Chapter 2

A sharp pain shot through the side of his head as something of a rough texture bounced off it. "Hey!" Steven howled, automatically rubbing the injured area.

"Steven, I would like to know exactly why you were dreaming on the court at practice only two weeks before the championship finals," a stern, all too familiar voice demanded to his side. He turned to see the Coach, and Joe, who was holding the basketball, the 'object' that had bounced off him.

Steven managed a weak smile. "Sorry, Coach, I was just a bit pre-occupied, that's all. Promise it won't happen again."

Coach Williams didn't look entirely convinced, but he didn't press the matter. "All right then," he boomed, "That's it for practice today; everybody report on Wednesday here, after school, at four sharp!"

After having changed, Steven trooped tiredly out of the gym and out on to the sidewalk. Joe joined him, with more than a look of concern on his face. Steven held up his hand before Joe could even open his mouth. "I know, I know, you're going to ask if something's wrong, isn't it? Hell, Joe, nothing is wrong. I've had that question addressed to myself only too many times today."

Hurt flashed in Joe's eyes, but Steven was too tired to apologise. His friend turned and started to walk backward, so he could look Steven in the eye as they walked. "Look, Steven," Joe began, "I know something's not in place with you today, but—" He stopped Steven's protest by holding up his palms, "but I'm not going to press you tell me your problem. I just wanted you to know, that if you wanted to tell anything, anything at all, I'm here, okay?"

Steven stopped and stared into Joe's friendly blue eyes. He smiled, for like what seemed the first time that day. "Thanks, Dad," he said, now grinning. Joe socked him in the arm in reply.

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Steven cast a glance at the darkening sky as he stood before his home. His cotton T-Shirt and jeans were doing little to protect him from the cold gusts of wind, which chilled him to the marrow. The few other people on the sidewalks walked briskly to their destinations, some exclaiming in disbelief at the sudden change in weather.

Steven's mind immersed in thought. Winds of change… I wonder…

He pushed open the front door and was surprised to find Jessica and Elizabeth already home, lounging in the sitting room. Usually, it would take them over an hour to get home, considering how much they hung out with their friends- and boyfriends. They seemed equally surprised to see him.

"I thought basketball practice ended later?" Jessica said, looking up from the magazine she was thumbing through. Steven shrugged, depositing his backpack by the sofa. He plonked down on the couch and rubbed his forehead tiredly.

"For once everybody's come home early," Elizabeth remarked. Steven opened an eye. "Mom and Dad are home?"

Elizabeth nodded. "In the kitchen," she said, gesturing with her thumb.

Steven got to his feet abruptly and started moving toward the kitchen, almost as if an external force were controlling him. He found Alice Wakefield busy slicing the vegetables for that night's dinner, while Ned was going through a thick file open in front of him on the kitchen table. Both of them looked up as their son came in.

"Steven, I see you're early."

Steven nodded absently. He sat down at the kitchen table and rubbed his forehead again, as was his habit whenever he was troubled. I wonder…

"Say, Dad," he started, "Do you know anybody called Alisa McClaire?"

Clang. The kitchen knife dropped to the floor, followed by the pen Ned was holding. Steven found both his parents looking at him in shock, even horror. Ned was the first to pull himself together. "Pardon?" he managed.

"Alisa McClaire," Steven repeated, starting to sense something fishy, "Do you know anybody of that name?"

"Alisa…" Alice whispered, visibly trembling now. She exchanged a furtive glance with her husband, who nodded rather resignedly. "I do know someone of that name, Steven," he said quietly. Steven felt a tingling sensation of foreboding twinge his nerves. He leaned forward. "How do you know her?"

Instead of responding, Ned glanced at his wife again. She nodded and said, in shaky tones, "I think it is time, Ned… to tell him."

Steven looked from Ned to Alice. "Tell me what?"

Ned took a deep breath. "Steven," he began, "You know that I married your mother after I completed college. Well, before that I- I made- I mean-" Ned looked helplessly toward his wife, who decided to try a blunt approach.

"Steven, you're not actually our child."

Steven's jaw dropped, and his eyes bulged to the size of dinner plates. "What!" he cried, predictably.

Alice laced her trembling fingers together and spoke again. "Your father had an- an acquaintance, by the name of Alisa McClaire, while they were in college. After a year of our marriage, Alisa visited us- with you in her hands. She claimed that you were born of her and Ned."

Steven remained suspended in silent shock. Alice continued. "She left you with us, saying there wasn't much time for her to live, and requested to bring you up with utmost love and reveal the truth at an appropriate time."

A few moments of silence ensued, before Steven shifted his gaze toward his father. "Is this true?" he whispered. Am I really not born of Mom and Dad?

Ned bit his lip and ran a hand through his hair in an agonised manner before nodding. "It took sometime for Alice to- to accept this."

"Dad! How could you?" The voice was not Steven's, but Jessica's. She stormed into the kitchen, followed by Elizabeth, whose red face indicated that they'd been eavesdropping on the conversation. Jessica placed her hands on her hips and glared at her parents. "You should've said us this much earlier!"

Alice looked at her daughters sternly. "You two shouldn't have been eavesdropping."

"We deserve to know about this too!" Elizabeth said, her face now red not from embarrassment. While the twins burned, Steven silently got up from his place. He glided out of the kitchen noiselessly, slamming the door behind him. This caused everybody in the room to look toward the door, while absolute silence ensued.

The darkening sky was split by a clap of thunder, and the rain came pouring down.

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A fog seemed to settle around Steven's mind as he trudged up the stairs. He was too shocked even to cry. His lovely safe home and life had come crashing down, revealing a new world steeped in shadows and mysteries; yet a world he was part of.

He entered his room and slammed the door behind him. He stood staring at the rain for sometime before he collapsed on his bed, more exhausted than he'd ever felt before. The poster of the latest Ferrari on his ceiling dissolved into various colours; swirling around him, enveloping the room.

He shuddered, suddenly, frighteningly aware that he was on the threshold of a new mysterious world.

A very dangerous world.

But then again, he might just be letting his imagination run wild. He decided he was never going to visit the video rental shop again.

A gentle knock sounded on the door. "Come in," Steven muttered tiredly.

The door opened and his father came in, looking almost apprehensive. Steven smiled weakly. "You don't have to worry, Dad. I'm not going to eat you or something."

Ned forced a smile and sat on the edge of Steven's bed. He cleared his throat. "I would just like to apologise, Steven, for not telling you this before. I know you're upset, and—"

Steven sat up, interrupting him. "Let me make this clear, Dad: I'm not upset. At least not too much. You don't have to apologise."

"Thank you, son."

Silence prevailed before Ned asked, almost tentatively, "So, how did you hear of Alisa?"

Steven debated for a moment whether to tell his father the strange 'vision' he'd seen on the basketball court. His father was basically a very practical, no-nonsense tough lawyer and person, and would be more inclined to think what Steven was saying as ranting induced by shock, lack of sleep or even an indigested meal. He might be inclined to agree with Steven before him, because of pity, and think of it as madness within his mind. Steven hated being pitied.

He decided not to tell.

He shrugged. "Just heard it around somewhere," he said vaguely, before asking, "What was she like?"

Almost as if expecting the question, his father pulled out a photograph from his pocket. Willing his fingers not to tremble, Steven took the old framed photo and gazed at it. It was a group photo and he could spot his Dad immediately in it: smiling and laughing, looking about 18 or 19.

Ned looked over his shoulder at it and sighed in nostalgia. "That was taken in our college freshmen picnic," he said. "The girl next to me, that was Alisa."

Steven glanced back at the photo to notice a stunningly beautiful young woman next to his Dad. Long, shiny black hair framed a delicate oval face and sparkling green eyes shone like emeralds against her fair skin. Her mesmerising smile stood out like a jewel against the others. Steven brushed his fingers over her laughing face. My mother… She looked vaguely familiar though Steven was sure he'd never met her…

Then he remembered: the 'vision' he'd had on the court; the strange woman who had arisen from the tomb; the ethereal voice that had spoken to him in his dreams… they had all been his mother. She was trying to tell him something, perhaps. Perhaps she just wanted him to know that he was her son.

But why?

Why now?

Steven suddenly realised that Ned was looking at him, waiting for him to say something. He looked back at the photo and after a few more moments of silence, he whispered, "She's beautiful…"

Ned nodded and smiled ruefully. "Yes. In fact, so beautiful that she was swamped with offers for acting in commercials, movies, the works. But she turned them all down. She maintained an extremely low profile beyond the campus always."

Then, abruptly, Ned reached into his jacket again and pulled out a beautiful red leather-bound book, about the size of Steven's hand, but thick. He handed it to Steven. "When Alisa left you with us, she wanted me to give you this when you… when you found out."

His breath caught in his chest, Steven took the book and opened it. The pages, rather disappointingly, were blank.

"Steven?"

He looked up at his father and managed a small smile. "Thanks," he said. His father nodded. "Dinner will be ready in half-an-hour or so. Are- are you sure you're not too upset?"

Steven shook his head. "Of course not."

Ned gave a small smile as well and went out of the room and closed the door gently behind him. Steven sat down at his desk and examined the book closely. He ran his fingers over the smooth, unmarked leather, and finally opened the book. But instead of being confronted with blank pages this time though, the book started vibrating so hard that Steven had to drop it back on the desk in surprise.

In front of Steven's wide eyes, a bright light seemed to emanate from the page, spinning into a small whirlwind of light with a vortex so bright that Steven had to shield his eyes from the glare. When the light had gone, Steven slowly removed his hand from his eyes. What's happening here?

He caught a look of what was standing in front of his desk, and screamed.