Succubus Tear (Triune promise) (4 page)

Shit! No! He was dreaming; he
hated
sleep. With sleep came dreams—no, not dreams. Nightmares. Cain always had nightmares, for as long as he could remember, and—

“
Do you accept?”

Cain flinched and recoiled from the voice. “Where am I?” he screamed.

A flash of red splashed across his vision, causing him to stumble backward and cradle his cheek that had just been smacked by one of the doors opening. He felt the orientation of the room change, forcing him to fall through the open door. He fell in chaotic darkness, screaming and frantically reaching for something to hold onto.

Without warning the orientation changed again, and his feet stumbled on new floor. His vision returned; now he was in a large room whose walls were bookcases overflowing with leather-bound volumes. The room had an ancient feel to it, perfused with a scent Cain had always associated with books, ink, and the subtle perfume of well-aged wood. The room also carried an unnatural silence—a silence only secrets could carry. Secrets so wonderful, yet so terrible, they held a savage, magic power all their own.
 

In addition to the silence, the room seemed to hold a quiet despair. It was as though everything before him was dying a sweet and silent death. Not gone perhaps, but almost beyond the hope of recovery. The way mysteries would drift upon the edge of dreams, and the trackless eternity of being forgotten.

“Do you accept?”

Cain turned, finding himself surrounded by three men towering over him.

No! Not this! Anything but this!
Cain looked down at his body; he was twelve again. His lanky frame had yet to develop the musculature that had always protected him. He held both hands out. “Stay away from me!”

The three men had the same face marked with strange lines, giving the initial impression of advanced age. And yet, the more Cain stared at the man’s face, the more it seemed wrong. It was a face filled with a strange irony—a parody of age, a parody of wisdom crafted by an unskilled clay artisan. Though each face carried a different feel and expression, it also had the sense of a unity. A singular entity that revealed itself in three parts to him. They flickered chaotically around the room, appearing and disappearing in random locations. They spoke as one, as three, and as none.
 

“
Take off your clothes, boy!”

“
You have been given an opportunity to be Bonded to a repentant Demono.”

“Where is it?”
 

“Leave me alone!” Cain screamed and rushed through the door. The hall was empty and seemed to stretch forever.

“It is unsaved, how can it possibly fulfill the role given to it?”

Cain turned to the new voice. “You! This was all your fault!”

There she was, the pastor’s daughter. She was the one who brought ruin upon him. But…no, it wasn’t her. There was something about her. Cain felt a supernatural chill envelop his body as her flesh became green, putrid, and covered in maggots, and began to melt away.

“
It can not even comprehend what is happening. How could it possibly be expected to be Bound to spirituality, if it cannot fathom actions it does?”

The rotted thing walked toward Cain, raining down flesh, maggots, and filth. Soon, the rotted corpse was a skeleton with two burning yellow eyes. Then the bones turned to dust, leaving behind a yellow-eyed impossible shadow cast by no one. A dark, foreboding shape of anti-light that was as alien as it was awesome. It came closer, drawing the darkness in the room with it. Cain felt hatred pounding his senses in palpable waves from the creature as it continued to stare.

“It will forfeit the claim it has on my Succubus! It will submit!”

Cain turned and started to run, but the three men blocked his way.

“Do you accept the offer given to you?”

“
If you will not take off your clothes, we are going to do it for you!”

“I know you have it! Where is it, boy?”

Visions of horrifying torture flashed across his vision. Echoes of a voice touched his sense of hearing. Both the shadow and the tri-man stopped.

“Cain! Ma-e-Ta!”

Cain whirled around; the voice seemed to be just behind him, and though its words were strange, somehow he knew the voice was calling for his help. “Who are you? What is going on?”

The tri-man’s flickering increased, and it seemed to almost merge into one entity. “
He wishes to see, he wants to understand.”

“If it were so easy. The Succubus is right in front of it, and it sees her not! It is far too ignorant!”
the shadow hissed, passing Cain and standing before the flickering entity.

Cain took this opportunity and sprinted down the hall that stretched as far as he could see. As he ran, the lights flickered overhead, the carpet molded, and the paint upon the wall bubbled and peeled back. He could hear screams that seemed to come from the very air surrounding him. The screams bore into his mind, increasing his panic as they formed into harsh words.

There is no respite from corruption! There is no escape from sin!

As he ran, the closed doors that lined the hall became broken, barely holding back grisly, bleeding hands that reached for him.

Come, know your master! It is mine! It has always been mine, filthy human!

The smell from the hall became putrid at an alarming rate. Everything was rotting before him into a vile red-black slime that was first slippery and then turned sticky.

“No! Move! Move, damn you!
Move!
” Cain screamed as he fell to the ground. He was stuck fast and lay faceup.

He could see something walking toward him down the hall. It was vaguely human; it…it was trailing internal organs. Its face was smashed, but Cain would know that face for the rest of his life.

“Stay away from me!” Cain screamed. “Holly, you stay away from me!”

“Cain? Why didn’t you help me? I loved Charlie, why didn’t you tell him to stay?” the vision gurgled, its jaw swung free, and dangled by a few frayed muscles, one eye stared, dangling from its cheek, while the other was a pulpy mess.

A jangle of chain rattled above him, drawing his attention despite all attempts to resist. There above him, tangled in bladed and snarled chain, was the pastor himself. He seemed to revel in the chains that wove in and out of him. The chains carried his flesh, blood, and internal organs, rearranging his body in horrifying contortions. The chains appeared to be wielded by maniacal marionettes, grotesque parodies of judges with their own strings reaching into the impenetrable darkness of the ceiling.

In a panicked, desperate attempt for freedom, Cain struggled to roll, inchworm, anything to get away!
 As he rolled over, so did another horror that was lying upon the floor as well. The thing’s flesh was soggy with filth, but its eyes were clear, and he recognized them as Cynthia’s eyes. He recoiled as the thing started to reach out to him. Its swollen tongue lolled out of its mouth and flapped as it spoke. 

“Love me, Cain.”

Cain screamed as the agony from his chest became unbearable! He could barely breathe from the pain and the rot chocking his lungs. He shut his eyes, desperate for the horrible visions to take him quickly, anything to make the horror stop. 

“Yes, surrender! It is all naught. A dream it can wake from at any time. Submit!”
 

The pastor’s daughter was back, growing to a huge, bulbous horror that rained maggots and slime upon him.
 The three horrors grabbed him, tore his clothes from his body, and forced him to stand.

Cain felt hot liquid surge at the back of his throat and he doubled over, vomiting and crying. The three horrors pulled him back up, holding his arms, legs, and hair. The bloated horror stepped forward, holding a large wooden spoon. It smiled and plunged the spoon into its abdomen and came forward, a gruesome parody of a mother feeding a baby.
 

“Take this corruption, and it will forever be mine!”

“Oh, God, please!” Cain cried out, closing his eyes, ready to surrender, anything to make the horror and fear stop. “Make it stop! Have mercy!”

“
Cain.”

Cain opened his eyes; the slime was gone. He frantically looked about. The horrors were gone, too. No, wait. Lying on the floor was what appeared to be a crying, mangled corpse in a fetal position. The pitiful thing was little more than ribbons of flesh, blood, exposed bone, entrails, and other internal organs. He stepped toward the mangled lump of flesh. Feelings of pity, disgust, fear, and anguish tingled at the fringes of numbness only a witness to unspeakable atrocity can experience.

The bloody lump on the floor turned its head toward Cain. The creature’s otherworldly violet-blue eyes were wide and hinted at a gentle nature. They rested upon Cain’s face for a moment and focused. The creature slowly reached out with a hand and half spoke, half gurgled a strange word between soft cries.

“
Ma-e-Ta.” 

Cain stopped. What did that mean? He walked over to the skinned human and knelt down, unsure of himself and unsure of what he could do. How could anything be so damaged and still be alive? He approached the creature, even though it was visually disturbing; it was the only thing that he ever dreamed of that did not make him afraid.

“I—” Cain took a steadying breath. “I’m so sorry.” As he reached out to take its hand, he felt as though his mind and body were a million miles away from each other.

The thing took Cain’s hand gently and (before he could react) kissed it.
 

With a swiftness that flowed like water, Cain watched a raw lump of meat transform into the quintessence of feminine glory. Its organs and flesh flowed back into place, or filled out from nothingness. Muscles seemed to grow and knit themselves together like magical yarn, and skin flowed over its frame like a miraculous liquid. Her hair was jet-black, swallowing light. And yet it was so glossy, it shone with a pleasant, soft glow, thick, laden with subtle curls—an exotic crown of sorts, radiating a gentle splendor.

Her naked body looked akin to an Olympian elite. Her subtle musculature gave the instant impression of power, tempered by a greater measure of delicate grace strength and subtly, merging in a dizzying sense of perfection. Her lithe frame was covered by an even-toned milk and honey skin, reminding him of the most delicate and delicious of caramels

Cain’s eyes were drawn to her wings protruding from her back, now identifiable as something more than ragged flesh. They unfurled for a moment, still filling out from innumerable rips, revealing a huge wingspan. They were soft brown on the outside and dusty pink on the inside. Strangely enough, her wings did not originate between her shoulder blades like most artwork he had ever seen, but rather they started just above the small of her back. They unfurled and beat the air as if in flight, moving in particularly strange if not beautiful motions, causing a wind which settled her waist-length hair modestly across her chest.

“You are sorry? Why do you have remorse?” she whispered, kissing his hand again. Her face was set in an expression of a calm, cautious interest. A slight blush graced her cheeks, a delicate pink sprinkle that seemed to beg for the brush of lips and fingertips.

Before Cain could answer, the floor opened up beneath him. Cain held onto the woman’s hand with all his strength. He started to look down into the unfathomable abyss.

“Do not look into the heart of corruption. See me, be with me.” The sound of her voice was easier to comprehend now that she spoke in his language. It was neither girly nor husky, but strange and unique. It was a beautiful melody. Her syllables were musical notes that echoed loud and long in memory, if not audibly.

Despite everything that happened, Cain felt his heart slow, and his breath became easier. He looked into her sparkling purple-blue eyes; he mirrored her smile and was unafraid.

She lifted Cain out of the chasm without any trouble and led him down the hall.

“Cain, I do not have much time till corruption takes me once more,” she said with a sad yet intense look. “Would you take me as your own? Would you Bind your soul to mine? Would you accept me?”

“I—I don’t even know who you are!”

The woman seemed confused. “Did you not name me as your Al’bah?”

A vision flashed before Cain’s eyes. It was the street and door where he all but lost his hand. He could see himself cradle his hand, his lips resting against the door like a tender kiss. He saw himself grow angry.

“Give? I already gave everything! My flesh, my blood, my food, my money! Hell, why not give my life too? All bu—”

Cain blinked as the vision broke apart. The woman was looking at him with a hopeful face; her hands were folded below her chin.

“I, no—I mean, I was speaking to someone else,” Cain blurted.

The winged woman lowered her face as it filled with desperate longing and horrible resignation. “I understand.” She raised her eyes to Cain. He could see her tears pour upon her face. “I am so sorry that you had to endure this intrusion of my hell into your perception. Forgive me, I will not hold you here.” She turned around and started to walk away.

A harsh internal turmoil erupted in Cain. He felt her despair and desperation flow over his reluctance and selfishness like a wave crumbles a wall of sand.