Stronger than both hope and faith, Jax felt loved. For the first time, Jax fully knew how much he meant to Stephen. Perhaps because they were like family, or because Jax had befriended Stephen as soon as Stephen arrived, but the man Jax admired most loved him deeply. Jax imagined it might be how a father loved a son.
Stephen beamed at him. “How do you feel?”
Jax couldn’t hold back a grin. “That is awesome,” he exclaimed. “I feel great, like there’s nothing I can’t do. How long will it last?”
“I don’t know. I think it varies from person to person. It depends on you, since I’m out of your head now.” Stephen walked over to the bag. “Would you mind one more round? I might be able to show you something new.”
Jax nodded and smiled. “Sure. Why not?”
He grabbed his gloves and took his place in front of the bag, his loss of ability all but removed from his mind. It didn’t matter now. He would face his new life with a fresh outlook.
He swung at the bag, feeling a surge of power he had never felt before. Were it not for knowing his powers had faded, he would have guessed he had supernatural warrior abilities again.
He threw a flurry of jabs and punches. It took a moment for him to register that he had ripped the bag in two with a right hook. Stephen stood opposite him, laughing at the sight. Jax looked at the bag and pile of sand spilling onto the floor, then back up to Stephen, and then to the top of the bag that still hung limp.
“You—you did that?” Jax asked.
Stephen shrugged. “Did what? You hit the bag.”
“Huh-uh. That’s not what I meant. You gave me back my powers?”
“I don’t think I can give people powers. But I believe it’s more like releasing what’s already there.”
Stephen barely got the words out before Jax grabbed him a bear hug, tears streaming from his cheeks. Jax didn’t know what to say to thank him. He already owed Stephen so much. But this? “Thank you. Thank you,” he found himself saying over and over. Stephen hugged him back.
“Hey, it’s okay. And don’t thank me. It was the right thing to do.”
Jax backed away. “Stephen, Anthony won’t touch you. I won’t let it happen.” He couldn’t let it happen. Stephen was much too valuable to Mighty, to him.
“Don’t worry about that. We’re taking care of it.” Stephen put his arm around Jax. “But I do need a favor. Don’t tell anyone about this, not right now. Okay?”
Jax knew it would be hard to contain his excitement. Still, how could he refuse the man who had healed him? “You got it.” As Stephen neared the door, Jax couldn’t resist the opportunity to poke fun. “Superman?”
Stephen looked down at his pajamas and smiled. “Of course.”
Chapter 17
As hard as Stephen tried, he couldn’t get back to sleep. He’d be up soon anyways. Knowing he had released some dormant ability in Jax felt good, empowering even. Shannon and Rex had been fortunate happenstance. Jax, on the other hand, was intended. Before he tried, he hadn’t been certain he could restore abilities that had been lost. This brought up new questions. Why do some Mighty have abilities, while others do not? Why do abilities fade? Was he the only one able to restore them? He lay awake staring into the darkness until he simply couldn’t lie there any longer.
Instead, Stephen showered and dressed for the day ahead, even though he was up earlier than usual. All the while, he wanted answers. His abilities continued to grow. Yet he felt he wasn’t reaching his own potential. Something seemed to be holding him back inside. With all that he could see inside others, looking inside himself was not one of his gifts.
He walked down the hall, heading to a familiar place. I hope he’s awake. His hurried steps sounded lonely in the corridors at this hour. Arriving, he touched the console. “Stephen Cross.”
“Please wait,” a computerized female voice replied as the door opened.
Stephen walked inside to see Pastor Buchanan sitting at the table with a mug in his hand. Another mug sat across from him. The old man nodded to the empty seat.
“Should I even ask?” Stephen said.
The old man adjusted the glasses on his face as he chuckled. “Alistair told me last night to expect you this morning.”
Stephen smiled. “Of course he did.” He took his seat. “Crazy mukker,” he mumbled just before sipping his coffee.
“Did Alistair happen to tell you what we would talk about?”
Pastor Buchanan furrowed his brow. “No. Why?”
Stephen knew he had to answer the David, but it would sound strange. “Truthfully, I’m not sure why I’m here. I couldn’t get back to sleep after a nightmare and then going to talk with Joe and, later, Jax. But that’s not why I’m here either.” Stephen sighed. “Maybe I miss Waltz. I could always just talk to him. Sometimes he knew something was going on with me before I did.”
The two sat in the quiet, sipping on their coffees, before the old man spoke. “You know, sometimes it helps to just sit with someone in the silence. Maybe you’re not here to talk.”
Pastor Buchanan’s words didn’t really sink in before Stephen responded. “I just feel out of sorts. There have been a lot of changes in my life. Most good. Patty is great, one of the best things to happen to me. I proposed to her. She didn’t say yes . . . but she didn’t say no either. She didn’t want me proposing because I was concerned I might not get the chance later. Instead, she told me to ask again after I’ve beaten Anthony. Honestly, sometimes it seems too big for me.
“Don’t get me wrong, being Mighty, having a family, I love it. But something’s gnawing at me. I can’t put my finger on it. Vincent’s dad, Elizabeth, Uncle Bernie, Bernard . . . there’s so much going on. If that’s not enough, now they come after Vincent?” Stephen raised his voice and slapped the table. “Why can’t I live a normal life with the woman I love?” Stephen stopped. He could feel himself getting worked up, not unlike he did before Waltz first helped him control his abilities. He looked up at Pastor Buchanan, who played with the rim of his glasses. “Thoughts?” Stephen asked.
“Well, I have to agree with you. There are a lot of strange things going on these days. I can only imagine that things will start to be revealed as we get closer to your vision.”
“You mean Joe’s vision,” Stephen interrupted.
“No, I mean your vision . . . of the coming war.”
“Right. I almost forgot. I’ve been trying to prepare for Anthony and—”
“Stop!” The David slapped his hands on the table.
“What?”
“Stop preparing for Anthony. Everyone’s assuming you die in the vision. Joe’s visions always come true. If Anthony kills you in the vision, then you’re gonna die and there’s nothing you can do.”
“Is that supposed to be reassuring?” Stephen felt Pastor Buchanan’s agitation with the whole situation. Something wasn’t sitting well with him either.
“No. But this is. You’re important to the coming battle. The messenger showed you that much. Which means, it’s probable that you’re there. We didn’t see you die in Joe’s vision. That was assumed. And everyone accepted it a little too easily. That’s not like Joe or Sam. Other things have been odd too. I guess you know now about Jax?”
Stephen nodded.
“It’s not unheard of for a Mighty that has awakened to fade, but it is rare—very rare. I’ve seen it four or five times in my life, until this year. It’s happened to three. And I’m told more seem to be weakening.”
Stephen wasn’t certain it was the right thing to do. Still, he decided to share his recent discovery with his old friend.
“Jax has his powers back.” He watched the David’s facial expression for a reaction.
There was none, at first. Pastor Buchanan picked up his mug and sipped his coffee, his eyes moving back and forth. Stephen thought they might be searching for an answer. After he swallowed, he spoke. “You’re certain?”
Stephen nodded. “I’m certain.”
“Come w
ith me.” The man got up and headed toward the living area, which Stephen had barely noticed before.
As they entered, Stephen noticed several doors encircling the room. He counted more than ten before they went through one of them.
Stephen recognized the new room. He had been there once before with Shannon. Pastor Buchanan approached the middle of the space where the illuminating Scroll of Awakening sat displayed.
“Show me Jackson Thompson,” the old man called out. Nothing happened. “Show me Benjamin Buchanan.” The scroll immediately twirled and stopped at what seemed to be the top of the list of names. Stephen noticed Pastor Buchanan’s name at the very top. “Stephen Cross.” Again, the scroll twirled and whizzed until it neared the bottom and illuminated Stephen’s name. “Jackson Thompson.” The scroll didn’t move.
The David continued to stare at the scroll. “Why do you think his abilities have come back?”
Stephen swallowed. How was he going to explain this? Only the truth would do.
“I gave Jax his abilities back.” It sounded more like a question than a certainty, now that Stephen heard himself say it aloud.
Pastor Buchanan’s eyes shifted from the scroll over to Stephen. “You gave him abilities?”
Stephen realized how arrogant his claim sounded. It was arrogant to think that he gave abilities at will. “That came out wrong. Let me explain. With Jax’s permission, I went inside his mind. He was upset, and I wanted to help. I saw anger, hurt, self-doubt, and even a bit of hatred. I’ve sensed Jax before, in classes. We’ve spent some time together. Those feelings and emotions aren’t like him at all. He’s a confident, loving, compassionate, and bold kid—courageous even. So, that’s what I shared with him.”
“You pushed those things into his mind?” the David asked, sounding inquisitive as he turned toward Stephen.
“No. I don’t push minds of other Mighty. Instead, I allow them to feel those parts of me, really. We all have those things inside us. Sometimes they are just hidden. Once he felt them, his own mind and soul took over. His heart longed to feel those things again, to forget the negative. I guess you could say I jump-started those traits and feelings. As I left his mind, I felt his power returning.” Stephen stopped and waited for the next question that he was sure would follow. And it did.
“Have you done that before?” The David raised an eyebrow.
His hesitation gave him away. He had to tell Pastor Buchanan about Shannon and Rex.
“Shannon and Rex have abilities now.”
Pastor Buchanan’s eyes widened, and he shook his head as though he had walked through a spider web. “Really?” he finally asked with a hint of excitement in his voice. He turned back to the scroll.
“Shannon Jefferson.” The scroll sat still. “Rex Forte.” Again, nothing. “Interesting. Could it be?” He glanced at Stephen and back to the scroll. “End.” The scroll spun until a stretch of sizeable empty space and the bottom edge were all that was visible. The man stretched his thick, wrinkled hands and took hold of the scroll. With a quick jerk, he tore a small section loose and held it in his hands, staring at it as though he was looking at a wondrous thing. In an instant, he threw the empty piece down, next to the original scroll.
Stephen watched as the scrap of page began to move and grow and twist and twirl, until it looked much like the other. He walked over and looked at the scroll. Lines began to appear and grow brighter, forcing him to cover his eyes. The light faded, and Stephen looked down to see three names: Shannon Jefferson, Rex Forte, and Jackson Thompson.
“What the . . .” Stephen stopped and looked at Pastor Buchanan.
Pastor Buchanan continued to look back and forth between to the two pieces of parchment, as though waiting.
“What next?” Stephen asked. “What does it mean?”
“It’s supposed to mean a new David has been crowned.”
“How do we know who it is?”
Pastor Buchanan looked at Stephen. “This is supposed to happen after I’ve chosen a successor and anointed him.”
“Okay, can you tell me? Or do I have to wait?”
“I haven’t chosen one.” He looked back at the parchment. After a moment, he walked over to the other door in the room, which Stephen and Shannon had entered before, and locked it. He rejoined Stephen. “I’m asking that you tell no one what you saw here today, not yet.”
“Okay.” Stephen nodded. “No one, not even Patty.”
“Speaking of Patty,” the old man said, “I need to borrow her. She has a knack for research. It will require that she spend a considerable amount of time away from everyone for a while.”
“I think I can handle that. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled. She wants to do more. Can you tell me what she’ll be doing?”
“The council has approved of her becoming an official historian for the Mighty.” He looked back to the two scrolls. “In the meantime, you best be going. As always, you have a full day ahead.”
Chapter 18
Charles Stewart marched through Enclave’s corridors on his way to Alistair’s quarters. Silently, he had been observing all the recent events. The more he saw, the less he liked. Mighty had always had rules in place governing everything they did. It was those very rules that established order, facilitated their mission to protect against Fallen, and allowed for accountability among the ranks of Mighty. Stephen, however, seemed to challenge those rules more than any other.
Stephen, so they were told, was the key to winning this battle against the Fallen. However, Mighty seemed to be backpedaling since Stephen arrived. Bernie, who was like an uncle to Stephen, had fallen. Bernard, Bernie’s nephew and the childhood best friend to Stephen, had also fallen and was in the wind. The council had voted against Stephen being Mighty. But the David had intervened, though technically, it was his right to do so. The list went on. Patty was brought to Enclave. Elizabeth was missing. A vision of Stephen’s death had their chief arbiter stepping aside to train him personally. All this was unprecedented.
He entered Alistair’s quarters to find him wearing his training gear, gym bag in hand.
“Son!” Charles hugged his son, who held onto his gym bag and huffed, while barely returning the hug with his free hand.
“Hello, Dad. What can I do for ye?”
“Must I always need something to come see you?” Charles asked.
“If history is an indicator, yes.”
Charles looked at the gym bag in Alistair’s hand. “You won’t be needing that.”
“We have a training session.”
“Not today. There is a mission for you.”
“Ah.” Alistair laughed. “Ye do need something.”
“Son, don’t be so condescending. The council gave you this mission. I asked to come tell you about it so I could see you.”
Alistair set the bag down, then pulled out another and started packing. “Really? Sounds convenient.”
“Alistair, I’m an old man. Looking back, I know I haven’t always been there, not the way you wanted or needed. Being on the council is important and keeps me busy. I suppose I should have given it up when your mother passed.”
Alistair sighed. “No, Dad. Ye shouldn’t have. Being on the council is an honor. I just wish . . .” He slung some clothes in the bag. “I don’t know what I wish. Maybe I should try more too. I could have come to DC sooner. I had no reason to stay in Europe as long as I did.”
Charles placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. “I wanted you to have a good life, a life of honor. The life you should have had since birth . . . that we all should have had.”
“Not that tale again.” Alistair brushed his dad’s hand from his shoulder. “Even if we Stewarts are descended from the noble House of Stewart, which we aren’t, there’s nothing to be done. England already has a royal family.”
“I know that, son. I just want to help you have a good life here, among the Mighty.”
“I do.”
“But it can be better. No one in your generation has prov
en themselves more than you. You’re loyal. You’re wise. You’re brave, and a born leader. The Commander has said that himself. This mission is important. Do well here, and you’ll be assured a place among the elders, and probably the council. Who knows, Benjamin Buchanan might see fit to name you as his successor.”
Alistair smiled. “Hmph. Think of it, Alistair Stewart, the David.” He shook his head and went back to packing. “I don’t know that I would want that kind of responsibility. I’m happy as I am. Just tell me the mission. That’s all I really need to worry about at the moment.”
“That’s right, son. You worry about today.” I’ll worry about tomorrow!
****
Alistair breathed in the wet morning air. His previous search for Anthony had led him back to the States. However, he felt he’d missed something over Christmas break while searching for Anthony in Scotland. When his dad had informed him of the council’s decision to send him back to Scotland, he believed he would find something this time. Besides, why had Anthony, an Italian, spent so much time in Scotland, away from his family? Something else was going on.
Over the past few weeks, Alistair began having blurred visions that only intensified with each passing day. Still, it seemed his visions had been hampered. As a priest, Anthony would have the ability to shield Alistair’s actions, or at the very least, to obscure them, making it hard for Alistair to lock in on him. If Anthony was shielding his actions from Alistair, it would mean Anthony was likely aware of Alistair searching for him.
Over the past few days, however, he had begun to get quick flashes of Joe’s vision, indicating that it was imminent. In addition, he’d had a vision the night before that included Anthony and himself standing in a graveyard.
As Alistair walked down the Royal Mile in Edinburgh, he thought about how good it was to be home. Tourists walked up and down the streets in awe of the historical significance. At one end, Edinburgh Castle had once been stormed by William Wallace. Down the hill, at the other end, sat Queen Elizabeth’s palace. He walked over brass cobblestones somewhere in the middle, which indicated the gates that once opened to the world outside of Roman rule. He stopped on the corner to look around. Anthony could be anywhere.
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