Shannon and Rex grunted and headed for the door, the trainers not far behind. Stephen laughed only a little and followed while listening to the conversation behind him.
“I do not understand you sometimes. I have heard people say that I am awkward because both my parents were Fallen,” Vincent said to Alistair. “Are your parents Fallen?”
“Yer pulling me leg, right?”
Stephen continued to laugh as they went down the hall toward the main courtyard, where they would depart.
Chapter 9
Two days passed as the team made their way around Charleston, South Carolina, looking for any sign of Fallen and Bernard. A scout team member had learned that Fallen had sent a team to this location looking for someone familiar with the dark arts. On the surface, Charleston seemed an eloquent, southern, coastal city rich in history, culture, and charm. Beneath the surface lay a much darker foundation filled with witchcraft and greed. It was these two things that, mixed, made the city an alluring trap for the fringe elements. The stones that foundation was built upon went back several generations. Charleston was once known for all the church steeples the ships could see from the harbor. And while Charleston once had been a large player in the banking industry of the south, due in part to the harbor’s imports and exports, it also had been a major city for slave trading. This specific industry allowed voodoo and other dark crafts to take root, grow, and thrive, going largely unnoticed. Charleston’s inhabitants were proud of the city’s wealth and rich history, which was why people didn’t talk about the darkness that lived in the shadows of their steeples, in the dark corners and under darker night skies.
The team looked everywhere for any sign of Fallen presence—something or someone that seemed out of place. They checked churches, restaurants, graveyards, and the docks. The business district, residential districts, and even the colleges could be places for members of Fallen to hide in plain sight. They had searched the city, starting from one end and heading toward the bay. They saw evidence of Fallen’s involvement, like most places. But there was no evidence that Fallen were physically present in the city at that time.
Vincent’s training had taught him to feel the spiritual atmosphere around him, feeling good and evil, and differentiating between the two. So anywhere he felt even the slightest change in spiritual temperature, they checked it out.
Alistair had the group stay together. He never said it, but Stephen knew Alistair continued to be concerned about Joe’s vision. Stephen had listened in to Alistair’s thoughts when they were discussing how to proceed. Rex suggested that he and Stephen split from the others and look around to cover more area. It would also make them look less suspicious. All but Alistair thought it made sense. There was only a little arguing about it before the group yielded to Alistair’s plan.
The third day came, and the group awoke and got ready to head out, as they had the day before. Stephen felt that their approach had been wrong. Looking out his hotel window at the Mills house, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched. Just below the wrought-iron French balcony lay historic downtown. A horse-drawn carriage rolled down the street. A couple blocks away, the steeple of St. Philip’s Church rose high into the air. There was no one but the carriage driver in sight. Was his madness returning? He shook the thought off. This felt different than that. But why hadn’t they noticed any Fallen? Then it occurred to him: even if Fallen were presently in the city, why would they show their hand with a full team here to confront them?
Stephen waited for Alistair in the hallway, knowing he would intend to be first in the lobby. If the two were alone, perhaps Alistair would hear him out. He called to him as the Scotsman exited his room.
“Alistair.”
Alistair looked down the hall to Stephen and met him halfway.
“Guid mornin’,” he said in his chipper Scottish accent.
The two stepped onto the elevator together. Stephen waited until the doors closed before he shared his mind.
“We need to split up.”
Alistair’s face turned grim. He didn’t look at Stephen. Instead, his eyes stayed trained on the door.
“You know it’s the right thing to do. I know why you didn’t want to split up.”
“Of course ye do,” Alistair blasted. “I felt ye rummaging inside my heid. I figured you heard me reasoning it out.”
“I understand. I felt your feelings too. I appreciate the concern. But if it’s gonna happen, it’ll happen. It’s what I’ve been training for. I’ll take Rex with me. We’ll be fine. I’ve seen his mind, he’s a good fighter—smart. He’ll look after me.”
Alistair didn’t have time to respond before the doors opened.
“Just consider it before the others come down, please,” Stephen pleaded.
Alistair walked into the lobby, Stephen in tow. A large chandelier hung in the center with a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree couch below it. Large high-back chairs lined the walls, scattered about. The two sat and waited. Over the next fifteen minutes, the other three trickled down, Vincent being the last one to arrive at six a.m. on the dot. Vincent gathered the key cards and took them to the desk to check out.
Shannon tapped Stephen on the arm.
“Vincent looks tired. Did he not sleep well?”
“Not really.” Stephen laughed. “I think he’s been intentionally staying up until I fall asleep.”
“Why would he do that?”
“I think Alistair has him convinced I’ll try to get away from the group.”
“That is not it.” Vincent’s voice came behind them. Neither had noticed him returning from the counter.
The group turned to look at him.
“My father never came around me, even after I left home. I figure he doesn’t want to be around me. My hope is that my presence will keep him from you.”
Alistair stood up from his chair, shaking his head. “You know that’s messed up, right, Vin? I don’t know when to be touched or when to feel sad.”
The group chuckled and everyone stood.
“We better get on with it,” Rex said in his usual gruff voice.
Everyone filed outside and joined Alistair on the sidewalk. Cars lined the side of the street. None, however, were moving on the roads. It was still early, too early for very many people to be out and about. By noon, the city would be filled with tourists and residents going about their usual routines.
“Where to?” Shannon asked, looking at Alistair. She’d trained all of them in combat, at some point or another, including Rex. But she’d never wanted to be a leader. She’d made that known. Besides, without special abilities, she had achieved all she ever would within the Mighty.
Stephen looked at Alistair, giving an upward nod. He knew what went through Alistair’s mind. He felt the reservation. Alistair knew Stephen had been right, but didn’t want to risk putting Stephen in harm’s way more than he would anyone else.
“Rex.” Alistair’s voice hesitated.
Rex and Vincent had been looking around. He turned his attention to Alistair.
“Rex, you’ve led missions. Have you ever had to make a decision you weren’t comfortable with, one that might put someone in a potentially dangerous situation?”
Rex pulled out a stick of gum. Throwing the wrapper on the sidewalk and putting the gum in his mouth, he said, “Every time we go out, we’re in a dangerous situation. The question is, are you trusting yourself or God?”
Stephen felt the weight of Rex’s words hit Alistair. Alistair had been trying to control the situation and suddenly realized he couldn’t. It wasn’t his job to.
“Stephen,” Alistair said, straightening his shoulders. “You and Shannon are a group. We’ll check in every hour and meet up for lunch.”
“Uh, me and Shannon?” Stephen didn’t understand. And, he hadn’t expected it. He figured it would be Rex or Vincent, maybe even Alistair himself. But Shannon?
“Yeah, mukker. She’s experienced, and the only one here that can best you in combat. So
, if it’s a group of two, you’re taking the best with you, or no deal.”
Vincent snickered. Rex even had a look on his face that Stephen could only assume was a smile, kind of. Alistair grinned wide enough that, with some green hair, white face paint, and a little lipstick, would make him a convincing Joker.
Shannon stood looking at Stephen, hands on her hips, much the same way Patty looked whenever he realized he would be wise to choose his next words carefully.
“Okay, then, Shannon it is.” That, unfortunately, was the best he could do on the spot.
She huffed in disapproval.
The two groups split up, not in opposite directions, but keeping at least a few blocks between them. Throughout the morning, Stephen and Shannon talked as they walked around looking for anything out of place. Occasionally they stopped and spoke with locals and visitors, asking questions about troubled areas of town or if anything weird had happened in the past few days. Mostly, they were told ghost stories, which were abundant and popular in Charleston. Stephen got to know more about Shannon as a person, which made her less intimidating. In fact, by lunchtime he had started to see her as a woman and began understanding what Vincent saw in her.
For lunch, they met the others at Fleet’s Landing overlooking the water. Shannon had overheard someone raving about the shrimp and grits. Everyone tried a different seafood dish, and loved it. Except for Rex. He enjoyed the steak.
Alistair’s group had experienced much of the same. The day was looking a lot like the days they had already spent there. Rex even suggested that they cut the trip short and head back to Enclave. Alistair, however, insisted that they stay at least until the end of the night. If nothing else turned up, they’d leave then.
After lunch, the groups agreed to meet around midnight, back at Battery Park, also known as White Point Garden. From there they would all head back to Enclave together. And so, they went back out into the city looking for even the slightest notion that something was out of place.
As far as late autumn evenings went, this day felt about as warm as any Stephen remembered. The humidity saturated the air, making everything feel sticky. It was just as he remembered from his time living in the south, and much different than the chilling cold back in DC or at home in St. Louis. He rolled his sleeves up around his elbows. Shannon appeared even less comfortable in the heat, rolling her short sleeves up to her shoulders.
There were several people still out after the sunset. They passed by a carriage, couples, families, and a couple ghost tours. They had even walked past a wedding as a Shannon caught a bouquet that seemed to come out of nowhere, and quickly threw it back before the photographer could get their picture.
“Sorry, but we aren’t a couple,” Shannon said.
Both laughed the situation off. Yet Stephen felt the awkwardness. For a moment, he pictured what Shannon might look like in a wedding dress, half ready to joke about it. Only, even in his own mind, her long golden hair, high cheekbones, and deep chocolate-colored eyes all wrapped in a wedding gown made him uneasy.
Stephen swallowed. “Let’s head down to Battery Park.”
“Not yet.” Shannon looked at her phone. “It’s still early. We’ve an hour or so before we need to head that way. You anxious to get back to Patty?” Shannon pulled up the bottom of her T-shirt to wipe sweat from her face and neck.
“No,” Stephen replied, realizing he was staring. “Well . . .” Stephen stammered. He looked down the street and pointed. “The park is that way, right?”
Shannon looked, but before she could respond, Stephen started walking. I definitely understand what Vincent sees in her. “Maybe it’s nothing, but I feel like we should head that direction. It’s been awhile since we’ve circled that area.”
Shannon shrugged. “Works for me.”
A few minutes of quiet passed. Stephen talked about the first thing that came to mind. “I was talking with Edge the other day, about history. He told me that the history of the Mighty is sometimes infused with myth. You know, such as how some notable historical figures were Mighty?”
“Yeah. Like Niccolò Machiavelli and General Patton.”
“Right.” Stephen put his hands in his pockets while he walked. “Only, he was telling me that he believes there are Mighty that are also responsible for certain legends.”
“Like what?” Shannon asked.
“Well.” Stephen chuckled. “There was a warrior class Mighty in the thirties that lived in Cleveland, Ohio, around the same time as Shuster and Siegel—the creators of Superman. This warrior, Calvin Kohen, was known for jumping over buildings for fun.”
Shannon laughed. “No way!”
“Seriously. He also believes that the Knights of the Round Table were a group of Mighty that spread north out of Rome, hoping to Christianize the Celts and find a peaceful life away from the Mighty.”
Stephen noticed a younger couple. The man put his arms around the young lady, which seemed to make it awkward for them to walk.
“You know, I’ve heard that before. Sam once told me some of their descendants continued as Knights of the Circle, and still serve—”
“Hey,” Stephen interrupted. “See that couple? Do they look odd to you?” The couple huddled close, despite the heat and humidity. They walked at a fast pace, back toward the city. More than that, something felt wrong.
“Yeah, they do . . .” Shannon’s voice faded as she trotted toward the couple.
Stephen didn’t understand, but followed.
“Excuse me!” Shannon called out as she neared the two, causing the couple to jump. “I’m sorry, but we couldn’t help but notice that you two look like you’re shivering.”
Stephen noticed it now, the shivers and even fog from their breath.
“Ye-e-e-s.” The girl’s teeth chattered.
“We’re heading b-back to the hotel to g-get cleaned up now,” the man added. “We were fine until we got d-down to the park. M-must be from the breeze off the bay and our sweaty c-clothes.”
Shannon agreed. “You’re right. You should put something dry on. You’ll be okay?”
The couple nodded in unison. “We’re staying just up the road,” the girl offered.
Shannon turned down the sidewalk looking toward the park as the couple walked away. Stephen searched their minds. He wanted their unfiltered thoughts. In an instant, he had them.
“Something’s down there; the chills give it away.” He looked at Shannon. “So do their thoughts. It wasn’t the breeze. The breeze coming in is warm. Let’s go.”
“It could be nothing, like they said.” She pulled her phone from her pocket. “I’ll text the others to meet us, just in case.”
Stephen nodded.
Shannon tapped on her phone. A few seconds later, it buzzed.
“They’ll meet us down there, but it’ll take them longer,” she said.
“Let’s get moving, then.”
The two took off down the street at what amounted to a quick jog for Stephen. He glanced over at Shannon to make sure she didn’t fall back. To his surprise, she was matching him step for step. She’s pretty quick for someone without warrior abilities.
They reached the park and looked around. Scattered lights on the streets and filtered glows coming from the row of preserved mansions facing the bay allowed them to see well enough. The two walked through the park toward the other end. Less than a hundred feet in, Stephen stopped.
The night before, Stephen overheard a tour guide explaining that this park was where they had hanged more than twenty pirates nearly three hundred years earlier. It seemed appropriate that this was the spot Fallen might reveal themselves.
“They’re here, Shannon. Get ready.” He looked at her for acknowledgement and back to the park around them. “I know you’re here. I can feel you. I hear all your thoughts,” he said, speaking to the shadows.
Three people stepped from behind the trees. But something was still off. Stephen had heard four distinct thoughts.
“You too, Bernard
.”
A large black man, appearing to be in his late twenties, stepped out from behind a nearby statue and walked up to Stephen, looking down at him.
“Bernard, I locked your power away. You’ll get hurt if you stay.”
Stephen placed his hand on Bernard’s arm. He could feel the conflicting emotions inside the man. He heard Bernard struggling for his own thoughts, but constantly inundated with someone else’s.
Without warning, Bernard’s hand struck Stephen in the chest, sending him flying into the middle of the street. He rolled over to see headlights coming at him. By sheer reflex, he bolted into the air and toward Bernard, who looked to be wiping a trickle of blood from his lip, while Shannon worked to fight the remaining men as hard as she could, which would be harder than they expected.
As Bernard swung for Shannon, Stephen caught his arm, which he then twisted behind Bernard’s back and used to spin the large man into a statue, nearly rattling it off its base. Stephen glanced back over his shoulder, surprised to find that one man lay on the ground, writhing in pain, while Shannon continued fighting the other two.
A fist smashed into Stephen’s ribs, lifting him up off the ground before he fell back down with a thud.
Stephen grabbed his side, wheezing. “That hurt—a lot.” He pushed himself back up forcefully, dodging a knee in the process. “You’ve gotten stronger.” He searched for the answer, but didn’t have to wait.
“Locking my projected self inside my mind gives me the strength of both,” Bernard growled.
Stephen had to find another way to stop him. Simple mind control wouldn’t work. Bernard, or whoever was controlling him, was too strong for that. Stephen jumped over him and wrapped his arm around Bernard’s neck for a choke hold. He knew he couldn’t hold it long. Bernard was too strong for even him. As he felt the pulse in Bernard’s neck, the answer came to him. Stephen needed to share his heart—his compassion—with Bernard.
Stephen focused to break through whatever shield protected Bernard from Stephen’s mind, draining Stephen of strength. When he broke through, he shared his desires with Bernard. Bernard, I know you aren’t yourself. You never meant for any of this. I forgive you. Waltz would too. Come home!
Chronicles of Stephen BoxSet Page 38
