Chronicles of Stephen BoxSet

by Kenyon T Henry

  When the vision was gone, Stephen realized he still lay on the floor, writhing in pain. Only now, he believed he had the power to stop it.

  Enough! Stephen sent a shockwave of mental energy out in every direction. The darkness ceased, and the room once again was dimly lit by the light coming through the window. His muscles and joints ached. However, the immense pain had subsided. He jumped to his feet, wincing and fighting against the pain and numbness that lingered in his body.

  “I knew I was right about how powerful you are. It’s a shame you won’t join us. You have to die now.” Light entered through a side door behind Bernard as someone ran out. The door closed.

  Another Bernard began to materialize in front of Stephen, next to the original.

  “That’s a neat trick. Where’d you learn that? Star Trek?” Stephen listened for thoughts and felt for emotions. Only Bernard remained. “Ah, it appears your friend left Bernard. I think he’s scared.”

  Both Bernards approached Stephen. “I’m sorry, Stephen,” they said in unison.

  “I am too. I still love you, you know.”

  One of the Bernards swung at Stephen, who easily evaded. Back and forth, Stephen fought with them. One sent him flying into the Elvira booth. He jumped up and sent a Bernard soaring into a Superman display. He tried to take control of one, but didn’t have enough time to focus. The faster he was, the harder they punched and kicked.

  Bernard kicked Stephen into an Adam West Batman replica.

  Looking at the mannequin, he said, “You know you got me started in all this, right?”

  He dodged a flying object just in time for it to crash into Robin.

  This has to end.

  Stephen ran toward a Bernard, jumping and kicking him square in the chest, which sent the Bernard into the other one. He finally had the opportunity he needed. He began focusing and found Bernard’s trigger. One of them disappeared.

  Bernard looked around frantically. “What happened? Where did he go?”

  “He’s where he belongs, right back in your head. And you can’t let him back out.”

  Bernard ran. Stephen felt his fear. He chased after Bernard, who bounded over the fence. Stephen followed. Bernard looked back as he got into the passenger seat of a black car. Stephen noticed the surprise on his face and heard it in his thoughts.

  How in the world . . . ? The car sped away.

  Although Bernard had escaped, Stephen felt pleased. He had faced Bernard and uncovered the truth, that there was a puppet master. Most important of all, he’d made a choice. Even though there was new weight on his shoulders, the timed fate of man, he managed to find relief in a new sense of purpose. Waltz’s death, as important as it was, appeared such a small thing when compared with the path ahead. Waltz would be proud.

  Stephen walked to the truck and headed back to Saint Louis. He sent Patty a text, telling her he had found Bernard and would explain everything when he returned. Construction was on the other side of the road now, so he expected to be back for a late dinner. The three-hour drive home gave him time to process everything.

  Alistair had returned to the Mighty to report what had happened and that Bernard had become one of the Fallen. Stephen sent him a text, telling him he had faced Bernard and was fine.

  As he thought about the events that had transpired, he began to realize that he had been more successful than he initially thought. In his burst of mental energy, he had received an echo back from the mind of the Voice. He echoed fear and pain. Whoever it was had become afraid of Stephen and had even been hurt by him.

  As for Bernard, Stephen had locked the gift of projection away inside Bernard’s head, in a deep hidden place that he was certain Bernard himself would not think to look—Bernard’s first memory of Stephen.

  Chapter 21

  Stephen drove back to his apartment. A beautiful array of colors filled the sky, leading the way back to Saint Louis. The drive was much better going back, even though he was sore all over.

  He thought about Bernard and the voice, as well as Areli and the vision he had been shown. Everything Waltz had tried to teach him was true. And he began to understand being one of the Mighty would not be enough to stop the army of the Fallen. The battle starts with what the individual man encountered each and every day. That was what Waltz worked so hard to teach Stephen the last few months he was alive.

  Stephen limped up the stairs and into his apartment. To his amazement, Patty, Vincent, Alistair, Sam, and Anastasia sat on the couch, all looking at him as he walked through the doorway.

  “Hey.” Patty ran to him and kissed him. “I’m glad you’re back. I was worried.”

  “Is it over?” Vincent asked as he limped his way to Stephen.

  “Yes, and no. I’ll explain in a moment.” He looked at Alistair. “How did you beat me here? You had just left town.”

  Alistair smiled. “Ye can’t guess?”

  “Your visions, right?”

  Alistair only grinned.

  “And you brought a couple of familiar faces. I thought it wasn’t your secret to tell.”

  “They didn’t come with me!” Alistair replied.

  Sam spoke up. “Stephen, we are aware every time a choice is made by someone who becomes one of the Mighty. Imagine our surprise when we saw Alistair already here. I can only surmise he has been aware of your gifts.”

  Stephen noted that Sam looked just as uptight and uncomfortable as he had at Waltz’s funeral. “By we, you mean you two or the entire council?”

  “The entire council,” Anastasia chimed in. Her voice continued to be as gentle as Stephen remembered. Her presence added an air of elegance to the conversation. “But we will talk about this and more later. Sam and I are here on behalf of the council, to welcome you to the family and answer questions when you are ready. There is a process of sorts.”

  Holding Patty’s hand, Stephen made his way over and pulled up a couple of chairs for himself and Patty. She squeezed his hand and gave him a look of concern. Her thoughts were on Stephen and his well-being, nothing else. I’m good, Beautiful. She smiled back and nodded.

  “It appears we have matching limps,” Vincent joked. “Care to use my cane?”

  “I’m good.” Stephen eased onto the chair.

  “We could wait somewhere else and give you a moment with your friends.” Sam offered, though Stephen could tell that was not what he wanted.

  “But,” Anastasia said with a smile, “we would appreciate staying to hear what happened.”

  “I don’t have a problem with you staying,” Stephen responded quickly. He didn’t want to hide from them anymore.

  Sam got straight to the point. “In that case, Mr. Cross, what happened?”

  “That’s a good question.” Stephen thought for a moment. On the way home, he had processed everything that happened in Metropolis. He learned some things. Yet, he had left with more questions. “I made a choice and have questions. I’m guessing you want more details than that though.”

  Sam and the others sat quietly. Vincent looked uncomfortable, shifting in his seat. Did they know about Vincent? He searched Vincent’s mind. He couldn’t get in at first. Then, the wall fell. Immediately, he knew Vincent had let the wall down.

  Do they know about you?

  Vincent replied, I don’t know.

  Stephen decided to tell the tale without giving anything away concerning Vincent. “Where would you like me to start?”

  Sam started to speak, but Anastasia interrupted. “To be fair to everyone else, let’s start with what happened while you were gone. We can discuss any questions we have later.”

  “I followed Bernard to Metropolis, Illinois,” Stephen began.

  “Bernard?” Sam looked at Anastasia. “At least now we know why he’s been missing.”

  “Wait, you didn’t know about Bernard?” Stephen found this curious.

  “No. We only recently began wondering why he had gone missing. It’s not unusual for our people to be away for a while, especially if th
ey aren’t on a mission. They have lives to live. We try not to interfere more than we have to. And, only the council and a few others knew Bernard. His missions were sensitive.”

  Stephen wasn’t sure what to make of this new information, but continued. “You may or may not know that Bernard is . . .was like a brother to me. My hope was that I could save him. Bernie felt Bernard was being controlled by someone else. Turns out, that’s partly true. I found him at a closed museum. Someone got into my head. I only heard his voice. There was so much pain and darkness. I was dying. Somehow, he caused my muscles to stretch to the point that they began tearing. My head was the worst. I’ve never experienced such pain. It was as though I was hurting in every way possible. Worse, I never saw him. He hid in the darkness.”

  “Wait.” Sam looked serious. “Why was he in Metropolis?”

  “We went there together when we were younger. There’s a fifteen-foot Superman. It’s cool. There’s a Superman museum, and—” Stephen saw that no one, except Vincent, appreciated the Superman information. “Anyway, he used it to let me believe he still cared about me like a brother. Maybe inside he still does. I don’t know. My guard was down, and the plan worked. They wanted me to join them. When I refused, the man said the only other choice was to kill me. Everything went dark.” Stephen’s speech slowed as he remembered the incident and began to relive the emotions as well. “The light slowly left the room. I was alone. Feelings of despair and helplessness began to take over. I was angry, which only seemed to help his cause. After I fought with the pain, I began accepting it was over for me.”

  Patty squeezed Stephen’s hand. Realizing how somber he had become, he smiled at her and continued. Knowing she was with him gave him strength.

  “When I realized I couldn’t win, I asked God, Christ, to save me. It was more than a physical need. But as I was dying, I was suddenly aware that I deserved death. I asked God to take my life. I just wanted him to give me a merciful death. Instead, time stopped and light crept into the room. But it continued to grow until I was surrounded by light, which emanated from God’s throne. The pain was gone.”

  Stephen heard a gasp. Looking around, he noticed that the entire room was locked on his words, eyes wide.

  “Ye saw Him?” Alistair asked.

  “Yeah. But I figured that was usual for one of the Mighty.”

  Alistair looked at Sam, who looked at Anastasia. She shook her head slowly. “That’s not the norm.”

  “Well, an angel, Areli, proceeded to show me a vision concerning the Fallen and the Mighty. The Fallen’s actions, if unchecked, would result in the Tribulation. My job—well, our job—is to hold them back, giving people more time to accept Christ. He wants as many people saved as are willing to accept.”

  Stephen got up. Cotton mouth had set in from all the talking. He hobbled to the kitchen to pour a glass of water as he continued.

  “After that, I knew what to do. I sent out a wave of mental energy. It only affected people with gifts nearby, disrupting them. Bernard was the backup plan. We started struggling. I fought two versions of him. He kept me too occupied to use my gift, until I caught a break. I locked his projection ability away. Our gifts are mostly mental, from what I can tell. So I moved his to a different spot inside his mind. He immediately realized what happened and ran.”

  “That’s when he got away, I assume.” Sam sounded certain.

  Stephen took a sip and made his way back to his seat. “Not exactly. I chased him over the fence. I would have caught him too, but he was getting into a car. I could tell there was a man driving it. That’s about all though.”

  He sensed confusion. The feeling came from Anastasia. He looked directly at her. “Why are you confused? What am I missing?” She said nothing. Sam’s facial expression indicated to Stephen that, indeed, something was up. “Look. I don’t mean this as a threat. But you’re hiding something from me. Do either of you know what my gift is?”

  Again, neither said a word. Alistair, however, spoke. “They do not. They know yer powerful. In fact, yer one of the most powerful Mighty any of us has ever known. When someone with a gift gives his or her life to Christ, the council is made aware. And, for a brief moment, they can sense the strength of the individual. I’m not on the council. But I have heard some talk about it.”

  Sam glared at Alistair.

  “What’s the problem? He’s one of the Mighty.”

  Anastasia didn’t look away from Stephen when she spoke. “You know he still has to go before the council.”

  “Yeah, I know. I also know that’s a formality.”

  Vincent and Patty remained quiet, only looking back and forth between the four of them as though watching a doubles tennis match.

  “Look, I won’t hide anything from you about me. I only ask that you do the same. With my gift, I could pluck the information from you. I’d rather not.”

  “Warriors’ abilities, like all others, differ from person to person,” Sam said. “No doubt, you discovered what Bernard’s is. However, all warrior class have some level of speed and strength greater than your average person.” He looked around the room, then back to Stephen. “You shouldn’t have been able to keep step with Bernard unless you are a warrior.”

  “I was right,” Alistair exclaimed. Everyone looked at him.

  “Right about what?” Patty broke her silence.

  “Stephen is a sensitive.” Everyone stared blankly at Alistair, except for Sam and Anastasia.

  “A sensitive?” Patty continued.

  Sam took over. “Sensitives are Mighty who have gifts in two classes. It’s very rare. They have a primary class. The second skill set is muted, not quite as strong as it might be if it was their primary talent.”

  “I’m not certain that’s it, though.” Anastasia leaned forward in her seat. “Stephen, Waltz knew about your gift?”

  Stephen nodded.

  “How did he classify you? Alistair says you’re a prophet class,” she stated.

  “Yes,” he replied.

  “Hmm.” Anastasia looked at Sam. “This is curious. Waltz would understand how to classify someone. Based on what we’ve heard, I’d classify him as warrior. I’m guessing Waltz had passed before he had an opportunity to know the warrior-like gifts. Sam, how about you?”

  “I’d classify him as warrior, indeed.” He looked at Stephen. “I’m guessing there is more to your gift than fighting and running fast.” Sam glanced at Vincent and Patty. “Do we need to have a more private conversation?”

  “Sam,” Anastasia said, “can’t you see how close they all are? Please don’t be rude.” She smiled at Patty.

  Stephen sipped his water to wet his throat. Explaining his gift to Waltz had been so strange not long ago. He found himself having to explain it more and more. Talking about it came much easier now. However, there obviously were some things he hadn’t considered. He had thought he was just fast, not ever considering for a moment that there was more to it. So, instead of trying to explain his gift, he told them of all the recent instances when he had used his gifts, careful to leave nothing out. He started with Waltz teaching him how to control his gifts.

  They learned of his involvement in capturing Matthew and Rebound, and in setting the women free. All of which led to preventing a bombing. All were amazed when he explained how he could actually take control of a person’s body, depending on the person. Everything was made known to them, except for Vincent and Marie. Stephen said nothing of his time with them over the July Fourth weekend.

  No one asked questions. They remained silent the entire time Stephen spoke. Only distant noises in the background broke the silence on occasion. When finished, Stephen waited for a response. At first there was none—only more quiet. They all looked at Anastasia and Sam, who both appeared deep in thought.

  Alistair spoke. “I know I’m not the most experienced here. But it would help to know Stephen’s lineage. Sam, do you think we could figure it out by looking into the genealogical records at the Enclave?” He looke
d at everyone else. “The Enclave is sort of like base for us.”

  “Alistair,” Sam said, “that’s a good idea. We’ll need to sort that out before we can continue this conversation.”

  Anastasia stood. “I apologize. It may seem strange, but we really do need to sort out his lineage before we can continue. There are still many questions that need to be answered.”

  “Waltz raised him,” Patty objected. “Doesn’t that matter?”

  “We mean no offense. And while the council may decide to allow Stephen to take up the line vacated by Waltz’s death, we first need to determine where he came from.”

  “But—” Patty said.

  Stephen gently squeezed her thigh. He turned to face her. “It’s okay, Patty.”

  He took a deep breath. “I know where I come from. Waltz warned me not to tell anyone while the Fallen were still after me. I believe he knew they wanted me. The truth would have only made them want me more.”

  “What truth?” Patty asked.

  Stephen faced the group. “I am the son of Ian Walter Stockton and Layla Isabel Taft.”

  “That’s not possible.” Sam leaned back in his seat. For the first time, Stephen noticed his stoic appearance fade.

  “What’s not possible?” Alistair appeared confused.

  Anastasia walked to the window and looked out toward the city.

  Patty didn’t say a word. Stephen listened for feelings and thoughts from her. She was torn, hurt that she hadn’t been made privy to the truth but understood that there was something larger at play. She was mad, and Stephen knew well enough to tread softly.

  “I should have seen it.” Everyone turned toward the window where Anastasia stood.

  “I’m sorry, but say again?” Sam sat up.

  Anastasia turned to face the group. “I should have realized it, that you were their son—Layla’s and Waltz’s. I knew them both. I remember the night they met. It was Waltz’s birthday. He had retired from service after sacrificing his triune in an attempt to save one of them from being Fallen. Layla retired a few years later. That must have been when she realized she was pregnant. She kept you a secret.”