Verity Rising (Gods of Deceit Book 1)

by Phil Scott Mayes

  “Reb?” I ask almost sarcastically. It doesn’t sound like his voice, but my mood is souring in my weariness and whatever this is, I’m not sure I’m interested.

  He responds in a balanced, methodical cadence and perfect enunciation. “No, I am not Reb, but I know him and I know you too. It was I who told Reb of Verdonos’s true identity and warned him of Verdonos’s approach. The legends about him are more accurate than you would expect up to the point of his confrontation with the demons; that is where his lie began. They did not kill him, but offered him an opportunity. They were struggling to corrupt the Nephilim, because even those who were disposed to bad behavior were reluctant to openly deal with demons. They needed someone who was Nephilim, who could seduce them without sounding the alarm of conscience so loudly. It was one of the demons’ conditions when they let him live despite his trespassing that his true identity must remain hidden and that anyone who discovers it must be killed. Their desire to conceal his true identity was necessary to hide the unnatural act, the spiritual war crime they committed. In exchange for being their god of deceit amongst the Nephilim, he was spared execution, given greater powers, and granted immortality.”

  As the angelic voice speaks into my mind, a small spark builds steadily into a rippling flame, angry and resentful. If the voice I’m hearing is truly an angel, then he has all the power needed to defeat Verdonos and his underlings. More than that, he’s a personification of all the angelic abandonments and failures that so many Nephilim have endured, and he’s at it again. The fire in my chest surges beyond restraint.

  “Stop. If you know all of this, why haven’t you intervened? If you know that he’s Verdonos and that he’s been behind all of this, why haven’t you stopped him?!” I shout. “If you had, Reb and the others would still be alive! Your warning sent Reb to his death!”

  “Ted, I understand your passion, your anger, your resentment, but you know far too little to speak so freely. It was never the design for angels and humans to procreate, but here you Nephilim are for better or worse. It changed the natural order of things millennia ago when angels gave in to their lust. You are not supposed to exist, but since you do there are rules. I am forbidden from interfering directly in any human or Nephilim matters, and so are the demons.”

  “What about Verdonos’s demon baboons? They had no problem attacking me and killing Doc and Pam.”

  “Those creatures are as much demons as humans are angels. They are merely ravenous wolves, dark creatures of violent instinct, but they have no demonic status,” the voice states frankly in its yet unvarying cadence. “Angels and demons battle each other, but we dare not kill your kind or that of humans, especially in the human plane. From the spirit rift we guide and encourage, and demons tempt and afflict, but even this very conversation treads dangerously across the blurred line between our roles. Verdonos, despite his unnatural powers, is Nephilim and I cannot kill him. The penalty for such an act would be unthinkable. Likewise, you have little to fear from demons. This Nephilim war is yours to wage, but the repercussions will be felt by every living thing on Earth.”

  “So, why tell me? Mel is their leader. Shouldn’t you be sharing this with her?”

  “Mel is their leader, as she should be. She is the one the alliance needs. But you are its champion, Theodonis, and these words are for you so that you may understand the gravity of your role in this world. The uniqueness of your scintilla is no chance mutation, it is a new design. You are the future of the Nephilim. Reb knew that, and that is why he eagerly chose death for your sake.”

  A footstep echoes off the factory walls and for a moment the voice pauses as if to listen. I crane my head toward the door, but I still see nothing but white light in all directions. The steps grow nearer, rushing his disciplined cadence as he finishes.

  “Theodonis, you have only begun to discover your potential. Continue to train, searching the limits of your power and taking note of every detail, no matter how insignificant. These Nephilim are important. Protect them, fight alongside them, and teach them, but do not get too close. Your purpose is greater than theirs, your destiny inevitable. When the time comes for you to move on, you must let nothing hold you back.”

  With his final word, my eyes are afflicted with overwhelming itching as if sprinkled with a thousand grains of sand. I blink to shield them and, thankfully, my world goes dark. I clench my lids tightly together and rub my eyes to combat the ruthless itching.

  The footsteps reach my side and stop as Mel sits on the ground next to me. “I was wondering where you went. You okay?” she asks, then continues without waiting. “Before you answer that, I mean because you were just in here talking to yourself with your eyes peeled open and totally white like they were rolled to the back of your skull. That, and because of Reb, of course.”

  “You saw that, huh?”

  She gives a sideways snicker and says, “Yeah, I saw.”

  We exchange exhausted laughter and I respond to her question. “Yeah. I’m okay. As good as I can be with three dead friends, a stab wound, and a bullet hole in my neck,” I say with a breathy huff.

  She takes my filthy hand in hers and stares ahead at the hot, yellow furnace window. We sit quietly, our shoulders falling heavily with each shallow breath. Tipping slowly toward me, she rests her head on my shoulder and wraps her other arm around the middle of my back.

  Do not get too close.

  I turn to her and say, “He spoke to me.”

  “Reb?”

  “No, not Reb. His angel contact. He was speaking to me when you came in. That’s why my eyes were…white. That’s who I was talking to.”

  “Well, good. I’m sure his message was exactly what you needed to hear. Anything you need to share with the alliance?”

  “He told me more about Verdonos and the angels and demons,” I answer, seriously considering withholding the rest. After a few seconds I say, “He said some things about me too.”

  “Whatever he said about you was for you, Ted. I won’t ask and I don’t want you to tell me,” she declares before I can say any more.

  A little relieved, I nod and turn back to the furnace.

  A second later, Mel pulls me close and I feel the velvet-soft warmth of her lips against my cheek. She presses her kiss just firmly enough to make her affections clear, but not so much as to demand a response. I smile and look at her from the corners of my eyes as she pulls away. She smiles back, elated and a little embarrassed, and that’s when I turn my head and lean in, landing a passionate kiss squarely on her scarlet lips.

  Do not get too close…let nothing hold you back.

  We separate and exchange a look of wonder and possibility. She jumps up and extends her hand to me, and I take it in my tingling grasp.

  EPILOGUE

  “Less than a week after the disappearance of beloved CEO and philanthropist, Jan Lucero, Pentastar Pharmaceuticals’ Board of Directors has named an interim CEO,” vibrates the news anchor’s voice through the old Crown Vic’s tinny speakers. “In a prepared statement, acting Chairman of the Board, Bjorn Jansen, announced that VP of Marketing, Darren Woodruff, will be taking the reins of the struggling pharma giant—”

  “I know Darren,” I tell Drake, both of us transfixed on the radio unit.

  “What do you think?”

  “He’s woefully underqualified—”

  “Kinda like you, huh?” Drake jabs. “You think they’re gonna steamroll him with the Fosillix trial?”

  “I don’t think so. He’s a yes-man, but with Jan gone and Bjorn calling the shots, I think they just want someone they can control, someone who will just be grateful for the title and pay.”

  Bjorn now speaks through the car stereo, a recording from this morning’s press conference. “This has been a challenging time in this company’s proud history of helping people find hope and health in the midst of affliction. Over the last few weeks, our Pentastar family has suffered from its own series of tragic losses and affliction. It started on October twentieth w
ith the suicides of Vice President of Operations, Dave McConnell, and Operations Manager, Joel Donovan. Three days later, two of my fellow board members, close friends of mine, Thomas Sanford and Stacy Meyers, were brutally murdered during a board meeting that I attended. The deeply troubled killer was one of our own, but due to the ongoing investigation I’m unable to provide further details. All I would like to say on the matter is that if the individual responsible is listening to this, please do the right thing. Turn yourself in and tell the truth—”

  “Truth? That’s a joke, right?” I ask rhetorically, looking below my raised left eyebrow at Drake. “He just said Dave committed suicide even though Jan confessed to having Harvey murder him!”

  Drake shakes his head in disbelief and continues listening to Bjorn’s lies. A cool breeze dawdles dumbly through the car’s open doors as I lean forward and prop my forehead high on the contoured plastic dashboard. The sound of the children roaring aggressively while they train with Mel and Vic in the nearby field tempts me away from Bjorn’s deceitful droning. Only the naive hope that something redemptive has come from all this calls me back to the sounds of the radio.

  “Three days ago, our CEO, Jan Lucero, who has worked tirelessly to bring the revolutionary Alzheimer’s drug Fosillix to market, was reported missing. We have been working closely with the Port Ellis Police Department and have offered all of the resources at our disposal to assist them in their efforts to find her. If you have any knowledge of her whereabouts, please contact the Port Ellis Police as soon as possible.

  “Lastly, in the wake of all this darkness, we have spent a lot of time evaluating our relationship with our customers and patients—our extended Pentastar family. I’m sure you’re all aware of the Fosillix drug trial events and the pending litigation. While our participants were made fully aware of the risks of participating in the trial—”

  I mumble into the stippled plastic, “More lies.”

  “—and signed legally binding liability waivers, it has always been the vision of this company to make lives better, not worse. We will not ignore the negative impact that the trial had on some participants’ health and have reached a settlement with the lawsuit plaintiffs in the generous amount of seven hundred fifty million dollars.”

  The recording stops and the anchor takes back over the broadcast to segue to the next story. My head still propped on the dash, I twist toward Drake who spins the volume knob low then raises his arms and locks his fingers behind his head. He reclines slightly and emits a pronounced sigh.

  “Well, at least the trial participants will get paid. And Jan got what she had coming. You happy with that?” he asks.

  “I’m not sure it matters. What’s done is done. I’m glad the patients and their families will be compensated but, as usual, the truth stays buried. Pentastar will come out of this looking benevolent and squeaky clean, and the only lesson they’ve learned is how to better handle this situation when it happens again. And it will happen again. It doesn’t feel like justice.”

  Drake says, “Yeah…it’s not justice. It could’ve turned out worse for the patients though.”

  I try to embrace the outcome as a victory, but like a bad organ transplant, my spirit responds with rejection on a molecular level. Any scenario that leaves the lies intact and the guilty unpunished would evoke the same primal response. The masses remain blind and make decisions they might make differently if they knew the truth. Their minds are manipulated, their free will bound and gagged.

  Drake stirs and shifts, searching for a comfortable position, but there’s something more than the cramped confines of the driver’s seat fueling his restlessness. His closed eyes suggest he’s attempting a power nap, but I can tell he’d settle for pretend sleep. I can’t read his thoughts, but it’s obvious that his brain is running hot, nagged by a burdensome notion. However, if I’ve learned anything about Drake over the last few weeks it’s that he’s not going to open up just because I ask him to; he has to want to talk. I watch and wait, and he rewards my patience much sooner than I expected.

  Without opening his eyes and with a downcast tone, Drake says, “They just left me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Back in the gym at Carver. Doc went down first. Pam burned her ammo quick then fought hard while I sent every bullet I could before I pulled my baton ready to fight. They didn’t even bother with me, they just swarmed her.” He pauses, hardening his countenance to keep from breaking. “I jumped in and tried like hell to save her, but one of those things threw me against the wall and I got knocked out. When I came to, the only thing left of any of it was her blood, smeared and dragged around the floor. The room was empty.”

  I sit up from the dashboard, wanting to offer some words of reassurance, but all the phrases that come to mind feel like hollow platitudes. His eyes open halfway and stare blankly through the windshield. He draws a deep breath to continue, so I say nothing yet.

  “I couldn’t save her, Ted. I fully meant to die in that gym. I was ready.”

  “I know you did. I sensed it when we said our goodbyes.”

  “Those damn creatures wouldn’t even give me the honor of a meaningful death. I was just a pest to be swatted away. The worst part is that they were right. No matter how hard I punched, kicked, and swung my baton, I couldn’t make a dent. I’ve never felt more powerless. I can’t explain it, but at least if I had died with Doc and Pam I wouldn’t feel like I failed them.”

  “You don’t have to explain it, Drake. I get it. But if you had died, then you wouldn’t have shown up on the roof of Milburn Tower and put more holes in Verdonos than anyone else in the history of the world. You saved us. If it weren’t for you, they would all be dead”—I gesture at the rest of the group training in the field—”and I’d be wishing I was. If it makes you feel any better, Verdonos and his horde won’t make the mistake of letting you live next time. Underestimating you was the worst choice they could’ve made,” I say, nodding with a hint of a smile.

  I notice Mel and Vic on approach and flick my head their direction so Drake sees them too. Climbing out of the car to meet them, I step into the unseasonably warm afternoon sun. I squint and shield my eyes with my hand, and for a second it looks like the radiant light is emanating from Mel.

  Still fifteen feet away, she asks, “So, what did they say?”

  “They’re paying off the trial participants but they’re maintaining their lies and aren’t taking responsibility for anything. Dave is still a ‘suicide.’ I’m still the suspect of the double homicide of Thomas and Stacy. Jan is a beloved dreamer, leader, and now victim.”

  “Well, I guess something’s better than nothing,” she says. “I’d love to help you finish what you started there, Ted, but things are different now. You understand, right?” As I nod, she looks past me to Drake, who has climbed out of the driver’s seat and is leaning on the roof of the car. “What did your friend say about Tyson?”

  “They locked him up, but he’s already been released. They can’t really do anything with him until they catch Ted and convict him. If Ted’s found innocent, then Tyson wouldn’t be guilty of any crime.”

  “Well, that’s not going to happen. Tyson’s going to stay free because they’ll never find Ted, and even if they did, Ted is innocent, and the truth still matters.”

  “It matters to us, at least,” I state firmly.

  Mel smiles and says, “And we will be the spark.”

  I look away to my right at the short caravan of vehicles that brought us to this Columbia Basin prairie. An old conversion van and two compact sedans stand before a backdrop of scabby, rolling hills that stretch to the base of low, jagged mountains. It’s beautiful in its barrenness. An untouched biome of purest life, each petal, tendril, and insect serves its purpose or the ecosystem suffers. I love its simple complexity. Vic breaks the silence, asking, “Mel, how much longer until the others are here and we can head south?”

  “Four of them will be here tonight, eight more tomorrow morning.�
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  “Not exactly the army we need,” Drake notes. “If they really do own every seat of power, we’re not just fighting other Nephilim, we’re potentially fighting every army in the world.”

  Mel’s head bobs in agreement. “That’s why we’re heading south to join forces with an old friend. He’s been hard at work for five years winning converts and training up warriors.”

  “How many are we talking about?” I ask.

  Mel fights a smile as she responds, “Hundreds.”

  “The Nephilim were on the earth in those days—and also afterward—when the sons of God went to the daughters of humans and had children by them. They were the heroes of old, men of renown.”

  Genesis 6:4

  “And the angels, the children of heaven, saw and lusted after them, and said to one another: ‘Come, let us choose us wives from among the children of men and beget us children.”

  1 Enoch 6:2-3

  “And all the others together with them took unto themselves wives, and each chose for himself one, and they began to go in unto them and to defile themselves with them, and they taught them charms and enchantments…”

  1 Enoch 7:1-2

  “And there arose much godlessness, and they committed fornication, and they were led astray, and became corrupt in all their ways”

  1 Enoch 8:2-3

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Phil Scott Mayes is the author of Verity Rising, the first installment of the supernatural thriller series, Gods of Deceit. A writer of provocative, philosophical fiction, he keeps readers on the edge of their seats while challenging them to confront their worldview. His stories will keep you thinking long after you close their pages and lay down your head.

  Though writing is currently a part-time pursuit, he pours himself into each line with a passion that borders on obsession. An avid fan of horror and thriller genres, his works are down-to-earth, relatable, and gritty interpretations of supernatural and science fiction themes.