The Blue Door

19



THE SUMMER’S END



Jedrick,” the Fallen said, pleased when Ephron twitched at the name. “He’s your captain. No … he was your captain. I’ve been looking into the members of your former Flight.”

His prisoner turned his face to the wall.

“Such an unusual group, with a shocking number of Grafts.” His voice dripped with sweet poison. “But there’s someone even rarer under his watch-care, isn’t there, Ephron?”

The Observer sat rigidly against the wall of the pit, his breaths shallow due to pain, or possibly fear.

“Two someones!” he revealed, exulting in his discovery.

Ephron sagged a little, resting his forehead against his prison wall.

His captor scowled, for the whelp’s reaction felt more like relief than resignation. Features twisting into an ugly mask, he spat, “You served with two Caretakers, yet you fester in this hole! What more proof do you need that God has turned his back on you?”

This time, the angel turned his bandaged face toward his tormentor. Lifting his pointed chin, he spoke in a light voice left ragged by pain, yet filled with grim resolve. “Even so, I will remain faithful.”


One day followed the next, and Prissie kept waiting for something else to happen, but it didn’t. Her family went on as if everything was perfectly normal, and after all the excitement, she found the ordinariness of the week reassuring. From sunup to sundown, Grandma Nell kept her running between the garden and kitchen and from the kitchen to the cellar, where long shelves were filling up with jars of summer’s bounty. Same old, same old had never been more welcome.

While Prissie’s hands were busy, she tried very hard not to think about angels with swords, invisible wars, and the existence of demons. It was much nicer to dwell on visions of rainbow-hued wings, the elusive sweetness of manna, and the feel of Omri’s tiny arms wrapped around her thumb. As she carried quart jars of tomatoes down the basement stairs, she sighed and muttered, “It’s no use. I can’t un-know what I know.”

There were things out there that were bad enough to make Koji tremble and to rob Milo of his smile. Protectors and Guardians carried weapons and bore the scars of battle because the conflict was real and closer to home than she’d ever imagined. But at the same time, there were good things that she didn’t want to give up. While she added to the neat rows of canned fruits and vegetables, she put together a wish list. “I want to hear Kester play every kind of instrument, and ask Harken if I can go through the blue door again, and see if any of the little angels in Abner’s flock are as nice as Omri, and hear Baird’s songs, and see Milo’s wings, and tell Tamaes that I think I remember him a little.”

She hadn’t seen any sign of her guardian angel since they’d been introduced. To be honest, Prissie was relieved. It had been weird enough to deal with the invasion of her privacy that Koji represented, but what was she supposed to do about an invisible protector who had been with her since she was born? Sure, he existed to protect her, but he was still a guy. While she appreciated knowing her guardian angel’s identity, the whole situation was awkward.

Still, Milo had called their meeting precious. Not a word she would have used, but Prissie had a vague idea that the Messenger had been looking at things from Tamaes’ point of view. Suddenly, it occurred to her that her reaction had probably been a big disappointment for the Guardian. For days, she’d been pretending he wasn’t there. Had she hurt his feelings in the process?

Prissie peered uncertainly around the cellar. Light from two bare bulbs gleamed off of whitewashed stone in the cool, slightly musty storeroom. She certainly felt alone, but that didn’t necessarily mean she was. “Are you here, Tamaes?” she whispered.

No answer came.

A moment later, footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Koji called, “Prissie?”

“Y-yeah?” she replied, feeling a little guilty without knowing why.

Since the events at the fair, Koji had been the one constant reminder of the presence of angels. He sat across from her at meals and helped her in the garden, but he was also holding back. She thought he always looked as if he wanted to say something, but he held his peace, spending more and more time with her brothers. Maybe it was her imagination, but it felt as though the young angel was waiting for her. If only she had a clue what he wanted.

Koji stopped partway down the stairs and sat, wrapping his arms around his knees. “Do you need help?”

“Not really. I just finished.”

He considered her solemnly, then announced, “It would be just as silly to pray to an angel as it would be to pray to your cat.”

“I wasn’t!” she protested. “Not really. I was just checking?”

With a nod, Koji said, “I understand, Prissie. I simply wish to make sure that you understand.”

“How did you know I was down here?”

“I was Sent.”

“So you’re a Messenger now, too?” she asked lightly.

“Indeed,” he replied with a brightening smile. “Speaking of which, the mail will be here in a few minutes. Will you come with me to see Milo?”

“Oh.” She’d been avoiding the mailbox — and the mailman — all week, and it was no shock that the Observer had noticed. It wasn’t that she was angry with Milo or anything like that. Prissie had just needed some time to get used to the new ideas they’d dumped on her. There it was. With a long-suffering sigh, she tucked her skirt around her legs and sat next to Koji on the stair. They’d been giving her a little time and space, and he wanted to know if it had been enough. “I guess I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“Does that mean yes?” he asked hopefully.

“Obviously.”

“Good.”

With slow steps, they followed the narrow lane through the orchard, she in the left-hand track, and he in the right. Nothing much was said, but that was fine. This was one of those times when being together was enough. It was a friendly sort of silence.

When they arrived at the dirt road, they could just hear the rumble of an engine in the direction of the highway, so they hurried toward the twin mailboxes and climbed onto the plank fence behind them.

Milo pulled up and leaned out the car window. “Hey there, Miss Priscilla! Long time, no see!”

“It hasn’t been that long,” she huffed, fiddling with the end of her braid.

The mailman turned off his engine and hopped out of the car. “Guess it just felt that way,” he replied with an amiable smile. He handed off his last mail delivery of the day. “How have you been?”

“Busy.” It was small talk, and it wasn’t what she really wanted to say at all. Gathering her courage, she asked, “Do you have time to visit?”

“I have nowhere else to be,” he replied casually. Milo climbed up on the fence to sit on Koji’s other side. “What’s on your mind?” he invited.

The admission wasn’t easy, and it came out as a whisper. “I don’t know what to do about Tamaes.”

“Do?” the Messenger echoed, clearly confused.

“There’s a big guy following me around everywhere,” she whispered urgently. “It’s like having an invisible stalker. Please tell me he stays out of my room.” Prissie’s eyes widened in dismay, and she hissed, “and the bathroom!”

Mercifully, Milo didn’t laugh. “Didn’t you share these concerns with Koji?”

“She has been avoiding me as well,” the young apprentice announced bluntly.

Prissie wrinkled her nose at him, and Milo sighed. “If I had considered things from your point of view, I would have spoken sooner,” he assured. “I’m sorry you’ve been worrying needlessly over this.”

Needlessly sounded promising, and she perked up a bit.

The mailman nodded approvingly and said, “You are very special to Tamaes. He’s known you since the moment you were conceived, and he will remain by your side throughout this life. He’s never far from you, but that doesn’t mean he’s shadowing your every step. For instance, he’s not here at the moment.”

“Isn’t he supposed to be?”

“Oh, he’s here,” Milo said, waving in the general direction of the farmhouse. “He’s just not right here with us. If you think about it, there are ten Pomeroys living here, each with a Guardian of their own. These angels work together, establishing a hedge of protection around your home.”

“And when Dad leaves for work?” she asked.

“His Guardian travels with him, and joins the group who watches over the other members of the bakery staff.”

“It sounds sort of crowded.”

Milo laughed and said, “Very.”

Koji swung his legs back and forth and commented, “Milo has a Guardian, too.”

“You do?” Prissie asked.

The mailman’s blue eyes sparkled. “Unofficially, yes. He really should show himself since Miss Priscilla has already been introduced.”

“Oh!” she gasped as Taweel appeared, sitting on the roof of Milo’s car, his elbows resting on his knees. He cast a moody glance at his teammates, as if he resented being tattled on. In the next instant, Omri flitted into view, zooming in excited circles around the three fence-sitters before settling in his favorite spot upon the big Guardian’s shoulder. Briefly meeting Prissie’s astonished gaze, he inclined his head in greeting. “Hello, again,” she murmured back.

“Taweel has been watching out for me since, well, since midsummer,” Milo explained.

“Don’t you have a person to look after?” Prissie asked curiously.

“No,” Taweel replied shortly. He stole a glance at her out of the corner of his eye and grudgingly added, “She lived long ago.”

Milo hopped off the fence and asked, “Can I call Tamaes over? I think he’s missing out.”

The Guardian’s mentor merely gave a little half-shrug, but the Messenger read it as acceptance. Taking several long strides so that he had a clear view up the driveway, Milo let loose with a piercing whistle, signaling with his hands. Prissie twisted around and tried to see what he was looking at, and Koji helpfully offered, “Tamaes has been on the barn roof since sunrise.”

There was an explosion of orange light that almost looked like flames as the previously invisible figure leaped into the air. Even in the bright afternoon sunlight, her guardian angel’s wings shone vividly against the blue sky. “Is that where he usually goes?” she wondered aloud.

“The barn is his second favorite. There is a spot near the gable above your bedroom where the dormer meets the main slope,” Koji replied, using his hands to form the angle. “It is a good place to sit.”

“How do you know that?” Prissie demanded.

“I stayed with Tamaes a few times … before.”

“Oh.” Prissie’s eyes were drawn skyward as Tamaes sailed overhead, then angled his wings to wheel around, lining up to use the gravel road as a runway. He dropped between the surrounding trees with easy grace, back-winging to a stop a short distance away. As he strode toward them, he scanned the surroundings. It was bizarre, having an armed and armored warrior walking around as if he owned the place. “And there are nine more of him hanging around?” she muttered.

Koji gave her a strange look. “No one but Tamaes is like Tamaes.”

“Ten Guardians, each with a mentor,” remarked Taweel.

“So, twenty?”

Milo grinned and pointed to himself and Koji, saying, “And each Guardian pair has teammates who check in with them from time to time.”

“Observers, Protectors, Messengers,” Koji happily listed. “They are always coming and going.”

Prissie studied the empty front lawn, the various outbuildings, and the clear skies overhead. The only activity she could see in the entire farmyard was the handful of ducks who were waddling past the garden gate and Tansy, whose tail occasionally flicked as she dozed in the sun in front of the barn. It was quiet. Boring, even. But only because she couldn’t see the whole picture.

The Guardian slowed to a stop a few paces away, but Milo smoothly drew him forward, saying, “Tamaes! Join us.”

With the beginning of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, he nodded and said, “Miss Priscilla.”

Once again, Prissie found it impossible to hold his gaze. He had the kindest eyes she’d ever seen, but it was difficult to face so much warmth from someone who was basically still a stranger. She fiddled uncomfortably with her skirt, at a loss for words.

Thankfully, Milo was right there, ready to step into the awkward silence. “Miss Priscilla was concerned to discover that you spend so much time on rooftops,” he said conversationally. “Perhaps the Guardians should borrow the postal carrier’s slogan — neither rain nor snow nor sleet nor hail will keep you from your appointed rounds?”

The orange-winged angel looked at her in surprise. “I do not mind.”

“Don’t you get cold?” Prissie asked curiously.

“Well, yes,” he slowly admitted.

“Or wet?” she demanded.

Tamaes glanced uncertainly at Taweel, who looked to Milo. The Messenger chuckled and continued in his role as spokesperson. “We do experience the elements, feeling the same sensations as you, but we don’t react the same way. For example, Tamaes can sleep all afternoon on the barn roof without any worries of sunburn, and Koji could run barefoot through snowbanks without ever risking frostbite.”

“We understand cold without knowing its bite,” her guardian angel offered. “So there is no need for concern on my behalf.”

“That must be nice,” Prissie remarked.

“There’s one exception,” Milo shared. “None of us likes to linger long in the dark.”

“You’re afraid of the dark?” Prissie asked, surprised.

“You could say … as children of light, we yearn to walk in the light,” he replied with a wink.

“Omri must have light,” Taweel said, speaking up on behalf of his small companion.

Looking between the angels gathered around her, Prissie shook her head. “What do you all do at nighttime, then?”

“Night and dark are not exactly the same,” Koji piped up. “The stars are good company after the sun has set.”

“And the moon offers its radiance,” Tamaes quietly added.

Milo beckoned playfully to Omri, who took wing and circled the Messenger once before landing on his outstretched hands. “Plus, there are places like the garden beyond the blue door, which offer respite for those of us who have been sent into creation. Abner’s flock thrives there because it’s always light.”

Unsure if the little golden-haired angel would respond to her call, Prissie crooked a finger at Omri. To her delight, he came straightway, alighting on her palm and promptly flopping down onto his stomach and propping his chin in his hands as his feet waved in the air. At Prissie’s soft giggle, the brightness that haloed him increased in intensity.

Taweel snorted at Omri’s antics, and Milo laughed outright. Glancing up to share her excitement with the others, she found Tamaes’s gaze. His brown eyes widened for a moment before his expression relaxed into a gentle smile. The Guardian’s reaction reminded her of how startled Koji had been to be seen on the day she found him sitting in the apple tree. Invisible people weren’t used to being seen, and it was a little comforting to know that she wasn’t the only one adjusting. Prissie had no idea why she was meeting all these angels, but deep down, she was really glad to know them.


He came to her in a dream that was so bright, it outshone the sun.

It was Harken, she was certain, yet he wasn’t quite the same Harken she knew. He looked much younger; he stood straighter, and there wasn’t a trace of gray in his thick black hair, which had been twisted away from his face in a series of long coils like heavy ropes. He wore shining raiment, and from under the edges of his sleeves, she could see the twisting ends of his furled wings, the deep red pattern clearly visible against his dark skin.

“Mr. Mercer?” she asked, just to be sure.

“Yes, Prissie,” he answered in a deep voice untouched by age. “Are you surprised?”

“I think I should be,” she admitted. “But you look more angelic this way.”

He beamed at her with that wide, white smile she’d known since childhood, and she found herself smiling back. “I have a message for you,” he revealed.

“Again?” she whispered nervously.

His deep chuckle set her at ease. “It’s a simple message this time. One I’m sure you’ll understand.”

“All right,” she replied bravely. “I’m listening.”

Holding her gaze, he paused dramatically, then quietly said, “Wake up.”

Prissie opened her eyes.

Moonlight streamed through the diamond panes of her window, scattering pastel colors onto the floor beside her bed. A glance at the clock showed that it was still the wee hours of the morning, and though the house was quiet, she sat up, listening. Her dream was already fading, but she felt restless.

A soft thump. A distant whimper. The muffled patter of footsteps. Prissie swung her legs over the side of her bed and tiptoed to her door in her nightgown. There it was again. A soft cry from down the hall. She peeked out just in time to see a light come on in the next room over, illuminating the space under the door. A few seconds later, her younger brother poked his head into the hall, and she quietly asked, “What’s the matter?”

Beau beckoned to her urgently. “Sis, come help me. Something’s wrong with Koji,” he called, trying to keep his voice down.

Hoping that the young angel hadn’t gone all pointy-eared and glowy on them, she hurried down the hall. The little boys’ room was actually the largest of the upstairs bedrooms, and it was shared by Prissie’s three younger brothers. Two sets of bunk beds filled up most of the space, and Koji had been given the bunk under Beau’s. “What happened?” she whispered, hoping they wouldn’t wake Zeke and Jude.

Beau shrugged. “Not sure. I think it’s a bad dream, but I can’t wake him up.”

To her relief, Koji still looked like the normal kid he was supposed to be, however, he also looked anxious. His face was creased with worry or fear, and he tossed his head from side to side while making indistinct noises of protest in the back of his throat. “A nightmare?” she murmured, but that didn’t make any sense. Koji shouldn’t have nightmares because he didn’t really sleep.

Prissie thought back on what Koji had told her about his nights. There had been something about communicating through dreams, so maybe his mind was elsewhere? Sitting on the edge of the bottom bunk, Prissie grabbed the young angel’s shoulders and gave him a firm shake. “Koji … Koji, come back. Are you listening? I need you to listen to me, Koji!”

Dark eyes sprang open, wide and unseeing as he struggled to catch his breath. Slowly, Koji focused on Prissie’s face. “There you are,” she scolded. “You had me and Beau worried for a minute.”

“Prissie?” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

“Obviously,” she returned tartly. He sat up awkwardly, glancing around the room with a mixture of confusion and dread. And then, the young angel whined softly, threw his arms around Prissie, and began to sob. “Wh-what’s all this?” she stammered, looking to Beau for help.

Her brother backed up a step. “Lemme get a glass of water … and tissues?” he offered.

Prissie was about to protest when Tamaes stepped into the room behind her brother. Trying not to gawk, she nodded to Beau. “That would be good.”

The Guardian dropped to one knee at her side and lightly touched her shoulder. “Don’t be afraid,” he urged earnestly. Placing his large hand upon Koji’s back, he said, “You’re safe, now. Tell me, where did you go?”

“I … I am not certain,” he replied in a muffled voice. “It was dark. So dark.”

“Something in the darkness frightened you,” Tamaes prompted. “Did you encounter the enemy?”

Koji shook his head, then turned his face so he could meet the Guardian’s eyes. Tears still streamed from his eyes. “I was simply drifting when he found me.”

“He?”

“Ephron,” Koji answered in a tremulous voice. “Oh, Tamaes, we have to tell the others! Ephron needs our help!”


The story continues in Book 2: The Hidden Deep …





DISCUSSION QUESTIONS



1. Do you believe in angels? What has influenced your perception of them? Why do you think they exist?

2. In Chapter 2, Harken says, “You can learn a lot about a person from what they choose to read.” What books have you read recently? Do they say something about you? Have they influenced what books you’ll reach for next?

3. Prissie turns to various people for advice and information before getting closer to the angels in Jedrick’s Flight. Where do you turn when you have questions? Are search engines enough? Who do you trust to give wise counsel? Is no advice better than bad advice?

4. Baird and Kester are so different from each other that Prissie thinks they wouldn’t make a good team. How much common ground do people need to get along? To work together? To be friends?

5. Where’s your comfort zone? What happens when you leave it? In Prissie’s case, how do you know when broadening your horizons is a good thing (like allowing Milo to introduce her to Baird) and when new experiences cross a line (like dabbling in fortune telling)?

6. Do Prissie’s pie-baking aspirations seem too old-fashioned? Compare and contrast her goals with Ransom’s. What’s the difference?

7. Harken remarks that when people are faced with something that doesn’t appeal to them, they often refuse to acknowledge it. If you don’t believe in something, does reality change?

8. Prissie asks Koji if being invisible is lonely. What do you think?

9. Can you sympathize with Prissie’s problems with her girlfriends? What kind of advice would you give her?

10. In Chapter 10, Kester says, “Do not rely too heavily on appearances. They are not the most important consideration.” If not, then what is?