Returning Truth (The Truth Saga Book 2)

By Raymond F. Masters

A MOTHER’S TRUTH... A SON’S RETURN.

Having regained his memories, Kade Truth must now embark on the second leg of his mission: to discover the truth behind his transformation into an energy wielding superhuman. His search promises to land him in the paths of powerful individuals, hell-bent upon their own agendas: Richard Van Parson, megalomaniac CEO of VPI, to name one; and the President of the United States, to name another. And what of the menacing Dark Monk of Kade’s nightmare? Before Kade can confront these demons, however, he must first come face-to-face with his past.

Returning Truth is the story of a homecoming, years in the making. Kade has hardly spoken to his mother since she sent him away to The Sisters when he was sixteen. Why is he suddenly drawn to her, and what unexpected secret does she possess? How will Kade’s friends react to his new abilities? How will his fiancé?

All the while, the faux war with France is heating up. But if the war is all staged, why are soldiers still dying? Someone has to stand up for the innocents being lost oversees.

In Ransom, Okalahoma, one reunion is about to be cut short, while in a realm sideways of reality, another is in full swing... And a brother’s fate hangs in the balance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pro Se Press
• Release date: Sep 28, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370048755

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THE TRUTH SAGA, BOOK 2 - RETURNING TRUTH

By

Raymond F. Masters

Published by Pro Se Press at Smashwords

THE TRUTH SAGA, BOOK 2 - RETURNING TRUTH

A Pro Se Publications

All rights reserved under U.S. and International copyright law. This book is licensed only for the private use of the purchaser. May not be copied, scanned, digitally reproduced, or printed for re-sale, may not be uploaded on shareware or free sites, or used in any other manner without the express written permission of the author and/or publisher. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

Written by Raymond F. Masters

Editing by Mark Beaulieu & Connor MacDonald

Cover Art by Jeffrey Hayes

Book Design by Antonino Lo Iacono

www.prose-press.com

THE TRUTH SAGA, BOOK 2 - RETURNING TRUTH

Copyright © 2016 Raymond F. Masters

Table of Contents

PROLOGUE: HOUSE CALLS

CHAPTER ONE: REUNIONS

CHAPTER TWO: MEANWHILE

CHAPTER THREE: IN THE BEGINNING

CHAPTER FOUR: THE BOYS ARE BACK IN TOWN

CHAPTER FIVE: BROTHERS’ KEEPER

CHAPTER SIX: OVER THERE

CHAPTER SEVEN: DEAD OF WAR

CHAPTER EIGHT: ENEMY MIND

CHAPTER NINE: ALL TOGETHER NOW

EPILOGUE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

PROLOGUE:

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 even better. Sure wish Michael and his fiancée could be here for this. Though, I guess I could force myself to eat a little extra for them. He showed his wife a goofy grin.

We could’ve shipped a helping to the university, but it’d just ruin. Mikey said he had something planned for the weekend. Cheryl laughed, raising her apron over her tight black curls. She 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 around the burgundy sofa, which separated the dining area from 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, that 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?

Why yes sir, Richard, sir. Wow. Dink dabbed sweat from the exposed brown skin of his ever-expanding forehead. 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. Her mother had dressed her in a cute pink dress that morning, and she fiddled with the hem as she spoke.

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 the 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 with Dink 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. The man wore both his advanced years and his clothing quite well, presenting himself much the same 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 black as his wardrobe. 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, answered the man known in some circles as the Dark Monk. He placed his hand upon the doorframe and scrunched his face in concentration. As he did his thing, the lights in the house began to flicker on and off and on again. They could 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.

4

What’s going on out here? demanded the red-haired, burly man who must’ve been Tommy 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 responded, 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 asked, as his equally burly wife peered out from behind him.

At least he had 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 motioned 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 said as he and Donald Bishop returned 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 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.

CHAPTER ONE: REUNIONS

1

Despite everything I’ve been through, with Caduceus and Aesculapus, my resurrection and new abilities, I’m still more than a little uneasy about going home. Home. I hadn’t thought of Ransom in a long, long time. True, I hadn’t even had a memory of home for several weeks. More than that, I had tried to block out all thoughts of home my entire adult life.

When dad died, mom was overwhelmed at the prospect of raising a teenaged son on her own. So what’s better than being raised by your widowed mother? Being raised by sisters. The Sisters, actually. How funny was it my mom, a lifelong Baptist, sent her son to a Catholic boy’s school? Was I conflicted? You bet.

While I was there, I felt like I was in hell. I still hated it after graduation. But the past year or so, I guess I’ve started to soften some. Granted, it was years of my youth – years I could have been partying, drugging it up, sexing it up – spent with my nose buried in my Bible, on a strict schedule and even tighter curfew. Kept me clean and out of trouble while others my age were not so much.

Speaking of others my age, it was there I got to meet two of my best friends, forming a bond that would transcend the years and reunions. And then there was Jessie.

She was smart and funny with a great personality. She was beautiful, physically, sure, with her strong, statuesque features, golden hair, and sparkling blue eyes. But it was what I saw every time I stared into those eyes that did it for me: she got me. On every level, we were meant to be.

The connection I formed with Mao in such a short amount of time couldn’t be ignored, but the relationship I had enjoyed with Jess… She was going to be my wife. As in forever. I missed her so much.

If not for my desire to close the gulf separating my mom and me, I would absolutely be on Jessie’s doorstep instead of my mom’s worn-out welcome mat. So, you could certainly see why I was completely taken aback, when none other than the beautiful blonde in question answered my nervous knock.

2

It wasn’t so much a hug as it was a tackle. In wrestling terminology: a spear. And a third way to say it is to say she simply knocked me on my butt. Before I could react, I found myself sprawled in my mom’s front yard. How in the heck did I get down those stairs?

In between her covering me with her kisses and tears, she managed to get out a sentence or two. It was a little tear-filled and soggy, but I definitely got the gist of it: she was very relieved to see me alive, and she had never given up believing I was.

What are you doing here? she squealed. She sent her right hand to her baby blues, wiping away the overflow.

Given the circumstance, we laughed at the absurdity and inadequacy of the question. It felt wonderful.

I was kinda thinking the same thing. I came to see my mom.

Oh, right! Come on in, baby. Tell me what happened. You fell off the map. They reported you died in the attack, but thank God they were wrong. She took a steadying breath against the urgency in her voice and guided me back up the porch and into my half-forgotten past.

My eyes began to water as I ascended the stairs. It’s exactly as it was when I was a little kid, I managed. I felt like I was shaking, but when I held my hand out, I realized it was only on the inside. Oh, God, my nerves are so shot.

Kade Christopher! It was a voice and tone I would know anywhere. "You will not take the lord’s name in vain in this home. Now, get over here and give your poor old mother a hug to go along with this heart attack!" She raced to embrace me, and just like that, all was forgiven. I was her little boy. She was once again my beloved mother, who loved me unconditionally and way more than I ever deserved.

3

… And I’ve been driving Tabitha nuts, ever since, Jessie said as she finished catching me up to speed.

No, you haven’t, Jessica, Mom chided, I’ve been enjoying the company, to tell the truth.

What, Mason’s visits weren’t enough? Jessie wondered.

Mason? I asked, startled. What, you’re hanging out with my friends, now, Mom?

Well, he’s seen me a lot more than he’s seen you these last years.

Mom, you two haven’t been… I raised my eyebrows and covered my mouth in mock reproach.

It’s been way too long since I’ve had you break me off a switch. She wasn’t laughing, but the slightest smirk danced upon her lips.

What about Mason, though?