The Blue Door - By Christa Kinde Page 0,59
not sure my parents approve of tattoos,” she announced nervously.
“They’re not tattoos,” Baird announced. “It would be more accurate to say that tattoos imitate these.”
“Many people groups seek to emulate the supernatural, reaching for the divine,” Kester offered.
At her blank expression, Baird helpfully rephrased, “They copy us.”
The gondola jerked and the wheel began to turn again, but Prissie hardly noticed. That’s not to say she was enjoying the ride, but it was easier to endure when the angels were distracting her.
Baird snapped his fingers. “My band doesn’t have any more sets, but the organizers asked Kester here to come back, so he’s doing one later. Perhaps we could show her then?” With a sly glance at the dark-haired Worshiper, the redhead continued, “Kester pulled in so many people with his performance this morning that they want him to play again this evening.”
Prissie glanced curiously at him. “What did you do?”
Baird leaned forward and said, “Why don’t you come and see for yourself?”
She thought fast. “I’ll have to ask Momma how late we’re staying. If my older brothers want to stick around for fireworks and everything, then I probably can, too.”
“Excellent!” the redhead exclaimed. “Tonight’s concert will be perfect for a demonstration of what these are good for.”
“In front of all those people?” she asked.
“Sure,” he confirmed. “Kester is just the one for the job. He’s got all kinds of subtlety and whatnot. If I tried, I’d probably end up blinding everyone in the first several rows.”
“You’re kidding,” Prissie gasped.
“Nope,” Baird grinned. “I’m an all or nothing kind of guy.”
“Quite,” remarked Kester.
Baird shook a finger at him and warned, “Just a peek, though. Can you manage that, oh apprentice of mine?”
“Of course,” the tall angel replied seriously. “It would be my pleasure.”
The sun had long since set when Baird led Prissie through the backstage area behind the bandstand to help him give Kester a “pep talk” before his performance. Groups from all over the county took their turn in the limelight, and at the moment, the local chapter of the Sweet Adelines was on the stage, singing an upbeat medley of tunes from The Music Man.
A marker board to the right of the stage announced upcoming acts in larger letters, so she could see that they’d just missed the Tiny Tots Tap-dancing Troupe from Fancy Footwork in West Edinton. In the next scheduled slot was written, Kester Peverell, Deo Volente, Harper.
They found Baird’s apprentice standing in one of the pools of light that were spaced intermittently along the passage, a black instrument case at his feet. The redhead sidled up and elbowed the taller angel. “Patiently waiting in the wings?” he asked mischievously.
“It shall be just as you say,” Kester replied with gravity.
The redhead shook his head. “You really need to lighten up!”
“Hmm … it is possible,” Kester allowed. “However, I do not believe it is essential.”
Prissie couldn’t help it. She giggled. Baird’s eyebrows shot up, but his surprise melted into satisfaction. Giving Kester’s shoulder a friendly cuff, he said, “You might be right.”
“I’m looking forward to your performance,” Prissie offered.
“May God grant you ears to hear and eyes to see,” he replied.
“This is gonna be so cool!” Baird assured.
The contrast between their manners had Prissie biting her lip. Baird and Kester might not be good friends yet, but she was sure they would be. Or maybe they already were, in their own way.
The redhead waved casually to his apprentice, then led the way through the narrow passage behind the stage, where the chorus was nearing the climax of a dramatic ballad.
Prissie suddenly wondered what Baird’s last apprentice was like, and since he was so easy to approach, she decided to ask. Hurrying her steps, she tapped his shoulder and raised her voice to be heard. “You used to have another apprentice?”
“That’s right,” Baird replied.
“What happened to him?” Prissie asked curiously. “Was he captured, too?”
The Worshiper turned to look searchingly at her. “Did Koji tell you about Ephron?”
“A little,” she admitted, wondering if maybe the young angel had told her something he shouldn’t.
Baird simply nodded and said, “My last apprentice simply transferred out in much the way that Kester and Koji transferred in. We go where we are Sent, so personnel changes are natural, especially for teams that include Grafts.”
“Grafts?” she echoed, testing the term. Having been raised on an orchard, Prissie knew exactly what a graft was. It was possible to make a place for the branch of one tree to be on the trunk of another. The new limb