“Kids,” the old stranger replied. “They tend to be idealistic.” The man’s voice turned to a childish, mocking tone. “Do good and good things happen. We’re all the same on the inside. Our blood’s the same color.” His voice deepened again. “Bull crap! Strength and a show of force changes things. That’s why we have military and police that spend hours training.”
“What you’re saying,” Charles said, “is survival of the fittest?”
“Kind of,” he replied. “Keep going. You’ll come around soon enough.”
Charles looked up. Now that the man’s face no longer hid in the shadows, he recognized him. His instincts told him to flee at first. But, he didn’t. The man hadn’t been anything like Charles would have expected. There wasn’t a crazy loon standing there. He didn’t sound sadistic or evil. He, like Charles, sounded tired of letting the world walk over him, and opportunity pass him by.
Charles stood up, curious to see if the man knew who he was. Surely, he did. He stuck his hand out. “I’m Charles, Charles Stewart.”
“Stewart?” The man mimicked a bow and raised back up slowly. “I’m honored. It’s not every day I meet royalty.”
“You know who I am, then?” Charles asked.
“I do. You sit on the council of the Mighty.”
“Not anymore,” Charles replied.
“I can’t say I’m sorry to hear that,” the man replied. “Although, I am glad chance was kind enough to cross our paths. I am Gregor Machiavelli, descendant of Niccolò Machiavelli. It’s nice to finally make your acquaintance.”
“As am I,” Charles said.
Although Charles was certain chance had nothing to do with it.
Coming Next
REDEMPTION OF THE MIGHTY
Chronicles of Stephen Book 3
Chapter 1
Stephen stretched toward the sky, still stiff from his deep sleep, as he waited in a hammock outside their cottage for Patty. It had been just over a week, but his stubble seemed too much like a beard now, and his wavy brown hair hung in his eyes. Brushing it aside, he saw the sun had peeked over the treetops behind him, working its way higher into the sky. Even from this distance, he smelled the salty ocean air. Back home in St. Louis—and at Enclave in DC—temperatures would soon enough return to frigid, which made him appreciate all the more the warmth that spread across his body from the sun’s rays.
The honeymoon had given Stephen time away from everything. He had been able to simply enjoy life for the first time since his dad, Waltz, had been killed. He had also given little thought to Elizabeth and Uncle Bernie’s betrayals. Instead, he found that focusing on his new life with Patty reminded him of what he was fighting for—love. It was out of love for all humankind that Stephen knew he would continue to fight once he returned to Enclave.
The screen door to their cottage smacked shut as Patty trudged outside. Despite her beautiful glow and youthful appearance, he didn’t need to read her mind to confirm that she wasn’t happy. She pulled her sunglasses down from the top of her head to rest on her nose while glaring into the trees behind them.
“Stupid monkeys,” she called out. “Why can’t you sleep in?”
Stephen chuckled before catching a glare of his own from Patty. The first day, they’d both thought the early morning ruckus from the monkeys sounded fun and inviting, pulling them out of bed to attempt to see the exotic mammals. After more than a week of early mornings, Patty would rather sleep in.
Stephen grabbed his new bride’s hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles. She managed a small, short-lived grin. “Breakfast before walking on the beach?” he asked.
Patty wasted no time with her reply. “Please, before I kill a monkey.”
They strolled to the restaurant to the dying cadence of monkeys cooing as they began to settle into their trees to rest. Stephen and Patty enjoyed their breakfast, just as they had each morning. From their table, they had a view of the natural wooded buffer that stood between the cottages and beach that ran along the pacific coast. They took turns pointing out exotic-looking birds and scanning the trees for signs of a sloth or monkey. The owner’s dog even made its way over to lay by the rail near them. He seemed more interested in watching the birds and paid little attention to the people around him.
After finishing breakfast, they walked along the path through the woods that led to the beach where surfers had already gathered. Even at the busiest moments, the beach still looked bare compared to most beaches either of them had ever visited. Costa Rica had taken measures to preserve the natural state of much of the country’s coastline. Rich flora and fauna were everywhere. It even covered the top of a large rocky mound that rose twenty feet above the water along the coast, where birds seemed to enjoy gathering.
Looking north to south, Stephen guessed no more than twenty-five people were out on the beach, besides Patty and himself. Patty and Stephen walked north. The farther they walked, the fewer people they saw. Eventually, they were alone. Stephen enjoyed watching Patty—the way her hair shimmered like rubies and her now pinkish-tan skin glistened in the sun. Although she had her hair in a ponytail, the breeze still found free strands of hair to sway across her face. To Stephen, this was paradise, and all he could ever want.
The brown, sandy beach with volcanic rock jutting up here and there was unlike anything he had seen before. Black crabs hid themselves on the black rock, a perfect place to stay safe from the various sea birds that abounded. From a distance, it seemed the rocks were alive. At high tide, he and Patty were surrounded by the crashing waves that pounded against the hardened lava.
Before long, the two found themselves in a completely undisturbed area, where the only evidence of human existence was their own footprints in the sand and the occasional sign warning of dangerous wildlife. A small stream flowed from the forest across the beach and into the river. Just beyond, a rock cliff marked the end of their northbound journey. Birds squawked over head. A few even tempted fate as they landed and walked along a few steps beyond the couple.
Patty squealed, “Stephen, look!” She pointed to some distant rocks across the stream.
Stephen turned to see a crocodile basking in the sun, his dark reptilian skin camouflaged against the black rock. “Beautiful, isn’t it? You don’t see stuff like this back home.”
“Thank heavens,” Patty replied.
Stephen watched for another moment. The sun, the breeze, the ocean air—it was a nice place to sit and relax. The rolling waves nearly drowned out the squawking of gulls and other nearby birds. He looked around, suddenly aware he wasn’t hearing any birds at all. It wasn’t just that. Stephen sensed thought patterns and feelings he couldn’t explain. Something was there. Whoever it was, the mind was out of focus.
Stephen turned to Patty, noticing no birds were visible behind them either on that long, void stretch of beach. Something was definitely wrong. “Patty, are you okay?”
“Yeah. Why?” Patty’s face contorted with confusion.
“Something feels off.” What was it? He sensed danger. “Maybe it’s nothing. Still, let’s head back.” He grabbed her hand, and the two started retracing their footsteps.
They’d barely gone a hundred feet when Patty stopped. “Stephen.” She was staring into the forest. Despite the week of tanning, her face had turned pale.
“What is it?”
“I s-saw something. Large.”
Stephen stepped between her and the forest, watching for movement. He reached out with his mind, looking for signs of anyone else. Someone or something was out there. But the thoughts were distant and wild, as though driven by instinct rather than thought. Hunger? After a moment, he stepped closer.
He glanced back at Patty, who stood motionless at the edge of the surf. He winked and turned his attention back to the foliage he now approached. He leaned into the brush.
“A-ha!” Stephen jumped out of the brush holding a sloth, which seemed to be enjoying its own leafy breakfast. The furry creature gently hooked its arms arou
nd Stephen’s neck and simply sat in his hands.
Patty laughed, which sounded more nervous than happy. “I guess it wasn’t as big as I thought.” She stepped closer, never taking her eyes off the peaceful creature. “Aren’t those usually in trees?” She looked sheepish.
Stephen found her reluctance humorous. “I think so. This one must’ve fallen out. Amazing how he doesn’t seem to mind us. He hasn’t a care in the world.”
Patty looked at him in a way that made him feel like putty. She had walked closer to him. “Although he’s just a harmless little guy, you’re still my hero.” She leaned in and kissed his neck just below his ear.
The sloth reached for Patty and hooked an arm around her neck too.
She grinned at Stephen. “I like this guy.”
“Me too. But we better put him back.”
He exercised gentleness in removing the creature’s arms from around their necks and walked it over to a low-hanging branch. The sloth took hold and pulled itself into the tree.
“Good-bye, Tag-a-long,” Stephen said.
Patty laughed. “You named him? Really?”
“Why not?” Stephen grinned.
Patty took Stephen’s hand in hers, and the two eased their way back toward their cottage, him holding her close to his side. He looked to the sky once more. Perhaps it was the fact that he knew they would soon return to a battle in which Fallen wanted him dead, or maybe it was because the birds were still gone, but he couldn’t shake the feeling they were being watched, a feeling he knew all too well.
****
The newlyweds took time to lounge on the beach and enjoy the sun’s warmth. Stephen looked to the sky, still curious about the lack of birds. A few miles off and into the ocean, a storm was brewing, sending larger than usual waves crashing to the shore. Strong winds were also beginning to blow. Stephen lowered his gaze to the horizon to watch some surfers. The skill with which they maneuvered their boards through the water while being chased by waves impressed Stephen. He had been tempted to give it a go, but didn’t want to leave Patty alone on their honeymoon. Plus, he didn’t know the first thing about surfing.
Even though the western sky filled with rolling clouds, the sun was high above and seemed to command that the clouds keep their distance. Patty basked in the sun, and the breeze rolling in from the ocean blew the strands of hair back as she lay on a blanket next to him, reading her favorite author, Jane Austen.
I’m a lucky guy. What a beautiful woman! Stephen threw his thought so Patty would hear it.
“Yes, you are,” she replied without looking up from her book. “And don’t you forget it.” She turned a page, grinning. Her eyes remained hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, but Stephen was sure he saw her wink at him.
Stephen looked back out to the ocean. He could sit and watch people surf all day.
A few surfers fell from their boards in near unison as they neared the beach, as opposed to riding the wave all the way in. The mood and atmosphere changed in a heartbeat. In his mind, he heard shouts and screams an instant before people found the breath to vocalize their fear. He realized people were looking at him. No . . . they were looking past him. Patty stood and turned toward the forest, then stumbled backward.
Stephen leaped up to face the woods, wondering what was causing the commotion. His gaze met another set of eyes, but they were not human. Less than twenty feet from him prowled a two-hundred-pound jaguar.
Earlier in the week, while on a cloud-forest excursion through volcano-filled mountain ranges in Northern Costa Rica, they had learned that jaguars were the third largest cat on the planet, prefered wet forests and rainforests, rarely attacked people, and always hunted alone. Seeing the large cat here didn’t make sense to him.
Behind the beast, another cat emerged. This jaguar looked bigger than the first. Both animals opened their mouths and roared a deep throaty sound.
Stephen looked around. People were running down the beach, away from the animals. He felt panic all around him and understood their desire to run, but everything he had ever heard about wild cats told him running was a bad idea and would only encourage the predatory instincts. He was right.
Both cats darted to Stephen’s left. He leaped at them from the side, sending both rolling in the sand. He bounded to his feet to find the animals’ focus had turned. The two humongous cats now roared at him.
Patty called out, “Stephen, be careful.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got this,” he replied, not completely certain that he did.
A cat pounced at him. Stephen ducked underneath the large paws while sidestepping the advance. Grabbing ahold of the cat from the side, he flung the first cat at the second, which jumped out of the way and roared.
He glanced around. The beach had all but cleared. Patty remained at a safe distance, and a handful of onlookers watched from even farther away.
Everything about this attack was the opposite of what Stephen had learned earlier in the week about the cats—wrong habitat, wrong geography, wrong prey, and there were two. But none of that mattered right now. He needed to end this somehow.
He launched himself at the largest cat and wrestled only a moment before spinning around and wrapping his arms around the cat’s neck.
As the other animal sprang toward them, he kicked its snout, sending it tumbling to the side before slinging the cat into the tide.
Stephen looked around. In a dawning realization, he finally understood why this was happening. Someone was directing the cats’ behavior. He remembered sensing something earlier during their walk when they’d come across the cute, gentle sloth. He had sensed animalistic human thoughts.
He tried to break through the thoughts, but found they were too confused to sort through—half human and half animal.
The jaguars didn’t advance, but hesitated.
Stephen glanced at Patty and threw his thought. Someone’s doing this somehow. It’s like their thoughts are mingled. You should get help. If the jaguars split up, someone will get hurt.
Patty darted into the woods in the direction of their cottage. Stephen looked around. He was now alone on the beach, except for the two large cats. He listened with his mind, still hearing the mixture of thoughts—two coming from in front of him and one from behind, all three animalistic.
Turning toward the forest, Stephen ran as fast as he could, knowing the beasts would chase him, but hoping he would reach his destination before they did. He vaulted over the brush, landing well beyond the other side of the tree line, a few feet from a woman covered in tattoos with long black hair and olive skin. He knew she was behind the attack.
Stephen yelled, “Stop!” Verbalizing his thoughts helped him to penetrate the lady’s mind. She shook her head and stumbled away from Stephen.
The jaguars broke through the brush and took stances between Stephen and the stranger. Again, they roared at Stephen, but didn’t move. Why weren’t they advancing? Were they now protecting her?
Stephen listened for her thoughts. Again, he felt the animalistic instincts. But he also sensed fear. But whose? The animals’? Looking between the cats and the woman, he saw fear in their eyes.
Stephen was first to speak. “Why are you doing this? I can sense the fear. So why are you attacking me?”
The jaguars sat on their haunches. No longer did they look fierce, but more like oversized house cats. Stephen took a single step forward, but stopped when he heard an unfriendly purr from the largest cat.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said. “I just want to understand why you’re attacking me.”
The lady walked up and stood between the two felines and patted each on the head. “I needed to test you.”
Stephen shrugged. “Test me? You’re not Fallen?”
The lady sounded nervous, but managed a slight laugh. “No, I’m not Fallen. My name’s Max. These two are Angel and Damian.” She motioned to the smaller cat to the left, then the larger on the right.
“So you’re Mighty?” Stephen asked.
Max ignored him, looking around before speaking to her furred friends. “You can go home. Remember, stay away from people.” Both animals rubbed their heads against her before disappearing into the woods heading north, back toward the volcanic mountain ranges.
Max looked Stephen over, drawing closer to him.
“Mighty, Fallen, what’s the difference?” Max mumbled. “Yes, I’m descended from David’s mighty men. Obviously, I have certain abilities. But I don’t belong to Enclave. I’m not part of their plans. I wouldn’t want to be.”
Stephen knew Mighty were free to live their lives apart from Enclave. Max, however, was the first descendant he had met who wasn’t part of either faction—Mighty or Fallen. Searching her feelings told him she was being truthful. He listened for her thoughts. With the jaguars gone, he found her thoughts were as discernible as any other person’s. He quickly saw the truth.
“You’re an Outcast?”
“What if I am?” Max took a piece of gum from her pocket and popped it in her mouth. She chewed until she was able to blow a large bubble that popped. Then, she chewed some more.
Stephen glared at her, frustrated that they were getting nowhere and annoyed at the popping and chewing sounds. He turned to walk away.
“They have different names for us. I doubt you’ve heard much of us, yet. But when someone disagrees with the Mighty in thought or action and doesn’t yield to the council’s desires, that person is cast out of Enclave. And we aren’t usually allowed back. Basically, we are deprived of our birthright.”
“What do you mean by ‘disagree’? What did you do?”
Max took a deep breath and exhaled. Stephen felt her sadness as she told her story.
“I was walking home one night from my job. I worked at the local zoo. I walked the same path home all the time. One night, I passed a house that was being robbed. I stopped it. It was some kids being stupid. Fallen weren’t involved. We’re not supposed to interfere unless it’s a sanctioned action, or we’re fighting Fallen.”
Chronicles of Stephen BoxSet Page 54
