The Blue Door - By Christa Kinde Page 0,71

new escort has arrived.”

More tiny angels darted in from every direction, as if drawn by the others. Several tapped her, as if to say, I found you! She smiled at their antics, and her heart melted every time one smiled back. The only problem was, the more of them there were, the brighter it became.

“Since these little ones seem to think you need them, I’ll leave you to their tender mercies!”

“Thank you, Adin.” With a slightly harried smile, she earnestly said, “You always seem to cheer me up.”

“Don’t mention it,” he demurred. “And don’t be afraid to get closer to your Observer friend. Something tells me his secrets will be well worth finding out!”

More little manna-makers rushed around her, and Prissie was nearly blinded by their combined glory. Trying to act naturally in case anyone was looking, she slipped into a long, empty hall with lockers, pay phones, and an exit sign flickering at the far end. Blinking away the spots that danced before her eyes, she quietly demanded, “What’s gotten into you guys?”

When Prissie held out her hands, two of the tiny angels settled on her palms. She didn’t really recognize them, but that didn’t stop her from enjoying their company. She seemed to have attracted an entire flock, and their soft humming and affectionate gestures banished many of her fears. Even at the mall, God was watching over her.

All at once, the yahavim scattered, just as someone swung around the corner, nearly knocking her off her feet. Hands grabbed her shoulders, and a gruff voice muttered, “That was close.” Prissie stared blankly into the scowling face of Marcus Truman. “You okay?” he asked.

Badly startled and more than a little afraid, she twisted away from him, demanding, “Get away from me!”

“ ‘Scuse me,” he quickly apologized, holding up his hands. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Prissie glanced around, wondering where all the manna-makers had disappeared to. Had Marcus’s arrival driven them off? With the beginnings of a very bad feeling in the pit of her stomach, she edged toward the safety in numbers that the mall offered.

Her classmate shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and bluntly asked, “Do you think maybe you could call off that friend of yours?”

“Jennifer?”

“That’s the one,” he confirmed.

“Oh.” With a glance down the empty hallway, Prissie asked, “Are you hiding from her?”

“Sorta. Are you?”

She shook her head. “We were separated.”

“No kidding,” he muttered, looking disgusted. “Try the food court.”

“Why?” she asked suspiciously.

He grumbled something under his breath, but his answer was civil enough. “Because I last saw her in the food court with April. They were talking to your brother.”

With a hasty word of thanks, she fled, wanting nothing more than to reach Tad and convince him it was time to go home. Although she hated to admit it, hiding was exactly what she wanted to do right now.

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