Head in the clouds. Feet on the ground. Heart in the story. Christa Kinde is a cheerful homebody whose imagination takes her new places with every passing day. Making her home between misty mornings and brimming bookshelves in Southern California, she’s been writing for more than a decade, but the Threshold Series is her first foray into fiction. Learn about Christa’s books, Bible studies, short stories, weekdaily serials, and more at ChristaKinde.com.

You can find Part 1, HERE.

Being lifted momentarily distracted Koji. Ofir’s view is much higher than mine. The new perspective so awed the boy that he didn’t look beyond the flock of chickens clustered around the other angel’s boots. Until they scattered.

Amid panicked squawks and flying feathers, Koji glanced back, and his breath caught. Two demons had slipped past the line of cherubim. Rage burned in the eyes of a Fallen who was sawing chicken wire with a jagged blade. His snarls were scary; his companion’s hoarse laughter was worse.

“Here’s how this works,” Ofir murmured. “I’m the Protector, so I’ll do the fighting. You’re the Observer, so you bear witness.”

Koji nodded shakily.

The cherub flashed a confident smile. “Thanks to me, your first record can be an epic battle sequence! Trust me?”

“Trust you,” he whispered.

“Trust the One who sent me your way?”

“Always.”

“Then watch close, Observer. Remember Whose you are.”

The first demon oozed though the fresh gap in the fence, then lunged, blade slashing. Dodging the strike, Ofir blocked a second blow with the haft of his spear then went on the offensive. He cracked their attacker over the head, and with one deft thrust, Ofir knocked the blade from the demon’s gnarled hand.

Even when their enemies spewed curses, Koji kept his promise. He didn’t look away.

Slinking forward, the second demon wheezed, “We saw him first. Give us our pet, and we’ll let you live.”

Ofir didn’t answer, nor was he distracted from their first foe, who was scrabbling for makeshift weapons. When the demon pitched a broken brick at them, wings soft as silk parried the missiles then shoved the demon away.

Their plight didn’t go unnoticed by the other warriors. A second Protector dropped into the fray with a rush of sapphire wings. Leveling his sword at the Fallen, he snapped, “Take the newbie out of here.”

“Too right,” Ofir muttered, tucking Koji into lemon-yellow folds. “Hold tight!”

The boy clung as his new friend fought his way upward on the strength of one wing. Three stories off the ground, Ofir caught hold of a fire escape and waited for an opening. Deflecting a volley of stones, the cherub burst into the air again, veering around the corner of one building and skimming the face of its neighbor. Planting a boot on the roof’s ledge, he shot into the sky, climbing away from the skirmish with powerful wingbeats.

Leveling off, Ofir asked, “Still with me?”

“Indeed,” Koji replied breathlessly.

The cherub looped through a series of playful spirals. “And no wonder. You’re clenched tighter than a baby barnacle.”

“Letting go would be unwise. I do not have wings.”

“But you should enjoy your first flight. This is what it’s like to soar with eagles.”

Stretching out his hand, Koji tried to touch a sky that seemed so close, yet remained out of reach. He searched for words to describe the insistent tug of wind at his hair. And the way yellow wings looked against lofty blue.

“Hey, hey, hey, now! Are you smiling?”

Koji nodded happily.

Despite all the swooping and wheeling, Koji noticed that Ofir always returned to the same course. “Where are we going?”

“Won’t know until we get there. But fear not! When we’re sent, there’s always a way. And a way maker.”

Just ahead, a piece of the sky rippled and split. Tucking his wings, Ofir shot through the widening portal into a dazzling place. Koji squinted through his lashes. Vast meadows of golden flowers. Pristine tower. Sweet smell of pollen. And from every direction, the hum of bees.

“I’m not sure how much you know, but most Observers live in the towers.” Ofir backwinged into a smooth landing. “And the good news is, this is my tower!”

“You are not an Observer.”

“Nope. Still a Protector, through and through.” Ofir set Koji on his feet. “But my post is your doorstep.”

“This is my home?”

“Yours and mine!” the cherub confirmed. “Now let’s get you over to Cherith. He’ll want to count your fingers and toes.”

Koji didn’t mean to dawdle along the way, but bees were interesting. Crouching among the flowers, the newfoundling watched the insects fulfill their God-given role. I have a place. Will I also have a part?

Ofir backtracked and ruffled his hair. “Introduce yourself to the buzzers later. Right now, our Caretaker is waiting.”

Not far from the tower, a crystal stream sparkled over white pebbles. Squat columns lined the water’s edge, and as Ofir and Koji drew closer, the hum of bees intensified. Koji’s nose twitched at the sweet scent wafting from the row. Tiptoeing closer, he pressed his hand to cool, white stone. Something inside smelled good, and he wondered what it would taste like. Is this what it means to be hungry?

“Honey,” announced the angel who stepped out from behind the column. “It is said that the bread of angels tastes as if God first dipped it in honey.”

Koji compared this new person to his friend. Dark skin, but not as dark as Ofir’s. Ropes of hair so long, the ends swished through the surrounding flowers. In the brilliance of heaven’s light, the Caretaker’s dark braids gleamed purple. “You are Cherith.”

“Yes, young one.” He knelt and opened his arms. “Do you have a name as well?”

Nodding, the boy slipped into an embrace that swathed him in soft fabric. Cherith’s sleeves are full. Ofir’s tunic has no sleeves at all. Cherith’s ears are pointed. Ofir’s are not. Reaching up to check, the boy made a new discovery. “My ears are like yours.”

“Yes. There are similarities between our orders.”

“He’s Koji,” Ofir said. “Seems to be easily distracted by this and that.”

“So I see.” The Caretaker murmured, “Fear not, Koji.”

“I am not afraid.”

“You are trembling, little one.”

Koji rested his cheek against Cherith’s shoulder, eyes crossing as he tried to memorize the intricate pattern of stitches decorating his collar. Cherith’s embroidery is black—Caretaker. Ofir’s is greenish—Protector. What color will designate an Observer like me?

“Is this normal?” Ofir furrowed his brows.

“He’s a little dim, but mostly fraught.” Cherith stroked the boy’s chin-length hair. “Did you sing with him?”

“No time,” Ofir said. “We ran into a mess of bother. Had to wing it fast.”

“That explains a lot.” Cherith tapped Koji’s nose. “How many words have you gathered up, little one?”

“So, so many,” Koji solemnly replied. “About stars … and flowers … and flowers that look like stars. And pebbles … and bricks … and birds … and blue. And clouds … and hives … and honey … and Him.”

“Don’t leave out my part,” Ofir reminded. “That was some fancy flying!”

Koji nodded. “I will never forget.”

“You are the eyes and ears of heaven,” Cherith said. “Words are your service. Art is your joy. In due course, you will learn how to set your thoughts upon a page, but a song will do for now. Sing a song of beginnings. Tell me about your first day.”

Finally! Koji’s song came in a rush as he shared all of his pent-up discoveries. In return, Cherith sang about the storehouse of beauty in which they stood, introducing himself as a keeper of bees and a maker of ways. Ofir even added a verse, thanking God for sneezes, spears, and safe havens.

Koji’s eyes slid shut as he concentrated on the cherub’s voice, rich with love and bright like his smile. A good voice. The voice of his friend.

But suddenly, Ofir’s song took on a commanding note. An invitation. One that was soon answered by exclamations of surprise and jumbled questions. At least a dozen people filed out of the white tower and hurried forward. All barefoot. All pointy eared. All staring.

“They are like me,” Koji whispered.

“Yes.” Cherith pulled the boy more securely into his arms. “But it is to me that Ofir was sent. Do not let their hopes distract you.”

Koji wasn’t sure why the angel’s words felt like a warning. “I will remember.”

Next Month: Angel on High, Part Three: “Silver and Gold”