Chronicles of Stephen BoxSet

by Kenyon T Henry

  “You’re a mess. Who on earth did this to you?”

  Stephen wiped the water from his face and eyes. Water mixed with blood. He looked where the man had stood, as though still seeing him.

  “Anthony Abate.”

  The murmuring stopped. The only sound heard were the drops that continued to fall from surrounding objects. Patty broke through the group and the silence.

  “Are you okay?” She hugged him tight.

  He winced, but it was more than okay.

  “I’m fine. Vincent’s inside. He needs you all more than I do.”

  The group broke apart and filed up the stairs and into the house. Patty lingered a moment before joining them. Only Alistair and Stephen remained outside.

  “What happened?”

  “We fought. Vincent doesn’t know yet. He used his priest abilities to stop mine. I couldn’t communicate with him.”

  “What did he want?”

  “The same thing all the other Fallen seem to want. Me. But we can talk more later. I’m sure Vincent’s hearing about it. He’ll be worried. He has enough on his plate right now.”

  “Agreed.”

  Stephen limped up the stairs with Alistair following close behind. He gave Vincent a quick rundown of what happened, promising a full briefing later. The group inspected the house. They even covered the wine cellar, which Vincent had all but forgotten about. Eventually, when they were done, the civilian authorities arrived to do their part while the Mighty returned to Enclave.

  Chapter 11

  A year ago, when Stephen returned to St. Louis from Chattanooga, he had hoped to once again spend many holidays with Waltz, Uncle Bernie, and Bernard back at the shelter. Now, more than ever, he wished that he had never left home to begin with. Training to fight Anthony kept him so busy, he hadn’t had much time to think about it, until now.

  Alistair returned home to Scotland for Christmas to visit family. Stephen wasn’t convinced, having never heard Alistair mention any family but Charles. He had also caught a glimpse of a meeting concerning Anthony, from Alistair’s mind. Still, he didn’t press the matter either. In the relatively short time that he’d known the Scotsman, he understood there was more to him than they presently knew. But he trusted Alistair enough to leave it alone until the blond-haired, blue-eyed gentleman was ready to share. After all, it was Alistair’s story to share, not Stephen’s.

  Enclave became quieter through the holidays. The trainees had all gone to be with their families. Only a few who had family at Enclave stayed behind. Jax had been one of those few and had made sure to continually check in on Stephen and Vincent. It was a nice gesture. And, although they mostly trained harder and studied long hours, both took a break on Christmas and New Year’s Eve, at Jax’s urging, to join Patty and Shannon at Joe’s living quarters for festivities.

  Christmas and New Year celebrations came and went, causing him to realize he would never again celebrate the holidays the way he once had with his family. Waltz was dead. Bernie was being held as a prisoner in the catacombs. And, Bernard had joined the ranks of Fallen, and had since gone missing. While his new family and friends helped him get through Christmas, the questions surrounding the disappearance of Vincent’s mother, Elizabeth, had a great impact on the group.

  Vincent’s outward appearance and actions changed little. He continued to be odd this way. Stephen, however, caught glimpses into Vincent’s inner workings from time to time, his thoughts, emotions, and struggles. Stephen understood. Losing Waltz had impacted him in ways he never would have thought. Now, Vincent struggled to deal with Elizabeth’s disappearance. No blood had been found in her house, which was all they knew for certain. Vincent feared the worst and became depressed, though most couldn’t tell. His attempts at social interactions all but disappeared. Scout teams of four to six people were going out, looking for any clue as to Elizabeth’s whereabouts. Often, the teams would return short a member or two, with no explanation—only rumors that some had joined Fallen.

  Patty and Shannon spent time with Stephen and Vincent, offering support. Both ladies each had lost a parent before. Still, they often fell short in making things better. How do you assuage the pain of a missing parent? How do you assure a loved one that everything is alright when you know someone is out to kill him? The ladies couldn’t hide their concern any better than Rudolph could hide his nose.

  Now that the new year had come, time arrived for the annual gathering. All Mighty were invited to reconvene at Enclave for a week-long event that reviewed the previous year with renewed hope for the year to come. Each year the David kicked off the event with a speech followed by a short celebration the same day. The next day, the council would announce committees and committee members. The following days would be filled with meetings, plans, discussions, and disagreements before plans would be finalized for the next year. Trainees, however, would participate as observers, with no real vote in the final decisions.

  After the David’s speech, Stephen found it hard to celebrate. All he wanted to do was find his friends and discuss their next steps. However, they were all lost in what seemed an endless sea of people, each wearing the dress garb of their respective classes, which was different than their usual robes of blue, red, and gold. Perhaps, what he really needed to do was spend some time alone to clear his thoughts. He found his way to the Hall of Bloodlines. Stephen hoped some time in his family’s trove would help. Every time he visited the trove, he saw new things and imagined more about what his family must have been like. He stood in the center looking around, wondering which door would open this time.

  “Blessed is the man.”

  Stephen recognized the deep, gentle voice. He didn’t need to turn around. He heard Colvin’s footsteps approach and stop next to him. A door opened to their left.

  Stephen glanced at the door. “You aren’t celebrating with the others?”

  Colvin placed his large hand on Stephen’s shoulder. “There will be time for celebrating later.” He walked toward the opening in the wall. “Walk with me, please. I’d like to show you something.”

  Stephen followed Colvin into Colvin’s family trove. It was a rare thing to be invited into a family’s trove—more of an honor. As he had seen in his own trove, records were kept of the good deeds and bad deeds of its members. Families were often guarded, hoping that the negative parts of their family histories would stay forgotten with time.

  Stephen said nothing upon entering. Colvin pulled up a stool and sat down.

  “Please, look around. Make yourself at home.”

  Colvin had always been personable toward him, more so than others. This offer to freely look around surprised him, yet he didn’t hesitate. It was not so unlike his own trove. It seemed a bit smaller to him, and not quite as full. Still, some of the items fascinated him. This trove also had weapons, books, scrolls, armor, and more. He even saw small sections set aside for comfort, possibly a man-cave and she-shed of sorts.

  As he made his way back to Colvin, he noticed the family tree he had paid little attention to before. It was smaller than his in the beginning, but larger toward the end, which was expected. He saw Colvin’s name.

  “Wait, your mother was Mighty?”

  Colvin nodded.

  “I thought it was rare for a woman to pass on the Mighty bloodline.”

  “It is. But not so rare that I’m special. That’s why Mighty marrying another Mighty is discouraged. That would reduce our numbers over time.”

  That made sense to Stephen. He returned to perusing the family tree.

  His eyes followed the tree back to Colvin’s grandfather, then great-grandfather. As it sunk in, his head jerked back to face Colvin.

  “Taft? Your mother was a Taft?”

  Colvin smiled and nodded back toward the wall with the family tree burned into the rock.

  Stephen’s finger followed the tree frantically and stopped on a name that meant more to him than gold, Layla Isabel Taft. Beside and underneath her name, the wall began to glow re
d, as had happened in his own trove before. Waltz’s name appeared first. Then, his name appeared underneath with an “M” noted beside it.

  “What’s the ‘M’ for?” Stephen asked.

  “It means that your father was also Mighty and that any of your offspring will be found recorded in his bloodline. Should you have children, they will still be recorded in both family lines. Like you, they’ll only have access to your family’s trove. An ‘M’ will appear in your family tree also. If you ever want to see the other family tree, touch your mother’s name and it will appear.”

  Stephen looked back at the names before realizing the significance. “Wait!” He walked over to Colvin, grabbed his hand, and hugged him with his free arm—a bro-hug. “Thank you. I guess this makes us distant cousins!”

  He backed away, happier than he had been in weeks. “Why did you wait so long?”

  “I wanted to get to know you first, the real you. I didn’t want us being family, however distant, to get in the way of what had to be done. Most of us grow up around other Mighty, and get used to having family everywhere. Your training was more important than this, and I didn’t want you to get sidetracked. But seeing how hard the holidays have been on you, this seemed appropriate.”

  Stephen thought for a moment. The holidays had been hard, but not just on him.

  “Yeah. I wish there was something I could do for Vincent.”

  “Actually, someone else is working on that.”

  “Really?”

  Colvin smiled mischievously, but said nothing.

  ****

  Vincent glanced around the trove before pulling up a stool and sitting across from Sam. The two men stared at each other in awkward silence. After a moment, Sam spoke.

  “You don’t want to look around?”

  “Why would I?” Vincent asked. “I have been in my family’s trove. It doesn’t appear to be much different than this one.”

  “You have been in your father’s trove, yes.”

  Vincent didn’t understand the statement. Of course he had been in his father’s trove. Less than ten percent of Mighty with abilities received their gifts from their mother’s bloodline. Still, Sam wasn’t one to waste words.

  Vincent glanced around again. Nothing struck him as so different that warranted his immediate attention. “May I?”

  Sam managed a crooked smile. “Please, do.”

  Vincent approached every problem systematically. And he wasn’t particularly fond of Sam. Vincent found spending time with Sam unpleasant. He walked back toward the entrance and stood for a moment, looking around, hoping this would be over soon. He likely expects it to either be obvious, or easily noticeable from the start. Otherwise, he would have indicated a specific starting point to cut down on the time he’d have to wait.

  Directly in front of the entrance, he saw the family tree. He studied it, looking for any sign as to why to the two of them were in Sam’s family trove together. It didn’t take long.

  “Your family line is shared with Cohen?”

  Sam smiled. “That’s not all.”

  Smile or not, he always appeared stiff and uncomfortable.

  Vincent searched the wall again. “You are descended from Thomas Jefferson.”

  “I am. Keep looking.”

  Vincent didn’t appreciate that it sounded more like an order than request. Still, he continued until he found his mother’s name, which he had already suspected would be listed.

  “Elizabeth Marie Cohen. I suppose that makes us distant cousins.”

  “Very distant. But that’s not important.” Sam sounded less than thrilled. Then again, Vincent knew he never sounded thrilled either.

  He found Sam’s name and the name of Sam’s deceased wife. He also saw that Sam’s father had an “F” listed beside his name, which he had learned meant Fallen. He finally understood that he and Sam had more in common than he realized. What struck him most, however, was that Shannon’s name was not listed.

  He turned slowly toward Sam, confused.

  “I take it you found it, or rather didn’t find it.”

  “She is not your daughter?” Vincent asked, before he had thought about it. “At least, not biologically?”

  Sam continued to look at Vincent, his expression blank. “Correct.” He took a breath and held it for moment before releasing, the first sign of any emotion Vincent witnessed.

  “Twenty years ago, I accepted a mission concerning the Irish Republican Army. We had information that Fallen were greatly influencing their actions. Anastasia and I, along with two others, found our way to Ireland. It didn’t take long to learn that they were indeed influencing the battle. We found them and fought them and the IRA in Belfast. People died. In the end, we defeated Fallen. Many died, unfortunately. That was in ’97. The IRA’s activity greatly decreased after that.”

  Sam appeared to trail off in thought for a moment. Vincent thought he saw a faint tear in the dim light.

  “I found her in the rubble. Ordinarily, we would have turned her over to child services there. But Anastasia sensed that the girl, Shannon, was Mighty. We couldn’t just leave her with ordinary people. We searched for her parents and family, but never found them.”

  “What about the troves?” Vincent stared at Sam. Surely this had crossed others’ minds.

  “Oh, we checked. Over three hundred different family trees. She had never been recorded. She was a child then. Often, parents wait until children either awaken or reach their teens to have children recorded. As she has never awakened, we have no other means of finding her family.”

  “If she had awakened, her name would be on the scroll and she could simply touch each family tree until her name appeared.” Vincent considered how unfortunate it was that Shannon’s lot as Mighty was a soldier, preventing her from finding her lineage.

  “So, we adopted her. My wife, Elyse, loved her as her own from the moment she saw her, and until the moment she passed.”

  Vincent thought for moment. He was glad to know all of this, but didn’t understand why Sam felt the need to share this information with him. “If I may be direct, why are you telling me all this?”

  Sam smiled genuinely. “I prefer direct.” He stood and walked to Vincent. “I know you two are seeing each other. I knew that soon enough you would learn that you and I are family.”

  Before Sam finished, Vincent understood.

  “Shannon and I are not. Is that your point?”

  Sam smiled again. “It is.” Sam walked toward the door and stopped.

  Vincent didn’t understand. Was Sam being nice? He had thought that Sam didn’t like him or Stephen. Had he been wrong?

  “Vincent, you look confused. Allow me to illuminate your mind. You realize that you are often considered awkward, correct?”

  Vincent knew this to be true and nodded.

  “Have you heard others say the same of me?”

  Vincent nodded again. “Is it because we are related?”

  Sam shook his head and then nodded back to the family tree. “It’s because we were both born to a Fallen. We are awkward and different because we struggle internally with the dark lineage our parents left us.” Sam tapped his chest over his heart. “But always remember that it is only ever our choices that define us. Should you ever need help with that, you may speak with me, but I find the Almighty to be the best resource.”

  Sam turned toward the door.

  Vincent called out. “Can I take this to mean that you do like us—Stephen and me—and just do not express yourself as well as others?”

  Sam stopped, but didn’t look back. “No. I’m saying I love my daughter, and she loves you. That’s what matters most.”

  The door shut behind Sam.

  Chapter 12

  January passed, and February brought with it a frigid air that made Stephen wish he had stayed in the south. But had he stayed, he would have been driven mad by his gift before he ever learned to control it. He also would have never learned about Waltz or met Vincent, Patty, Al
istair, Shannon, or any of the Mighty.

  The more he thought about his friends, the more he realized how important they had become to him—Patty being the most important. The emotions he felt from her told him the story of her love. She was scared, often putting on a brave face for his sake. At times, he even sensed she was concerned for him and the life or death choices he would one day be presented with. Still, knowing his past and what was ahead, she stayed by him, caring for him; and, at times, helping to guide him. She was a rock for him, and he couldn’t remember another woman, or person for that matter, who loved him so unconditionally, except for Waltz.

  As he considered his friends, he thought about Shannon. They, too, had grown closer. She was tough and gentle, all at once. And she was attractive. But he loved Patty, and Vincent was his friend. Besides that, Patty had a certain spark that allowed her to see life from a different perspective than Stephen—more joyful. It helped him to be hopeful.

  Perhaps it was this same internal spark that allowed Patty to love Stephen with such passion. Sure, when she was mad, upset, hurt, or simply in a mood, everyone knew it. Equally abundant was her support, adoration, and trust of Stephen through everything. Stephen knew he would never find another like her, which was why he searched his trove for the perfect Valentine gift.

  Stephen remembered going through the trove’s inventory log and seeing some jewelry items listed. After several minutes of walking through the trove, he found a corner where all the jewelry was kept. There were chests and jewelry boxes of varying sizes and shapes. As he searched, he came across all kinds of bracelets, necklaces, rings, earrings, and more. He guessed the gold and gem stones were of the finest quality. Why else would they be here? Stephen could afford anything he wanted, so fine jewelry wasn’t enough. He sought something exquisite. Patty deserved nothing less. If a type of jewelry existed, he had it. Footwear to headwear, he found it all. None suited her.

  He continued the search and found a large and ancient-looking wardrobe chest with inlaid gold accents. Inside, he saw dresses and suits of the finest silk, wool, and linens. The colors were deep and beautiful, with designs and fashions that he guessed to be very old and from many different cultures. Some of the clothes, he quickly passed by. He pushed some dresses aside and noticed a large hole in the back, damage from use over the years. He saw something else behind the wardrobe. He leaned back out and looked at the piece of furniture again. Pushing it aside revealed a large, open archway.