Rex glanced back at Stephen again, lit a cigarette, and turned away again.
****
Stephen paced in the lobby area of the clinic, waiting to hear news concerning Vincent. Anastasia and Cassandra both attended to his wounds while Patty, Shannon, Alistair, and he waited. How long had it been? He glanced at his watch. Only twenty minutes. The others had taken the few unconscious Fallen to the catacombs where they would later be questioned.
Thinking back on the battle, he should have noticed sooner that he hadn’t been the target. As soon as he went after the fire thrower, others should have swarmed him. But, they hadn’t. Why Vincent? If they wanted to get someone close to Stephen, why not Patty? Not that he would want that in any way, it just would’ve made more sense. Unless they knew he’d be on high alert to keep her protected. Plus, the David had committed to keeping her safe.
Perhaps Anthony was to blame. It might have had nothing to do with Stephen. Instead, Vincent’s dad may have designed the whole thing to get at Vincent.
Footsteps approached the doorway. Stephen turned to see Anastasia.
“How is he?” Stephen hastened to ask.
“He’ll be fine,” Anastasia responded in her usual tender voice. “He’s resting. Cassandra is still working on him. They used some type of dark magic to weaken him, but she’ll have him healed in a day or so.”
“Dark magic?” Stephen asked. “I thought magic was the stuff of fairy tales.”
Anastasia smiled. “You still have much to learn, Stephen. When Mighty fall, the connection to the source of our strength, the Almighty, is broken. So continued use of a supernatural ability requires another power source.”
“Satan,” Stephen whispered.
“Ultimately, yes. Directly it could be a link to any evil spirit, just as our Mighty abilities can be a direct link to spirits sent by Him.” She pointed upward. “Like when you met Areli and he provided you a vision.”
“So, he was hit with a Fallen’s ability and this was the result?” Shannon said.
“The physical wounds are healed. He was no doubt beaten severely as he tried to fight back after he had been weakened. Cassandra is now working to make sure that no remnant of the poison that comes from the darkness remains.”
“Can we see him?” Shannon asked.
“Not now. He is sleeping. It will be awhile yet. Cassandra will call you.”
“Thank you, Anastasia. We know he’s in good hands,” Stephen replied.
Anastasia hugged each one before the four walked into the corridor outside the clinic.
“Well,” Alistair said, “she said we’d be called. Would any of ye like to grab a bite? I could use some food.”
“We probably should try to eat something,” Patty offered. Stephen and Shannon agreed.
As they walked down the corridor, Stephen noticed Rex down an adjacent hallway.
“Rex,” he called out. Rex stopped and turned. “I’ll catch up with you all in moment.” Stephen jogged down the hallway to where Rex waited.
“What can I do for ya, kid?” Rex resumed walking, not waiting for an answer.
“I want to know how you did it? How did you stop the flame before it hit us?” Stephen searched Rex’s mind for answers, not waiting for a response. He saw nothing. He could feel only emotions from Rex—confusion mixed with anger.
“I was hoping you could tell me,” the seasoned soldier said.
“The day we met, when I looked inside you, I saw something. There was a part of you that seemed dark. I wanted you to know hope the way I feel it.” Stephen paused for a moment, then continued. “Is that when you noticed a change?”
“Not long after that, yeah. And of all things, a priest. Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited to join your elite club with abilities and all. But a dadgum priest? Why not a warrior, or even a prophet?”
“I don’t choose. I didn’t know I could release an ability, not until recently anyway.”
Rex stopped. “So, I’m not the only one?”
Stephen remained silent, watching Rex as his eyes moved back and forth in thought.
“Shannon,” he barked. “She’s upped her game lately. I knew there was something different. She’s seemed stronger and faster.”
“Rex, you can’t tell anyone. Not even Alistair. Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“One, we don’t know what it means. Two, I don’t think your awakenings are being recorded on the scrolls. And, three . . .” Stephen paused, realizing he had gone too far. But it was too late.
“What’s three, boy?” Rex barked.
“Don’t call me boy.” Stephen puffed his chest out.
Rex backed down. “Fine. What’s three?”
“If the council knows, they might prohibit Shannon and Vincent from seeing each other.”
“Shannon and Vincent?” Rex’s face contorted as though he had just tasted the cafeteria’s day-old corned beef. “That’s an off mix.”
“It surprised me too.” Stephen laughed. “But they make each other happy. I don’t want that messed up for them. They’re both good people.”
Rex cocked his head and raised his eyebrows. “Funny, I got the impression you didn’t care for Shannon too much.”
Stephen grinned, remembering he’d once felt that way. “Aside from the regular beatings, she’s grown on me.”
“The council will know eventually,” Rex replied.
“Probably. But we’ll deal with it then. Right now, there are too many questions that need answers.” Stephen turned, but hesitated. He sensed another emotion—concern. “He’ll be okay. Why don’t you join us in the cafeteria? Anastasia said she’d call us when he’s awake and ready.”
Rex glanced down the hall toward the clinic. “Thanks, but I think I’ll wait here. I’ve never left a brother behind.”
Chapter 16
Stephen watched from above as Vincent looked around him at the mounting number of jackals. Vincent swung his walking stick back and forth, occasionally striking one and sending it backward. It was a futile attempt. Like the head of a Hydra, two more would take its place. Vincent backed up against a wall.
Stephen tried to use his abilities to send the animals away. Nothing. His powers failed him. All he could do was watch as the animals began to pull at his stick, and then clothes. The animals changed shape and soon resembled the cloaked Fallen.
“Stop,” a strong, deep voice cried out.
Stephen watched with anticipated hope as the cloaked figures began to part for a taller man with long salt-and-pepper hair—Anthony. Surely Anthony wouldn’t let harm come to his son.
Thank goodness! Stephen thought. The nightmare was over.
No sooner had he relaxed than Anthony pulled a dagger from his jacket and drove it deep into Vincent’s chest, straight through the heart.
“NOOOOOOO!” Stephen sat up, looking around in the dark, wondering where to strike. His heart pounded, the sound pulsing in his ears.
“Lights,” he said through labored breathing. He looked around, confirming he was still in his compartment and alone. He threw the blankets aside and walked to the display by the door. “Locate Vincent Abbott,” he commanded.
The screen flashed, showing a blip where Stephen knew the clinic to be. “Vincent Abbott’s location is the clinic,” a computer-simulated female voice responded.
“What is Vincent’s status?”
“Vincent’s vitals indicate he is in REM sleep,” the display replied.
“Where is Joe Thompson?”
“Joe is in his living quarters.”
“Wake Joe. Tell him I’m on my way.” Stephen walked over to his dresser, pulled out his Superman pajama bottoms and a tank top, and headed out the door.
Stephen arrived at Joe’s to find him awake and waiting. He reached for Joe’s feelings to discover that Joe was worried.
Stephen entered and sat at the small kitchenette across from Joe, who had already poured them each a cup of coffee. Stephen smiled at the cup, continually ama
zed at how well the blind man could “see.”
“You okay, Joe?”
“Okay?” Joe said. “I suppose that depends on why you woke me up. You had me worried at first. After a moment, I sensed no immediate danger. I wasn’t sure whether to relax or kick your tail when you arrived. Who wakes an old man in the middle of the night without an explanation?”
“Sorry, Joe. I guess a young fool.”
“There is a bit of wisdom there after all.” The old man chuckled. “So, what’s on your mind? A dream, right?”
Stephen blew on his coffee before answering. “Yeah. It was like the one you had of me. Only, I was watching Vincent. Then, the jackals turned to Fallen. That’s when Anthony showed up and stabbed Vincent in the heart.” Stephen paused and sipped his coffee while the old man set his down.
Joe sat, tapping his finger against the rim of his coffee mug for moment.
“What is it, Joe? Is the vision changing? Is Anthony after Vincent now?”
“I don’t believe so. My visions don’t change.” The man snatched Stephen’s hand in his grip, startling Stephen. Joe’s eyes rolled back into his head as before.
Stephen joined Joe in seeing the vision, Joe’s original vision. Everything was the same. A lone wolf, strong and powerful, fighting jackals. Anthony appeared, followed by a flash of light. Then it ended. “So, the vision is still the same . . . and you’re certain I’m the lone wolf?” Stephen asked this more as a rhetorical than a real question.
“Uh-huh,” Joe replied. “Strange that you’re dreaming of it with Vincent though. You used to have nightmares before, right?”
“Yeah, but they were different, very different. But, how can you be certain I’m the wolf?”
Joe smiled before taking a sip of his coffee and setting it back down. His eyes locked on Stephen, and he grinned. Stephen had come to know Joe pretty well, but couldn’t help but feel a little unnerved whenever Joe appeared to look at him with his white eyes.
“You haven’t bonded, have ya?” Joe asked.
“Wha—How did you know?” Stephen thought he was the only one who realized this.
“When a triune is bonded, people tend to bond with others of similar strengths. Abilities get to be shared a little, right?”
Stephen nodded as though Joe could see him.
“If someone that was really strong, or really weak, bonded with someone on a different level, the weaker person can be overloaded. The shared ability might eclipse their natural ability. Alistair and Vincent, they’s powerful, no doubt. But they ain’t on your level.” Joe sipped his coffee again to clear his raspy voice. “I tried to tell ’em, but people don’t want to listen to an old blind man. Somehow, it makes ’em feel weak to take advice from someone that they perceive as handicapped.” Joe sipped his coffee again.
“People, what people?” Stephen said.
“Sam, Anastasia, the trainers. All of them. Well, all except Pastor Buchanan. That’s because he already knew, though. But he agreed to let the council train you. The trainings good for ya. You’ll need it for sure.”
“If I’m not going to bond in a triune, then what? Who is? Vincent and Alistair are bonding, right?” Stephen pushed his cup away.
“Yep, they are. Someone will join them before it’s over too. Don’t know who, but it’ll happen. As for you, I don’t know what’s next. One thing’s for certain. Ain’t none of us ever seen anything like it.”
“How can that happen if I’m dead?”
Joe tapped the rim of his mug again. “Good question. Try not to die.”
“Thanks, Joe. I’ll remember that.” Stephen stood and stretched.
“Stephen, have you talked to Jax this week?” Stephen heard concern in Joe’s voice.
“No. Why?” Stephen made his way to the doorway.
“There’s something that can happen to Mighty. It don’t happen often. Still, a Mighty can fade within the first few years of an awakening.” He stared into his coffee cup. Stephen sensed that what was to follow was hard for Joe to say. “He faded. His warrior abilities are gone. His name’s already faded from the scroll. Jax is takin’ it hard. Will you go see him? I think it’ll do him some good.”
Stephen’s heart melted. Jax looked up to him, and although he didn’t see him as often as he liked, Stephen knew how much Jax longed to join Stephen and the others in the field soon. Jax loved his warrior gifts. “Yeah, Joe. I’ll go see him now.” Stephen glanced at his phone for the time—4:00 a.m., which was still very early. “Think he’ll mind?”
Joe smiled. “I think you could stop by just about any time and that kid would be okay with it.”
****
Jax punched the bag harder, making thumping sounds with each blow. A couple weeks earlier, he would have needed the solid rubber bag used when conditioning warrior skills. Now, the sandbag taunted him as it just swayed, rocking with the rhythm of his strikes. He kicked the bag as hard as he knew how, throwing his hips and torquing all he had into it. The bag held on, as though Jax was no different than your average person. But he was different. At least, he had been.
He slipped in his puddle of sweat, falling to the ground. He wasn’t used to sweating so hard with little productivity in return.
The sound of approaching footsteps echoed in the room. Jax sat up and looked for the source, but couldn’t make out the figure for the sweat in his eyes.
“You all right?”
There was no mistaking Stephen’s voice. Jax jumped to his feet and used his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. “Hey, Stephen. What are you doing here?”
“I couldn’t sleep. I guess I’m not the only one.”
Jax looked at the bag and then back to Stephen. He started to pull his hands free from the gloves, hoping Stephen wouldn’t notice his anxiousness.
“In a hurry?” Stephen said.
Crap! He noticed. “Nah,” he lied.
“Then, how about I look over your form?”
Jax pushed the gloves back on as Stephen walked around to the other side of the bag. Once Stephen had taken his place, Jax started by throwing jabs. He must know. Pop must’ve told him. Jax’s form was the best in his class. There was no reason Stephen would want to check his form, other than to see if he had really lost his gifts.
“Harder,” Stephen said, staring at Jax.
Jax threw punches harder, only the impact felt the same.
“Harder, I said.”
The boy punched again, feeling weak and powerless. He began to sob with each blow. Hold it together, Jax, he told himself.
“Jax, hit the dang bag,” Stephen demanded.
Jax punched and kicked the bag with everything he had until he doubled over, tears falling. “You know, don’t you?”
Stephen said nothing.
“Why are you doing this?”
“You need to let it out. Jax, you’re a great kid, much better than I ever was. But you need to learn to deal with disappointment.”
Jax didn’t look up. He didn’t want Stephen, the person he’d looked up to since he was a child, to see him broken.
Stephen squatted so they were eye to eye. “I learned from Waltz that it’s okay to be angry. But that anger needs an outlet. Physical outlets are good, but you need to talk about it too. You can talk to me. If nothing else, talk to God.” Stephen snickered.
“What’s funny about that?” Jax asked.
“Oh, nothing. I just sound like Waltz.” Stephen smiled and was quiet for a moment. “Tell me about it. What happened?”
Jax threw his gloves on the floor and walked to his duffel bag against the wall to grab a towel. “I don’t know. I’ve just been worried a bit lately. There’s a lot going on, you know?”
Stephen nodded but remained quiet.
“I’ve been so worried about you and this war that’s rumored to come, I didn’t notice my powers fading until they were all but gone. Now, I’m normal. Man, I looked forward to being Mighty. I planned to do great things.” Jax felt his excitement growing as he spoke.
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“I was going to have my first mission soon. It would have been little more than a tagalong. Not now, though . . .”
“Why not? Plenty of Mighty don’t have special abilities. In fact, most don’t,” Stephen said.
Jax looked at him. “For one, I have to start a different training. It’s kind of like support training, I guess. I was basically useless yesterday. Pastor Buchanan protected me and Patty.” Jax’s heart sank, admitting that he felt humiliated to be treated like Patty. He was a warrior and always wanted to be a true Mighty more than anything. “And I was kind of hoping I’d get a chance to see more of what you can do out there. I’ve seen your warrior skills in action. But I get the feeling you can do a fair bit more.”
“You know”—Stephen rubbed his chin and smiled before continuing—“you can still see me use my abilities.”
“How?”
“Right now. I could show you a glimpse of my prophet abilities, if you want.”
“Like you did when you linked us to Pop’s vision?”
“Yeah, kind of like that. But I’d like to share a part of myself with you, something that might help you feel a little better about yourself right now. I feel your hurt and confusion. I’d like to help.”
Jax thought about it for a moment. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to feel better. Sometimes, when life didn’t go the way he planned, he just wanted to let the hurt and sadness wash over him until enough time had passed. But he didn’t want to be rude to Stephen, who had taken the time to come see him. “Sure, I guess.” Jax shrugged. “What do I do?”
“Nothing.” Stephen grinned. “I’ll take it from here.”
Jax immediately felt something, but he wasn’t sure what. Slowly, the confusion, hurt, and even anger subsided as though it was a natural thing. Jax knew it wasn’t though. He tried to hang on to it, but found the feelings become more distant, being replaced with hope. But hope for what?
Jax’s curiosity gave in to this evasive feeling. God’s will for him became stronger in spirit, increasing his faith, his hope in the future, and his ability to overcome. The young man couldn’t explain it, but he had a growing feeling that things would work out. He might never get his powers back, but he trusted that whatever the present held would be for his good.
Chronicles of Stephen BoxSet Page 44
