The God Squad: Thunder and Pomp

By Devan B. Deyerin

Matthew Clarke and his brother had grown accustomed to the monsters only they could see, but confronting gods is proving to be a far graver challenge. The two ran away from home to shield their family from the menacing creatures, but a twist of fate sees them lose their magical protection. The duo soon find themselves caught in a celestial war over the fate of the gods.

Loathe to be pawns in divine schemes, they discover gods are as petty and flawed as humans. Just as the Clarke brothers find a safe place where they might fit in, their world is turned upside down again. The brothers are thrust into the complexity of good and evil, realizing life is full of shades of grey – until it isn’t. Facing an uncertain destiny, they must forge unlikely alliances, learn to trust their friends, and muster faith in themselves to protect each other and find a place to call home.

In this tale of courage and camaraderie, every choice they make tips the scale between peril and salvation, not just for them, but for humanity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Mar 28, 2024
• ISBN: 9798889100867

Devan B. Deyerin

Kara homeschooled her son Devan from third through eighth grade. His first writing assignment was to mimic a book from the Beast Quest series, his favorite at the time. Devan loved this assignment and has been an avid writer ever since. Over the pandemic they started writing together to explore Devan’s story idea, and what started as a friendly challenge became much more. They each wrote a chapter, combined them, and loved the outcome. When not writing together, Devan loves painting Warhammer figurines and staring at critters under a microscope, while his mom enjoys cooking and non-profit work.

Book preview

About the Author

Kara homeschooled her son Devan from third through eighth grade. His first writing assignment was to mimic a book from the Beast Quest series, his favorite at the time. Devan loved this assignment and has been an avid writer ever since. Over the pandemic they started writing together to explore Devan’s story idea, and what started as a friendly challenge became much more. They each wrote a chapter, combined them, and loved the outcome. When not writing together, Devan loves painting Warhammer figurines and staring at critters under a microscope, while his mom enjoys cooking and non-profit work.

Dedication

To the Deyerin boys, life is complicated until it isn’t.

Go dig a hole.

Copyright Information ©

Devan B. Deyerin and Kara Rubinstein Deyerin 2024

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.

Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Ordering Information

Quantity sales: Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address below.

Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication data

Deyerin, Devan B. and Deyerin, Kara Rubinstein

The God Squad

ISBN 9798889100843 (Paperback)

ISBN 9798889100850 (Hardback)

ISBN 9798889100867 (ePub e-book)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023921005

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2024

Austin Macauley Publishers LLC

40 Wall Street, 33rd Floor, Suite 3302

New York, NY 10005

USA

[e-mail]

[phone]

Acknowledgment

A book doesn’t just write itself. We spent long hours holed up together so we feel we must say thank you to the other Deyerin boys in the house. We know sometimes we were quite preoccupied with dragons, gods, and other creatures. Yes, sometimes we were a bit loud—but it was all in good fun. And a big thank you to Dr. Samuel Snoek Brown for helping to navigate the tumultuous waters of publishing.

The characters in this book while fictional are based on historical myths and legends. If you want to learn more about the actual myths and creatures that inspired us, we encourage you to visit our website at www.DeyerinStorytellers.com or take a moment to research these incredible stories.

Life is too short to live on the sidelines.

Chapter 1

Mountain Castle – King

The sound of the helicopter’s blades slicing through the air and sleet did not drown out the thunder of waves crashing against the black cliffs a hundred feet below. King was glad he employed a good pilot, as the high winds and small helipad on the castle’s turret made landing difficult. He hated coming to this place. However, the helicopter ride certainly beat the trip by boat he was forced to endure before the advent of these clever flying machines.

Yes, he thought, humans are inventive. Her refusal to leave her castle on any terms but her own was a waste of his time. And, he didn’t trust anyone else to manage things at the Compound while he indulged her whims.

King sauntered into the room stomping his feet and blowing on his hands. The sound of his combat boots thudding on the stone floor echoed in the large room. As usual, it was bitterly cold inside. Small bands of frost rose from the gray stone walls. A long wooden desk scattered with papers and arrows sat on one side of the room. A soft green light pulsed from a corner, flickering like a flame, making shadows dance and sway on the walls. But the light was not from a flame, its origin was far more complex than a simple fire.

After King’s first visit to the castle, he always wore a thick coat. His dark green parka puffed out around him making him look larger than he was; and the heavy chest plate underneath it certainly added to his bulky silhouette. Thin legs poking from the parka conjured an image of a chicken. The coat did help him to feel less small in her presence.

King eyed the two large windows, unsurprised to find them open despite the subfreezing temperature outside. He missed the heat of Mumbai. Soon I’ll set things as they should be, and I’ll never be cold again. Of all the human experiences, the biting numbness of cold was his least favorite.

Scotty sat in a large intricately carved chair next to a small wooden table in the middle of the room picking at some meat on a plate. Probably something she shot. King shivered again, not from the cold but at the image of Scotty’s mammoth bow pointed at him. Only once had she done that, and it was his breast plate which saved him. It had been a brutal fight with both sides neither conceding defeat nor claiming victory.

He’d conveniently neglected to tell her she’d permanently damaged his treasured Tablets of Destiny. The two continued to work together because they shared a mutual goal—the destruction of humans. Once he and the other gods were restored to their rightful place, he would never have to see her again, much less stoop to working with her.

King, why are you here? Scotty asked without looking up. We’re on the edge of something big. A trip here wastes time. Her white skin shimmered in the moonlight, the flame in the corner causing it to have a slightly green hue, making her look like the walking dead. There was a tiny drop of blood on the corner of her mouth. Her tongue flicked out and licked it away.

Maybe if you didn’t live at the edge of the world, it wouldn’t take so much time to come and see you, King replied, his voice smooth as silk and dangerous as a concealed knife. I’m not sure we have enough Vessels yet for all the gods we want to pair. For everything to work, we must time this just right. It would be easier if you were more cooperative.

You worry too much. My work is mine. Scotty picked up a small piece of meat and tossed it in her mouth. You do your part how you see fit. She licked her fingers, examining each one before continuing to the next. Not that she could see anything under her black fingernail polish.

And I’ll do mine. Our plan is working. The world is in disarray. Read any newspaper and you can see our success.

Of course, she doesn’t have internet.

As you said, it’s time for Zeus to be paired. There are a few others as powerful as him. She raised an almost white eyebrow, You should reconsider Tiamat. With the two, we could definitely end this.

Dear mother stays in Limbo. We don’t need her. King’s voice rose before falling back to normal.

Why does everyone insist on bringing up mother?

I’ve found a potential Vessel for Zeus.

Are you sure? Scotty asked standing up. Zeus fries Vessels. He won’t settle for subpar.

King stepped back without thinking. Scotty’s Vessel was the tallest human female he’d ever met and that was saying something since he’d been around for thousands of years. She wiped her fingers on her black leather skirt and smoothed the matching leather top as she straightened herself, somehow seeming to grow a bit more. Her ice blue eyes stared at King. Both hands rested on her hips.

We can’t have any mistakes. This is Zeus after all.

King returned her gaze. He would not blink. There were some games he’d learned to master over the centuries, and this was one of them. One of his dark curls bounced in front of his forehead but it didn’t faze him.

Oh please, you are in no place to question my abilities when it comes to humans and gods. You’re just too…brutish. I can hear the song of the Vessels as clearly as I can see you breathing. And this boy, well this is the loudest I’ve ever heard.

Her eyes were like glass, sharp and unyielding. He glared back.

Your ears were never tuned for such things. Not one of your skills.

After a few more breaths, she shrugged and turned toward the window; her knee-high leather boots silent on the stone floor. She ran her fingers through her short-cropped hair, it cut like a straight edge across her neck. Leaning out of the window, she took a deep breath.

King smiled. He’d won this little battle. Are you…wearing makeup?

Scotty whipped around to face him again, eyes burning with cold anger. Yes, her eyes were definitely rimmed with thick black eyeliner.

It contrasts my eyes and matches my shirt.

King grinned.

How very human of you, Milady. If I did not know better, I’d say you’re slipping again.

As intended, Scotty was not amused.

What’s the Vessel’s name? she asked, stomping toward the corner of the room where the green light flickered. A large iron bowl of bubbling green liquid sat on a smooth obsidian pedestal.

Mathew Clarke, King answered, striding over to the bowl. Its glow wreathed their faces as they stared intently into its depths.

Say his name again into the oil, Scotty commanded.

Mathew Clarke.

A tiny human figure slowly emerged in the murky depths of the now frothing oil. Much to King’s surprise, another smaller figure rose from the oil before settling next to the first. The two sat next to each other in large seats.

Are they on a plane? King asked.

The figures’ surroundings started to take shape from the oil. More seats formed in front of and behind them. There was a large window to their left, an aisle to their right, seats, and then another big window. A few seats ahead of them sat another figure at a steering wheel and an open road shot out in front of him.

A bus, Scotty corrected, whistling lowly as the two figures began to glow with white light. The first and larger glowing noticeably brighter than the second. The image grew smaller as the road and a never-ending expanse of water came into view.

They’re on a coast. Scotty looked up at King, Did you know there were two?

Of course, I knew.

Two for one, Scotty mused. The one named Mathew shows promise. Look how brightly he glows. He could be worthy of Zeus. She looked up and crossed her arms and stared at King for a few heartbeats.

Is he too old? What if he’s damaged during the pairing? Zeus would be very angry. How come you just found them?

King straightened up from the bowl.

Only just? Are you questioning my ability to find Vessels? When you’ve asked for a Vessel, have I ever once failed to deliver?

She considered for a moment and then asked, What’s the second one’s name?

John. He realized she was waiting for a last name. Clarke, he added, annoyed that even he could tell he sounded unsure of himself.

I see, she said slowly.

Well, King interjected before she could question him further, I’ve been pleased with Saint Nick’s work. Let’s send him to collect John and Mathew. With proper planning, and a few more Vessels, our stock will last until we’re done. King was proud of Saint Nick’s particular pairing. Some Vessels were just more compatible with certain gods, it could be a crapshoot at times.

He found Quiang in Fuzhou, China when he was thirteen and conducted the pairing ceremony almost immediately. Quiang was short, but strong. In fact, the boy had come from a family of weightlifters. Bolotnik, the little Slavic god, was among those ready for pairing when King read the boy’s name on his tablet. King had known they would be a perfect match. It took a few years for Bolotnik to bring Quiang in line.

Over time, Quiang realized he enjoyed the strength Nick provided. The human and the god worked well together after that, for the most part. He just wouldn’t stop whining about a Vessel for his wife. It had gotten so bad; it was why King had sent him to work for Scotty in the first place. But he’d missed having someone around who would just do what he was told without question.

Scotty cleared her throat, Kriminel lost a Vessel last month. Nick, the month before. What if Nick loses these Vessels?

King raised an eyebrow and one corner of his mouth turned upwards into a slight smile. Scotty, are you perhaps worried about Nick? How sentimental of you. That’s, King hesitated before continuing, quite human of you. He couldn’t help but tease her again. It was an excellent tool to deflect attention away from him.

A soft growl emerged from her.

King reveled in Scotty’s discomfort, daring her to say something about her ability to control her Vessel.

I am not concerned for Nick, just our plan. Maybe we should send them both? Surely, together they can secure the Vessels.

He didn’t like her making decisions about his men but before he could answer, she turned and walked over to a small wooden door next to the table.

Opening it, she called, Nick! Come.

Footsteps echoed down the long corridor.

While Scotty’s back was turned, King quickly unzipped his coat and peeked at the stone breast plate concealed underneath. Two of the pieces were covered in the shifting text of a long dead language—a list of names. The third had a large chunk missing and the text was stagnant and unchanging. King quickly found Mathew’s name, and under it was the name Miles Clarke. Well at least I got the last name correct.

When I said John, I meant Miles John Clarke. There was a bit of a mix up with the middle name and the first, he called, zipping up his coat.

At that moment, a creature lumbered into the room. Its footsteps were heavy and wet against the stone floor, its breathing loud and labored and similarly moist. Squeezing through the doorway sideways, it plodded into the meager light. The body was covered in blue-green scales and lacked a nose, having only two nostril slits, with milky white eyes and long ears that ended in sharp points. What looked like sweat secreted from its skin at a rate that caused it to drip onto the floor. In the moment it had been standing there, a puddle was already forming, the edges freezing in the frigid air.

The scent of the creature seared King’s nose. Muck and skunk and rotten cabbage tickled his nostrils. King grimaced and took a step away from the creature, distaste written across his features.

Nick, take your human form for the sake of ease.

The creature grumbled as its skin began to undulate and ripple as though the muscles under it were shifting and trying to burst out. His size shrank, the scales pulled into his skin, and his eyes sucked back into their sockets while the ears retracted into his skull. Finally, a nose popped out. An instant later a naked man stood before them.

The man looked like he was in his early thirties. He had soft brown eyes that looked rather innocent, especially in comparison to the lifeless white eyes of the creature he was a moment ago. He was bald, in fact his whole body lacked hair. Despite his short height, he was incredibly muscular; his biceps looked capable of casually crushing stone.

It’s cold like this, Nick replied.

His voice sounded like he’d been punched in the throat, though neither King nor Scotty paid it any mind. Nick seemed to have no problem with his nudity in front of the two of them.

Understandable, replied King, in a tone that suggested he actually did sympathize. But this castle isn’t built for a ten-foot fishman. This was King’s excuse to force Nick to take his human form so he wouldn’t reek quite so violently.

Anyway, you will be off to collect Kriminel and then retrieve two new Vessels: Mathew and Miles Clarke.

Nick opened his mouth to protest, but King cut him off with a raised hand. It was Scotty’s idea to make both of you go. She’s worried over the missing Vessels.

Anger twisted Nick’s face into a snarl. I can handle myself. I don’t need a babysitter. His already raspy voice further warped, nearly beyond understanding.

King’s eye twitched in annoyance.

The oldest is important. He will be for Zeus. So, you both will go. No incidents. Scotty’s voice was sharp and clipped.

The anger drained from Nick as fast as it had come.

Okay, he cooed quietly, straightening to a military attention stance, and tucking his hands behind his back. Is that all?

No, King replied. You’ll meet up with Kriminel at the Compound. Call our friend at the FBI and have her find the brothers.

Nick nodded and started for the door without another word.

And Nick? King called right before the short naked man left the room.

Nick paused and looked over his shoulder.

Bring me that boy. We wouldn’t want your wife to spend any more time in Limbo than necessary.

Chapter 2

Fantastical Creatures – Mathew

Something about seeing fantastical creatures nobody else can tends to make you ready to expect anything, and willing to take all but the craziest things in stride. It occurred to Mathew that one of the cruel ironies of life as two runaways was that the creatures were the least of his problems. Given the choice between dealing with a person or a creature, Mathew would pick the latter nine times out of ten, even if they were trying to eat you. At least creatures were simple, you immediately knew where you stood with them.

Today should’ve been a good day, except there was a small itch of doubt at the back of his head. He’d learned over the years to trust his instincts. Something was wrong. Something about that dog was still bothering him. It had followed them silently, ominously, and Matthew couldn’t tell what it wanted. It was acting more like a person. That scared him more than narrowly avoiding being mauled by a Chimera, which had also happened the same day.

On the entire bus ride from Nogales, he’d distracted himself by telling Miles a story about the Chimera. This was usually how they spent their bus rides. And they’d had a lot of bus rides. The stories were getting harder to make, and recently Miles had started asking questions he didn’t have answers to. Or answers he didn’t want to give. The wonder in Miles’s eyes was disappearing. He knew they’d both had to grow up since leaving their parents—he envied Peter Pan. The pull to want to stay young, without responsibilities, was strong.

The Chimera was that one time out of ten he’d have rather dealt with a person. It was a nasty piece of work and had attacked them on sight with no warning. They’d managed to get away from it by ducking through the narrow sidewalks of the souvenir market, but not without a few singed hairs and a large ruckus.

As the Chimera chased them, it had knocked over pottery, blankets, maracas, and jewelry leaving chaos in its wake. Everyone of course blamed them for the destruction. Though he wasn’t sure how they rationalized the fire.

Mathew had grabbed a couple of hats as they ducked around a corner and dashed into an alley way. He’d ripped open what he thought was a closet door, but it had turned out to be a door to another souvenir shop, and pushed the hats on their heads and slowed to look at the shopkeeper’s wares. They’d admired the colorful statutes and ponchos for as long as they could until Mathew thought the coast was clear. Yet, not one block later, he’d spotted that dog: that horrible black dog.

The dog was large by dog standards, significantly larger than a Great Dane. It had thick scruffy black fur, and a humongous head full of razor-sharp teeth. Said teeth were visible even with its mouth closed, like a crocodile. Its eyes were solid crimson and running down its back was a mane of what looked like porcupine quills.

A growl pierced the air, making Mathew stop in his tracks. He’d immediately pulled Miles into another stall. Luckily, that place had a back door. They’d caught a bus directly to the local library; Mathew wanted to learn everything he could about the creature.

He prided himself on adding to the journal his stepdad Alvaro had given him, pages full of scribbled notes and sketched pictures of creatures. From the gist of what he’d read about Black Dogs, it appeared to be a bad omen. Still, he’d learned to not be too quick to draw conclusions from the internet and the journal, which he always carried in the side pocket of his sweatshirt.

Even the bad looking creatures could be kindhearted sometimes. Just a week ago, they had a run in with some impish creatures Miles said looked a lot like demon garden gnomes. But the gruesome looking critters had ended up offering them food and a place to sleep for the night.

The dog and the feeling of discontent it left in its wake had prompted Mathew to decide they needed to move on sooner than he’d planned. Though Miles, as usual, wasn’t happy about it. And that’s how they’d ended up in Santa Monica. The blaring of the arcade and the screaming of the roller coaster riders snapped Mathew back to the present.

He’d promised Miles they could come here as a treat for escaping the Chimera, though he hadn’t mentioned the dog. Miles didn’t need to know. He was planning to spend some of their constantly low cash reserves his stepdad secretly sent him on the games and rides to try and give his brother a glimpse of a normal, fun day.

Here’s some quarters. Mathew handed Miles a handful of coins from his pocket. I’m going to head outside for some fresh air for a second. Mathew wasn’t in the mood for fun yet, he needed to clear his head.

Miles didn’t need to be told twice and zipped off deeper into the arcade, happy to explore on his own. Unlike him, Miles made friends with just about anyone, or anything. The scent of fried food smothered Mathew as he stepped outside the arcade’s entrance.

Despite this, he stood for a moment and inhaled deeply. Soon I’m going to have to tell Miles everything. They’d left home almost five years ago, and he was tired of running. Of keeping Miles in the dark to protect him.

A large shadow passed overhead blocking the sun for a moment. Mathew looked skyward just in time to see a bird the size of a Cessna airplane fly over the pier and land on the Ferris Wheel. Most people couldn’t see or hear such things. Mathew started to chew on a bit of nail from his thumb; an unconscious habit he’d developed when he was worried.

He stared at the creature wondering what it might want. It looked like the bird was hunting. Its bright blue and red feathers made it almost impossible to miss, as well as its size of course. A shiver crawled down his spine, in the bird’s talons was some dead thing. Maybe a cow?

This was the second creature he’d seen today. Usually, they could go a week before seeing anything. There was a rule he’d read in the journal, ‘When you see three creatures, it’s time move on to another place’. This had kept them hidden and safe. At least, he knew the Pixie from earlier that afternoon was harmless. Mostly.

When he and Miles were buying funnel cake earlier, a little purple Pixie with emerald-green and yellow spotted wings had flown up to him and offered him a lollipop. He’d tried to bat her away before Miles saw, but it was too late. His brother had gladly accepted the purple, yellow, and blue whirling treat while the little fairy pranced on his hand showing off her wings, her bright green hair, and matching dress.

In his experience, Pixies were vain, often just wanting a little attention before moving on. If you didn’t take a moment, they could snap at you, although Alvaro had told him there were bad ones out there.

He wished he could talk to Alvaro. They’d left home in the middle of the night, Mathew had woken Miles and handed him a backpack. The two crept quickly out of the house. Leaving was the only way he could think of to keep his mom and Alvaro safe, but Miles wasn’t old enough to understand this.

Mathew was sure Alvaro would know what type of creature the bird was and if it meant Miles and him harm. It felt like it was watching him. He pulled out the little leather diary, hoping to find something about the bird, but there was no mention of any large bird-like creatures. It was easier to make up a story to explain a creature’s presence to Miles if he knew something about it. Sighing, he glanced back at the Ferris Wheel to find the creature was gone.

There you are, Miles called loudly over the noise. I’m out of quarters.

His brother had short, wavy, dark brown hair and was wearing a pair of jeans, a red T-shirt, and a gray sweatshirt just like he was. They both stuck out a bit since everyone else was wearing shorts and tank tops. They’d grown up in San Juan, Puerto Rico where it was