The Broken Window Read Online Free PDF

see?”
    “I … I think so.”
    Padgett nodded once. “Then open your eyes.”
    Suddenly, Prissie was surrounded by angels, and the combined light of their raiment banished the shadows. Unfurled wings lent splashes of color, but most of the wounded warriors bore distinctive tattoos on their arms and shoulders. Low groans, muffled voices, the scrape of boots, and the metallic
clank
of weapons filled the loft. The angels leaned against the walls or sat on the straw, but many were simply strewn across the floor.
    With a soft noise of dismay, Prissie cautiously approached the nearest, appalled by the nasty wound showing just above his breastplate. As she knelt by his side, she realized that while he was bleeding, the blood wasn’t red, and the gash glowed, as if angels were even brighter inside than out. That hardly mattered, though, for the angel’s face was creased by pain. “Wh-what can I do?” she stammered. “Neil knows about first aid, but he’s asleep. Maybe it would be better if he was here? Or Koji! I know
he
would help, if you asked him to come.”
    Padgett crouched beside her and turned her face so she could only see him. “Don’t be afraid,” he soothed. “I’ll tend to them. That’s why I was Sent here.”
    “Please?” she asked, teary-eyed in her dismay. “There are so many of them, and only one you!”
    He cupped her cheek and almost-smiled. “When the Spirit compels, it is the same as Sending. God accepts your offering, child of compassion.” He placed a roll of bandages in her hand. “Stay close.”
    The gauzy material Padgett used to bind wounds reminded Prissie of raiment, for it seemed to be woven fromthreads of light. As he worked, she peered in fascination at each of his patients, admiring the endless variety in coloration and trying to memorize each face. By the stitching along their collars, she gathered that most of the warriors were cherubim. Just like Jedrick, they were big, powerful angels with fierce countenances and stern expressions. No one seemed inclined to converse with her, but without fail, those who met her gaze greeted her with a soft, “Fear not.” Their reassurances were touching, and before they were half done, Prissie’s heart brimmed with an odd mix of awe and gratitude.
    Just then, a tall angel with turquoise wings trod heavily across the wooden floor, half carrying an injured comrade. This Protector did a double-take when he noticed Prissie. “What is the meaning of this, Caretaker?”
    “She is dreaming.”
    Helping his friend to the floor, the archer studied her face. “Will she remember?”
    “I don’t think so.”
    Prissie’s gaze snapped to Padgett’s face. “I’ll forget all this?”
    “Do you often remember your dreams?” he inquired.
    “Only bits and pieces,” she slowly admitted. “But this isn’t a
dream
dream. This is really happening, isn’t it?”
    “Yes, Prissie,” Padgett assured. “This is real.”
    “What if I don’t
want
to forget?” she whispered, giving the inquisitive Protector a pleading look.
    With a shake of his head that sent his long, wheat-colored ponytail swaying, the tall angel answered, “Such things are in the hands of God.” Standing, he straightened the quiver of arrows strapped to his back. “I must rejoin my Flight.”
    “I’ll tend to your teammate,” Padgett promised.
    The other angel nodded curtly and turned to go, but he paused to address Prissie. “Even if this memory fades, do not fear,” he solemnly urged. “We shall remain. Indeed, we have always been nearby.” Then, to her utter astonishment, he strode through an archway cut into the side of the barn, spread his wings, and took to the sky.
    Pointing to the opening, Prissie exclaimed, “There’s a
hole
?”
    Padgett didn’t even look up. “I opened a way, and I will close it when my task is complete.”
    She didn’t want to get too close to the edge, but Prissie sidled a little closer so she could look through, and what she saw