Succubus Tear (Triune promise) (2 page)

The world was swept into a violent blur and frantic vertigo. A flash of white blinded his sight and turned into a darkness punctuated by a starry burst.

“Oh my God, are you okay?”

Cain struggled to breathe, working his mouth to take in breaths and to get the horrible taste of metal out of his mouth. At last he was able to inhale, but the pain in his head and ribs made him wonder for a moment if he was struck by lightning. An overwhelming flood of nausea carried away the once pleasant darkness that now swirled behind his closed eyes. A savage pain filled his right hand, and Cain could swear his face and the upper part of his chest was wet with…
blood?

Cain dared to open his eyes and saw that his hand was cut to the bone by some shattered glass near a patch of ice that he must have slipped on. He cried out, clutched his bleeding hand, and slowly got to his knees. Cain looked up and noticed the young Christian had a smirk he was too late to hide.

“I saw that fucking smile. Think it’s funny, asshole?” he shouted and stepped close.

The Christian held up his hands. “There is nothing I can say that wouldn’t make you more angry at me or convince you that I don’t find your pain funny.” He backed up. “I will go, I only pray that you—”

Cain bared his teeth and snatched the Christian's Bible with his bloody hand, bringing his face close enough to see his reflection in the panicked Christian’s eyes. “Fucking hypocrite Christian! I would rather screw around with a Demon of hell before I want to know more about Christ!” he spat, emphasizing his last word by thrusting the Bible back into the rosy-cheeked blond pansy’s chest, causing him to stumble back a few feet and fall down.

The Christian seemed to have a completely new air about him. “Then I will pray that God allows this to happen,” he called out solemnly as he got up.

Cain slouched off into the cold and wrapped his handkerchief around his hand. He could hear more than one person ask if he was okay, but he didn’t even glance at, let alone acknowledge, the people around him. He walked on, cursing the entire world. Let the whole world be damned! The entire world was one big pile of filth that only deserved to
burn
with him along with it.

Cain had been cut bad before, and like before he would heal up—though this time, maybe a few stitches wouldn’t hurt.

His stomach growled as he caught a slight whiff of the food stand he was headed for.

Right. Food first, then stitches.

At last, he reached his favorite street vendor and ordered a big roast beef sandwich. He was just starting to receive his change from a fifty-dollar bill when a gust of wind caught the money and promptly blew it across the street and beneath a door of a large building.

“Dammit! Did they
all
have to get blown under the door?” he exclaimed and crossed the street with reckless abandon, causing a few cars to brake hard and honk their horns, announcing the full extent of their annoyance to the street. Cain reached the building and found it locked. He kicked and pounded on the heavy wood.

“Hey! Hey!”

No answer. Of course there wouldn’t be one. “Hey, dammit! Open up! You got something that belongs to me!” The door remained still and silent, and one of the drivers gave him a laugh and a curse before driving off. Cain looked up at the impressive three-story structure. The windows were dusty but high quality. The door was definitely a custom job: heavy oak planks lined with wrought-iron bands adorned with oversized rivets.

The building looked as though it had been abandoned for a long time. He saw an extra-large courier/package slot and looked inside toward the base of the door. There! He saw his thirty-two dollars right by the door. He looked at his sandwich, and an idea came to him. Cain wedged his sandwich like a stick to keep the large and heavy metal shutter open, and he pushed his arm through. Slowly, his reach got closer to his money. “Come to me,” Cain muttered. “Give me, c’mon.”

He just barely got his fingers upon his money when they slipped. He cursed the new wave of bleeding triggered by his hand stretching for his money. Another gust of wind blew under the door and pushed his money completely out of reach. He sighed and started to retract his arm when it brushed his wrapped sandwich. The sandwich teetered for a moment and then fell inside, rolling out of reach. Cain opened his mouth to curse again when the mail slot crashed upon his hand with a wet, pulpy
smack
.

Chapter
2

Charlie Tsukada

I love to fight—I hardly ever lose.

—
Charlie Tsukada

Charlie grinned, taking a moment from the arc welder and watching his breath mist in the cold air.
“
Tsumetai resei heiwa shiso.
”
*
He always loved the cold. It always calmed so much more than just the fanatic activity of summer. He was about to return to his welder when Cain's voice caught his attention.
 

“This building will never get done if the foundation never gets the chance to dry and cure correctly!”

Ah yes, Cain was complaining about the cold and the rain yet again. He chuckled. Cain's foul mood was more likely to be improved by a drink than warmth and dry clothes. The way Cain could put away the booze was amazing. He even began to worry for the sake of Cain's liver, which by now might be more correctly called Cain's “pickled” liver.

“Does the asshole never stop complaining?” one of the older workers grumbled.

He looked up again. “I dunno. Do you,
baka-sha?
”
*
Charlie countered, standing up to his somewhat unimpressive five foot ten.

The man turned his head. “Oh, right, you two are homos, ain’tcha?”

Charlie shrugged. He loved how angry people set themselves up so easily. “Now seriously, I’m flattered. Although I don’t swing that way, I know a few people who do. If you’d like, I can set up an arrangement for you.”

The man started to walk toward him, picking up a large crowbar along the way. “Care to say that again, son?”

“Don’t do it, Barry. The Jap will kick your ass,” another coworker said off to the side.

Charlie grinned, savoring the adrenaline rush.
Do I really wanna do this?
I mean, this will be the second time since arriving in the city.

Barry, on the other hand, seemed to have his mind made up already, and brought the crowbar into a vicious swing. But Charlie had already moved.

“
Tsukidasu yasashī!
”
*
Charlie laughed, using Barry’s momentum against his swing and pushing his shoulder and hip slightly
 to have him slip and fall into the mud.

“C’mon, man, we shouldn’t fight, eh?” Charlie said, holding out his hand with a large grin, and he pointed discreetly to his left.

“What the hell is going on here?” the foreman shouted and drew close.

Charlie turned to the foreman and tried to disarm him with a jovial demeanor. “Hey, boss! Aw, don’t worry about Barry here. He just slipped in the mud—”

“While trying to take a swing at you!” the foreman said with a cross expression. “This is the second time I had to put up with your crap, and I don’t give third chances. Charlie, you and your friend are fired! Get the fuck off my—”

“Is there a problem here, Mister Jones?”

“Walter—I mean, Mister Stratton! No, no problem, just a workplace altercation that I am taking care of right now.”

Charlie looked over to Walter Stratton; he stood as tall as Cain and was probably just as muscled. He was impeccably dressed in a high-quality wool coat and three-piece suit, and he completed his no-nonsense look with a pair of dark sunglasses. He turned his gaze upon Charlie and looked over to where Cain was still working on the cement.

“Mister Jones, considering how far behind on schedule you were, I think removing these two would put you even more so. Especially considering that they are faster than the lot you usually employ. In fact, I seem to recall that the cement and welding job was the primary source of delay.” He gestured to Cain and then to Charlie. “And these two have accomplished in a few days what was budgeted for a few weeks.”

The look the foreman had on his face forced Charlie to fight the reflex to grin, and he bit his tongue before one of his trademark smart-ass quips could escape his lips. If there was anything that always saved his and Cain’s ass on the jobsite, it was their undeniable ability.

“Yes, Mister Stratton, sir. Of course.”

Walter Stratton nodded and walked off without a second glance.

The foreman glanced at Charlie. “We’ll talk later.”

Charlie grinned and shrugged as he glanced at Barry, now getting to his feet.

“Asshole,” Barry muttered.

“You got me there,” Charlie said as he turned his head toward a faint giggle. A cute brunette was watching the scene; her stance was too relaxed to be waiting for someone,
and the smile behind her eyes meant she saw something she liked.
Or so I hope,
Charlie thought.

“Hey,” he said as he drew within a couple of feet of the young lady.

“Hey there, Mister Kung Fu,” she said with a shy smile.

“How’d you know my name?” Charlie asked with a serious tone.

“Are you serious?” the girl asked with wide eyes.

“No, I just wanted to make you laugh—knew it would work.”

Still laughing, the girl wiped her eyes with one hand while the other held on to the umbrella. She tried to force the smile from her face by massaging her jaw, but was unsuccessful. “So, what is your name then?”

“Charlie Tsukada. What about your name?”

“Eileen.”

“Eileen. Hmmm. Eileen is an old French name that means ‘hazelnut.’ Like the color of your beautiful hair.”

“Oh, you’re good,” Eileen said, twirling her umbrella. “I’ve never been hit on like this before. So what’s your name mean?”

“Naaah, I can’t give away everything. It would leave nothing to talk about later tonight.”

Eileen started to laugh again and then glanced over Charlie's shoulder. “Some tall guy was just scowling at us—well, at you really.”

Charlie glanced around. “Oh, that’s Cain, my best friend. Perhaps I can introduce you to him. Whatcha say?”

“I already have a boyfriend.”

“Lucky guy.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Awww, thanks. But we both know you’re not sorry.”

They stared at each other for a few moments, just smiling, perhaps feeling the magic that could only exist between two hearts beating to the tune of “what-if.”

Charlie winked and headed after his friend.
 He stopped and glanced over his shoulder; Eileen was still standing there and smiling at him. He was just about to go back to ask for her number when a familiar scream rang in the air.

“Crap, why did I have to flirt with the girl?” Charlie hissed as he broke into a run, wondering what the hell Cain did this time.

“Woa, crap!” Charlie exclaimed, almost falling down from a patch of ice. He quickly scanned the street where Cain usually bought lunch. Ah, there he was, across the street and pounding on some door…with his left hand? Charlie walked closer, grimacing from the spatters of blood gleaming from the pale snow and ice on the sidewalk leading up to the sandwich stand. He sighed internally while he waited for the street to clear enough for him to cross.

Charlie flinched as the mail slot Cain was reaching through closed on his hand.
“Oi’, Cain-sama! Abunai kotow a kega no uchi!
Giving the door a kiss? Isn’t that nice? Considering you already gave it a really good banging. What else could you give, eh?”
*

Yeah, I’m good!
Charlie thought to himself, pleased he caught Cain with his lips to the door.

“Give? I already gave everything! My flesh, my blood, my food, my money! Hell, why not give my life too? All bu—” Cain coughed, as some saliva must have gotten in his windpipe. “My pride!” he finished in a hoarse tone.

Holy shit! He's covered in blood, and his hand is sliced to the bone!
Charlie thought, now feeling like the biggest asshole in the world. “C’mon, I’m taking you to the hospital, no arguments.”