The Taking (6 page)

His thumb strokes across my lips, silencing me as his fingers make their way to the back of my lower head. His soft lips press against mine — tasting and teasing as his ocean invites me in for a deeper swim — his eyes fixed on me. My hands slide up his bare back. They feel the lines between his muscles and around the connection of his majestic royal blue wings, as they make their way to stroke deep in his short, dark brown hair.
 

He breaks off suddenly and stands to my side. Struggling with dizziness, I barely hold myself up. I realise he has one hand still on me, steadying me.
 

“What’s wrong?” I ask when the room had finally decided to stay still.

“I heard something outside the room.” He smirks as he studies my lips and gazes down my neck, his eyes hungry. “Trust me, I didn’t want to stop, but I don’t desire to be separated from you permanently either.”
 

The mention of noise outside snaps me out of my daze. My ears tighten listening for any sound. Yes, there it is, a slight shuffle of soft shoes on the floor. We wait, standing in line where Zacharias left us with our eyes peeled to the door. Soon the earthbound angel enters the room alone. My eyes keep searching behind him for Cindy as we wait in silence for his instruction.

Ben’s baritone voice breaks the silence. “Where’s Cindy?”

The aged angel looks directly at Ben with a blank look. He frowns before a slight realisation crosses his face. “Oh, right — the dippy one. That’s what you call her,” he grumbles, clasping his hands behind his back as he shuffles forward a few more steps. “She’s training.”

“Where, and with whom?” Ben asks.

“I said she is training, and that is all you need to know,” he snaps. He spins to face Ben directly, and his green eyes observe his physique. I watch in my peripheral vision. The stare is so intense that it almost makes
me
feel uncomfortable. “The fire burned the shirt off your back, did it?”

Ben frowns. “I don’t understand.”

“The fire that took your last life; you are permanently without a shirt, are you not? It must have burned the shirt off your back.”

Ben looked down at his bare torso. His olive skin on his upper body took on a darker shade in the dim lights. As he gazes at his chest, a look of realisation crosses his face. “Oh. Is that why I am shirtless?”

The old angel scoffs. “Wow! They sure rear the new ones dumb.” He shakes his head. “And I thought it was only the yellow one.” He raises his voice slightly as though trying to get the message to sink in. “Unless you have an alter ego — which I wouldn’t put it past someone who is lucky enough to look like you — then you probably died in a fire. I am giving you the benefit of the doubt, so that would mean you came without a shirt.”

Ben casts a quick glance at me. I shrug my shoulders. It was always a wonder why he never had a shirt. He wasn’t the sort of personality to flaunt it. Instead, he always acted as though it was never a big deal.
 

“Well, enough chit chat.” He points to me. “You — stay here.” He then points to Ben. “You — follow.” He heads for the door.
 

Ben remains and looks confused between Zacharias and me. “Aren’t we training together?”

“That is how you have always trained, is it not?”

We both nod together while he looks at us.
 

“Well, I’m shaking things up, so hopefully you blast away the baby brains and use your real ones.” He turns back to Ben, “Come on, we only have a month. Remember?”

Ben follows, and that leaves me alone. As I study the stone walls and ceiling, I wonder if this is where Zacharias has spent all of his hours for the last — who knows how many years — never going outside and never socialising with people. It would have been a very lonely life in such a dark place without windows. I stroll around the strange room. There is not a table or chair in sight. The heels of my boots click on the floor as I walk toward the wall and touch it, feeling the coldness seep into my skin.
What job does Zacharias have here — spending so much time in this dingy room? What is so important that he needs to be here?
 

Soft scuffling sounds approach down the corridor, and I make my way back to my initial place. Waiting, I watch the entrance of the room. Soon the cranky face appears in the doorway, his black monk uniform swishing around his calves. “Well, come on then,” he says after I stand motionless, observing him. His voice is still as gruff as when we met him.
 

I eyeball him curiously. “Where are we going and where are the others?” I ask as I take a hesitant step toward him. If it weren’t for Archangel Michael bringing us here, I wouldn’t be following this cranky character anywhere. He could easily be an angel serial killer.

Shaking his head, he grumbles, “Do you not listen? How am I supposed to train you if you do not listen? As I said to the boy, they are in training as you will be once you follow me and do as you’re told.”
 

He walks away, and I follow. The curiosity of where Cindy and Ben are, is itching me. I know he is not going to tell me, but I ask anyway, “When will I see Cindy and Ben again?” I have caught up with him and walk just behind him. I notice that he is only a little taller than me. Perhaps, the older they get, angels shrink like humans do. From the back, I am finding it hard not to stare at his wings. Besides being covered in dust, they are not the majestic wings that I have seen on all the other angels, even the fledglings. They seem stunted somehow.
 

He doesn’t turn to look at me when he answers. “You will see your companions once you are all ready.”

We pass several doors down the corridor. After travelling a fair way, we reach another door, and he stops in front.
 

“Who is training us?” I ask. After being ignored, I ask again, “If we are all being separated, who is instructing us?”
 

He opens the door — looking inside, all I see is a replica of the room we have just left, only several times smaller. Puzzled, I turn to look at him.
 

“Get in,” he barks.

Looking at the cold, empty room, I am beginning to worry. “Where is my trainer?”

He rolls his eyes. “Get in,” he repeats.
 

Doing as instructed, I walk inside and look around. There is definitely no one hiding in the room.
What is he planning with us?
“Where is my trainer?” I ask again.

“In your room,” he snaps as he begins to close the door. “You are your trainer.”

I frown.
What good is that going to do? We are not able to train ourselves or else we wouldn’t be here.
“I thought you were teaching us,” I yell through the slit as the door closes. My answer is a thud unaccompanied with an angel voice. I cross my arms.
How rude!
I place my hands on my hips and stare at the back of the closed door.
 

After deciding he is definitely not coming back to answer my question I peer around the room. The room is dark although I can still see with my angel vision. There are torches on the walls, but they are not lit. My eyes pass over every crack between the stones. There is not a window in sight. I don’t like being cut off from nature. I already miss it. It is almost as bad as floating in the abyss. Staring at the darkened walls; the empty room is wearing on me. I need to get out. It doesn’t matter what the sour angel will say — I need to get out.
 

Determined to see the outside, I walk over to the door. I give it a push — it does not move. I try again, still with no success. No matter how hard I push it to the side, it will not slide across. There is an uncomfortable feeling rising. The ancient angel has locked me in. I bang at the door. It is then I realise that it is a rock — solid and fixed just like the large room door was when Archangel Michael opened it. Focussing, I try to remember what he had done to open the other door. Laying my hand on the cold surface, I will it to open as I push a white light through my hand and into the door. It does not budge. I try again with no success. Frustrated, I kick the door with the side of my shoe.
Is this what happened to Cindy and Ben as well?
Surely he has more planned to do with us than keeping us locked up. Archangel Michael brought us here to be trained not locked in a room by ourselves.
I want to scream at Zacharias yet I am positive this will not do me any good.
 

Again I gaze around the room. I do not like this at all. It is a horrible atmosphere. I stare at the door and wait, hopeful that he will let me out soon. I want to train, or help the innocent not stay here locked away from being useful. Trying to fill in time, I practice some martial arts. When I tire of that, I work on sending pulses out of my hands and onto the door, hoping this will smash the rock, but I can’t even shoot a pulse. Standing firm I close my eyes, and I picture a white pulse shooting out of my hands like I do when I heal — but it does not come. After several attempts, I let out an aggravated groan and slump to the floor tucking my feet under my knees as I sit cross-legged and wait.

- Chapter Six -

I don’t know how long I have been waiting here — it seems like days. The room remains dark with the torches unkindled. It is so quiet. My breathing echoes through the unfurnished room. Not a sound comes from outside. My own footsteps and rustling of feathers are the only sound when I flutter my wings for a stretch or decide to investigate the walls again, hoping I have missed a secret passageway. At times, I run my fingers on each of the chilly stones watching for any movement. Nothing moves or reacts to my touch.
 

With each passing moment, I am feeling more agitated. I want to help people, to stop the demons taking away people's consciences turning them evil. How am I supposed to do that from here?
 

I scream out, “Zacharias!" An answer does not come, so I shout it out again. “Zacharias!” And I wait. I wouldn’t be surprised if the uncouth angel is ignoring me. Unanswered I try another tactic. “Ben! Cindy!” The only sound that greets me is the echo of my calls. I groan and sink to the ground again.
 

Placing my head in my hands, I let my mind wander. My life has certainly turned out differently than I anticipated only a year ago. Although, being my fourth life, I guess it could be said that none of my lives ended how I expected. Despite my situation, I am growing fonder of my new role as an angel. Cindy and Ben’s company and friendship mean the world to me — I miss them terribly.
 

At times though, I can’t help thinking about the people I left behind as humans. I had visited a couple not so long ago, but they wouldn’t even remember it, as I had to wipe their memory. Even Ethan’s memory — my true love for three lives. Ben is quickly growing on me and into my heart, but you cannot forget your first love. Ethan will always hold a special place in my heart. It makes it worse when he looked so sad last time I saw him, and I couldn’t even leave him with the memory that I am okay and an angel. It bothers me that I have to let him mourn as though I am lost forever. A tear trickles down my face. I hate knowing the ones I love are in pain.
 

I think I hear a whisper, but it can’t be. This room confinement must be getting to me. The door hasn’t opened, and there hasn’t been any other sound in the room other than my own. My head remains down, and I continue in my daydream of my past life.

Aurora
. The sound of the whisper seems to be saying my name. I lift my head and look around the room. Dark emptiness greets me.
 

Aurora
. It almost sounds like Ben’s voice. I am definitely hearing things now. I wipe the tear streak from my face. I must be getting too reliant on him every time I get upset about something because now I am hearing him in my head. Even though I know I won’t find anything I still look around the room, hopeful. Nothing. I pull my knees to my chest and rest my arms on top. My eyes fall on my bracelet and the charm of the three angels I made the first day of our missions. I stare at the figures of Ben and Cindy on both sides of my angel and wish I could charm it to flash or heat up every time they were in trouble — like Ben had with his. It is fascinating that each of us has our different natural talents. Right now, it is annoying me that I can do fantastic things on a whim during a battle yet, at this moment, I sit here, stuck in a dingy room, trapped by a bordering psychotic angel.

Aurora
. I jump. That was so clear, almost a typical level of voice. I stand up and look around again. There is no one here in the dark with me especially not Ben. Panic suddenly overcomes me.
Is something wrong with Ben? Is he in trouble? Is that why I can hear him? Is that my warning instead of a flashing charm? He has never been in trouble before. Maybe that is what is happening.
I run to the door and bang on it. “Ben, Ben!” I call out. “Ben, are you okay?” I slap my palm against the defiant surface; it still does not move. “Zacharias. Let me out!” I scream. “Zacharias!”
 

I slam my palm against the cold surface some more. I kick it with my boot and push it hard. I thrust it with my full body, ramming it with my shoulder. Strands of straight brunette hair fly into my face with the impact and a groan escapes my lips with the pain shooting from my shoulder to my spine and up my neck. I pull back and rub my neck — the pain disappears immediately. I place both my hands against the door and let the power within me gather. When I feel a strong current within, I let it loose into the door, visualising it to open. A surge leaves my hands and the door slides. I am so stunned that I stand motionless gawking at the gap. The grinding of stone reaches my ears jerking me back into reality. I dive through the remaining space into the corridor before the door closes. I feel like an escapee, but I don’t let this stop me from yelling out as I run through the passageway.