. It’s not rocket science.”

  She grabbed Koji’s hand with a grumbled, “I’ve been praying.”

  The Observer threaded his fingers through hers. “He knows it. I believe that was his way of thanking you.”

  “He has a strange way of showing gratitude.”

  As Marcus took up a stance beside Taweel, Koji shook his head. “Not in showing. But perhaps in telling.”

  Beau remembered hearing prayer compared to breathing. It was supposed to be second nature to Christians, as normal as taking a deep breath before plunging into life . . . or simple as a sigh. Right now, he was breathing hard and praying fast.

  Maybe seeing the supernatural wasn’t as enviable as he’d first thought. “Seeing the good guys . . . that I liked,” he admitted between ragged breaths. “Grateful for angels, Lord. Love the home team. But these guys? Not a fan.”

  Stumbling to a stop next to a big, old pine, Beau looked back and tried to catch his breath. He braced his palm on its trunk and dragged air into his lungs. “Running is . . . not my gift . . . gimme books, Lord . . . keyboard . . . comfy chair . . . and an angel on my fridge. Any day of the week.”

  Slowly, the sharp smell of the tree sap sticking to his fingers was overpowered by a seeping stink. He didn’t know which way to run. Didn’t know where to go for help. Didn’t know what would happen if a demon caught up to him. Panting prayers, he broke cover, sprinting across damp leaves deep in the state-protected forest. “Help would be good,” he whispered.

  A shout rang out, and he turned, trying to see who’d called his name, only to be bowled over. He yelped in surprise as something tangled him up and sent him tumbling along the ground. When the world stopped spinning, he opened one eye. Then both.

  “Sorry, Beau. Came in at a bad angle . . . while avoiding a bad angel. You okay?”

  “Milo.”

  The Messenger’s gaze grew concerned. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

  Beau shook his head, which caused a soft rustle. Wetness from the ground seeped into his jeans, and he could smell dirt and dry leaves. They’d landed next to each other, sprawled on the forest floor, with Milo’s wings for a cover. “What are you doing here?”

  “My apprentice needed me,” he replied cheerfully.

  Beau laughed weakly. “That’s an understatement. Do you realize there are demons out there?”

  “Yep.” With a sober expression, the Messenger said, “But you shouldn’t be noticing things like that.”

  “What does all this mean?”

  Milo pushed at his mess of long, blond curls, then smiled crookedly. “It means your mail is going to be a little late today.”

  Koji pressed close to Prissie’s side, his eyes wide as he watched things she couldn’t see. Frustrated, she turned her attention skyward and was rewarded by a flash of flame-colored wings in the treetops. “I think I saw Tamaes!” she whispered.

  The young Observer nodded jerkily, his gaze fixed on their friend. To Prissie’s dismay, Marcus didn’t stay behind Taweel. Sword upraised, he charged forward.

  Tamaes’s boots hit the ground, and he quickly knelt before their hiding place. A part of her was relieved to see her Guardian fit enough to be back in armor, but Marcus’s recklessness had her worried. “Help him!” she exclaimed, flapping her hands as if to shoo Tamaes into battle. “Marcus needs help!”

  “I am Sent to you, Prissie.”

  “B-but . . . !” Her gaze swung back to the scene unfolding beyond Taweel’s position. Marcus’s blade flashed and met something hard enough to send a ringing note through the trees. As he struggled, dingy shadows darted in and out of Prissie’s periphery. They were gone the moment she turned her head, swarming just out of range. “We’re surrounded?”

  “Nothing so organized,” Tamaes replied, standing tall and scanning their surroundings. “If this is one of Adin’s snares, he is casting a wide net.”

  “We won’t let him take you back!” she promised fiercely.

  Tamaes’s eyes flickered with surprise that quickly shifted to amusement. Laughing softly, he said, “Thank you, little one. I am in your care.”

  Which was totally backward. Feeling foolish, she asked, “Then what’s he after?”

  “Marcus and Koji could be considered vulnerable,” Tamaes replied frankly. “And . . . he knows about Beau.”

  “Is my brother in danger?”

  Her Guardian rubbed distractedly at the scar on his cheek. “Would you feel threatened if you could not see us? If you saw nothing but a peaceful woodland, would you be afraid?”

  “No, of course not!” she exclaimed. “Except I can.”

  Tamaes soothed, “But Beau cannot. And he is not alone.”

  Koji patted her arm. “This war is ours. It is not a human conflict.”

  “Confrontations like this have been happening all around you your whole life,” Tamaes added. “The only difference is your notice of them.”

  Prissie’s gaze flitted back to Marcus. “Are you saying this is same old, same old?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why did Marcus flip out?”

  Tamaes’s gaze shifted to his teammate, whose wings blazed bright. “He is a Protector.”

  Koji added, “And we are his friends.”

  Prissie wished their knight in shining wings had better backup. Then changed the wish to a prayer that God would Send in the cavalry. Almost at once, things grew more complicated. Ransom crested the rise Marcus had descended earlier. “Hey, you two! Have you seen Marcus?” He skipped and skidded his way down the steep slope. “He took off a little bit ago, and I’m pretty sure he was headed this way. Uhh . . . guys?”

  In an undertone, Prissie asked, “Angels?”

  “Two more Guardians,” Koji whispered.

  Ransom ambled over. “What’s with the huddle?”

  Prissie quickly stood, but she was still formulating an answer when she spied a flash of blue. Her eyes widened when she realized that Milo had arrived . . . carrying Beau. The Messenger had barely stepped back from her brother when Ransom turned to see what she was staring at. “Oh, hey! Beau, where’s your partner?”

  Beau cut through a stand of ferns. “She ditched me a while back.”

  “Mine went missing too, which is totally not like Marcus,” Ransom said with a frown.

  Prissie glanced at Koji, who breathed, “Two more warriors.”

  Wit
h a wave, Milo took off, exploding through the canopy of leaves overhead. Taweel lifted a hand and sharply commanded, “Form a Hedge!”

  This gave new meaning to safety in numbers, but what about Marcus? She looked to Tamaes, making sure he knew her words were for him. “Shouldn’t Marcus come back? Here. With us.”

  “I am certain he will return. When he can,” Koji said.

  “Yeah, he probably just . . . uhh,” Ransom trailed off, glancing at Prissie. “Nature calls, and all that.”

  Prissie covered her eyes with one hand. She honestly didn’t want to know how an angel metabolized manna. “Fine. Sure. He’s off watering a tree.” Returning to her defensive crouch, she said, “Let’s wait here.”

  Koji sat on the stone beside Prissie and ventured, “People do act in accordance with their nature, but . . . watering?”

  “Ain’t euphemisms grand?” Ransom sat cross-legged next to Koji and leaned over to whisper in the Observer’s ear.

  Whatever explanation he was given brought a bemused smile to Koji’s face. “That is a reasonable assumption.”

  “So what are we gonna do while we wait?” Ransom asked. “Anyone bring a picnic?”

  Prissie sighed and pulled off her small backpack. She fished out a bag and tossed it at him. “Dad and Zeke made trail mix.”

  “I think we should pray,” Beau said.

  “Thank you, God, for whoever put gummy worms in this otherwise healthy-looking roughage!” Ransom declared to the treetops.

  “Not for the food!” Prissie cried. “Our friend is out there . . . in . . . possible danger!”

  Ransom’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you that worried about Marcus?”

  She glared.

  Ever the diplomat, Beau stepped in. “It’s not as if we have to wait for an emergency.”

  “We three gather each morning to pray,” Koji volunteered.

  “No kidding?” Ransom asked, looking from one face to the next. “That’s kinda . . . impressive.”

  “Nope,” Beau countered. “Not trying to impress anyone.”

  Ransom waved his hands. “Bad choice of words. I only meant that . . . your version of normal is nice.”

  Beau simply nodded. “We keep it short. You’ll see. I doubt you’ll have any trouble jumping in.”

  Prissie knotted her fingers together, unsure if she was tense because of the crash and clang of Marcus’s sword or because Ransom was listening. Praying out loud wasn’t something she’d ever done much. Well, before Beau. He kept it so simple, it was impossible to be intimidated. Even though they’d begun in order to pray for Tamaes’s safe return, they’d kept up the habit.

  Beau began, “Lord, I thought I knew this park inside out. But today hasn’t been as boring as expected, as far as field trips go. Not sure I like this kind of excitement, but I’m grateful we’re together . . .”

  “And safe,” Prissie said, catching up the thread of prayer her brother left dangling. “You’re protecting us. In ways we can’t always see.”

  Koji may not have been able to pray, but he could proclaim. “Keep me as the apple of Your eye; hide me in the shadow of Your wings,” he quoted.

  Without much pause, Beau prayed, “Losing a teammate stinks. And two of us are in that situation. Please keep Elise from getting too lost, and give Marcus a push in our direction.”

  Ransom took a turn. “Yep. Cure Marcus of his wandering ways and haul his compass-snatching self back here. I’m stranded without him.”

  Even though Prissie’s head was bowed, she could tell Beau was smiling, “Like Ranger Ochs said, we have a course to finish. It’d be a shame if he had to come out here after us.”

  Prissie quickly added, “Unless that’s what we need. I wouldn’t mind if Abner or Padgett joined us right now.”

  “Whatever it takes to put stuff right, that’s fine by me,” Ransom offered. “I know You know what You’re doing. I’ll do my best to catch on and catch up.”

  “You will protect me from trouble and surround me with songs of deliverance,” Koji said, quoting the psalm with a lilt that made Prissie think he’d have preferred to sing it.

  Suddenly, Taweel and Tamaes began to sing, their voices rising in a confident duet. It was a song of deliverance. A warrior’s song, resonating with strength.

  While Beau continued, Prissie stole a peek at Koji, whose face now tipped to the sky. His eyes slanted to meet her gaze, and he smiled. “The song spreads,” he whispered. “The whole forest rings.”

  “Hiding out. Hanging out. Either way, I’m glad to be here,” Ransom declared. “Marcus is missing out.”

  With the angels’ song ringing in her ears, Prissie couldn’t think of another thing to say, so Beau closed the prayer. She managed a small, “Amen.”

  “. . . and amen,” drawled a familiar voice. They all turned to see Marcus picking his way toward them through the trees. “You plotting an ambush or something?”

  Ransom stood and offered the bag of trail mix. Talking around the gummy worm dangling from one corner of his mouth, he asked, “You take care of business?” He paused, then made a face and pulled the snack back out of range. “How clean are your hands?”

  “Cleaner than Beau’s pants,” Marcus replied, giving Prissie’s brother a casual, “Yo.”

  “H-hey.” Beau stood and brushed at his mud-streaked jeans, but his eyes never left Marcus.

  The Protector looked back. “Do I got something on my face?” he asked quietly.

  “Your . . . eyes,” he muttered.

  Prissie glanced sharply at Marcus, but his eyes were as brown as they should be. She was spared from coming up with something to say by Ransom. “I know, right? It’s the lashes.”

  18

  THE GRAND RE-OPENING

  Beau dropped into a chair in the school library and slumped down. He’d tried turning all of his worries into prayers, but that wasn’t working so well. Supernatural stuff was happening all around Prissie, and not all of it was good. What he thought he’d seen was impossible . . . but impossible to dismiss. Closing his eyes, Beau wrestled for words to explain to God why he thought there was something seriously wrong with Marcus Truman.

  A chair scraped, and Beau opened his eyes, nearly jumping out of his skin when he realized the guy sitting across from him was Marcus. Speak of the devil.

  “Yo,” said the older boy.

  “Hey,” he replied weakly.

  Marcus leaned forward, folding his hands together on the table. “We need to talk.”

  Beau slowly straightened in his chair. “Yeah?”

  “Look, I can tell you’ve got questions.”

  “You can?”

  “Yep. You’ve been seeing things, and by the way your eyes are buggin’ out, I’m thinking you saw me.”

  Beau glanced around nervously. They were alone, but he wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. “Your eyes . . . they changed color.”

  Marcus nodded. “Yep.”

  He admitted it. Just like that. “They were yellow,” Beau accused. “That’s not normal.”

  “Not for people like you, but it’s not too strange for my sort.” Heaving a sigh, Marcus said, “You’ve got nothing to fear from me, kiddo. And it looks like I’ve got nothing to hide from you.”

  “Meaning . . . ?”

  “Take a wild guess.”

  Beau ventured, “Are you an angel?”

  “Yep.”

  “And Prissie . . . ?”

  “She knows. And obviously, she knows how to keep a secret.” Marcus reached across the table, showing Beau his right palm. “Anything?”

  “Is that a scar?”

  “So you can see it,” Marcus muttered. “Not bad. Look closer.”

  Beau sat forward, and after a nod of permission, he touched the raised pattern that angled across Marcus’s callused palm. “They look like letters.”

  “Yep. It’s a name,” the angel confirmed. “Prissie’s.”

  His eyes widened. “Are you her guardian angel?”

  “Nah.
Just a friend.” With a faint smirk, Marcus added, “A Faithful friend.”

  Beau slid his hand into a firm clasp, saying, “You’re the fourth one I’ve met.”

  With a sharp glance to one side, Marcus ducked his head. “I forgot something, and it’s important. You don’t gotta take my word for any of this. Milo will confirm it all when you see him later.”

  “I’ll be sure to ask him,” Beau promised, reluctantly loosening his hold. “So . . . ?”

  “What?”

  “About my sister. Why’s her name on your hand?”

  Marcus tightened his grip and rotated his hand so it was over Beau’s. “Her name’s under my hand. This is God’s way of confirming His intention to protect what’s His.”

  Jealousy lanced through Beau’s soul. “Must be nice.”

  Quick as a flash, Marcus lunged forward and flicked his forehead. “Don’t dis ’em just because you can’t see ’em.”

  He goggled at the young angel. “Who?”

  “All the ones with your name under their hands and on their hearts.”

  Beau ducked his head, embarrassed by how glad he was to hear that Prissie wasn’t the only one getting special attention from God. “By any chance, does this mean more people than I’d like know my real name?”

  Marcus blinked, and his gaze slid sideways again. Then he snorted and asked, “Boaz? Seriously?”

  That answered that. And more.

  Prissie leaned back against the trunk of a slender tree, observing the three Observers in her acquaintance. At first glance, Shimron, Koji, and Ephron were nothing alike, but the longer she watched them interact, the stronger her impressions grew. “They like people.”

  Harken’s deep chuckle held no mockery. “Have you lived with one of the adahim for this long without realizing their nature?”

  Shimron seemed entirely fascinated by Ephron’s accounting of that morning’s conversation at the Pomeroys’ breakfast table. Nothing special had happened, yet the blind Observer waxed poetic. “It was an ordinary morning, but he makes it sound amazing.”

  “To him, it was,” Harken replied with a smile. “Ephron is filled with too much gratitude to take small things for granted.”