Succubus Tear (Triune promise)

by Andreas Wiesemann

  I Am in the Pain of Loneliness

  “You will fail, Cain is my Bond. He will find me.”

  —Al’bah

  “Aijik-Kraa!” Al’bah called softly, looking upon her desolate surroundings.

  She was back in a cage; she had spent centuries in cages. But this time her captivity was different: no slaves of Taint to jeer, taunt, insult, or torture her. In fact, she had not been touched at all once she was brought here. Al’bah sighed as her eyes wandered around her surroundings.

  Al’bah knew she was still on a physical realm. Her new body would not survive in any spiritual realm that Taint had access to. It was a cold and dark place. It had the look of a cave, but it was certainly manmade. The air had a stinging odor to it that reminded her of what Cain identified as “vehicle exhaust”.

  She ran her hand over the metal bars, and snatched her hand back and hissed as her skin burned; they were made of fresh iron, bereft of the touch of rust, of corruption. However, the door of the cage was secured by a malevolent chain. The links were shaped and twisted into the ancient words of corruption and enslavement. They were rusted but vastly stronger than steel, perhaps not physically, but there was no way she could overcome their strength.

  Al’bah stifled a shaking sob. The loneliness she felt was almost unbearable. Oh, how she wished Cain could hear her cries. “Aijik-Kraa!” she called out again. She sensed the faintest whisper of his presence, but he was only aware of her cry in the smallest of ways. “Oh, Cain, I am so lonely! Please! Hear my cry! Feel my soul and my presence, for I am in the pain of loneliness! Aijik-Kraa!” His presence felt stronger. Perhaps speaking her tongue and its crude translation produced a stronger effect? The sounds of footsteps drew her attention away from her observations.

  The human male that took her here rounded the corner and into view; he was tall and powerfully built. He looked over Al’bah with a slight curiosity and crossed his arms. “Missing your precious Bond?” he said dryly.

  Al’bah turned her head away. “I am.”

  Al’bah never did have much to say to Taint’s slaves, but this individual was different. He had the stench of Taint upon him, and yet his soul spoke of a man who would give allegiance only to a superior. This human is so different; there is no lust, no weakness within him. He is filled with a dark purpose, and yet it does not come from Taint. No, it comes from himself.

  The man passed a bucket through the bars. “For the inevitable waste your flesh will produce.”

  Al’bah accepted the bucket. It was filled with several packages, including food, drink, and even small comforts, like sanitary paper, a washcloth, and a warm blanket.

  Al’bah put the bucket down and began to look up. A flash of motion caught her off guard, and the man now had seized her face and pulled her closer.

  Al’bah snarled, opening her fang-filled maw, ready to rend, tear, and savage the man’s arm when his other hand grabbed her hair.

  “Be still, or I will snap your neck.”

  The man’s statement chilled her to the bone. He spoke with a resolve that gave an unmistakable impression that he was not someone to be trifled with. “Let go of me!” she cried.

  “You change with your emotions just as readily as any Succubi. But you are different. Your transformations can be done in parts. You are more powerful than I dared to imagine.”

  Al’bah opened her eyes and locked her gaze with the strange man. His eyes were a glittering pale gray pane of ice, reflecting a soul who had seen its own destiny and was unafraid.

  “Let go of me!” Al’bah said again, pouring her strength and her will into her words. She focused on his soul; there had to be a weakness she could exploit.

  The man grinned and deliberately forced Al’bah’s face painfully against the bars. The cold iron began to burn her skin, causing her to cry out.

  “No, not like this. I wanna see just how powerful you really are.”

  Al’bah felt the man let go, and she opened her eyes. The door to the cage was open, with the chains upon the floor near his feet. Did he break the chains with his bare hands? What sort of human is this? Oh, I am so afraid!

  The man removed his blazer and then his shirt, revealing a nightmarish canvas of scars. No, not scars—they were the curses of old! Horrible curses and marks of grave sin, and accusations that left no room to deny guilt.

  “No,” Al’bah whimpered.

  “If you can pass me, I will let you go,” the man said with a wry grin. “But first a warning. You stand no chance unless you stand against me with your full power!”

  Al’bah shook her head, slamming the door shut despite her needing to touch the iron again. “I will not give myself to anger. I will not!”

  “Not even to return to your Bond?”

  Al’bah sunk to the ground and wept. “What do you want from me? What do you want from Cain?”

  The man shrugged. “You wouldn’t believe my plans, even if I told you. I will say this: you are everything I could have hoped for, and more. And your Bond—well, I haven’t gotten this far to be loose-lipped now. Taint is going about killing Cain in the wrong way. But no need to enlighten anyone on that. I owe corruption nothing; my plans with you both are my own.”

  “Who are you? Tell me your name!”

  “Walter Stratton.”

  Al’bah bared her teeth and hissed, “You lie!”

  The liar shrugged. “It will be the only name you know me by, until I decide otherwise.”

  “Kren-Sha-Keen-Rel-Ta-Ma-Shu-Ta!” she screamed, throwing each of the objects through the bars. She would not accept her captive’s gifts! She would die first!

  The liar put on his shirt and buttoned it up. “To accept the kindness of a foe corrupts the innocent. Or something like that. The language of old really doesn’t translate well into English. You are a fool to think that this is a kindness, or that I am your foe. You have no idea what your former master has in store for you and Cain.” He scooped up the chains and secured them by warping the metal with his bare hands.

  “And what of the plans of corruption? They are masterworks of deception and manipulation. But they are so very simplistic: one thought, one goal—always the same goal! I know what is in store, and you are a fool to assume otherwise. But you…you are so very different.”

  Indeed, the liar was an absolute oddity of all the humans she had seen thus far. The liar knew what she was when he first set eyes upon her. And his demand for her to come with him was accompanied by the only threat that could ever work against her: a threat to kill Cain. He had an ancient feel, and Al’bah knew he commanded spiritual power with ease.

  The liar laughed. “How refreshing to converse and be exposed to a mind that can see the big picture.” He donned his blazer and seemed to come to a decision. “I was there to see the first city humanity built. I saw the sons of God marry the daughters of man, and wept to see the love they shared. I watched the door of the ark close. I saw the balance of all existence drown. I stood before the tower of Babel, and I wept as the Savior of man was crucified for the payment of sin.” He looked down upon his hands and back to Al’bah. “I am a product of the greatest minds man has ever known, and the result of the worst kinds of sin! And through it all, I am but a man.”

  Al’bah could barely stand before his presence. He tells the truth! Is he? Could it be possible?

  No! She would not fall for such obvious bait. If it was a deception, Al’bah could not sense it. Taint’s methods of corruption were always subtle. A slight crack in one’s morals was all that Taint needed to invade, to infect, destroy, and control. Even though Al’bah doubted if this man ever held fealty to Taint, she would take no chances. Taint was so very cunning with deceptions, and so very masterful with torture. Al’bah never gave in, though, through every deception, no matter how masterful, and every torment, no matter how painful. Al’bah never gave in. With good reason too, she felt—no, she knew—that Taint and Taint’s masters did not hold the true power in existence. She wanted to be on the winnin
g side; she wanted—

  Al’bah looked up; he was staring at her. “Did you say something?” she said quietly.

  He grinned and spoke with a hissing voice. “You always were so absentminded, Succubus.”

  Al’bah shrieked and shrank back from the twisted vision. The man was long gone; she was being deceived by Taint. “Leave me be,” she whimpered. “I did no wrong by accepting Cain’s choice: me.”

  The vision of the human rotted away until its skeleton turned to dust, leaving behind a shadow. Taint burning yellow eyes narrowed to slits. “I give you a warning, Succubus. And a message.”

  “I shall not listen. You are a liar.”

  “True, I am. I foresee great pleasure in delivering this, though. Truth or not, you and your Bond have earned my wrath.”

  “I see it, your Bond. It will come here for you. It will try to rescue you and fail, for one of my thralls shall assist it, and then betray it. You will die, it will die. Your Bond is unsaved. I will use it to torment you for this insult. It will be promised reprieves from its punishment. It will never receive them. It will punish you for nothing, even as it is punished. This is my will. Let the world be Taint-ed.”

  “Nooo!” Al’bah screamed, forcing her awareness back to where her physical body resided. The shadow that made up Taint’s form melted into the shadows of the garage, and even though her perception was closed off to corruption, she still felt the shadows and the dead eyes of various insects and small animals around her stare into her core, and smile with mocking intent.

  Al’bah trembled; she was so afraid. She wanted Cain; she needed him. But she was afraid of what it would mean if—when—he at last came to her.

  “Aijik-Kaaa!” she screamed across the air and the spaces that did not have air.

  Chapter 23

  Enter Stella Fullson

  “I listen to humanity’s thoughts on the physical side of existence, and laugh. I listen to their thoughts on the spiritual side of existence, and am amazed.

  —Taint

  Next morning, the office of the DA was in an uproar. People were running about pell-mell, and phones, both cellular and landline, were constantly ringing, while a mob of the press lingered outside, all asking questions or, well, more like questioning the competency of the police force and the FBI assigned to the recent case.

  The TV showed a crudely made yet effective video once more as Cain Lamentson’s frantic voice gave all the cues needed. The shit sandwich all landed on the doorstep of the DA and the force around five in the morning, long after the police issued a statement of Lamentson’s arrest in connection with drugs.

  Nothing like this had happened before; it just didn’t make sense. Indeed, Stella thought to herself, what a mess!

  She glanced up from the case file to look at the boys arguing amongst themselves. She sighed and turned her attention back to the file, wondering why in the world these big fish wanted a newly minted detective on this case. The anonymous tip was supposed to have been a godsend for the city’s poor track record on the fight against drugs. It was at first, considering it led to the bust of several hundred kilos, but it all went wrong.

  Firstly, quite a few neighbors that lived in the same apartment had made phone calls to the authorities of several “suspicious” people that were unloading strange packages into Cain Lamentson’s apartment. All this happened while he was at work, which was already verified by over twenty witnesses by the press.

  Those two facts were not a detriment to the case; many a higher-up in the world of drugs could have witnesses account for their every minute, giving an airtight alibi. The detriment was the video detailing a broken lock after the police reported breaking down the door in a bungled statement. Then the “suspicious” people found dead in the river. Soon after, the police caravan that had the contraband came under attack by a known drug cartel, the Tal-Voh. All this spelled out to Lamentson being framed.

  Stella flipped to the next page. Ah, the “suspicious people” were local drug abusers, known for petty crime. Another twist, as it was obvious they couldn’t have been trusted with a shipment like that.

  Though Lamentson met with a lawyer, he refused to be represented by one. This seemed like a good thing for the city, but it too blew up in their faces. As the court date loomed, no one could get him to confess or make any statement that could implicate him. But the fatal blow came as the DA just got off phone. “My informant in the Daily News Journal says that they are going to run a story of a traitor in the police force.”

  Silence. Dead silence fell upon the office of the DA. The story might be absurd, might even be false. But with all the “coincidences” falling together, it would be hard to paint a different picture.

  “Damn it all!” the DA said, slamming his fist on the table. “Since when did an open-and-shut case like this get all fucked up? First, I want to know who failed to get that damn video off his phone, and I want his head on a pike!” He looked to the other two detectives, the chief of police, and the FBI agent in his office. “And I want Lamentson in prison! I don’t care how long it is! Get him up on some trumped-up possession charge! Aiding and abetting! Anything! He does not walk out of that damn courtroom without a sentence!”

  “Perhaps,” Stella began uneasily, as everyone’s attention turned to her, “we are going about this the wrong way?”

  “By all means, sweetheart!” the DA huffed. “Let the dumb ole boys know what we have been doing wrong all this time!”

  Stella was unaffected by this remark; she had always gotten along with this sort of thing ever since she joined the force. And why not? If there ever was a textbook picture definition of “not meant to be a cop,” Stella was it. The men in the room towered over her five-foot-six frame, even when she wore heels.. Her pale, willowy blonde hair with blue eyes combination didn’t do much in projecting a “to protect and serve” image either, though she made up for it with a cunning intellect and a fierce resolve that put more than her fair share of violent perps on their asses. Not to mention a decent number of the more arrogant individuals on the force, which left her open to all sorts of chauvinistic nicknames: Hell on Heels, Blonde Brawler, Nutcracker, Blue-Eyed Boxer (or BEB, for short).

  Wasn’t there a few more? Shit, I can’t remember.

  Why indeed did it take an “out of the box” way of thinking to reach an easy solution? Her father taught that one to her all the time, though her fool of a mother always tried to take the credit for it.

  “We play off that we knew the attack was going to happen all along. This allows us to insinuate that Lamentson’s arrest was for his safety and our attempt to cut the cartel off at the knees. Go one step further and we announce his little video ruined our perfect chance, which takes care of the bungled statement. Also, if we say that one of our own was ‘undercover’ and the attack was orchestrated, we could make it out of this looking like heroes, and not half intelligent. This will also serve for the cartel to second-guess their current members.”

  She held up her finger. “But I suspect that we have only another ten minutes to make that statement. Any longer and the press will second-guess us and sensationalize any story that makes us look like fools and oppressors, and corrupt.” The room fell silent again, as Stella could tell that the men were fighting the logic of the approach she was taking. As expected.

  “But what about Lamentson?” Chief Turnovits stated. “There has to be a connection here, and I want him watched.” He seemed to come to a decision and pointed to one of the detectives. “Detective Hiller, are you up to it?”

  “I’ll keep an eye on ‘em.”

  “No, I don’t think so,” the FBI agent said with his arms crossed.

  The DA stood. “Agent Shane Harper, I think your investigation of the cartel does not include Lamentson.”

  “True,” the agent said, taking off an antique rancher’s hat, and dusted the brim. “But two out of the three detectives here have a record of corruption investigations.” He placed the hat back on. “This inv
estigation into Mister Lamentson is crucial to my own. I will not have any foxes in this henhouse.”

  Detective Hiller stood up angrily. “Are you accusing me of someth—”

  “Yes I am, son!” Harper said with a harsh look in his eye. “I didn’t give y’all a choice, I didn’t ask for y’all’s opinion, nor did I leave this up to a vote.” He turned to the chief. “I am telling you. I am telling you to assign someone else.”

  The DA sat back down. “Right then, Fullson, this falls to you. Unless you have any objections, Agent Harper?”

  Stella swallowed hard and locked her gaze with the FBI agent. He stared at her for several moments with hazel eyes that were cold, almost hateful.

  Agent Harper shrugged. “Nope, unless you do. You may be a greenhorn, but that was some quick thinking there, missy.”

  Stella nodded. “I will be glad to keep an eye on him.” The smirk that replaced the exasperated look on the district attorney’s face immediately made her regret saying that.

  Videos of Cain following his arrest showed off all of his finer points of physical attributes. From his tall, tall frame, his sharp and cutting eyes, to his musculature that was typically only seen in Olympian athletes.

  Fullson’s skin was so white, it was nearly translucent, and she struggled to keep it from blushing, and won. She kept her stare between the DA and the chief and tapped the phone that the DA was on only moments ago. ”We have seven minutes.”

  Her words seemed to catapult the men back into action, and she smirked inwardly on how she won again. She returned back to the file and found it contained the contents of Cain Lamentson’s wallet.

  Hmmm, might be something there.

  She unfolded an old church program from 1999, from the Light of Heaven Baptists in Joelston, North Dakota. A business card from the lawyer that met with Cain. Strange, it was blank, save for Walter Stratton’s contact information. A concealed-carry permit, hmm, set to expire in a month. A few Japanese ideograms written on a heavy paper. She thumbed through the file. Ah, the translation was “come, and be ready.” A fortune from a fortune cookie: “If the devil loves you, kiss her.” And a picture which showed four people sitting in a booth: Cain, his friend that came to the city with him, a brunette sitting with Cain, and…