replied simply.
Prissie squinted at him from under the brim of her straw hat. “Is being invisible lonely?”
“No … and yes.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she challenged, scooting a little farther down the row. The job was going much faster with two of them working together.
“It is part of what I did not explain very well last night,” he replied. “May I try again?”
“If you must.”
“Sin taints everything, like this garden.” He held up a weed as proof. “And you as well.”
Prissie lowered her head to hide her blush. “I do the best I can,” she grumbled. “It’s not fair to criticize.”
“I speak the truth, nothing more.” She shrugged defensively, and Koji continued, “When a human has been forgiven, they undergo the most beautiful change I have ever seen.” Prissie looked up in surprise, and met the young angel’s steady gaze. His dark eyes glowed with warmth, gladness, even joy. “It is truly lovely.”
“What is?” she whispered, her heartbeat quickening.
“The presence of God,” Koji replied in a low, reverent voice. “Those who have been forgiven are touched by His Spirit. I can tell because I have met Him.”
“You’ve met the Holy Spirit?”
“Yes.”
“You mean, you talked to him just like you’re talking to me?” Prissie pressed, disbelief coloring her tone.
“Yes,” Koji confidently repeated. “When I am close to those who belong to God, I am not lonely, for He is with them. I also like being with the others in my Flight,” he confided. “When Abner sings, it feels like home.”
“Is Abner an angel, too?” she asked.
Koji nodded. “We gather in the garden behind the blue door each day.”
Intrigued in spite of herself, Prissie asked, “What do you do?”
“Talk … listen … sing.”
“I’ve heard Milo before, and Harken, too. Do you sing as well?”
In answer, Koji straightened, threw back his head and, without a trace of embarrassment, sang a simple song of praise to the Creator. As he thanked God for His presence with His people and for the onions they were tending, his sweet treble voice made Prissie’s skin prickle into goose bumps.
After the last note faded, Maddie’s approving cluck broke the silence that stretched between them. “Did you make that up?” Prissie asked in awe.
“Yes.”
“I wish I could do that,” she sighed.
“Do you want to sing together?” Koji invited.
Prissie shook her head self-consciously and returned to weeding. “I want to sound like you.”
When she moved farther down the row, her companion didn’t move with her, and she glanced up to find him studying her closely. The expression on his face was one Prissie was beginning to equate with being observed. “What? Did I say something strange?”
“No.” He scooted along the line of onions so he was across from her again and set back to work. “Do you covet my voice?”
“I wouldn’t put it like that,” she muttered unhappily. “You should just take it as a compliment.” Again, Prissie could feel his gaze, but she refused to meet it.
“I have thanked Abner for his songs,” the boy shared. “At that time, he asked me which was more important: the singer or the song?”
Prissie thought about it. A poor performance could ruin an otherwise decent song, but the best singer in the world would never be heard if they didn’t perform. “I guess you need both?” she ventured.
Koji tipped his head to one side and explained, “The singer gives voice to the song in his heart, but its beginning and end belong to God. He is most important.”
“So it was a trick question?”
“Among angels, it would be considered a joke.”
7
THE BAKERS DAUGHTER
Can’t we do something about that Messenger?” grumbled Murque. “He’s up to something, going from house to house.”
“He’s a mailman, idiot,” snapped Dinge. From their hiding place within the shadow of a lilac hedge, the two demons watched Milo’s car roll to a stop. “If we could get to him, he would be gone.”
“We pick off Messengers all the time.”
“Yeah, well this one has a Guardian,” the crouching demon whispered hoarsely. “There! See?”
Murque swore under his breath, then muttered, “I thought only people had Guardians. He’s just a poser.”
“Their Flight’s been more cautious since midsummer.”
An unholy gleam lit his cohort’s eyes. “Lost track of one of their own, didn’t they?”
“That they did,” Dinge replied with a rusty laugh.
Prissie didn’t do rough and tumble. She wore dresses, had excellent posture, and strove to attain what she considered the best of feminine beauty. Jayce and Naomi couldn’t really explain where their daughter got all her notions, but they saw no harm in letting