The Taking Read Free Page B

forged with stone.
    I look at the direction the windows and doors are facing; away from the man-made wall. The view must be magnificent from this building through those strange holes in the walls of the cliff face. Despite being in the middle of nowhere, there is an accompanying building built into the mountainside, reinforced with another stone wall. The valley is a beautiful wasteland.
    Archangel Michael lands on a patch of grass near a smaller entrance of the larger building with the three of us following suit.  
    My eyes travel over the buildings and marvel at the simplicity, yet the grandness of it all. “Where are we?” I ask.
    “Tatev Monastery.” Archangel Michael’s voice remains emotionless.  
    Gazing around further, I relish the view of the mountains. “It is beautiful; so isolated and serene.”
    A response comes in the form of a grumble.  
    Ben brushes against my arm sending tingles all over my body. As I look at him, he smiles a cheeky smile, and his eyes travel down to my lips. I hear a whisper; I want to kiss you . It sounds like his voice, yet I can’t help a little frown — his mouth didn’t move. Thinking I am reading too much into his grin, I look away.  
    On my other side, Cindy is facing the countryside and says, “I think it’s gorgeous.”  
    Archangel Michael huffs, “Yes, a perfect place to hide.” He marches toward the building. I notice that his body is not dim so he can’t be in his invisible form. This is unusual. I am sure the archangel would not be careless about being seen. When he is nearly in the entrance, he still hasn’t changed. I worry that he is too caught up in whatever has upset him to remember the simple rule.  
    After turning invisible I try to stay respectful as I say, “Archangel Michael, I don’t know if you realise but you are still in your visible form.”
    He does not turn, but I see the muscles in his jaw pull tighter. I take that as a sign he is upset with his mistake, yet he continues to walk into the entrance visible. I notice that Ben and Cindy have dimmed and are both looking at our trainer with frowns on their faces.  
    Ben tries. “Respected leader, you need to turn invisible.”
    Archangel Michael faces us. His face is the old unreadable expression that we knew during our training except it has an irritable streak. “We don’t need to be invisible here.” He strolls inside the small rear entrance.  
    I can see Ben and Cindy's expression mirror my feelings. I shrug my shoulders, and we follow him. Apprehensive, we stay invisible as we walk through the monastery corridors. The coolness from the combination of the solid structure and breeze flowing through the open doors catches us. Large rocks line the walls, and we hear the echo of our shoes on the stone floor bounce off the boundaries of the space.  
    Cindy whispers, “There is a strange angelic presence here. It feels light, like us, yet it is different.” She screws up her nose. “It feels kind of gluggy or sullied.”
    “Any demons?” Ben asks.
    She shakes her head.
    “Good,” he says.
    We walk to the door of a small room. Inside is a wooden table about the size of a sturdy homemade kitchen table. On both sides sit several men in unadorned, black clothing modestly covering their body. They are sitting on long wooden benches lined down the side of the table for seats. Their hair is cut in a similar fashion and length, only differing because of the curl or colour. In front of each one, is a bowl of plain, unappetising food, yet they ate, grateful for the meal quenching their hunger.  
    Archangel Michael stops at their door. His majestic white wings block the open entrance to the small dining room. The look on his face is different than before, he looks relaxed, wearing his gilded Roman warrior chest-plate and skirt that stops above his knees over his long boots. I can hear my heart beat in my ears as I watch. I am waiting for them to panic over the great archangel standing in