Part 8 (2/2)
The big warrior hesitated, then admitted, ”That is a difficult question to answer. You are safe, and for that I am grateful.”
”Tonight isn't a quiet night, is it?” she asked with a glance out the window.
”No,” he replied solemnly. ”However, there is no cause for you to fear.”
Pulling her blanket more closely around her shoulders, Prissie said, ”I'm glad you're here.”
”I am never far,” Tamaes pointed out.
Prissie understood that even though the battle was invisible, it was real and fierce, so she felt as though she was keeping her Guardian safe by keeping him close. She supposed that it was actually the other way around, but for the moment, it was rea.s.suring to have Tamaes where she could see him. ”Make yourself at home,” she ventured.
”Thank you,” he replied, undoing the clasp that held his sword in place between his shoulder blades. Without another word, he chose a seat on the floor below her window, stretching out his long legs and placing his sheathed weapon within easy reach.
She and Koji both turned slightly to include Tamaes, but there wasn't much else they could do with her whole family still up and about. In fact, Zeke chased Jude past the door, roaring like a mad beast while his little brother shrieked with laughter. Prissie frowned disapprovingly before whispering, ”Do you want a book or something?”
”There is no need,” Tamaes a.s.sured.
Staring in disbelief as her Guardian simply folded his hands in his lap and stared back, she quizzed, ”Don't you get bored?”
This time, the big warrior seemed puzzled. But Koji leapt in to explain, ”He cannot be bored if you are near.”
”Me?”
”You are his occupation.” Leaning closer, he gravely confided, ”Abner calls you his preoccupation.”
Tamaes made a small noise of protest. ”I am a Guardian.”
Prissie was amazed that both angels apparently thought this a satisfactory explanation. ”But it'll be awkward if he just sits there staring at me,” she argued. ”He should do something other than twiddle his thumbs!”
The warrior glanced uncertainly between her and his thumbs. ”What do you suggest?”
”Well ...” She cast about for a suitable response. ”I doubt you can help us study.”
”There is an a.s.signment he can a.s.sist you with,” Koji said.
She tapped the textbooks. ”I'm pretty much done for tonight.”
”Have you forgotten the reading Pastor Ruggles encouraged us to do on Sunday?”
Prissie blinked, thinking hard. ”I guess so. What are you talking about?”
”In preparation for Christmas, he encouraged everyone to review those Scripture pa.s.sages that foretold the coming of Messiah,” Koji reminded. ”Have you done so?”
”Nooo,” she grudgingly admitted. ”I figured it was optional.”
The young Observer spread his hands wide. ”And you now have the option to complete the a.s.signment. Tamaes will speak the words.”
Her Guardian inclined his head, indicating his willingness to go along with the plan.
”Well, I suppose that's fine. My Bible's right over there.” A thought occurred to her, and she tentatively asked, ”Can you read any language like Milo?”
”No, but there is no need. The words are here,” Tamaes explained, placing his hand upon his chest.
”You know them by heart?”
”I do.”
Prissie shook her head incredulously. ”Are you trying to tell me that you have the whole Bible memorized?”
With a faint smile, Tamaes replied, ”It is pleasant to dwell upon the words of G.o.d.”
”Go on,” Koji urged.
So the soft-spoken angel spoke at length, his voice filled with reverent authority as he recited entire pa.s.sages from the psalms and the prophets. Prissie settled back against her pillows, somewhat awed, for the familiar words sounded different when spoken aloud and with such conviction.
If either angel thought it strange that all Prissie did was sit there, staring at Tamaes while slowly twiddling her thumbs, they did not mention it.
8.
THE FINAL.
REHEARSAL.
In a room where every wall and door was painted a different color, strands of rainbow-hued Christmas lights were tacked up along the ceiling. Baird sat cross-legged in the middle of a pile of beanbag chairs, humming as he moved his fingers across the frets of his blue guitar. He glanced up as the door opened, and Milo rapped on its frame. ”You haven't eaten today,” the Messenger scolded.
”No, I'm pretty sure I remember eating,” the redhead countered.
”Sure about that?” his teammate inquired in teasing tones.
Baird eyed him suspiciously. ”Did my apprentice send for you, by any chance?”
”He did!” Milo cheerfully confirmed. ”According to Kester, all you've had today is a toaster pastry, a bag of potato chips, and a package of licorice. That's not exactly the food of angels.”
”I'm a terrible cook?”
”Come aside and refresh yourself. You need to relax for a while.” The mailman crouched before him and extended a small box. ”Eat your manna, Baird.”
With a short huff and a small grin, Baird accepted it, lifting the lid to reveal small wafers of condensed light. ”Pull the shades for me?”
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