“And the moon offers its radiance,” Tamaes quietly added.
Milo beckoned playfully to Omri, who took wing and circled the Messenger once before landing on his outstretched hands. “Plus, there are places like the garden beyond the blue door, which offer respite for those of us who have been sent into creation. Abner’s flock thrives there because it’s always light.”
Unsure if the little golden-haired angel would respond to her call, Prissie crooked a finger at Omri. To her delight, he came straightway, alighting on her palm and promptly flopping down onto his stomach and propping his chin in his hands as his feet waved in the air. At Prissie’s soft giggle, the brightness that haloed him increased in intensity.
Taweel snorted at Omri’s antics, and Milo laughed outright. Glancing up to share her excitement with the others, she found Tamaes’s gaze. His brown eyes widened for a moment before his expression relaxed into a gentle smile. The Guardian’s reaction reminded her of how startled Koji
had been to be seen on the day she found him sitting in the apple tree. Invisible people weren’t used to being seen, and it was a little comforting to know that she wasn’t the only one adjusting. Prissie had no idea
why
she was meeting all these angels, but deep down, she was really glad to know them.
He came to her in a dream that was so bright, it outshone the sun.
It was Harken, she was certain, yet he wasn’t quite the same Harken she knew. He looked much younger; he stood straighter, and there wasn’t a trace of gray in his thick black hair, which had been twisted away from his face in a series of long coils like heavy ropes. He wore shining raiment, and from under the edges of his sleeves, she could see the twisting ends of his furled wings, the deep red pattern clearly visible against his dark skin.
“Mr. Mercer?” she asked, just to be sure.
“Yes, Prissie,” he answered in a deep voice untouched by age. “Are you surprised?”
“I think I should be,” she admitted. “But you look more angelic this way.”
He beamed at her with that wide, white smile she’d known since childhood, and she found herself smiling back. “I have a message for you,” he revealed.
“Again?” she whispered nervously.
His deep chuckle set her at ease. “It’s a simple message this time. One I’m sure you’ll understand.”
“All right,” she replied bravely. “I’m listening.”
Holding her gaze, he paused dramatically, then quietly said, “Wake up.”
Prissie opened her eyes.
Moonlight streamed through the diamond panes of her window, scattering pastel colors onto the floor beside her bed. A glance at the clock showed that it was still the wee hours of the morning, and though the house was quiet, she sat up, listening. Her dream was already fading, but she felt restless.
A soft thump. A distant whimper. The muffled patter of footsteps. Prissie swung her legs over the side of her bed and tiptoed to her door in her nightgown. There it was again. A soft cry from down the hall. She peeked out just in time to see a light come on in the next room over, illuminating the space under the door. A few seconds later, her younger brother poked his head into the hall, and she quietly asked, “What’s the matter?”
Beau beckoned to her urgently. “Sis, come help me. Something’s wrong with Koji,” he called, trying to keep his voice down.
Hoping that the young angel hadn’t gone all pointy-eared and glowy on them, she hurried down the hall. The little boys’ room was actually the largest of the upstairs bedrooms, and it was shared by Prissie’s three younger brothers. Two sets of bunk beds filled up most of the space, and Koji had been given the bunk under Beau’s. “What happened?” she whispered, hoping they wouldn’t wake Zeke and Jude.
Beau shrugged. “Not sure. I think it’s a bad dream, but I can’t wake him up.”
To her relief, Koji still looked like the normal kid he was supposed to be, however, he also looked anxious. His face was creased with worry or fear, and he tossed his head from side to side while making indistinct noises of protest in the back of his throat. “A nightmare?” she murmured, but that didn’t
make any sense. Koji shouldn’t have nightmares because he didn’t really sleep.
Prissie thought back on what Koji had told her about his nights. There had been something about communicating through dreams, so maybe his mind was elsewhere? Sitting on the edge of the bottom bunk, Prissie grabbed the young angel’s shoulders and gave him a firm shake. “Koji …
Koji
, come back. Are you listening? I need you to listen to
me
, Koji!”
Dark eyes sprang open, wide and unseeing as he struggled to catch his breath. Slowly, Koji focused on Prissie’s face. “There you are,” she scolded. “You had me and Beau worried for a minute.”
“Prissie?” he whispered, his voice hoarse.
“Obviously,” she returned tartly. He sat up awkwardly, glancing around the room with a mixture of confusion and dread. And then, the young angel whined softly, threw his arms around Prissie, and began to sob. “Wh-what’s all this?” she stammered, looking to Beau for help.
Her brother backed up a step. “Lemme get a glass of water … and tissues?” he offered.
Prissie was about to protest when Tamaes stepped into the room behind her brother. Trying not to gawk, she nodded to Beau. “That would be good.”
The Guardian dropped to one knee at her side and lightly touched her shoulder. “Don’t be afraid,” he urged earnestly. Placing his large hand upon Koji’s back, he said, “You’re safe, now. Tell me, where did you go?”
“I … I am not certain,” he replied in a muffled voice. “It was dark. So dark.”
“Something in the darkness frightened you,” Tamaes prompted. “Did you encounter the enemy?”
Koji shook his head, then turned his face so he could meet the Guardian’s eyes. Tears still streamed from his eyes. “I was simply drifting when he found me.”
“He?”
“Ephron,”
Koji answered in a tremulous voice. “Oh, Tamaes, we have to tell the others! Ephron needs our help!”
The story continues in Book 2:
The Hidden Deep …
1. Do you believe in angels? What has influenced your perception of them? Why do you think they exist?
2. In Chapter 2, Harken says, “You can learn a lot about a person from what they choose to read.” What books have you read recently? Do they say something about you? Have they influenced what books you’ll reach for next?
3. Prissie turns to various people for advice and information before getting closer to the angels in Jedrick’s Flight. Where do you turn when you have questions? Are search engines enough? Who do you trust to give wise counsel? Is no advice better than bad advice?
4. Baird and Kester are so different from each other that Prissie thinks they wouldn’t make a good team. How much common ground do people need to get along? To work together? To be friends?
5. Where’s your comfort zone? What happens when you leave it? In Prissie’s case, how do you know when broadening your horizons is a good thing (like allowing Milo to introduce her to Baird) and when new experiences cross a line (like dabbling in fortune telling)?
6. Do Prissie’s pie-baking aspirations seem too old-fashioned? Compare and contrast her goals with Ransom’s. What’s the difference?
7. Harken remarks that when people are faced with something that doesn’t appeal to them, they often refuse to acknowledge it. If you don’t believe in something, does reality change?
8. Prissie asks Koji if being invisible is lonely. What do you think?
9. Can you sympathize with Prissie’s problems with her girlfriends? What kind of advice would you give her?
10. In Chapter 10, Kester says, “Do not rely too heavily on appearances. They are not the most important consideration.” If not, then what is?
THRESHOLD SERIES
THE
HIDDEN
DEEP
BOOK TWO
M
ilo cut through the air, skimming across shifting beams of light with what
looked
like reckless abandon. However, this angel had learned caution. Though there was joy in his flight, he continuously scanned above and below for signs of danger. Just off his flank, a flare of dusky purple revealed the presence of his armor-clad companion. Taweel flew with his sword in hand, ready to defend his teammate.
“Race you back!” Milo challenged, folding outstretched wings and streaking through a sky as blue as his eyes.
With a soft grunt that may have been amusement, the Guardian followed.
Just north of the small town of West Edinton, the Messenger banked into a steep spiral that ended with an expert flick and fold, then he climbed back into the driver’s seat of his old green car. Checking his reflection in the rear view mirror, Milo ran his hand over short-cropped blond curls and buckled his seat belt across his mailman’s uniform. As the engine rumbled to life, Taweel leaned down to peer through the open window.
“We’ll try again after I finish my route,” Milo promised. Then he put the car in gear and took off down the road, kicking up gravel and a small cloud of dust.
Prissie and her next-younger brother Beau climbed onto the white-painted plank fence that stood behind the twin mailboxes at the end of their long driveway. An oval-shaped sign showing an overflowing basket of apples proudly announced, “Pomeroy Orchard,” and the block letters on the pair of red and white flags on either side of the gate let people know the apple barn was open for business.
Throughout the summer months, afternoons had found Prissie right here, waiting for the mail, but today was different. Today, she was waiting for the school bus. Settling onto her perch, she crossed her ankles in a ladylike manner and smoothed the skirt of her pink and white sundress. “It shouldn’t be much longer,” she remarked, gazing off in the direction of the highway.
Beau nodded. He never said much. To be honest, Prissie was a little surprised the thirteen-year-old had volunteered to join her. He usually buried himself in a book or spent time on the computer after school. Their bus had dropped them off nearly an hour ago, but they were waiting on Zeke and Jude, who would be arriving on the elementary bus.
Six-year-old Jude was going to school “for real” this year. According to him, kindergarten was just a warm-up, but he was finally following in the footsteps of his older siblings. At Momma’s request, all of the Pomeroy kids were sticking around the house to have milk and cookies with the little guy to celebrate his milestone. Prissie and Beau listened closely for the telltale rumble of an engine, but the only sound was the lazy buzz of the bees that droned in the riot of purple coneflowers that Grandma Nell had planted around the mailboxes.
“You think the bus will beat Milo?” Beau asked.
Prissie favored her brother with a long look, trying to decide if he was teasing her. Milo Leggett was a long-time family friend, and her fondness for him was something of a sore spot. Everyone in town knew the young man, but Prissie always thought of him as
theirs.
He went to their church, taught Zeke’s Sunday school class, and regularly dropped in to chat since their farm was the last stop on his route. Milo’s visits had been a cause for excitement ever since she was a little girl because he was
special.
Of course, up until this July, she hadn’t realized just
how
special.
There was no sly glint in Beau’s blue eyes, so Prissie resisted the urge to snip. “It’ll probably be close. They might even get here at the same time.”
“Jude would like that,” he remarked thoughtfully.
Privately hoping Milo’s timing was providential today, she replied, “It
would
be nice.”
Another minute ticked by before Beau spoke again. “Say, Priss … about Koji.” He was peeking at her out of the corner of his eye.
Prissie began to fiddle with the end of one of her honey-colored braids. Was
this
why Beau was here? In a house as crowded as theirs, it wasn’t easy to hold a private conversation, and it was even harder to find a time when Prissie and Koji weren’t together. The boy probably would have been with her now except that he’d begged Grandpa Pete to let him help out with the farm animals. Tad was showing Koji the ropes of his new responsibilities.
“Did he do okay at school today?”
“Of course!” she said defensively. “I made sure of it!”
Officially, Koji was an exchange student who was boarding with the Pomeroy family for the year. To everyone else, he seemed like an overly curious boy with exotic features — golden skin, almond-shaped eyes, and glossy, black, shoulder-length hair. Her whole family believed he was from a set of tiny islands in the middle of the Pacific.
Only Prissie knew the truth.
Meeting Koji had been an accident, or at least something that didn’t happen very often. For reasons no one yet understood, Prissie had spotted the young angel watching her from a branch in one of her grandfather’s apple trees. In the weeks after that first meeting, one thing led to another. Or maybe it was better to say that one angel led to another.
Prissie had discovered that angels were living as regular people in and around West Edinton. It had been hard learning that Milo was one of them. Their mailman was a Messenger, as was his mentor Harken Mercer, who owned a used bookstore on Main Street. After getting over her initial shock, they’d introduced her to Baird and Kester, “Worshipers” who led music at the DeeVee, a church down in Harper.
Since then, she’d met or heard about other varieties of angels. Each angel had a special role. For instance, Koji was an apprentice Observer, and he was thrilled by his chance to live as a human instead of just watching them from afar. For the most part, Prissie didn’t mind having him around. Koji’s delight was contagious. He had proven himself a good friend, but it was still difficult to reconcile everyday things with the fantastical things she’d witnessed.
Beau stared up into the sky. “Koji is … strange sometimes.”
“How do you mean?” Prissie asked carefully.
“Well, I know he’s from another country and everything, but some of the questions he asks are way out there. It’s almost like he’s from another planet, sometimes.”
She rolled her eyes. “He’s not an alien.”
“I know, I know,” Beau muttered. “But sometimes he takes foreign to a whole different level. Have you ever tried to explain sneezing to someone? And he’d never tasted bananas before.”
“Maybe they don’t have them where he comes from?”
“I checked online. That island where he’s from has whole banana plantations.”
“I’ll tell him not to bug you with such weird questions,” Prissie offered.
“I don’t mind,” Beau quickly assured. “His questions make me think, and it’s kind of interesting to try to answer them.”
Prissie frowned. Beau didn’t speak up unless he had something to say, and it felt as though he was still working up to it. “I think Koji looks at things differently than most people,” she suggested.
“Do you know that he’d never used nail clippers before? He watched me trim mine, then asked me to do his, too.”
“That was nice of you,” she said nervously.
Beau shrugged. “It’s kind of like having another little brother, except that he’s older than me.
You’re
his favorite, though. Does Margery know she’s been displaced?”
Prissie’s expression clouded, and she crisply answered, “I doubt she minds.” She and her best friend Margery had drifted apart over the summer. Since Prissie needed to show Koji around, she’d barely said two words to her in school today. Not that Margery noticed.
She’d
been busy giving the grand tour to Elise Hanson — another newcomer to West Edinton.
Her brother took a deep breath. “You’re not going to ditch Koji, are you?”
“
What
?” she exclaimed.
With a determined expression, Beau forged ahead. “I know you don’t mind being his best friend around here, but how are you going to treat him when other people are around? You might get teased because he’s different.”
With flashing eyes and flaming cheeks, Prissie demanded, “You think I’d be that awful to someone?”
“Hope not,” he muttered.
He dropped his gaze, but his back was straight, and that meant he was sticking by his question. She scowled. “There’s no way! Koji’s
ours
now, and I’m not letting
anyone
make fun of him!”
“Ours, huh?” Beau looked embarrassed and relieved at the same time, as if his almost-accusation had been as hard for him to say as it had been for her to hear. “So you really
are
okay with him and his weirdness?”
“Obviously.”
“Good.”
Although Beau let the subject drop, Prissie’s conscience nagged at her. It was easy to overlook Koji’s bizarre qualities because she knew he was an angel. If he’d been a regular boy, would she treat him the same way? Thankfully, she didn’t have to answer that question. Just then, the school bus swung into view — right behind an old, green car. “Milo!” she cheered, immediately feeling better.
There were times when Prissie hated how crowded and noisy her house could get, but there were also times when she wouldn’t trade the hubbub for the world. Today, she was glad to be part of a big family.
Momma herded everyone into the kitchen, where Grandma Nell lifted fresh cookies onto cooling racks, filling the room with the mouthwatering smell of melting chocolate. Grandpa Pete found an excuse to come in for a cup of coffee, but even with Milo and Koji added to the mix, there was no need to squeeze around the sturdy kitchen table. It had been built to serve a crowd.
Questions and answers flew through the air as notes were compared. Yes, Prissie’s oft-rehearsed fears of alphabetical seating arrangements had been realized. No, Zeke’s teacher hadn’t fainted dead away at the sight of him. She’d taught Neil, after all. She was brave. Yes, the school bus driver still listened to country music while he drove. No, Beau hadn’t forgotten his lunchbox in his locker. He was turning over a new leaf now that he was out of elementary school.
Milo was right in the thick of things. He asked Tad if he’d still have time to work on the old truck he was rebuilding now that classes were back in session, and he checked with Neil to see if the football coach had finalized the roster for Friday’s game. However, it didn’t take long for Zeke and Jude to mob the mailman, eager to share their grade school adventures.
As the conversation took a turn towards pencil sharpeners and dodge ball, Koji claimed a place at Prissie’s side. “I
drove
!” he whispered eagerly.
“Tad let you drive the quad?” she asked, amused by his excitement. All the Pomeroys learned to drive as soon as their feet reached the pedals of the various mowers and tractors on the farm. One of the jobs Grandpa had given Koji was to help Tad feed and water the pigs, and since their shed was in the back forty, they used a four-wheeler to drive out there.
Koji nodded. “We brought them apple mash from the cider press, and I tried to use the pump. It was difficult, but Tad is quite able.”
“It sounds like you had fun, but it’s a lot
less
fun if the weather’s bad,” Prissie warned.
“I will not neglect the task your grandfather entrusted to me,” Koji promised.
When they turned their attention back to the group, her family was a sight to behold. Prissie shook her head at the level of ridiculousness on display, but with five brothers, she’d come to expect it. She knew from experience that it could get much,
much
worse.
“Beat this!” Neil gloated.
“Mine’s better!” Zeke argued.
“Milo’s dripping,” said Jude with a giggle.
Koji gazed around the table in fascination, then leaned close to whisper, “What is the goal of this contest?”
“No point,” Prissie said. “Just silliness.” Zeke crossed his eyes as he tried to catch a glimpse of his milk moustache, and Jude beamed up at Tad.
“Come on, Prissie,” coaxed Neil. “Don’t be such a stick in the mud!” Even Milo’s smile wasn’t enough to tempt her into joining in. “No thank you. I prefer to drink my milk, not wear it. Who started this, anyhow?”
Everyone immediately pointed to Milo, who sheepishly reached for a napkin. Prissie looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Sorry, Miss Priscilla.” Once she’d accepted his apology with a smile, he cheerfully changed the subject. “It sounds like everyone made it through their first day intact.”
“Not me!” Beau replied with a groan. “Mr. Hawkins started role call before I could tell him not to use my full name!”
“So it’s out,” Tad said sympathetically.
“Maybe no one noticed?” Prissie ventured, earning a flat look.
“It will take
months
to live this down,” the thirteen-year-old grumbled.
Koji looked from one sibling to the next. “What are you talking about?”
“Names,” Tad supplied.
“My name isn’t
really
Beau,” the middle brother explained. “That’s my nickname. It’s short for … my full name.”
Neil reached for another chocolate chip cookie, then shook it at Koji. “We who bear the name of Pomeroy share a tragic flaw, handed down to us by our parents.” Glancing around the table, the sixteen-year-old asked, “Shall we let him in on our darkest secret?”
“Why not?” Tad replied with a friendly smile. “I think he’ll keep quiet.”
Koji’s eyes widened. “Thank you for your trust.”
“Okay, then,” Neil agreed, picking up his tale. “It may interest you to know that Momma and Dad gave all of us Bible names.”
The young angel looked from one sibling to the next, then glanced towards Mrs. Pomeroy, who stood on the other side of the kitchen. Naomi had obviously heard these grievances many times before, and her gray eyes were dancing. “I think they’re fine names,” Momma said, trading an amused glance with her mother-in-law.
“Very traditional,” Grandma Nell agreed.
“And very unfortunate,” countered Neil.
Tipping his head to one side, Koji said, “I do not recognize most of your names from Scripture.”