Succubus Tear (Triune promise) (27 page)

“Oh you are cute, so quick to fight, so quick to prove yourself against men.” Shane tightened his rancher’s hat and continued to speak. “First off, I know you have enough on Cain to put him away for a long, long time. I also know you didn’t share that information with your superiors; otherwise, he would already be locked up till Lassie came home if she were left on the moon.” 

He grinned as shock coursed through Stella, and continued. “At first, I thought you and Cain might be in cahoots.”

“And what about you and Cain being in cahoots? I know all about that incident you had with him!”

Shane produced a mock applause. “So you saw the file, but you don’t know everything I know, and if you did, you would have egg all on your face. But even that don’t compare to what I found when I looked over the files you researched all day. Kinda a tall order since you used someone else’s data terminal, but—” He pulled out a photo from his pocket; a perfect replica of Stella stared up from it, smiling. “You really wanted to believe that you were adopted, didn’tcha?”

How?
Stella cried in her mind.
How did he know what I was looking for?

He ripped the picture in half and tossed it in the wastebasket. “Boy howdy, all that time you spent obsessing over that poor little miss. You must have wanted to have been adopted pretty badly, especially since I did a little research of my own, and came up with your family history.” Shane Harper crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “So, what is going on?”

Stella swallowed hard. Shane Harper knew about her past; this was really bad. She had since lost her fighting stance and now couldn’t look Shane in the eye. “I don’t believe Cain is the real—”

“Oh shut it, missy!” Shane interjected with harsh condescension. “Even
I
know Cain isn’t the real deal behind this mess. I figured him as some poor kid who’s afraid of Big Brother, that some drug cartel picked him off as a perfect fall-man to alleviate some heat offa themselves. Nice threat you made to Detective Hiller, by the way. You ruined a two-year investigation because of that. Last chance, before I give your bosses the bone they’ve been wanting for the last year and a half. What is going on?”

Struggling to keep the tears from her pale blue eyes, Stella looked up to those merciless hazel eyes that searched for any sign of weakness or deception. “I just can’t, it’s wrong.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Letting them punish the innocent. I won’t be a part of that—it’s wrong.”

Shane Harper stared uncomprehendingly at Stella for a few moments. He turned his face to the ceiling and took a deep breath in, letting it out slowly, blowing almost comically between his lips. “Missy, you need to grow up,” he said at last, still not looking at her.

“I have worked against the drug cartels for over fifteen years now. And if there’s anything I learned in all that time, it’s that most of the people who make injustice possible are the innocent, and the ignorant. I don’t know how many times I’ve had to cut my way through both types in order to get at those who use them like so much cannon fodder.”

He leveled his face to Stella. “Putting Cain behind bars is likely to do more good than harm, in my opinion. But you go ahead and save your little conscious, missy. The only reason I won’t report this, is ‘cause I think Cain makes a nice, juicy target for the cartel.”

He shook his head. “And trust me, it won’t be long now,” he said, chuckling in a way that made Stella feel cold. “It’s interesting to see how we are all using Cain in our own little way. You wanna fix your own little
 past by standing up for the innocent, and I think sacrificing yet another innocent is an acceptable price to bring down the bastards I’m after.” He waved his hand dismissively. “No matter, you keep your pretty little toes offa my boots, and this’ll all be over soon enough, I reckon.”

He stepped close and locked his hazel eyes to Stella’s pale blue. His eyes that
burned
with hate, and for a moment she was afraid. What was he going to do? He looked utterly insane. Was he going to speak? Smile? Kiss her? Bite her? Scream? Kill her? He looked like he was capable of anything. The moment passed, and Shane Harper walked on.

“Good luck, Detective. Sergeant Parker said your relief is at five a.m.,” he said as he exited the ladies’ bathroom.

Never in her whole life did Stella need to use the bathroom more than when the doors closed. Once upon the toilet, her bowels, bladder, nose, and eyes all spilled their various fluids, spurred by the surge of adrenaline, shock, shame, anger, and horror she had been sent through. It was the second time in her life she wanted to take a life, save a life, and feared for her life all at the same time. The horrible combination brought back a deeply repressed memory, a memory that was buried under so much mental discipline.

The voice that would always haunt her came back, almost making her scream. It would eventually; it always did. That voice drew Stella back, back to when she was twelve; she could hear it again. The light footfalls as they came up the stairs. The children’s song that would haunt her forever, sung with a maniacal, desperate twist.

“Hickory dickory dock, two spoonfuls and then I stop.”

“No!” Stella whispered harshly. “Stop it!”

An overwhelming senselessness of emotions and memories broke down her most guarded horrors.

“Hickory dickory dock, Silly Stella made a medicine swap.”

“Please!” Stella begged. “Don’t, please!”

In her flashback she could hear the knocking on the door, signifying the coming vision. This was it; she would scream. She would scream, and everyone would find out.

Stella shoved her hands in her pockets to keep from injuring herself like the last time.

The mace!

Just as the last two verses were about to sing in her mind, she lightly sprayed her own face, her eyes wide, her mouth open.

It-wasn’t-my-fault-it-wasn’t-my-fault-it-wasn’t-my-fault
! she screamed in her mind, wishing that her throat would close up, wishing for death, but reveling in the silence that was punctuated by the cries of a twelve-year-old girl who would never forgive herself.

It-wasn’t-my-fault-it-wasn’t-my-fault-it-wasn’t-my-fault!

There Is Nothing So Seductive as a Second Chance

“Mace ointment, gotcha—holy shit! Goddamn, Stella! What’s wrong with your face?”

—Chief Turnovits

Ever since Cain told Charlie that this detective looked just like Holly, he didn’t know how to feel. A part of him felt as though Cain was either exaggerating or lying. And yet his face and his body language hinted at a great deal of discomfort.

He never stopped blaming himself.

It was an unfair self-judgment, believing that just because Charlie chose to stay with Cain, that his existence was to blame. Charlie had tried and tried to dissuade him of such absurdity. But seriously, how can you argue with someone so intent on punishing themselves for even the smallest things, not to mention the life-shattering things? He was about to dismiss Cain’s claims about Holly’s supposed twin, when a knock sounded on the door.

“Speak of the devil,” Cain said, and shouted to the door. “It’s unlocked.”

Charlie was sitting in the armchair that had its back to the door, across from the sofa Cain occupied. Cain glanced up to the door and back to Charlie. A slight frown crossed his brow, and he leaned over and kicked the armchair to swivel around. The sight caused Charlie to gasp, and he nearly fell from the chair.

The woman that was just now closing the door was indeed Holly’s twin. His mind was sent reeling back in time. He half expected for her face to brighten up with that honey-sweet smile. He would then watch her eyes light up, like the morning sky after the worst of storms. And her sweet voice would speak, and she would say—

“You didn’t say you’d have a guest over. Cain, who’s this?”

Amazing, she sounds nothing like Holly.

Indeed, Holly’s voice was light, delicate, and made her sound like she was shy. Stella’s voice was more mellow, calm.

“You mean, ‘Who are you?’” Charlie blurted. “Cain, ‘Who’s this?’ is at worst impolite, and at best improper English.”

Did I just say that? Aw, damn. Where is my nerves? Is? Are’s? Are? Ah, crap.

Unable to help himself, Charlie broke out laughing, braying like a donkey, wishing he could have shot himself to put everyone out of their misery. He forced himself to get up in spite of his nerves and walked boldly to Stella, cringing internally at the way she shifted her body weight as if ready to attack. “But seriously, my name is Charlie. I am Cain’s best friend of ten years, and it is a pleasure to meet you, Missus…?”

Stella’s eyes lit up, but not in a good way. She took Charlie’s hand with a firm grip. “Ah, so you’re Charlie Tsukada. I’m Stella. Detective Fullson to you,” she said as her eyes darted across his facial features, and his body.

Charlie tried his best to keep his mouth shut, as she obviously wasn’t Holly and wasn’t ever going to be Holly. But his smart mouth just couldn’t help itself. “Fullson…hmm, a spinoff of the surname Fullerton, which means ‘bird catcher settlement,’ and Stella, which means ‘star.’ It is a beautiful thought, a beautiful name—it suits you well, although a more poetic meaning would be ‘caged heavenly angel.’ Now that’s beautiful.”

Stella looked at Charlie blankly for several moments. The awkward silence couldn’t have been longer than a few seconds, but it seemed to stretch forever. Then slowly Charlie could see a pink blush creep up her neck and deepen to a cranberry red on her face. She appeared to be fully aware of her blush and frowned ever so slightly. “And Charlie means ‘free man,’ while Cain in its Hebrew translation would mean ‘acquired.’ I would appreciate that you keep your boyish games for a more appropriate time.” She turned to Cain. “You didn’t tell me that you would have a guest over.”

“I didn’t think that I had to give you any courtesy, as I have received none from the law,” Cain said angrily and popped the top off another can and drank deeply. “Not even an apology for my arrest. And if you think—”

Ah, crap! Cain, you asshole!
“Dude,” Charlie muttered, nudging him and keeping his dark Asian eyes to the you’ve-got-to-be-shitting-me look Cain was giving him.

Cain threw his hands up and sighed. “I, ah. Lemme get the proof of my income. I’ll be right back,” he said, slipping off into the bedroom.

“I, um—can I get you anything?” Charlie asked. “Plenty of food and drink to be had,” he added giving her his warmest smile.

“Bottled water if you have it, thank you,” she said with a blank expression, though Charlie could tell her smile muscles were playing a fierce round of tug-of-war.

Aaah, maybe I have a chance after all!
He smirked and got three bottles out of the fridge. “Fiji, Dasani, and Deer Park,” Charlie said, juggling the three bottles, pretending to be fully concentrating on his two-bit act.

“Fiji please,” she said grinning, perhaps believing that Charlie couldn’t see.

“One, two, Fiji!” Charlie exclaimed. Catching the Dasani and the Deer Park in one hand, he extended his other arm for the Fiji bottle to land upon. It slid down his arm to rest in his open palm that he presented to Stella at the count of “Fiji.” 

“Um, thanks. I wasn’t expecting the show,” Stella said, plucking the bottle out of his hand, her grin now under control.

“Aaah, I don’t do that for just anyone, you know,” Charlie said, opening another beer and getting another slice of pizza.

“Oh?”

“Nope, just the pretty ones.”
“Just the pretty ones”? Stop it, Charlie! Stop it! Damn it!

Stella scoffed slightly and drank from her bottle. “I see. You’re shallow then, right?”

“Hey now, I didn’t say what kind of beauty.”

Stella laughed, but it was a mocking laughter that was sweet nonetheless. “Oh, so you did that for my
internal
beauty, then? You don’t even know me, Charlie.”

Again,
Charlie was thrown back in time, remembering his first few days of meeting Holly, and how she used that
exact
same counter to his flirt. He was grateful beyond words that he was right back in his element.
And this time! THIS time, Goddammit
—

“You’re right.” Charlie sighed. “Perhaps I could get to know you. I’d like to think that your internal beauty is far greater than your physical beauty. Perhaps I might get the chance to find out sometime?”

Stella blushed again and seemed to internally chastise herself for it, and she took another drink that spilled slightly. “Perhaps,” she said quietly.

This time I’m not gonna let it slip by me!

Blue-Eyed Observations

“There is right and wrong. But, I happen to favor justice over everything else.”

—Stella Fullson

Stella
 felt a pang of pity for the braying donkey in Cain’s apartment. Her pity quickly turned into annoyance and, without a pause, a strange sensation of being so completely flattered by his comment about her name. 

Well, there goes the notion that it would be easy to get more information out of Cain. Now it seems that I am stuck with two drunken idiots: one who hates me, the other with some stupid crush in an apartment that smells like dude
.