Part 4 (1/2)
”Yes, but I'm friends with Margery, Jennifer, and Elise too. I don't want to choose sides.”
The bell rang, and April bolted, leaving Prissie in the lurch. One of the main reasons the rumors about her and Marcus had blown over was because both of them had been quick to set everyone straight. How could she defend herself if her friends didn't back her up? April knew the truth, but she wasn't willing to take a stand. By remaining neutral, she was letting the injustice continue. Deep down, Prissie felt that by doing nothing, April had actually condemned her.
4.
THE.
ADVENT.
SERVICE.
What is their goal?” asked Jedrick in rising frustration. He paced the floor of the circular room where he often sought counsel.
”Do they need one?” s.h.i.+mron challenged. ”The Tower is here; that alone provokes them. The Fallen would make rubble of anything G.o.d has established.”
The Protector shook his head. ”What G.o.d has established, none can break!”
”Amen and amen.”
With a frown, Jedrick pointed out, ”The Deep is not impenetrable.”
”And the Gate?” asked the old Observer.
Jedrick sighed. ”Many have sought it; few could find it.”
”Few?” s.h.i.+mron echoed, then a thoughtful expression crossed his face. ”Ah, I see what you mean. There are those who can enter secret places, who open a way even when there is no door.”
”A Caretaker,” his captain confirmed. ”Padgett has been targeted, but the enemy's snares are useless. Against one of his order, they are thoroughly outmatched.”
The ancient archivist slowly laid aside his pen, his expression grave. Turning from his worktable, he crossed to one of the many bookshelves that lined the room and selected a gray volume with a spine decorated with the links of a chain.
Jedrick watched him with curiosity and concern. ”What is it, s.h.i.+mron?”
”There is one way,” the old Observer said, his tone heavy with warning. Fixing his faded blue eyes on Jedrick, he asked, ”How many Caretakers Fell?”
”I do not know,” the Protector confessed. ”It was before my beginning.”
With a small sigh, s.h.i.+mron spread wide the pages of his record and gently turned the pages. ”Four Fell, and those four were scattered to the four corners of the earth, confined to the deep places until the last days.” Arriving at the section he was seeking, the old Observer murmured, ”I thought so.”
The Protector's shoulders squared, as if braced for a blow. ”Tell me.”
Tapping the record, s.h.i.+mron announced, ”We stand upon one of those four corners.”
Prissie should have been focusing on her homework, especially since a.s.signments had piled up during her absence, and midterms were right around the corner. Instead, a dozen other little worries were using up her attention. Rumors-or rumors of rumors, actually-were circling, and she couldn't imagine what had set them off, let alone what was being said.
She and Koji sat at the kitchen table, and Prissie could tell by the rhythmic scratch of his pencil that he was drawing. Jude had lent Koji a box of crayons, and she'd offered up a jar of colored pencils. Surrounded by the tools of his trade, the young Observer actually reminded her a little of his mentor.
The absolute concentration on Koji's face lifted with a blink, and he met her gaze. Smiling softly, he announced, ”The mail is here.”
It took a few minutes before the m.u.f.fled shouts of her younger brothers heralded Milo's arrival. He left his boots by the door and padded through to the kitchen in stocking feet. Draping his jacket over the back of a chair, he slid into it with a contented sigh. Miraculously, none of the other Pomeroys joined them. Or perhaps it was providentially. Prissie had noticed that happened fairly regularly where angels were concerned. ”h.e.l.lo,” she greeted shyly.
Milo slid a box across the table. ”This one's got your name on it, Miss Priscilla.”
Her eyes widened. ”Is it something important?”
He chuckled. ”I'm sure it is, but it's not a message from on high. To be honest, I'm here because someone else was eager to see you.”
”Who?” she asked, mystified. Before he could answer, little Omri burst into view and whizzed around her head in a dizzying display. She gasped in delight and spread her hands wide, offering them as a landing pad for the yahavim. With a flutter of translucent wings and a flick of his long, yellow ponytail, he alighted on her palm. Prissie's hands curved protectively around him as he took a seat and blinked at her with faceted eyes. ”h.e.l.lo, Omri,” she crooned. She had to squint to see his smiling face, so great was his happiness.
”He was very insistent,” Milo remarked.
”He can't talk,” she countered. ”How could he insist?”
”Even without words, Omri is clever enough to make himself understood,” Milo said.
”I'm sure you are,” she whispered. Prissie dragged her eyes from her cute little visitor to smile at the mailman, only to discover that another place at the table had been filled. ”h.e.l.lo, Taweel.”
The big Guardian grunted a quiet greeting. For a moment, his smoky purple eyes met hers, but the fierce warrior bashfully looked away.
Almost immediately, Prissie noticed the bandages encasing his wrist. ”Oh, no! You're hurt?” she exclaimed.
Meeting her gaze more squarely this time, he gruffly said, ”Do not fear. It is mending well.”
”But how did it happen?” she persisted, staring fixedly at oddly familiar gauzy material that looked as if it'd been woven from threads of light.
The Messenger and Guardian exchanged a glance, and Milo rubbed a hand over the top of his head. ”I suppose you could say things have been busy around here lately.”
Tapping the kitchen table with her finger, Prissie asked, ”Here, here? Or just sort of ... around here?”
Koji interjected, ”Do you remember where Padgett turned us aside when April was visiting?”
Prissie nodded slowly. ”Sure, out in the back forty.”
”That is close to ...” He trailed off, glancing uncertainly at his teammates.
”Close to an area that's become a battlefield,” Milo smoothly supplied.
”Were you trying to get to Ephron?”