“How’s your girlfriend doing?”
“She’s good. I was concerned she might not fit in. At the moment, she seems to be fitting in better than me. She spends hours in the library reading up on Mighty history. They let her take a couple classes. She’s soaking it all in. And Pastor Buchanan has gone out of his way to make her feel welcome. Considering he’s the David and all, it says a lot about how much you all care for each other.”
“But?” Edge said.
“I really like her. What if she decides she can’t handle all this? It’s kind of a big deal.”
“I see your point.” Edge nodded. “How’s Vincent?”
“He’s better. In fact, he should have started his combat training this morning too. But I think he’s adjusting well. I have, too, honestly.” Stephen smiled.
A group of preteen girls giggled as they walked past the two men.
“Although I sometimes feel silly sharing classes with kids. Well, I guess the older teenagers aren’t so bad. I connect better with them.” He thought for moment. “Eh. Really, they’re all great kids. They grow on you. Everyone else has been nice enough. Most are inquisitive, but not too intrusive. I still find it hard to concentrate knowing what all’s out there.”
“Yeah, I bet. The kids don’t really understand that yet.”
“That’s a good thing. They still get to be kids.”
Edge was just as friendly and personable in class as he had been when they met, just before Stephen and Vincent went before the council to learn their fates. “Hey, Edge. When we first met, you were so certain that I’d be Mighty, as though you knew. The council tried to keep me out. It was tie vote. I mean, it was a real possibility that I wouldn’t, right?”
Edge nodded.
“Did you know something the others didn’t?”
Edge stopped in the hall. “You don’t know?”
“Know what?” He knew Edge had warrior abilities, so it couldn’t have anything to do with powers. He shrugged.
“I thought someone would have told you.”
“Vincent and I haven’t really had time to talk with anyone outside of class, other than Patty and a few other students.”
Edge started walking again. “My last name’s Buchanan. The David is my pap.”
Stephen stopped walking. He had known there was something familiar about Edge. Now he could see the resemblance. “Pastor Buchanan . . . is your grandfather,” Stephen said aloud, as if saying it made more sense than hearing it.
Edge smiled and started walking again. “Yep. But I don’t flaunt it. We’ve been really close since Dad passed several years back—”
Stephen interrupted. “Fallen?”
“No. Cancer. Anyway, he sometimes tells me stuff that I have to keep quiet. But I figured a little reassurance wouldn’t hurt.”
Stephen stopped at a door on the right. “So, you knew all along that the David would welcome me as Mighty?”
“I had just heard from him that morning. I rushed down to meet you and Vincent. Pap says you’re more special than you realize.”
“I should probably speak with him again.”
Edge patted him on the shoulder. “You will, when the time is right.”
Stephen nodded to the door. “Well, this is me. I know you’re the history teacher, so I mean no offense. But I’m glad I can finally start some real training. I’ve been cramming so much information about Mighty and Fallen, I need this break—this release. It’s been all study and no fun. This should help get me energized again.”
“Combat training, huh?” Edge grinned.
“Yeah, Vincent should be in there now. I thought I’d stop in a little early to catch the end of his session.” Stephen chuckled, thinking about Vincent trying to fight. “Wanna join me?”
“Nah, I need to go to the library. But let me know how it goes.” He patted Stephen on the back and continued down the hall.
Stephen tapped the emblem of a sword on the wall next to him. The door opened. He walked inside and immediately heard grunting, followed by what sounded to him like pads smacking. He stood in a small observation area. Several feet in front of him, the room opened into a larger, mat-covered training room. Dummies and punching bags lined one wall. Another held various weapons. In the middle, a very tired and sweaty Vincent waved, just as he got clobbered in the head by a smaller Asian man.
Stephen winced as Vincent fell to the floor.
“I think that’s enough.”
Stephen looked around the corner to see Shannon standing just inside the training room.
“Vincent, who were you waving at?” She turned toward Stephen. “Oh.”
Stephen chuckled as Shannon walked out to help the Asian man lift Vincent to his feet.
“Do-Yeong, you were supposed to go easy on him,” she snapped.
“I was. He was doing well until he lost focus.”
“It’s okay, Shannon.” Vincent stood and walked in Stephen’s direction. “Mr. Kim is correct. I should have stayed in the fight.”
Vincent pulled up a chair next to Stephen and took off his gloves, helmet, and chest protector. Stephen looked Vincent over from head to toe. He had never seen Vincent covered in sweat. He noted a small spatter of blood on his red training clothes. The white trim made the blood more obvious. Vincent’s jet-black hair dripped with sweat, as did his neatly trimmed goatee.
“You need to make sure you drink lots of water,” Stephen said.
Vincent nodded toward the far end of the observation area at a gallon jug of water sitting with his walking stick, which Stephen had given him as a gift, and duffel bag.
“Yeah, that should do it.” Stephen chuckled.
Based on Vincent’s labored breathing, the training session looked to be a good cardio workout. But Stephen didn’t expect it to be more than that. His ability to read others’ thoughts had proven to give him an edge in past fights.
Vincent grunted and winced as he continued to take off his sparring equipment. He smelled musty, or perhaps it was the room. “Stephen, I’m Do-Yeong Kim.” The Asian man on the mat, also dressed in red, stepped into the observation room. He looked young, despite his salt-and-pepper hair. “I’m one of the combat instructors.”
Stephen knew little about many of the Mighty at this point, but he knew a red uniform meant Kim was a priest. Reading his mind wouldn’t likely be possible. Stephen shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Kim pointed at a doorway connected to the observation room. “That’s the men’s locker room. Just inside, you’ll find a change of clothes and sparring gear. Get changed, and I’ll see you back here in a few.”
“Sounds good.” Stephen sped to the locker room where he found a bag with his name on it. A bag with Vincent’s name lay open and empty next to his. Stephen pulled out a set of black training clothes from his own bag and changed. All Mighty knew the three colors associated with the classes: blue for prophets, yellow for warriors, and red for priests. Why black?
Stephen walked over to the sink and looked in the mirror. Why am I nervous? This isn’t a real fight. He wanted to impress people. More than that, he didn’t want to let anyone down. He knew how the anger felt when he fought, how his flesh wanted to take control. It felt good to give in.
When he walked back into the observation room, Vincent sat alone. His sparring gear lay on the floor next to him.
“Good luck,” Vincent grunted through what appeared to be a forced smile.
“Thanks. Are you gonna stay and watch?”
“If you don’t mind, I thought I might for a few minutes.”
Stephen laughed. “You’re still recovering, aren’t you?”
Vincent nodded and took a sip of water from his jug.
“Mr. Cross.”
Stephen turned back to the floor.
“Please take a few minutes to warm up and stretch.” Kim stood in the middle of the mat with Shannon. “I recommend a few laps around the room, some squats, push-ups, and jumping jacks to get your blood flowing. Then,
take a minute to do some stretches, legs, arms, back—stretch it all out.”
Stephen nodded and began jogging around the room as Mr. Kim and Shannon chatted in the center. Stephen tried to listen to her thoughts, hoping to hear something about strategy. It didn’t work. Kim must be guarding Shannon’s mind too.
He continued his exercises until he felt sufficiently loose. He couldn’t help feeling something was wrong. It didn’t make sense to have him do combat training with a priest. Stephen’s warrior abilities alone would be too much for Kim.
Stephen approached the two still standing in the middle.
Shannon smiled mischievously. “Good luck, Stephen.” She turned and walked toward the outer edge of the mat, near the observation area.
“Are you ready?” Kim asked.
Stephen nodded.
“No questions?”
Stephen thought for moment, and looked toward Vincent before turning back to his instructor. “Yeah. Why am I wearing black?”
“No one is certain which class to put you in just yet. So, I pulled you a black uniform. Honestly, I’m jealous. I’m not partial to red.” Mr. Kim smiled and paused before continuing. “Anything else?”
Stephen shook his head.
He had barely gotten the word out before Kim’s fist smacked the side of his helmet. Stephen jumped back. He had tried to evade it, but was too slow. How? The strike wasn’t hard, but it got his attention. He heard snickers coming from the observation area. He maneuvered so that he could see both Vincent and Shannon without losing sight of Kim. He shrugged and they laughed more.
“Very good, Stephen. You didn’t turn your head to look at them. You changed your line of sight instead.”
Stephen swung. He felt slow and weak. What was happening? Kim parried his punch and the battle began. They went back and forth with punches and kicks. Both landed and missed their fair share of strikes. Stephen, however, felt as though he improved as the match went on. Still, it did little to help his now bruised ego. The argument could be made that Kim was beginning to tire, having already sparred Vincent.
Kim lunged at Stephen, throwing a punch at his head. Stephen, in anticipation, jumped into the air and connected with a spinning side kick, which launched Kim several feet backward, landing him on his side. For the first time in the match, Stephen smiled. He tried not to enjoy it, but it was hard. He watched as Kim struggled to his feet. As Stephen stepped forward, Kim held up his hand.
“I’m done,” Kim said. “You’re as good as they said, and tough too.”
“Thanks,” Stephen said half-heartedly.
“Seriously, I stopped pulling punches almost immediately.”
Stephen reached up and wiped a trickle of blood from his nose, then smiled. “I noticed.”
Kim walked over to him. “Then why do I get the impression you aren’t happy with your performance?”
“I’m usually much faster and stronger than this. Something’s off. I think I’m sick.”
Laughter came from the observation area. The two men turned their attention toward Shannon and Vincent.
“Why are they laughing?”
Kim sighed. “I’m guessing it’s because they didn’t tell you about the combat room.”
Stephen looked at his instructor, confused. “What about it?”
“It neutralizes abilities to allow better focus on combat training and techniques.”
“What?” Stephen asked, dumbstruck.
He turned back toward the observation area to see Shannon walking toward him on the mat. She unzipped her hoodie. She wore black training clothes underneath.
“Sorry, Stephen,” Shannon offered. “I couldn’t resist. Today is when we evaluate your skill level. I wanted to see your true skill level, no powers.”
“Well, then,” Stephen said with slight agitation. “How’d I do?”
“Well, you passed the intermediate level.”
Stephen looked at Kim. “You’re intermediate?”
Kim bowed modestly and smiled at Stephen. Then he nodded toward Shannon. “You’ll enjoy this one.”
Stephen wasn’t sure if Kim made that remark to him or Shannon. He looked back at Shannon in time to see her foot, just before it smacked into the side of his head. He heard ringing as he struggled to stay on his feet, staggering around. He shook his head, an effort to compose himself.
Kim walked over to Vincent and called back to Shannon and Stephen. “We’ll leave you two to train. Good luck!”
“Thanks!” Stephen called out. He looked back at Shannon. “I have to fight you?”
“You don’t have to. It’ll be more fun if you do though.” Shannon smiled. Stephen felt nervous once more, as the ringing faded away. He cautiously approached her, and the fight resumed.
Chapter 2
The fog on the mirror made it hard for Stephen to see. No matter how many times he wiped it away with his towel, it fogged right back up. Still, the shiner around his left eye appeared obvious enough, even through the fogged-up glass. His shaggy brown hair wasn’t quite long enough to cover it up. His swollen bottom lip made the cut on it more obvious. He had an abrasion on his right cheekbone. He dared not count the bruises on his body.
“Eh.” He pulled away after dabbing his blackened eye with a towel. The physical discomfort felt bad enough. His pride, however, had suffered a harder blow. How could he ever live it down? He had been beaten by a girl.
Stephen slammed his fist on the counter, leaving a deep and crackled impression next to the sink. Calm down. Although he had been controlling his abilities well enough, he still feared that the madness that drove him back to Waltz—the memories and voices of all those whose minds he had forced his way into—might return. He splashed some water on his face before drying off and putting on clean clothes. Aches and pains settled over his body, causing his movements to be tentative.
Just as he eased down on the bed to relax and unwind, someone knocked on the door. Really? He slowly got up and made his way to the door, hoping for some good news on the other side. Stephen opened the door to his temporary compartment. Patty stood grinning, as though she already knew about his defeat. Still, it was Patty, which was good news.
“Hey, babe,” she said as she brushed his wet hair away from his left eye. “You okay?”
She didn’t sound concerned as much as patronizing.
Stephen pulled away and grabbed her hand to hold it. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He paused while Patty kissed his injured eye. “So, news travels fast.”
“Yes, it does.”
“Well, she’s good. I guess I never knew just how much my powers helped me.”
“Stephen, don’t be hard on yourself. Shannon, Mr. Kim, the other Mighty, they’ve all had training. This was a combat training assessment. Only a few of us who know how big your ego can be found it funny. Everyone else seems to be impressed with how well you did.”
“I guess,” Stephen replied. “I just don’t understand. She said that she occasionally trained people in combat. I really didn’t expect her to be that good . . . and brutal.”
Patty smirked. “Because she’s a girl?”
“Hold up, Patty.” Stephen responded with haste, knowing hesitation could send the conversation sideways in a hurry. “You know I’m not like that. She just doesn’t look the part is all.”
“I know.” Patty winked. “I just like to see you squirm.”
“As do I.” Vincent walked in the door. He looked better than Stephen, but not much. His nose was bruised with some darkening around his left eye.
“Just be glad you didn’t have to fight Shannon,” Stephen said.
Patty giggled, glancing quickly at Vincent and then away.
“What was that?” Stephen asked, looking at both of them.
“What?” the two replied in near unison.
“Something’s up.”
The two remained silent.
“Come on! I can’t even read you two . . .” Stephen debated in his head only a moment. He could read Patty, but
had promised not to. “Really?”
“Well, I am hungry. I worked up an appetite earlier. I figured you had too.” Vincent looked at Stephen. “Would you two like to get a bite in the mess hall?”
“We’d love to,” Patty said in a chipper voice, taking Stephen by the arm.
Stephen knew when to give in. Patty was probably the most stubborn person he had ever come across, other than himself. “Yeah,” he said half-heartedly. “I’m hungry. Let’s go.”
The trio navigated the halls a little easier each day. They had yet to venture through all the underground tunnels and hidden places. But they knew their way around well enough. Meals were about the only time the three could get together. Patty studied what she was allowed to learn of the Mighty and continued to manage the operations for the warehousing division of Stephen’s company—Stockton Family Holdings, LLC, back in St. Louis. Stephen spent what spare moments he had checking in with the head of the various subsidiaries to make sure the business continued to thrive. Some days, the three didn’t see each other at all. Still, he hoped that once this impending battle was over, they could return to their somewhat normal lives.
As they walked down the hall, they passed more kids. Some seemed so small. The older teens blended in with the adults much easier, though Stephen could feel the difference just being around them. Their thoughts and emotions were much more sporadic, less controlled.
Stephen heard footsteps rushing up from behind. He turned to see a darker_skinned, lean young man running toward them.
“Hey, guys!” the boy called out as he slowed his pace, drawing near.
Stephen gave the teen a fist bump. “What’s up, Jax?”
Vincent stepped forward to give the young man a fist bump. “Hello, Jax.” No matter what Vincent did, he always looked awkward and rigid.
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