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.
You can find Part 2, HERE.
You can find Part 3, HERE.
You can find Part 4, HERE.
You can find Part 5, HERE.
You can find Part 6, HERE.

When six cherubim sailed through the passage Cherith made back into the created world, the sun was low in the west, but Koji quickly lost sight of the setting star. Lightning flickered an instant before the cherub dropped through heavy clouds, dousing them both.

Cold! And wet! Koji squinted against the spatter of raindrops, enjoying the new sensation. This is how the earth is washed and watered. Like a bath that is poured out.

But when they reached the now familiar alley, things were far from clean. Dirt bled across cracked asphalt, collecting in slimy puddles. Grimy water splashed Koji’s legs as Ofir set him down and loosened his spear in one smooth motion. “Careful!” the young Protector shouted to their companions.

Yellow wings drew close, offering a sun-bright shelter from the sheeting rain. Koji’s nose wrinkled at the putrid smell hanging in the air. A howl ripped through the murk, and he understood. Fallen are nearby. The alley had once more become a battlefield.

Koji’s hands locked around Ofir’s arm.

“Hey, hey, hey now. I’m right here.”

“And Darda?”

Ofir let his wing dip enough so they could check. Koji’s current mentor knelt beside his own escort, peering intently through the rain. Ofir raised his voice. “Darda! Hightail it!”

The green-haired Observer immediately broke cover, and Koji helped pull him to safety. Darda flicked at dripping braids and dredged up a smile. “Sorry, Bright Eyes. Cherith didn’t mention anything about a fracas. You okay?”

“Indeed.”

Once released from shielding Darda, the blue-winged cherub drew his sword and followed the others into the fray. “Turns out we’re reinforcements!” Ofir leaned forward, and a slow smile spread across his face. “Eyes forward, Observer. My buddies are backing up a friend of yours!”

Ravel? Koji pushed wet bangs out of his eyes and searched the gray haze, but he saw no sign of a scruffy beggar. Big and broad, with red wings flung wide, a singular warrior towered over the rest. Bronze hair clung to his face as he slashed a broad arc with a double-bladed ax. Would anyone believe that this was the same person? But Koji couldn’t look away. There is no doubt. He is my friend. Watchdog.

In the soggy aftermath of a short-lived battle, Koji trotted across the emptying alley, darting between the legs of other warriors in his hurry to get to Ravel. The Guardian was much taller than when he was in human guise, so Koji had to stretch on tiptoe to reach his hand.

Ravel started, his eyes widening slightly. “You were here?”

“I bore witness to your battle! You are truly one of God’s mighty ones!”

“And you are ill-equipped to defend yourself.” To Koji’s surprise, Ravel scooped him up, tucking him into the crook of one muscular arm and draping him with the trailing edge of his wing. “Show more caution, Observer.”

“Ofir is with me.” Koji pointed at the opposite rooftop then amended. “Was with me.”

“Then I shall be your shelter.”

Koji peered over the swathe of vivid crimson. “Is the enemy gone?”

“For the moment.” Ravel strode to the porch and sat with his back to the door. His usual post. Propping his ax against the wall, Ravel shook the rain from hair that hung in waves around his shoulders. “He may return. He always does.”

“Who?”

The Guardian’s half-smile was all sadness. “You know my story. Venture a guess.”

Koji tipped his head to one side, trying to put this attack into perspective. Ravel is apprentice to none because his charge died, mentor to none because his apprentice Fell. Twice-pierced. Now a Graft. Standing guard over the woman whose name remains under his hand. The pieces slipped into place. Koji stirred. “The one who was your apprentice. Does he remember your lady?”

Ravel tucked his chin and sighed. “Remembers and loves, although sin has twisted his affection into horrible shapes.”

Reaching up, Koji touched the Guardian’s smooth face. Without a beard to hide his emotions, the invisible was much easier to see. “Will you tell me the part you held back?”

He shook his head. “I do not want to fill your ears with ugliness.”

“I wish to make a faithful record. How did your apprentice Fall?”

“Little by little, and all at once.”

And so Ravel spoke through the night. Haltingly at first. Retracing the downward spiral that had landed him on this rickety porch with a flock of chickens and the nickname Watchdog.

“You could not have prevented it.” Koji meant it as reassurance, but Ravel took it as a question.

“I have asked myself that very thing many times.” With a faraway look in his eyes, the Guardian said, “There were little things. Small changes. From time to time, he would say or do something that should have warned me.”

“Like what?”

“Passing remarks. Baseless suspicions. Veiled insults. He avoided my gaze, and his ears grew dull. Toward the end, his wings were silent, and he abandoned evensong. Then food started disappearing from our charge’s household—sugar cubes, candy, and jellies.”

“He stole sweets?” Koji asked.

“By the time I realized that he was dimming from lack of manna, the cherubim arrived to cast him out. It was over before I fully realized what had begun.” Ravel heaved a shuddering sigh. “I was blind.”

“Only God sees the heart.”

Ravel nodded once. “And only God knows when it has shattered beyond repair.”

Words were whirling through Koji’s mind when he traded dawn’s pink sky for meadows of golden flowers. Ofir returned to his post and Darda to his easel, but the boy meandered toward the crystal stream. For a while he simply watched the water ripple over smooth white stones. Ordering his thoughts. Settling on a sequence. Preparing to set Ravel’s record on a page.

But Koji’s sharp ears picked up an unfamiliar sound. A chorus of bees? Curious why his peaceable neighbors were swarming, the boy followed the stream away from the tower. At regular intervals he passed squat columns, the hives Cherith maintained. Pressing his ear to each, Koji caught the sleepy drone of contented bees. Not here either. The discord was coming from farther down the row.

He waded carefully through nodding flowers. Silky petals. Spicy pollen. Koji’s nose twitched, and he quickly covered it, for voices reached him.

“. . . missing. And you know what it could mean.”

That was Cherith. Koji recognized the next speaker as the cherub called Jedrick.

“Too well. Are there no mentors here?”

“Middlings, one and all. Perhaps Shimron will be able t—”

Koji crouched down, burying his face in his hands, but it was no use. Sneezing like a newfoundling, he gave himself away.

“You!” exclaimed Cherith.

Koji peeked up and went cross-eyed, staring at the point of Jedrick’s sword.

With a huff, the cherub resheathed his weapon then offered his hand. “Peace, child. You have nothing to fear.”

“Indeed,” he said, rubbing at his itching, twitching nose. “But the bees . . .?”

“Fear not. I will calm them.” Cherith dropped to his knees and opened his arms to Koji. “I hear you made quite an impression on Shimron.”

I speak of bees, he speaks of guests? Although he gratefully accepted the hug, Koji ignored the change of subject. “Are they afraid?”

After a lengthy pause, the Caretaker sat back on his heels. “Frantic. And furious. Someone meddled with their hive.”

Cherith said something is missing. That’s why the bees are angry. Uneasiness slipped into Koji’s heart, for Ravel’s story was still reeling inside his mind. And he didn’t like the direction his thoughts were taking. “Not here.”

“What is not here?” Jedrick asked.

Koji began to tremble. “Is it too late?”

Cherith’s voice turned soft and solemn. “Why are you so fraught, young one?”

“It is said that the bread of angels tastes as if God first dipped it in honey!” Koji recited. He grabbed fistfuls of Cherith’s raiment. “Did someone take honey?”

Next Month: Angel on High, Part Eight: “Give and Take”