“Why isn’t it safe? What’s going on?”
“Stephen, when you were attacked, the pain was there because someone was fighting viciously to get into your head but couldn’t. Your power is incredible. Now that you’re learning to control its effect on you—your emotions, your memories, your recall of it—you’ve become a threat and have made yourself known to Fallen somehow. I’ve been able to feel it. They were looking for a way in and couldn’t find it. You’re learning too quickly, and your power is too strong.”
“So, what happened?”
Waltz took a deep breath and slowly let it out before continuing. “Stephen, Patty happened.”
“Wait. Patty? What? You’ve got to be kidding me. What does she—?”
Waltz cut him off. “How does she make you feel?”
“I still don’t—”
“Stephen, answer the question. How does she make you feel?”
“Fine.” Stephen sat for a moment thinking about the question. How does she make me feel? “Happy. Confident. She empowers me and makes me feel like I can do anything. She makes me feel good, not in the sense of just feeling okay but like I’m a good person. She makes me better.”
“Good! Keep going. What else? Was there something new recently? A new feeling? Maybe you just felt it today. When those guys were there, how did you feel?”
“Well, I was confused at first. I guess I was angry.”
Waltz grabbed Stephen’s shoulders. “Stephen, use your recall. Relive the moment, the emotion. I know it’ll hurt. But relive it. It’s important.”
“Okay, Waltz. I trust you.”
Stephen closed his eyes. He could see the inside of the lobby, flowers in one hand, breakfast in the other. He could smell the warm pastry. He began searching for Patty’s thoughts. He felt the confusion. Then . . .
“Fear.” Stephen looked up at Waltz. Tears fell from his eyes. “I was afraid. I’ve never been afraid before, have I? Even as a kid, I don’t ever remember being afraid. She scares me. What if I lose her? What if something happens to her? I love her, Waltz!”
“That’s how they got you. Fear. They used your moment of fear as a means to get in. Fear is a weapon of the Fallen. Stephen, I know you still struggle with believing this stuff. But you must come to accept it. They’ve planted a seed now. They’ll continue to water it by growing that fear, nurturing it. It’ll become the monster you’re afraid of.”
“I still don’t understand.”
“Okay, when they tried attacking you, Fallen wasn’t trying to hurt you. They were trying to get in your head. They were searching for a way to control or manipulate you. But, it didn’t work. Now, they have an in, Patty.”
Stephen threw his arms around Waltz. “We can fight this, right?”
“Yes, son, we can fight this. We will fight this together.” Waltz squeezed Stephen tightly.
“Waltz?” Stephen backed away. “Why did I like it? The moment afterward, I enjoyed it. Why?”
“That’s how they get you. It’s like a drug; it’s addictive. They take something away slowly and begin to replace it with something else, something to fill the void. We will face it though. We’ll get you back on track. But, I need to find some answers first. There’s something off. I need you to be patient, just a while longer. We need to talk more tomorrow, okay?”
Stephen went inside and to bed. He didn’t want to talk to anyone else. He needed rest. It had been a long, rough day. Perhaps tomorrow would be better, brighter. But how long would it take for things to be back to normal. What was normal?
Chapter 7
The next morning, Stephen clicked away on the computer keys. From inside the building, he watched the rain drizzle outside as he considered some of what Waltz had told him about the Mighty and the Fallen. But there had to be more to it. He couldn’t accept that this was all the result of spiritual warfare. And, if it was, what would that make him? Waltz had told him he was one of the Mighty. However, he felt more like a monster than someone fighting for good. Waltz had also indicated the night before that they had more to discuss. Stephen left early to avoid another lecture.
Hoping to learn about the battle between the Mighty and the Fallen—the history, infrastructure, and more—he landed in the library.
Stephen typed his name: Stephen Cross. But nothing came up except for a couple of articles from the paper dating back to middle school, where he had won some academic awards. He tried searching for Waltz under Walter Stockton and found an article concerning the shelter, Bernie, and Waltz. He continued searching by typing “mighty men of David.” It returned scriptural references in 2 Samuel and 1 Chronicles, along with several sermons. Still, nothing he didn’t already know. He saw various sites devoted to explaining who these men were and what could be learned from their exploits—nothing on modern day activities.
Next, Stephen searched “Fallen.” A Denzel Washington movie came up in the search, which he had seen. He scrolled down to find more movies and books. He searched “Fallen” along with scripture and got several references from the Bible, but nothing helped. Then he searched “spiritual possession.” As he scrolled through, he found different theories on the topic, some of which were obvious nonsense, involving aliens from another galaxy.
Several sites showed that possession was acknowledged among many different religions. However, in all cases it was thought to be the work of evil spirits, aliens, or gods. Stephen was certain he wasn’t any of those, though he knew there was evil at work against him. The more he searched, the more aggravated he became.
“Really? Nothing?” He leaned back and scratched his head. “You’d think Google would have found something!” As he watched the rain fall outside the window, a smile crossed his face as he thought back to the day he and Patty had gone to the zoo. A little less than a week ago, his life had been getting better. There had been no more attacks against his mind. The nightmares came less often. His relationship with Waltz and Patty had been flourishing. And, he continued learning to control his abilities in hopes of one day doing something worthwhile with them. However, in just a brief moment he had managed to take two steps backward. He was no longer in Waltz’s good graces. Patty wasn’t safe because of their relationship. And, he hadn’t been able to find out anything else about the Mighty or the Fallen.
There has to be somewhere I can go, besides Waltz. He considered going back to Bernie with questions, but he didn’t, knowing Bernie would only redirect him to Waltz.
A gentleman walked by and laid a small booklet next to him, then walked away. It was literature about a ministry that helped the deaf. It had a cross on the front and came from one of the local churches.
“Sir!” Stephen stood and approached the man as he reached into his pocket. “Are you deaf?”
The man turned to look at Stephen. “No sir. I just volunteer to pass these out.”
“Can I give you a donation?” Stephen pulled out a wad of small bills.
“Sure, thank you!” The man took the money and began putting it into a money bag.
Stephen looked back at the pamphlet and asked, “Do you know if the minister is at the church right now? I mean, does he have office hours during the day?”
“Yes, Pastor Buchanan is there during most of the day. In fact, I’m sure he’s there now if you’d like to speak with him. You usually wouldn’t need an appointment.”
“Thank you!” Stephen shook the man’s hand and ran outside, looking again at the pamphlet. Hmmm, a cross. A choice . . .
Every time Stephen saw a cross, he couldn’t help but think about what Waltz had told him about choices. As much as he might have wanted to, he just couldn’t accept that he would have to make a choice to either follow God, or become Fallen. He had seen so much evil. How could God let evil exist?
Stephen recognized the church. It was just a couple of streets over. He walked briskly in the rain, thankful it was only a slight drizzle. Still, he arrived at the church very wet.
He walked inside the old stone churc
h, looking around for the office. The church sanctuary appeared nice enough but nothing grand like some of the other older churches of Saint Louis. He heard the doors close behind him.
“Can I help you?”
Stephen turned to see a silver-haired man in a stained t-shirt and hole-riddled jeans standing behind him. “Maybe. I’m looking for Father Buchanan.”
The man laughed. “Well, we don’t use the term ‘Father’ here. But I’m Pastor Buchanan.”
Stephen looked the old man up and down again.
“Ah, don’t let these clothes bother you, son. Today’s my work day. I have some ground maintenance to do. I like to work with my hands. It keeps me honest, humble, and fairly active. What can I do for you?”
Stephen walked forward and shook his hand. “I’m sorry. You’re just not what I was expecting. I’m Stephen.”
“Nice to meet you, Stephen. Care to have a seat?”
“Thanks.” Stephen sat next to the preacher in one of the back pews. He thought for moment before deciding just how to proceed. He looked into the pastor’s mind and realized he was a good and honest man. And, despite his appearance, was well educated and accomplished.
“Pastor, I’m curious about something that may or may not have origins in the Bible. It could be more myth or folklore than true religion. I’ve heard about something from a source I trust. But I’m not ready to believe what I’m hearing.”
“Well, that’s not very vague.” Pastor Buchanan laughed.
So did Stephen. “Yeah, I guess it is. I’m not sure I can share more than that.”
“Well, are you afraid you shouldn’t be trusting your source then?”
“It’s not that, sir. I trust him with my life. But he’s older and has always been a little zealous about things. I don’t doubt most of what he’s told me. I’m just trying to find the truth about its origins. I’ve found myself in the middle of a situation of sorts and truthfully don’t know if I want to deal with it.”
“Are you in trouble?” The pastor looked piercingly at Stephen.
“No more than anyone else, I suppose, if what I’ve been told is true. I mean, we all have the same choice to make when it comes to putting faith in God, right?”
The old man smiled. “In a way, I guess so. Is there something specific you want to know about?”
“There is.” Stephen took a deep breath before continuing, hoping he didn’t sound crazy. “What do you know about David’s mighty men?”
“Ah! David’s warriors? Well, let’s see. I believe there were about three hundred or so. Thirty were elite, David’s own guards, if memory serves. It’s been awhile since I studied the topic.” The pastor tapped the rim of his glasses, as if this would help him remember. “Yes, there were three that were mightier than the rest. There was one that was chief of the three. Of course, David was greater in battle than even they were. His bravery, faith in God, and righteousness cause have never been equaled in battle, in my estimation. Is that what you were looking for?”
“Yeah, kind of. Now, what about a group called the Fallen?”
“Let’s see.” The pastor rubbed his forehead this time. Stephen listened in on his thoughts as he sorted through bits of information. Lucifer was fallen. One third of heaven’s angels fell with him. “Well, as for a group, there were the angels of heaven that fell.”
“Did David and his army ever battle fallen angels?”
“Interesting question. Not exactly.”
“Not exactly?” Stephen scooted closer. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I’m sure you know about David and Goliath, as well as the Philistines?”
“Certainly. Goliath was a mighty warrior, a literal giant, over nine feet tall. He was one of the three sons of Anak, descended from the Anakim.”
“Very good.” Pastor Buchanan looked surprised. “Do you know where the Anakim came from?”
Stephen searched through his own thoughts for the answer. He knew it must be in there. With so much on his mind, he found it hard to concentrate. “I feel as though it goes back to the flood of Noah’s time.”
“You are a smart one. In those days, the Sons of God left heaven and took the daughters of man and had children. As I’m sure you would agree, they found women to be beautiful. A superior race was born, warriors of renown. However, man became full of himself and forgot God. Those Sons of God were Raphaim or angels. Many believe they were fallen angels.”
“Okay. Strange question.” Stephen felt the need to warn the pastor. “Could these two groups still exist?”
“You mean like giants and warriors?” The expression on the old man’s face was one of confusion.
“Not exactly. Is it possible that maybe descendants or even other people could have carried on the cause of these two groups?”
“Well, one group represents evil, the other good. So, I suppose there are many groups out there. But that’s not what you’re asking about, is it?
Stephen shook his head.
Pastor Buchanan remained silent for a moment, then sighed. “You’re referring to two specific groups that still walk the streets.”
Stephen nodded.
“Well, I’ve been a pastor in this area a long time. I’ve worked with the homeless a lot over the years. I’ve heard rumblings here and there about two groups fighting some kind of spiritual war. Once, I even heard those names from a man we were handing out blankets to and was later told by the same man to forget he said them. You’re the first I’ve told. But that is all I’ve heard whispered inside these walls.”
“So, they are out there? They’re real?” Stephen looked at the man, locked his gaze, and read his mind for the answer. But he was unable to get it before the man spoke.
“I know there is good and evil. I know we each fight that battle. I believe that some may be more involved in the fight than others. And, I know that there are people out there that believe these secret groups exist. Do I believe? Well, it doesn’t really matter if I believe. Does it?”
“No, I guess it doesn’t,” Stephen replied. He got up to leave. “Thank you for your time, Pastor.”
“Stephen.” The pastor got up and walked him to the door. “If I was in a group of people like that, I’d want to make the right choices. The weight and consequences of such a group like that, if it exists, could be tremendous for us all.”
“Yes, it would be.” Stephen turned again for the door. He heard the pastor just before the door closed behind him.
“I’ll pray for you, that you make the right choices.”
The door closed, making a hollow, lonely clunk.
Thank you, Pastor. Stephen wasn’t sure if the pastor had received his thought.
He walked home as the rain poured down. Instead of relief, the answers he sought only added weight to his shoulders. It would have been so much easier if this was all just the concoction of an old man and his friend. Instead, he accepted that there was truth to it. He was indeed caught in the middle of a war he did not want, being forced to make a choice concerning a spiritual battle he wasn’t sure he could believe in.
As he walked along, he caught glimpses into the minds of people as he passed by them. He saw cheaters, thieves, and all sorts of would-be sexual deviants. He couldn’t help but wonder if people were worth protecting. Well, he at least knew a few who were worth fighting for. But was he really the person to fight that kind of battle?
As he passed a shop, he glanced in the window and caught an image in his mind. The man on the other side of the window plotted something evil. Stephen saw the images of the man, how he planned to ask the girl across the store out to dinner, in order to slip a little something extra into her drink. His wanted to take her back to a hotel, have his way, and leave her there wondering what had happened, feeling dirty and ashamed.
Not tonight! Stephen projected his thought.
The man’s face changed from satisfaction to confusion as he looked around. He glanced out the window toward Stephen, whose thoughts burrowed deeper into the ma
n’s weak mind.
Come. Stephen planted an image of the man walking outside.
He did just that.
****
The two sat in the hotel room, the same one the man had planned to take the young woman to later. Stephen managed to get the man there by merely directing his path. What he planned to do next would require all his strength and concentration. Stephen intended to take over the man’s body, something he had rarely done. It only worked on the very weak—those whose lack of morals and self-control left them open to just about anything.
Stephen stared into the man’s eyes. Sweat rolled from his forehead as the man’s mind unfolded to him. Everything was there: his past, present, even memories and emotions long forgotten by the man himself. Stephen accessed it all. In an instant, he found himself staring back at his own body as it fell away from him onto the bed he had been sitting on.
He sat for a moment in the man’s body, getting acquainted with it. If felt different from his. The man’s was very slim and lighter than Stephen’s body. He touched the skin of his arm. It seemed like a dream. He knew the body was being touched; he could feel it. But it never felt the same as being touched in his own body.
He looked back at his lifeless shell lying on the bed. This too seemed strange to him. He got up and walked over to it, repositioning his body into the most comfortable position he could. He didn’t want to be stiff later. As he grabbed his arms and legs to move them, he could feel his own body being touched, still connected to it, but weak and vulnerable.
Stephen walked into the bathroom to take a look in the mirror. The man had slick straight brown hair, brown eyes, and high cheekbones. He was what many women might consider attractive, though not as fit as Stephen. He sniffed, detecting a specific scent. Reaching into the inside coat jacket, he found a pack of cigarettes and tossed them in the trash can.
“Those things will kill you, man!” His new voice sounded strange and raspy.
Then, he left for home to speak with Waltz.
He pulled up to the house in a 2004 Camaro, the kind that somewhat resembled a suppository. It was loud and obnoxious, much like the man’s personality. Walking up the steps to the porch, he saw Waltz inside, sitting on the couch talking with one of the tenants. Stephen sat on the bench to wait.
Chronicles of Stephen BoxSet Page 9
