Succubus Tear (Triune promise) (25 page)

“Yeah, funny thing about this examination room,” he said, turning around. “I found this in a nearby spittoon.”

“Recording devices are being serviced; do not use for questioning.”

Stella shrugged. “I didn’t see that, maybe they’re done servicing the devices.”

“Nope.”

“Well, I suppose you’ll have to take my word; if you’ll excuse me, I want to take these down to the lab.”

Shane nodded. “Ma’am.”

Stella left, feeling Shane’s eyes still upon her, even after the door closed.

“Good afternoon, James,” Stella said to the lab technician that was on duty.

“Detective Fullson, how’s it goin’?” James grinned.

“I need to see if you can retrieve any genetic material from all this. If you can, keep it a low priority. I don’t need—what?”

“Oh nothing, really,” James said, taking the bagged objects. “It’s just that you know my name, when people who worked here longer than you’ve been alive only know me as ‘the lab guy.’ Low priority, got it.”

“Now, now, do you know
their
names?” Stella said with a smile of her own.

“Better believe it. I have to, with all the reports that come in and out of here.”

“Thanks,” Stella said, still grinning. “Have a good weekend.”

“You too.”

Stella quickly walked up to her office and got out her digital recorder.
What’s this?
She picked up Agent Harper’s filthy old cowboy hat from her desktop and noticed a memo tucked in its brim.

“
IN THIS STYLE 10/6.”

Stella turned over the note.

“
Gotta run a few things by you, thought leaving my hat would be a better reminder.”

“Crazy,” Stella muttered and clicked her recorder on. “Case subject: Cain Lamentson. File five.” Stella sighed deeply and thought hard for several moments. “This case is perhaps the strangest I have ever worked on. As I spoke to Cain about my suspicion on his connection to drugs and Holly Archer’s death, I—” Stella stopped for a moment. “I got the impression Cain was more like some puppy that was kicked around when it was little, and turned vicious. Cain has a serious problem with authority, as all his employers can vouch for. See file twelve.”

She paused again, not quite ready to go over the next bit. She scribbled a few notes and reactivated the recorder. “Case subject Holly Archer, age twenty-two: deceased. Holly Archer, also identified as Holly Pearson, daughter to Sam and Penny Archer, who happen to be the most outspoken proponents of harsher drug laws and control in Richmond. See case file fifteen; Holly’s parents sent her away to Virginia Beach, post legal name change due to death threats directed toward them and their daughter.”

Stella sighed, allowing her sigh to be recorded as well as her more candid thoughts. It always helped her to rethink things once she listened to herself speak it out. “Stella, girl, I don’t know what to say. My bosses, the DA, and the chief want Cain’s ass to be canned. I already have enough to hold him for an ass-load of time but”—she sighed deeply—“but I know he’s not the one we should be looking for. I am certain that someone is setting this up, and I think it’s Cain’s girlfriend. Too many coincidences are piling up around whoever this Al’bah is.

“Okay, moving back to Holly,” she huffed, thumbing through her folders. Stella paused at the accident report, which was missing the supposed eyewitness accounts that Cain spoke of. “Other involved party of fatal accident was Officer Hiller of the Virginia Beach Police Force. See file nine, several instances of investigation with internal affairs—perhaps a possible leak, perhaps corrupt.”

Stella pulled up the local computer server of her precinct and ran the name. “Well I’ll be damned!” she breathed, clicking off the recorder. Officer Hiller was now Detective Hiller; he was one of the two detectives that Shane Harper shot down. Stella quickly ran a check and found that he transferred over to her precinct a few years ago.

Stella checked and rechecked the dates of Cain’s departure from Virginia Beach and arrival to her city with Hiller.
This is too close to be a coincidence! What the hell is going on?
She sat back and digested this information. “What do you say, Mister Harper’s hat?” she said while grabbing the hat and putting it on.

A surge of inspiration struck her, and she ran Shane Harper’s name with Cain’s.

“Holy shit!”

Seemed like Agent Harper, Cain, and Charlie all knew of each other. Part of an investigation of the Tal-Voh cartel. Turns out they were innocent, but the construction company they worked for at the time was not. Harper’s notes concluded them being irrelevant to his case within minutes of questioning. But there was something else she recognized about this case. She dug deeper and came up with a video she had seen before.

Three cops were savagely beating a handcuffed, short-haired Cain. Stella felt her insides cringe. She heard someone cursing in Japanese off camera. One of the cops looked up and tried to rush over to the camera. A bare foot caught him square in the jaw and the camera fell down, showing a handsome Asian male who was handcuffed as well.

“Seiko, baka-sha!
*
I hope you cowards rot in prison, ‘cause the whole Internet is gonna see this!” He reached out with his bare foot and the video stopped, obviously making it to the Internet.

Stella typed in the case against the officers. It was open and shut: guilty, badges stripped, and an eighteen-month sentence.

“Holy shit! What is going on?” One of the three officers was Brian Hiller, Detective Hiller’s little brother.

Does Agent Harper know what I do? It’s likely… he’s the one who shot down Detective Hiller at the briefing.
Stella checked her clock.
Damn, how did it get so late, so quick? And where is Agent Harper? I’m not gonna babysit his hat all day!

Stella got up and headed to the women’s locker room; she needed a shower, and she needed to change her clothes and maybe get a few energy drinks. The chief wanted her to take the day shift, but Stella refused. Cain was a construction worker, and she had no intention of entertaining the notion of sitting in a car all day, watching him with a pair of binoculars.

My “hot chick” clothes? Oh yeah, I was supposed to go out tonight and celebrate.
She had been set up with a blind date. Stella grimaced at the thought, but her friends weren’t taking no for an answer.

Stella quickly texted her friends:
“Boss set me up with that drug dealer you saw on TV yesterday. Sorry, girlie gurl. The sun was shining today, so no need for a rain check.”

“At least I get out of that bother.” Stella chuckled slightly and quickly undressed for her shower.

New Perspective and New Direction

“I’m warning you, Detective Hiller. Once this business is done, I am going to take a long, hard look at you.”

—Stella Fullson

There it was, a typical intercity office that housed the Stratton Law Firm. This firm proclaimed to specialize in business contracts, personal contracts, wills, and property procurement and management. Cain checked his cell phone.
Three twenty. Hmmm, not quite five o’ clock, but I’ll go anyway.

He approached the front desk that was an impressive slab of obsidian, feeling rather underdressed for this part of town, let alone this particular law firm. The secretary, a beautiful blonde, was on the phone speaking in what seemed to be French. Upon noticing Cain’s presence, she nodded and seemed to excuse herself from the conversation. She looked up and smiled warmly.

“Good afternoon, Monsieur Lamentson. How can the law offices of Stratton help you this day?” Her English had a delicate touch of a French accent.

“How do you know my name?” he said carefully.

“Forgive me, Monsieur Lamentson,” she said, her eyebrows rising slightly. “I have forgotten to introduce myself to you first. I am Jeanette Telannis.” She held out her hand, which Cain took.

Suddenly, like a flipped switch, Cain felt his hand erupt in agony. The pain then coursed throughout his entire body like lightning, stopping his heart, stealing his breath, blinding his eyes, deafening his hearing. The mindless torment seemed to last for an eternity, and yet like another flipped switch it ended. Cain let go of Jeanette’s hand, unable to comprehend how he kept himself from screaming.

“And I know you from the television programs that were on yesterday and today,” Jeannette finished, her brow furrowed. “Monsieur, are you well?” She stood for the first time. “You are suddenly pale, and wet with perspiration.”

Cain took a steadying breath and backed away from Jeannette, lost his balance, and almost fell upon the floor.

“Monsieur!” Jeannette exclaimed and rushed from behind the desk. She was about to help when Cain shouted in terror.

“Don’t touch me!” he said, his eyes wide with alarm. “I am fine, just do not touch me!” After a moment, Cain caught his breath. He regarded Jeannette for a moment. “I am fine,” he said again. “How do you know me again?”

Jeannette’s confused expression deepened. “Monsieur,” she said, walking back to her desk. “I said, I know you from the television programs from yesterday, and today.”

Of course she would know him from TV; Cain had forgotten and almost dreaded she knew him from—

“And you are one of Monsieur Walter Stratton’s clients,” she said, speaking out what he dreaded. “Are you here for an appointment? Or to make one?”

Cain steeled himself and was about to hand Jeanette his card, but decided to place it on the counter instead. “Maybe both,” he said simply.

Jeanette studied the card for a second, and her face brightened. “Ah yes, Monsieur Stratton does like to see to his clients early.” She typed with amazing quickness on her keyboard and was soon talking to her headset.

“Monsieur
Stratton? Monsieur Lamentson has arrived for a five o’clock.”

“
Merci.
” She focused her eyes back on Cain and held out his card. “Through the door on your right and follow the signs,” she said with a pleasant smile.

Cain waited a moment. “Um, just place it on the counter, please,” Cain said.

Jeannette’s smile turned into an odd expression as she placed the card upon the counter; Cain took and pocketed the card.

Cain turned to the door and went in.

***

A voice boomed out, and Cain whipped around to see himself in a strange grotto of sorts. He stood on a small island about five feet by five feet in the middle of crystal clear water that was surrounded by sheer cliffs that had to have been at least a hundred feet straight up.

A
huge
willow tree dominated the sky above the rim of the grotto. Its branches seemed to flow within the deep depression. Though the cliffs that surrounded him had numerous waterfalls all around, the roar of water was not as loud at all. The air had a wetness that was infused by a heady smell of flowers growing from trees and plants impossibly attached to the sides of the cliffs that weren’t covered in willow branches.

“CAIN!”

The voice, not as loud as the second time but from above, drew his gaze to the sky. There, lowering down with amazing speed, was Purity on wings of golden feather that dissolved from their form upon Purity’s back with a startling
pop
and blew to the wind. Cain even managed to catch hold of one and found it to be either gold or a gold-colored metal.

Purity smacked the feather out of Cain’s hand. “Lest you consider such your own when it is in fact not!” He looked exhausted and bewildered, shaking his head slightly. “Cain, what are you doing? You know this man is not to be trusted! Why do you seek him out? I am Bound to protect you, but I cannot protect you from spiritual dangers you willingly face.”

Cain shoved Purity’s shoulder aside and walked to the edge of the island breathing deeply, trying to control himself. After a few moments he turned back to him. “What do you want from me? Walter has Al’bah, and I was almost put away in prison! Shit, maybe I should just—”

“Let Taint reclaim your Al’bah? Why?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Purity seemed unmoved by Cain’s words, but the waterfalls abruptly stopped. “So you seek this man for what, exactly?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you here to condemn your Al’bah to Taint?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you care for this Succubus, then? Do you seek to get her back?”

“Yes, no. I…” Cain sighed. “I don’t know.”

Purity shook his head. “You disgust me, mortal. Can you not even make a choice? Do you not even know what you want? Do you not even know what is right? If you do not, how could you ever know love? How can you ever know God?”

Cain felt himself fill with shame, disgust, longing, agony—and fill with
something
at the way Purity spoke to him. The way he said the word “love” had the feel of a completely different word that he ever knew love could mean. It was like—

“Well, why are you here, Cain?” Purity said, interrupting his thoughts.