Forging Truth (The Truth Saga)

by Raymond Masters

  I leaned in even further as Aesculapus issued a wry laugh at my apparent love triangle. Doing so, I accidentally bumped the door. He looked up and motions for me to wait outside. “Looks like our Romeo has awakened. Yes, yes … Not to worry … You’ll certainly be the first person I contact. Then, we’ll play it by ear.”

  He clicks the phone back onto the charger. “Come on in, nosey.”

  “Who were you talking to? I didn’t think you even had service here.”

  “Well, no. Who needs Ma Bell when you’ve got magic on your side, hmm?”

  “So, who was it? What business am I to them?”

  “Nosey rosy. If you must know, that was my dear, sweet brother. I had promised Caduceus I would let him know at the very moment of progress. I hadn’t wanted to wake him last night, so, here we are.” Aesculapus waved his hands in a ‘that’s all there is’ gesture I didn’t fully believe.

  “If that was Caduceus, why didn’t he ask to talk to me?”

  “Because he figured you would be asleep?” I glared at him. “Okay, alright. The truth is, er … Kade … he didn’t want to get your hopes up. He still cares a great deal about you and was interested in your well-being, but …”

  “But?” I prompted.

  After considering for a moment, he answered, “He doesn’t think you two should have anything else to do with one another. He feels he’s holding you back and he’s getting too close to you. He fears he’ll lose you.”

  “Lose me? Why would he think that?”

  “Because he and I … we don’t die. You know this. We lose everyone.”

  I drew quiet, contemplating.

  “He doesn’t wish to see or hear from you again. He only hoped I would let him know your progress, while you were in my care.”

  “I see. About that: I figure it’s time for me to be moving on. I think I’ve got what I came for.”

  “What? But where will you go?” His shocked expression was almost comical. The poor old man had grown accustomed to having company for a change. He hated to see me leave. Moreover, he probably hated to see his guinea pig leave.

  “Out there. Back home. I don’t know. Thanks for all you’ve done, but I feel pulled. Like I’ve got to get away for a bit.”

  “But your training’s only just begun. You had a major breakthrough last night. What about your charm? Don’t you wish to retrieve it?”

  “I don’t really think that’ll be necessary.”

  “Fine. Go on, if you must. Won’t you at least have that breakfast we discussed? I can fix it up for you in a flash.”

  “Actually, my bags are packed just outside your door. If it wouldn’t hurt your feelings too much, I really do feel I should say my goodbyes.”

  “Very well. Feel free to come back anytime. I would love to study you some more. Oh, and visit, of course.”

  “Yes, I know what you mean.” How could I not?

  22

  A quarter hour later, he walked me into the courtyard. This was the first I had been outside, since I had arrived, and it felt refreshing. I hadn’t had a chance to realize how much cabin fever had already set in. I surveyed my surroundings. The courtyard was kind of grown up, but I could still feel what those inmates must have felt those long, long decades past. Being cooped up inside as they had been – though only for a short time – gave me an all-new appreciation for the open air. “Aesculapus, sir. You were a good host. I appreciate your staying with me on my memory retrieval, despite my frequent frustrated outcries.”

  “It’s okay. It’s why I agreed to let you stay with me, after all. It was good to see my brother again, too.” He realized his words’ effect on me and apologized. “I’m sorry. This old man’s mind is as much a curse as anything. Now that it has been brought up, again, I would beg that you honor your friend, my brother, and leave him be.”

  I gave a brief nod, committing to nothing. “If you would please step back, I’ll be off.”

  “I admit I have been waiting for this moment – not your leaving, mind you, but your flight. I’ve wondered, quietly, what your wings must look like. An angel? That’s what the girl said.”

  He hadn’t budged from his spot. I raised my chin toward him. “Your wait is over, if you please.”

  “Right, right. Sorry,” he apologized, scurrying backward.

  I had not used my powers since I had begun my stay here. Unless you count my dream of the Dark Monk, I thought. I was a little uneasy about what would happen if I used them, now that the power was internally, rather than externally, driven. I guess we’ll never know until we know. “Here goes,” I muttered more to myself, than to my host. The air around me began to shimmer with rippling waves of energy. It reminded me of the way propane looks when you blow out your pilot. All it was waiting on was a flame. Suddenly, there was a loud whooshing noise as the rippling subsided and the air around me ignited in a corona of heatless fire. My body was engulfed, but unharmed. My aura was wider and more volatile than it had been, previously. I felt … well. And I don’t mean that in the ‘I’m being grammatically correct’ sense of the word. I mean I felt an overwhelming wellness about me. I had no idea I had even been ill.

  I flexed my shoulders, and large wings shot forth from them. Their orange-fading-to-white color was so bright; they even hurt my eyes to gaze directly on them. I saw Aesculapus visor his eyes with his hand. After a second, the effects dimmed a bit so he could look at me dead on. His expression was one of utter amazement. I think his smile may have even been brighter than my wings. We exchanged a wave, before I shot high into the sky.

  As I soared through the early morning clouds, I was filled with an urgent feeling of homesickness. Not for my home in Ransom or New York. Not even for my mother or girlfriend. I was homesick for my friend, my mentor. I missed Ducie.

  Nothing to do about it now, I thought. I pushed my arms out ahead of me in what I hoped to be a rough caricature of the comic book heroes of my youth, and called out as loud as I could, “Next stop: Ransom, Oklahoma, population 423.”

  HOUSE CALLS

  1

  522 BAYSHORE ROAD, NEWTOWN, NJ – THE LENDSEY RESIDENCE

  “ … And thank you, God, for this wonderful meal. Please, let the strength we gain from it be used in a way that will forward your message. I pray it will sustain us, so we might know the loving kindness of your gentle hand. And, that our lives might be a shining example to others. Lord, God, I pray this in your son Jesus’ name. Amen.

  “Okay, let’s dig in.” Monday night was meatloaf night, and Dink had been tasting his wife’s meatloaf all day. Upon finishing grace, he had piled his plate high, being sure not to forget the mashed potatoes with that good country gravy. “This looks so good, honey. And smells better.”

  Cheryl had just finished handing the kids a glass of tea – and was reaching to pour her and her husband’s glasses – when a polite rap fell upon their front door.

  “I got it, dear,” Cheryl said, setting the pitcher down.

  “Oh, no, you sit. You’ve been cooking all night. Let me get this one. It’s probably just Tom wanting to watch the game or something. She nodded her appreciation as Dink made his way across the living room. Dink smiled back over his shoulder as he began turning the knob. “You’re a little early, Tom.” He said, pulling the door open. Then, quickly: “Oh, well, you’re certainly not Tom. Honey! We’ve got company. Very important company!”

  From the doorway, Richard Van Parson – president and CEO of VPI, international businessman, philanthropist, celebrity and all around great guy – smiled his wide and winning grin. “No, I’m certainly not Tom, but I do hope you won’t mind my stopping by for a little chat anyway.”

  Unfortunately, Dink would have to wait a little while longer for his highly anticipated meatloaf.

  2

  “Caduceus? No, I’ve never heard of him. And you say he lives around here somewhere,” Dink asked. He had lived in this same house for a dozen years, and he presently said so to his guest.

  “Well, tha
t is certainly a shame for Mr. Caduceus. You see, I – on behalf of VPI – would love to be able to honor him with a humanitarian award for his recent service, and leadership, during the cleanup efforts at Liberty Island. I was told he lived around here. Maybe, even, in this very house?”

  “Yes sir, I understand – and it would definitely be an honor to this Caduceus fellow, but like I told you earlier, I haven’t the foggiest who you’re talking about. Sorry to let you down, Mr. Van Parson – Can I call you Richard?”

  “I would be delighted. And may I call you, Dink, Mr. Lendsey?”

  “Oh, why yes sir, Richard, sir. Wow. Again, I’m sorry I couldn’t help you out, but maybe you’ve got the wrong street. You might try the next one over.”

  “Alright, I think I will. Would you mind seeing me out?” Van Parson stood and motioned for the door.

  “Absolutely. And you can come back anytime.”

  “Anytime,” agreed Mrs. Lendsey.

  “Wonderful meeting you all. Lovely family you have here. Loving wife, good kids, a little quiet.”

  “They’re our little angels. Caleb hasn’t missed a day of school since it started; and Lauren is starting gymnastics next week. We’re so proud of them both.”

  “Mr. Van Parson, sir,” asked Lauren quietly.

  “Yes, honey, what is it?” He bent to one knee to meet the little girl at her level.

  “Could I give you a kiss?”

  “She melts my heart,” he replied, “Plant one right there.” He pointed to his right cheek, and she obliged. “Thanks, sweetie. I won’t wash that spot for the rest of my life.” He straightened, turning toward the door. As they reached it, he placed a hand on Dink’s shoulder, and asked, “Listen, Dink, I hate to impose even further, but the man you had mistaken me for earlier, what was his name?”

  “Huh? Oh, you mean Tom. Tommy Jacobs,” Dink replied as he opened his front door. “He lives just across the way in that big white house there.” He leaned out, pointing. When he did, he noticed three other figures waiting patiently on his porch. “Oh,” Dink said, startled. “I didn’t realize you had brought your entourage with you. You all were welcome to come inside.”

  “They were fine out here, I assure you,” Van Parson answered for them. “Hey now, do you think Tommy might know where he is? Caduceus, I mean.”

  “Well, I don’t know if he would know any more than I do, really.”

  “Hmm. You’ve given me a lot of support, Dink. You’ve invited me into your home. Treated me like family, actually. Thank you.” Then, he turned to his men, and said, “Mr. Bishop, would you and our friend join me, please? I’m in need of chaperones in crossing the street. Mr. Talmage stay behind for a few follow-up questions. Get a little background info on the neighborhood. I really think our press release could use some local flavor – in case we do find Caduceus to be one of Dink’s neighbors. Oh, and Mr. Talmage: be thorough.”

  “I’m all over it, boss,” Mr. Talmage agreed, seeming overeager for such a mundane task. “I’ll get every useful fact I can out of ‘em.”

  As Richard Van Parson and company started across the street, they could hear Talmage ask Dink if his family had enough meatloaf for another place at the table.

  3

  523 BAYSHORE ROAD, NEWTOWN, NJ – THE JACOBS RESIDENCE

  It was a few moments later, and Van Parson and his ‘entourage’ – as Mr. Lendsey had called them – were milling about the front porch of the house across the street. Their good friend Dink had indicated it to be the house of Tommy Jacobs. Judging by Dink’s reaction when he had answered the door earlier, he had been expecting Tommy to be over soon, and that, assuredly would not do. Not at all. They couldn’t have someone stopping by the Lendsey’s house for a visit until they were safely out of the scene.

  There was a bang as Talmage pulled the Lendsey’s door closed. He made his way across to them. As he drew near, he said, “Guess they really didn’t know what you were talking about after all, VP.”

  “That’s a darn shame, too. Mr. Bishop, be sure VPI sends a rather respectful floral arrangement. Anonymous, of course. And let’s not worry about the expense. It’s the least we can do.” He drew in a deep breath, preparing himself for round two. “Are we ready for this?” Looking his men over, he noticed something on Talmage’s chin. “Oh, Mr. Talmage, you seem to have a spot of gravy on you.”

  Talmage wiped it away, embarrassed at his lack of professionalism, “Thanks, boss.”

  Suddenly, their silent third spoke up. “Thiss one. I can feel it.” He was dressed all in black. Silk dress shirt, slacks, and well-polished, dress shoes. His outfit was complete with a pair of polarized sunglasses and a somehow blacker-than-black suit coat and tie. He appeared much the same way every time Van Parson had the displeasure of doing business with him. The only exception to his dark visage was the contrasting albino hair he wore long, down his back. And the only variations to his wardrobe were his accessories: the polarized glasses and the walking stick he currently held tightly in his grasp.

  His walking stick was of dark cherry wood. The cherry finish was so dark as to appear as black as his wardrobe, at first glimpse. It was sleek and elegant, tapered to a fine point. From an inlaid handle at the top of the cane, a carving of a mighty, winged serpent pressed firmly into his palm.

  And the glasses … The glasses were there to cover a pair of eyes so horrifying you dare not have them turned your direction.

  “Well, okay, then. Shall we knock again,” Mr. Bishop questioned from behind him.

  “In a way. Let me focuss,” answers Kade’s Dark Monk. He places his hand upon the doorframe and scrunches his face in concentration. As he does his thing, the lights in the house begin to flicker on and off and on again. They can start to see movement through the curtains.

  It wouldn’t be long now until contact, and this time, Richard Van Parson decided he would have a little fun with it.

  4

  “What’s going on out here,” demands the burley man, who must be Tom Jacobs.

  “I’m sorry for the disturbance, Mr. Jacobs. My name is Richard Van Parson. Nice to meet you.” He held out his hand in greeting.

  “Yeah, I know who you are. What’re you doing with my electricity?”

  “Oh, that,” Van Parson responds, lowering his unshaken hand. “We’re tying into your line, and it’s obviously using more juice than we first thought. You see, I’m filming a new reality show called, ‘So you want to be rich?’”

  “Rich, huh? And what are you doing at my house,” Tommy Jacobs asks, as his wife peers out from behind him.

  At least he has their interests piqued. If he played this right … “Why, that’s just it. You’re on TV right now. Your family has been selected as our first contestants. Your good neighbor, Mr. Dink Lendsey, sent in your names. So, I just have one thing to ask you before we go on any further.” Mr. Jacobs crossed his arms, his skepticism wearing off at the mention of Dink. “SO, YOU WANT TO BE RICH?”

  “Yeah, do I? But I … I don’t see any camera crew.”

  Van Parson hid his mouth by turning his hand to one side, blocking the view of an imaginary camera. “Got to keep them hidden. Can’t have a stray mike or camera getting into the shot. Makes it feel more real, you understand. It’s truly amazing how small they’re making these things nowadays.” He motions to his men, “My associates, Mr. Talmage and Mr. Bishop, will go over the details with you inside. My friend in black will be along in a minute or two. He just loves to … make an entrance.”

  5

  “Okay, boss, we’re done ‘going over everything’ with them,” Talmage says as he and Don Bishop return from inside the big house.

  “Perfect. And they knew nothing of our friend Caduceus?”

  “Nothing, VP.”

  “Well, had to try, right?” Van Parson cracked the locks on a case, which Talmage had carried along, just in case. From it, he removed three sets of gauntleted gloves, each lined with crisscrossing bits of ruby-red circuitry. The gloves hummed
to life as Van Parson, Bishop, and Talmage slipped them on. “Now, let us ‘make an entrance.’ Old man, you have the floor.”

  “I think you mean … I have the door.” The old man traced around the door with his cherry walking stick, cackling shrilly as he did so. He drew it back, almost to his face. “Knock. Knock,” he crooned as he then slammed it forward in a mad rush. The result was catastrophic. The modern white house began to shake itself apart. The heavy wooden door – as well as the intangible air around it – splintered away from a wide energy burst from the cane, revealing an entrance, not into the Jacobs house, but into somewhere entirely else.

  6

  523 BAYSHORE ROAD, NEWTOWN, NJ (SORT OF) – THE CADUCEUS RESIDENCE

  “What’m I gonna do wit’ you, Meow? You’re not eating; you’re having trouble sleeping; you’re altogether down-and-out.”

  “Sorry, Caduceus. I’m not trying to bring the mood down. I promise. It’s just that …”

  “Julinn.”

  “Partly. I mean, it’s been several weeks, and I’m still no closer to avenging his death. I’ve failed.”

  “You haven’t failed. Besides, it’s we now, remember? And I won’t let you give up so easily. We’ll get Van Parson, I promise. Think of the headway we’ve made. Thanks to your invisibility, we were able to gain key access codes and security info from some of his local holdings. If we continue to study over it, then it won’t be long before –.”

  “That’s all we’ve been doing! Studying. Spying. Scheming. It’s not enough. We should be acting! Why hasn’t the government stepped in and arrested that murderer. His good guy act has them all fooled. But that’s all he is: a pretender! President Perry wages Van Parson’s war. More innocents killed day by day. Why? Is he as evil as Van Parson himself, or is he just blind? These men are so powerful, yet so corrupt. Such a waste.