The Broken Window Part 23

Manna-makers. Despite their diminutive size and playful nature, all the hosts of heaven depend heavily upon the yahavim. This lowest order of angels is responsible for producing manna, the food of angels. Their name comes from yahav, which means "provide." They're drawn to those in need.

ANGELIC TERMS.

Angelic Jargon. Several terms come up over the course of the Threshold Series, and while the angels take them for granted, maybe you'd like a little more explanation.

The First. In this storyline, not all angels were created at the same time. Some have been around for millennia, but others are newly formed. When an angel is described as one of the First, it means that he was alive before Time began. First Ones remember the rift that divided the Fallen from the Faithful, and they witnessed creation of the heavens and earth as described in Genesis 1.

Faithful. An angel who lives to serve G.o.d.

Fallen. An angel who has set himself against G.o.d. Fallen angels are demons.

Mentor. When an older, wiser angel is given a newbie to train, he becomes their mentor. A small, silvery cuff on the sh.e.l.l of the left ear indicates their rank. Mentors may train several apprentices over their lifetime, but only one at a time.

Apprentice. When angels are Sent out of heaven to serve, they always go in pairs. Sometimes, these two-angel teams involve partners on equal footing, but more often, a newer angel is apprenticed to a mentor. Some apprentices end up partnering with several different mentors before their training is considered complete.

Legion. For the purposes of this storyline, one Legion is a company of 12,000 angels.

Flight. The Faithful are organized into twelve-angel teams that are headed up by a captain. That means a Legion is comprised of 1,000 Flights.

Hedge. A group of Guardians serving together in one area is called a Hedge. The hadarim form a perimeter around individual homes, but also in crowded places - schools, apartment buildings, businesses, shopping centers, concerts, sporting events, etc. Because guardian angels come and go whenever their charges do, Hedges are in a constant state of flux.

Graft. When an angel takes on human guise and becomes a part of society, he's said to be grafted in.

Raiment. The Faithful wear raiment, clothing said to have a light and life of its own. The woven fabric is beige, faintly luminous, and resistant to spot and wrinkle. Design varies slightly depending on the needs of the wearer, and the patterns st.i.tched on the collar and cuffs indicate flight, rank, and order.

THRESHOLD SERIES.

THE.

GARDEN.

GATE.

BOOK FOUR.

1.

THE.

BROKEN.

PIECES.

Two colossal angels wrestled in the darkness, trampling snow and upturning frozen earth as neat rows of apple trees crunched beneath their feet. Lightning blazed, momentarily illuminating the hatred glittering in the narrowed eyes of a Fallen whose dingy clothes flapped against a gaunt frame. Sagging folds of skin bunched as his jaw worked, but a clean, bright hand kept the demon from unleashing pent up curses. Abner's lips tightened into a grim smile. "Your mouth is sealed, as is your fate."

With a growl, the Fallen drove his shoulder into his captor's ribs, twisting away. Great feet snapped more branches, and the chains that dragged from shackled ankles nearly collided with the Pomeroys' machine shed. "You've done enough damage," Abner said, steering his opponent away from snow-covered barns.

They vied for control of the freakish blizzard that had buried most of West Edinton under snow and ice. Storm clouds threatened to close in, but their dark spiral left the angels-and much of the Pomeroys' farm-bare to the brittle light of stars. Thunder rolled, and varicolored streaks blazed across that wide patch of night sky in tight formations, then scattered into dizzying patterns as they drove back the shadows. Other Flights veered lower, skimming along the tops of trees, driving stragglers before the points of spear and sword.

Abner's grip shifted, and he pressed down on his opponent. The diminishing demon renewed his struggle as the Caretaker reshaped him, robbing him of the power that came with sheer ma.s.s. They shrank to the size of mere mortals, and Abner invited, "Take one last look at the expanse of heaven before I return you to darkness."

In that instant, the fearsome storm lost its strength, and the clouds dispersed, washing their corner of the world with the silvery light of the moon. Peace spelled defeat, but not an end to the Fallen's defiance. Wrenching free, he lunged for Abner's throat; however, a pa.s.sage opened beneath the demon's feet. Chains rattled against the pit's edge as the Deep swallowed him, and his howl of impotent fury cut short when the earth resealed itself.

The triumphant Caretaker clasped his hands behind his back and turned to look at the darkened farmhouse. Tree roots protruded from the roof above one of the gables, and blue light bled through jagged gaps, outlining the wreckage of Prissie Pomeroy's bedroom. Destruction. Pain. Suffering. Abner was willing to go, but this time, he was not Sent.

Snow sifted down between jutting boards and dangling shingles as Prissie crept deeper into the remains of her sanctuary. Trailing tufts of pink insulation hung from the bare branches of an uprooted apple tree, which left her room smelling like soil.

Beau turned to her, hand upraised; bright liquid slicked his fingertips. "This is ...?"

Prissie shivered. "He's bleeding."

Her younger brother frowned down at Milo. "Is first aid the same for angels?"

How could he be taking this so calmly? Prissie caught sight of a cracked sphere of pink gla.s.s surrounded by more delicate shards. Her ornament collection. Spoiled. Gone.

"Sis?" When she looked, Beau tensely begged, "Help me stop the bleeding."

Prissie joined her brother, kneeling carefully on the unconscious angel's other side. "Milo?" she called in a low voice. The Messenger's torn raiment glowed more brightly in the damp places where it clung to wounds, and a thin trickle dribbled down the side of his face. "Please, Milo!"

Beau plunged right in, putting pressure against the gash in their mailman's side. "Like this?"

"I think so. I hope so," Prissie replied uncertainly, pressing her hand over Milo's shoulder.

"Do not fear," Koji said. "Padgett is coming."

"Oh, thank G.o.d," she whispered, meaning it with all her heart. They needed help. No, Milo needed help. "Yes, please. Send Padgett."

"You know, Milo was my favorite Sunday school teacher. He told the best stories, made us think, made them real. I could tell he really cared about the Bible." Beau stared at their long-time friend, who looked pretty strange with his long curls and outspread wings. "He believed in G.o.d like n.o.body else I've ever met, and I wanted to be like that. To believe like that."

"He's still Milo," Prissie muttered.

Her brother smiled shakily. "Yeah. He's still everything he seemed to be, but the reasons are different. Better. This is perfect."

Such a different reaction than her own. But then, her younger brothers knew him in a different way than she did. "Was he really that good a teacher?"

"The best. Absolute best," Beau replied fervently. "I'd go back to being Zeke's age if I could. Just to keep him."

Suddenly, a door opened out of nowhere, and another angel stepped into the room, his gaze taking in the whole scene. "Padgett!" Prissie struggled to her feet. Her throat threatened to close, but she choked out, "Milo's hurt!"

Some of the fierceness left the Caretaker's face as he quickly crossed to her side, his long, black hair sweeping across the debris scattering the floor. "Don't worry, miss. That's why I was Sent."

"Can you help him?"

Padgett touched her face. "Fear not. None of the Faithful are beyond help. Trust G.o.d to provide."

She felt a little steadier, a little calmer, and she suspected him of ministering to her on a divine level. "Not me! Him!"

"Them," Koji quietly corrected, for his arms still sheltered Ephron.

"Of course," Padgett replied, crossing to the Messenger, whose wings still provided the brightest light in the surrounding darkness.

Beau gawked up at the newcomer. "Can you really help Milo?"

"Yes."

"That's good. Thanks."

Padgett's hands moved without haste-smoothing, straightening, strengthening. "Do not thank me. Thank G.o.d."

"Have been," Beau replied.

The Caretaker paused in his work. "Milo is important to you."

"Yeah. He's my friend."

"He's also mine."

Beau checked, "Are you really an angel?"

"Yes."

"Wow."

Padgett's almost-there smile made an appearance, and he reached across to touch the top of Beau's head. "Don't be afraid. Everything is in G.o.d's hands."

Beau offered a small nod and asked, "Can I help?"

"Thank you." The Caretaker reached into one of his wide sleeves and produced a roll of softly-glowing gauze, which he pa.s.sed to the teen. Catching Prissie's eye, Padgett nodded significantly toward Koji.

There was no refusing the implied request, but she felt the need to ask, "What will Momma say when she comes looking for us?"

"We have all the time we need."

Prissie's eyebrows slowly lifted. "Did you do something?"

Padgett patiently answered, "I've prolonged this moment so we can finish without causing further distress to your family."

With one less worry weighing on her mind, she glanced at Koji, who had his hands full with a shivering bundle of skin and bones draped in torn raiment. She shuffled her slippers across the braided rug, cringing with every crunch of gla.s.s underfoot, to pull a soft blanket off the bed. Shaking it out, she made her way to Koji. Angels might not feel cold, but her friend couldn't offer Ephron the shelter of wings. When she draped her subst.i.tute around the pale angel's shoulders, he started.

Koji spoke in low tones. "Prissie is with us. You remember her. She is my friend. You are safe with us. We are with you." His soft a.s.surances had a lilting quality that soon became a song that promised peace and comfort.

Even though Ephron was clearly taller than the younger Observer, he'd curled into a tight, defensive ball, but he lifted his face and murmured, "With me." Suddenly he exclaimed, "Lavi! Where is Lavi?"

Koji helped him fumble with the collar of his tunic, and a brilliant yahavim burst into the air, zinging around in a joyous dance. Prissie squinted hard and gasped in recognition and lifted her hand, "Hi, you." She beckoned to the manna-maker who'd accompanied her down to the Deep. "You're looking much better."

The tiny angel with his puff of soft green hair lit on her fingers and twirled on the tips of his toes. Lavi's attention quickly returned to Ephron, though, for Koji was helping the injured angel rearrange his limbs. The rescued Observer's pants were badly torn, the cloth unraveling in the absences of seams, which left much of his legs bare. Prissie realized with a jolt that the mottling on his skin was probably bruising, and she couldn't begin to count the cuts, which were in various stages of healing. Her lips trembled, but her jaw came up. There had to be something she could do.

Although an angel's raiment could resist spot and wrinkle, Ephron was in desperate need of a bath. Dirt and dust gave his skin a slightly gray cast, with pale streaks to show the tracks his tears had followed. Prissie would have liked to take him down the hall to the bathroom, but that probably wouldn't work. No power. No lights. "Koji?" she whispered urgently. "How do angels wash themselves?"

"With water."

She bit her lip to keep back a sharp answer.

Koji's dark eyes took on a shine. "That is a good idea."

"Prissie?" She turned to find Beau holding out a basin of water. Her brother explained, "This other guy said you need this."

Lavi fluttered in a slow circle around Beau's head, then landed on the wide brim of what looked to be a heavy stone bowl. Her brother showed no sign of noticing the bright pixie testing the water with his toes. Prissie asked, "How many angels do you see?"

"Is that a trick question?"

She slowly shook her head and pointed to each, pausing to see his reaction. "Milo. Padgett. Koji."

Beau's eyes widened. "Koji's here? Wait. Koji's an angel?"

She stood awkwardly. "I ... um ... I guess I shouldn't have said anything."