The Broken Window (11 page)

Tamaes’s gaze wandered to the others in the room, then he reached up to grasp his mentor’s arm. “All safe?” he asked.

Taweel grunted softly, and Tamaes took it as an affirmative. “May God be thanked,” he murmured, and with a sigh, he sagged back into unconsciousness.

Jedrick shook his head. “The arrowhead was poisoned. He needs time.”

“I will remain here,” Taweel declared.

“So be it,” Jedrick replied simply. “Padgett will check on him later.”

Nodding curtly to Prissie, Jedrick leapt up through the
ceiling with a short flick of shimmering wings. Taweel leaned forward, giving himself a little room, and awkwardly extended his wings in the confined space. With a soft tutting, Lucan lent him a hand so the Guardian wouldn’t bump anything off Prissie’s bedside table. She watched in awe as he lifted them up, out, then forward, carefully draping their soft folds over Tamaes. Lucan briefly fussed at the edges before murmuring, “I will be on the roof. Rest easy.” Then, in a flash of pearly white light, he whooshed upward and disappeared from view.

The room felt big and empty without the looming warriors, and when Koji jumped off the bed to hurry to Taweel’s side, Prissie followed. “Is there anything I can do?” she whispered as she knelt on the braided rug.

Taweel shook his head. “Normally, our activities do not disturb our charges. Please, forgive the intrusion.”

“Don’t be silly! I want you here if it means you’ll be safe!”

His lips quirked, and he pointed out, “Your safety is
our
charge, little one.”

“Yours?” she asked in surprise. His thick brows drew together, and she clarified, “I thought it was your job to watch over Milo.”

“Tamaes is my apprentice. If he cannot be by your side, I will be.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize!” she exclaimed softly. “So in a way, you’re mine too!”

“In a way.”

She stared pensively into this second Guardian’s scarred face, noticing anew the faint lines that criss-crossed Taweel’s dusky skin. Tipping her head to catch his bashful gaze, she said, “Thank you.”

“Back to bed. You will only worry him if you catch cold.”

Prissie obediently returned to her place, snapping off the light before wriggling down under her covers, but Koji climbed onto her windowseat. He lay at an angle across its cushions, gazing down at his injured teammate. After a time, he dangled one hand, wiggling his fingers in a silent plea for Tamaes’s attention, but the warrior was too far gone to respond. Instead, Taweel lifted one big hand and clasped Koji’s in a gentle expression of shared concern.

Their closeness made Prissie feel a little lonely, but with a flutter of wings, Omri flew over. He landed with a soft plop on her quilt and skipped lightly to her pillow. A smile crept onto her face as the yahavim blinked at her with faceted eyes that glittered darkly against his luminous skin. “You’re like a tiny drop of sunshine, aren’t you?” she murmured.

He hummed, then clambered up onto her pillow and curled up where he could watch her.

“I haven’t needed a nightlight since I was little,” she said. “But I think tonight I want one, and you’ll do nicely.”

Omri’s response was a funny little series of hums and clicks that made her look to Taweel for a translation. Both he and Koji were watching her with bemused expressions. “What?” she asked self-consciously.

The big warrior shook his head. “He is scolding you, little one.”

Her face fell, but Koji interjected, “I have only ever heard Omri scold Taweel. I believe it means he likes you.”

“He
has
taken to you,” the Guardian agreed.

Prissie gazed at the glowing sprite as Koji quietly explained, “A yahavim always knows what is needed.”

“And what do I need?”

Omri hummed insistently, and Taweel huffed. “You and Tamaes both need rest.”

“Oh,” Prissie breathed, carefully nestling down beside her tiny companion. She was sure it would take a miracle for her to get back to sleep after so much excitement, but miracles seemed so much more possible when you shared your pillow with a wee bit of heaven. Within minutes, she found her way into peaceful dreams.

H
eavy chains slow his progress, but as you can imagine, he is difficult to pin down,” the cherubim reported. “Do you remember him?”

“You bet,” Baird replied, glancing up from his messages. “Shimron should too.”

“I have already conferred with him,” Jedrick assured. “However, I wanted to check with you. You are somewhat removed from the situation, and that makes your perspective … unique.”

The redhead paused in the process of texting and remarked, “If I had a nickel for every time I was called
unique,
I’d have a pocketful of change!”

“Myron,” his captain sighed, using the Worshiper’s first name.

Smile fading, Baird said, “Everyone’s talking about the
whacked out weather up your way. Goes without saying that he’s the one stirring things up.”

“Agreed … though that is the least of our worries.”

“The rest of the escapees?”

“They cannot hide for long.”

Baird nodded. “Is Adin the one who planned that little jailbreak?”

“Undoubtedly.”

“I’m guessing he didn’t do it for kicks.” Jedrick simply nodded, and the redhead drummed his fingers on the side of his phone. “The enemy doesn’t
need
a reason to create havoc, but Adin’s different than most. What’s he after?”

Jedrick spread his hands wide, begging ignorance. “Shimron believes their sole goal may have been the release of this one demon.”

Baird shook his head. “The Fallen don’t help each other; they
use
each other. Freeing that big fella was hardly charity on Adin’s part, which means there’s
another
goal.”

“Agreed.”

“Given everything else that’s gone down, I think you should warn the one in the most danger.”

“Prissie?”

The redhead’s brows shot up. “Seriously?”

“We have been Sent to support Tamaes,” Jedrick pointed out, green eyes intent.

“No doubt!” Baird agreed. “And she totally needs looking after, ‘cause the fallout’s gonna be a doozy, but I doubt Adin is turning heaven and earth upside down for her sake.”

The Protector’s expression grew thoughtful, then grave. “Your words ring true, which means …”

Baird’s gaze drifted northward as he finished his captain’s hanging thought. “Adin’s probably looking for Aril.”

By the middle of the next week, Grandpa and Grandma Olsen finished packing and provisioning their
RV,
and the whole family was up extra early to see them off before school. “We must take flight before this weather gets any more serious,” Grandpa Carl declared, dramatically tossing the end of his scarf over his shoulder. “The reports say you’ll be kicking up more winter in these parts. If we stay any longer, we’ll be drifted in ‘til spring!”

“Smootchies!” Grammie Esme demanded, starting the rounds of goodbyes. She went around the room twice—once for hugs, once for kisses—before announcing, “We left a little something for your stockings with your Momma, so think of us at Christmas!”

The chorus of promises and porch-side waving continued until their big rig rumbled out of view, bound for the highway and points south. It all left Prissie feeling a little wistful, but she was startled to notice tears in Koji’s eyes. “What’s the matter?” she asked in concern.

“I have discovered that I do not like goodbyes,” he confided softly.

“Nobody does,” she retorted.

“Unless it’s to someone you’re glad to shake loose,” interjected Neil, who clapped the Observer’s shoulder on his way back to the kitchen, clearly aiming for a second helping of breakfast. “Then it’s good riddance!”

Curious, Prissie asked, “Who would
you
want to get away from?”

Her older brother shrugged. “Pests.”

“There’s always one,” Prissie’s homeroom teacher muttered as she added a glitzy package to the pile of gifts on the table in the back of the classroom. Everyone had been instructed to wrap their white elephant gifts in either newspaper or plain brown paper, but the latest contribution arrived in gaudy green-and-red wrappings. It stood out from the crowd, and Prissie felt sorry for it. She could sympathize.

Most of her classmates had opted for casual attire since they only had a half-day before being released for winter break, but she’d kept with tradition and wore her Christmas dress. She felt uneasy with her decision because everyone seemed to think she was trying to draw attention to herself. Some of the ruder comments stunned her, but they also made her furious. No one made fun of Elise for dying her hair or Marcus for always wearing his leather jacket. Why was a nice dress worse … or even something worth teasing about?

“Where’d you get
that
?” Elise demanded in disdainful tones.

“My grandmother made it,” she replied curtly.

“It’s homemade?” her classmate asked, looking her up and down. “How
weird.
You people even make your own clothes.”

Prissie had no words for the spiteful girl, so she cast a hopeless look at Koji, who’d joined her by wearing his shirt and tie. She appreciated the moral support, but it was small comfort. He simply wasn’t drawing the same unwelcome attention, and she envied him his providential ability to fade into the background. Keeping her head high, she strode to her seat.

Just then, Ransom ambled into the room and remarked in passing, “I don’t remember that one.”

She stiffened, waiting for some sly follow-up, but the teen just dropped into his seat and turned to Marcus. How odd. He hadn’t paid her a compliment, but he’d noticed her dress. Ransom’s opinion meant
nothing
to her, but it still made her happy that he’d been not-rude. Cheeks flaming, Prissie turned in her seat and fixed him with a surly glare.

He did a double-take and quirked a brow. “What’s up?”

“Thank you,” she muttered, turning her back again.

His silence was followed by a low murmur of voices that Prissie did her best to tune out. Right as the bell was ringing, Ransom tapped her shoulder, and whispered, “Say, Miss Priss.”

She turned her head just enough to hiss, “What?”

“Marcus wants me to tell you that he thinks so too.”

“Thinks
what
too?”

Ransom blinked abashedly. “Well, crap. He got me.”

Prissie frowned at the Protector slouched in the desk kitty-corner behind hers, but Marcus didn’t react.

“Well, fine. Whatever,” Ransom grumbled. “You look nice, so don’t listen to the ones who say otherwise.”

For the second time in the space of two minutes, Prissie found herself at a loss for words. The world was probably ending. Yes, that was the only possible explanation for the bane of her existence to turn out to be considerate.

As usual, Prissie’s party contribution included two big boxes of cupcakes from her father’s bakery, and they were welcomed with enthusiasm, especially by the boys. To her
relief, Ransom never brought up the fact that he’d handled the icing. He only ate them one after another, grinning over the teasing he received. “Best cakes in town come from Mr. Pomeroy’s place!” he boasted.

“He’s like a walking billboard for Loafing Around,” she complained to Koji.

The young Observer nodded thoughtfully. “He is not ashamed.”

In addition to the baked goods, there were chips and pretzels and two-liter bottles of soft drinks. The health nuts in their class were satisfied with a veggie tray and a bushel basket of apples from the Pomeroy’s orchard. April and a couple other girls set up a coffee bar in the corner, which turned out to be the most popular of all the refreshments.

“Oh. Em. Gee! Could this be more boring?” drawled Elise, earning a chorus of snickers. She shot a look in Prissie’s direction with a smirk that spelled trouble.

Prissie sighed and wondered why the pouting girl hadn’t skipped school.

No matter what Elise or the other students said, Prissie liked the gift exchange part of the proceedings. It was fun and funny to see what everyone had brought. When April opened her package, she turned her gift over and around, clearly mystified. “What
is
this thing?” she asked.

Prissie authoritatively announced, “It’s a ricer. You press boiled potatoes through it.”

Her friend fiddled with the handle and asked, “Why?”

“Obviously, to get rid of lumps,” she explained. “Or if you serve potatoes riced, they have a pretty texture.”

“It looks more like a giant play dough toy!” someone heckled.

“Everyone knows mashed potatoes come from a box!” another kid offered.

Prissie shook her head at their ignorance. It wasn’t as if the ricer was
that
unusual. Grandma Nell used theirs all the time! When Prissie’s turn came, she rescued the poor, misunderstood implement, giving April the chance to try for another mystery package.

Some of the prank gifts were awful, and others were awfully funny. Silly trinkets. Broken oddments. Unwanted clutter. Ransom whooped with laughter when Marcus opened a box that contained a pink mug with
Daddy’s Little Princess
printed on the side. The whole class yowled when Ransom turned around and opened a lumpy package containing a battered fedora. He donned the hat, tilting it at a rakish angle and defying anyone to try to take it from him.

Prissie was honestly enjoying herself until one of her classmates opened the gaudy little attention-getting package and lifted out a turquoise blue diamond of glass, framed by translucent marbles in shades of blue and green.

Koji’s hand reached out, but she snatched hers away before he made contact. There was no way she was letting Elise see her clinging to him for comfort. Head high, she did her best to tune out her classmates’ comments as the noisy game continued, for many were vying for the pretty sun-catcher. No one wanted the ricer she cradled in her lap, so it was safe. But the gift Prissie had given Margery for her birthday at the end of summer was quickly passed from one pair of hands to the next.

Prissie stole a peek at her former best friend, but Margery was whispering with Elise. Jennifer looked as if Christmas had come early, but April’s face was pinched with concern.
She met Prissie’s gaze squarely and whispered, “There must be some mistake.”

Koji and Marcus traded a long look, and then the Protector leaned close to Ransom and said something that lifted his eyebrows. Prissie doubted she could take any further embarrassment, so she slipped from her chair, quietly excusing herself to the refreshment table. She caught her teacher’s eye, pointed at the door, and mouthed a request for the bathroom. The last thing she saw before making her escape was Elise’s smug smile.

Maybe she was selfish. Maybe she’d been naïve. Either way, Prissie had hoped that Elise was just another of her old friend’s many fads. Margery was supposed to come around, see the error of her ways, and apologize so that everything could go back to the way it had been. But for the first time in her life, Prissie realized that
wanting
something wasn’t going to change anything.

Somehow, she pulled herself together enough to return to the classroom and endure the time that remained before they were bussed home. On her way out, Marcus called, “Prissie, wait!”

She couldn’t disobey the Protector, especially since Koji grabbed her hand and dug in his heels, preventing her from bolting. With a weary sigh, she faced Marcus. “What?”

He held out a clumsy bundle of tissue. “This is important to you.”

Just enough colored glass stuck out at the edges for her to know what his offering contained. “Who says?” she demanded, keeping her hands at her sides.

“April explained.” Marcus lowered his voice. “She wanted you to know that Margery doesn’t know how this ended up in the exchange.”

Prissie felt sick. She hadn’t even rated an apology, just a third-hand excuse. “You’re a Messenger now?” she asked sarcastically.

“Seems like,” he replied with a shrug. “Take it.”

With an injured look, she whispered, “I don’t want it either. You keep it.”

Marcus hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll keep it safe for you,” he promised as he tucked it into his pocket.

“Funny how the weather down here isn’t half so bad as ours,” Beau remarked.

“How much snow didja get?” asked one of his youth group buddies.

“Our place is drifted under.”

“Whoa, lucky!”

Beau protested, “Not when you’re the one trying to keep the walkways clear!”

Prissie hid her smile under her scarf. Poor Beau. Unlike the rest of her brothers, he really didn’t care for the out-of-doors. He dragged his feet whenever chores took him away from his books or computer.

The latest storm seemed to have stalled right over West Edinton, and the boys had been shoveling since sunup. A little ways away, Tad yawned hugely. Prissie had half-expected him to beg off of the Wednesday night service, but he’d insisted that he wanted to take part in the caroling beforehand. She wondered if he
really
wanted to be here, or if he just hadn’t wanted to disappoint Koji. Tad could be thoughtful like that.

“I wish to greet Kester,” Koji whispered, giving her a hopeful look.

“Go ahead. I’ll be right here when you get back.”

“Indeed. I will return shortly.”

He darted toward the tall Worshiper, who was stationed off to one side of the group, and she automatically searched for Kester’s mentor. Baird might be a little flighty, but he turned out to be pretty good at herding cats. Prissie supposed that part of it was that this was the third caroling go-around, so most of the youth already knew the routine, but there was no denying that the Worshiper could hold a crowd’s attention. This evening, the redhead wore a ridiculous, rainbow-striped hat with a huge yellow pom-pom on top, so even though he was shorter than more than half the crew, he was easy to spot. “Just follow the bouncing ball,” she murmured wryly.

“Yeah … bouncy,” agreed a voice just behind her shoulder.

Glancing back, she did a double-take. “What are
you
doing here?”

“I’m not even sure, to be honest,” Ransom replied in an undertone. “Your brother invited me.”

“Which one?” she asked, mystified.

“Neil.”

“And you’re humoring him because …?”