Candy Kisses

Greetings!

Okay, sorry about that. The story has now been rewritten to change a character whose author revoked my permission to use him. If you've read "Candy Kisses" before, you'll figure out who it was. If you haven't read "Candy Kisses" before, it doesn't really matter.

This is the sequel to my story "Sugar Hearts." If you haven't read "Sugar Hearts," Raedeman gives a handy summary in this chapter -- clip it out and keep it handy for easy reference.

Because I needed to delete this story before rewriting and reposting it, I lost all the individual responses I gave to the kind people who reviewed it. So I'll just have to say one giant "Thanks!" to you right now. I truly appreciate the time you took to let me know what you thought of the story. Your feedback filled my heart in ways I can never express.

Love,
Falcon

Candy Kisses

Chapter One

“I Still Dream Of Lips I Never Should Have Kissed”
-- Nine Inch Nails

Kale shoved his way through the evening crowd, doing his best to focus on nothing except the sidewalk beneath his feet. Humanity seemed to stink worse than usual. The stench of their bodies, sweating beneath overcoats worn to protect them from the chill February rain, assaulted Kale’s nose. But that was a minor discomfort compared to the babble of their voices. On and on they jabbered about the senseless details of their futile lives -- a lost puppy, a broken refrigerator, a promotion at work -- as if it could possibly matter to anyone at all. Kale wanted to clamp his hands over his ears and howl.

Unfortunately, circumstances required him to make this journey on foot. Ever since the unfortunate incident with Marzi, the police had stepped up their surveillance efforts, and the heavy Chicago traffic made it nearly impossible to shake a tail while driving. Where Kale was going, he couldn’t risk being followed. So he’d been forced to blend in with the swarming masses.

“Hey, Mister! Valentines Day is only two weeks away. How about a rose for your sweetheart?”

Lifting his eyes, Kale glared at the girl. Part of him wanted to kick over her white bucket filled with flowers, spilling the roses into the gutter, where they would be swept away along with the rest of the city’s garbage. That was the demonic rage in his blood, and Kale had long ago learned to control it. But part of him wanted to see Marzi lying naked on his bed, a red rose clutched between his teeth, and a come-hither look in his eyes. That was the demonic lust in his blood, and against it, Kale was rapidly discovering that he had no defense at all. Muttering something obscene about human holidays, Kale continued on his way.

Finally, the crowds around him began to thin, and then Kale found himself alone, hurrying past abandoned storefronts and burnt-out buildings. The empty doorways seemed to gape like open mouths, belching shadows into the fading light, while rats made skittering noises in the darkness. As the neighborhood became more familiar, Kale slowed his pace, until he spotted an old sign, hanging half-off its hinges. Sayyid’s Soul Food Café. Like most of the buildings around it, the windows were boarded shut, and the door appeared locked. But looks could be deceiving. If Kale had been a pure demon, the door would have swung open when he touched it. Unfortunately, since the demon essence in his blood had been diluted by several generations, he was forced to bear the indignity of knocking.

After a moment, Kale heard something shuffle up to the door, and a voice called through it. “Yes?”

“It’s Kale. Raedeman is expecting me.”

The door opened, and a particularly battle-scarred demoness admitted Kale into the café. As he stepped past her, Kale noticed numerous inhuman faces turn in his direction. Those that knew him soon returned to their business, while other stares lingered longer, scorn and malice flickering in their fiery eyes. But Kale was used to getting a hostile reception from pure demons. Ignoring their hisses and whispered comments, he glanced around the café, until he spotted Raedeman, sitting at a table pushed up against the far wall. Immediately, Kale began to stride in that direction.

However, before Kale could reach Raedeman, another demon stepped into his path. “Taintling,” it snarled at him. “Pathetic part-human slave. How dare you come in here?”

Calmly, Kale assessed his opponent. Brutish and ugly, without any remnants of angelic features, the demon looked like typical spawn -- probably young, obviously stupid. No doubt it thought that starting a fight would be a good way to impress Raedeman and Sayyid.

“Well?” the demon demanded. “Are you going to leave, or am I going to snap your spine?”

Kale smiled. The demon appeared perfectly capable of carrying out its threat. Kale could wield both magic and weapons with a fair bit of skill, but he didn’t come close to possessing the raw strength of a pure demon. However, he had learned that there were some things more important than strength.

“You could kill me right now,” Kale admitted. “But if you do, I won’t be able to keep my appointment with Raedeman, and that means he will have wasted both time and effort. Might make him a bit testy.”

The demon glanced over in Raedeman’s direction, and seemed to hesitate. “Fine,” it blustered. “Go pester him with your nonsense. But when you finish, I’ll--“

“No,” Kale interrupted. “You won’t. When I finish, I’ll slip out of here like smoke. But later, on some night when you’ve nearly forgotten that I exist, you’ll feel hands grab you in the darkness. I’ll bind you with rosaries. I’ll cut off your wings. I’ll throw you in a pit and fill it with holy water until you have to stand on your toes to breathe. And then, do you know what I’ll do? I’ll build a church over that pit -- the biggest, most beautiful church that money can buy -- and you will spend the rest of eternity stuck in a hole, up to your lips in holy water, with the heavenly praises of humans echoing in your ears. Do I make myself clear?”

“I...” The demon gawked at him, searching for fear, searching for some sign that Kale was bluffing. But Kale wasn’t afraid. And he didn’t bluff. “Fine,” it finally growled, stepping aside. “You’re not worth the effort.”

“How fortunate for me,” Kale sneered. As he turned his back on the demon, and resumed his journey across the room, Kale couldn’t help feeling a little bit pleased with himself. But he was careful to banish any trace of smugness before he addressed Raedeman.

“My Lord,” Kale greeted, with a polite bow of his head.

Demons, by their nature, are impressive. Raedeman was particularly so. His pupils were a pair of fiery stars burning in the blackness of his eyes. Strands of long red hair spilled over his naked torso, dark as rivers of blood. Arcane symbols, unknown to even Kale, had been tattooed onto his face and the back of his hands. And his wings were strange, tattered things that seemed to ripple and whisper behind Raedeman like fawning servants. Kale had never actually met an angel. But he had trouble trying to envision Raedeman ever serving among their ranks.

“Kale.” Raedeman gestured at the chair across from himself, and Kale sat. “Your request for a meeting surprised me. Sayyid told me that you’re quite independent for a mixed-blood whelp. Not usually the sort to come to your masters with you tail between your legs, begging for help.”

Beneath the table, Kale’s hand curled into a fist. But that was only anger. He could control anger. Anger wouldn’t destroy him. Not like the other thing -- the thing that slithered through his body like a serpent, the thing that stole his sleep and poisoned all his waking hours. “My Lord. I have...a situation.”

“Yes?”

The arrival of their drinks postponed Kale’s reply. Gratefully, Kale lifted his mug of steaming, yellow liquid, colloquially known as “Lucifer’s Piss”. At first, his predominantly human metabolism had been too weak to handle the demonic beverage, and it had made him violently sick. But, as with so many things, Kale had persisted, and kept drinking it until he’d developed a tolerance. As time went on, he’d even acquired a certain fondness of its sulfurous taste.

Raedeman took his own drink, and then returned his attention to Kale, clearly waiting for an explanation. But suddenly, Kale didn’t know how to explain. Describing what had happened to him felt like trying to give directions in a foreign language. Finally, he just grabbed onto the one thing he knew was true.

“I want him,” Kale hissed. “If I can’t have him, nothing else matters.”

A smile curled on Raedeman’s lips, like paper curling in the heat of a flame. “So this really is about your wayward piece of human ass. You know, Kale, I did expect more from you. Not much more, of course. But more than this.”

Kale shook his head. What could he say? He’d expected more, too. This wasn’t supposed to happen. All his life, he’d striven to become invulnerable. He’d been clever, cunning, and ruthless. And now, he felt like Samson, with the secret of his strength stolen. He felt like Goliath, brought down by a child with a stone.

“I’ve heard rumors,” Raedeman continued, “but let me make sure that I understand the situation correctly. You picked up some human at that club of yours. Like a good little slave, he worshipped the ground you walked on. So, in a move that I have to admit was mildly inspired, you murdered his beloved sister in order to transfer her magic to him. Except that you botched the ritual. He nearly died, and his sister’s spirit got locked inside his body. Now, predictably enough, he’d really like to see you dead. He set the cops on your trail. More disturbingly, his ambition, combined with his sister’s magic, is rapidly turning him into a talented sorcerer -- someone who may, eventually, be able to peel the flesh from your bones, as he would doubtlessly love to do. Have I got all that right?”

“Yes.”

Raedeman raised his eyebrows until they nearly touched the elegant red horns which curved up from his forehead. “And your main concern is that he won’t spread his legs for you anymore?”

“He’s mine!” Kale’s hands struck the table so hard that the mugs rattled, and drops of yellow liquid sloshed over their rims. “He belongs to me! I know it, and he knows it, too. He’d have come back to me already if it wasn’t for his bitch of a sister.”

Then, as if he’d been doused in cold water, Kale blinked, stunned by his outburst. He’d never lost control before. But somehow, his rage had rebelled against a lifetime of training, and lashed out with murderous fury. In the presence of Raedeman. Shamed by his moment of weakness, Kale shoved his emotions back in their cages, and braced himself for Raedeman’s rebuke. “My Lord, I’m sorry. I--“

However, Raedeman just smirked. “No need to apologize. Seeing you this worked up over a slave is quite amusing. But really, what do you expect me to do about it? Write him love poetry?”

The mockery in Raedeman’s voice made Kale bristle, but he was determined not to lose his temper a second time. Instead, he reached into his pocket, and drew out a silver necklace chain, which he handed to the demon. “I would never be so bold as to suggest that you trouble yourself with my petty affairs. I came here to offer you a gift.”

“A gift?” Raedeman dangled the chain from one of his black claws, looking curious. “What is it?”

“A modification of a design I’ve been working on. When worn around the neck of someone who is loyal to you, it will shine the brightest silver. But if they have a treacherous thought, the links will begin to corrode, and then rust. The greater their treachery, the more the necklace will degrade.”

“An interesting trinket,” Raedeman conceded. “Will it work on half-demons?”

“Humans, half-demons, possibly even pure demons. Although I haven’t had the opportunity to test it on that last group. The ritual for creating the necklaces is lengthy, and expensive, but I could make more. If only...” Kale paused for effect.

“...if only you weren’t so distracted by other things.” Raedeman finished for him.

Kale smiled, back in his element. “Yes. I can see we understand each other perfectly.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Raedeman wrapped the necklace chain around his wrist, since his lack of clothing left him without any pockets to drop it into. “But I will help you. If I can’t convince you to take my advice.”

“Your advice, My Lord?”

Raedeman lifted his mug, and took a long swallow of the steaming, yellow drink. Then he fixed his eyes on Kale. “Kill him. Or let me kill him. Humans are weak, foolish things. Until you care about one of them. Then they gain a power far beyond measuring.” Raedeman shook his head. “One way or the other, he will be your undoing. They always are.”

In his heart, Kale knew Raedeman was right. But what could he do? He couldn’t travel back in time to choose a different lover. He couldn’t use a knife to cut the memories from his mind. And he couldn’t just go on, trying to pretend nothing had happened -- of that, he was utterly certain. “If he is to be my undoing, then I’m already undone. If he’s destined to push me from great heights, then all I can do is enjoy the fall.”

“Well, if there’s one thing demons are good at, it’s falling.” Raedeman got to his feet. “Give me time, and I’ll deliver him to you. Minus the annoying influence of his sister. But Kale?”

Raedeman walked around to Kale’s side of the table and crouched down beside him. Kale could feel Raedeman’s claws scrape against his cheek, even as Raedeman’s breath scorched his skin, his words like glowing embers. “Don’t fuck this up, Kale. A satanic sorcerer would make a handy ally. But the last thing I need is for someone with strong magical abilities to get pissed off and turn demon hunter. You corrupt Marzi, or you kill him -- or I’ll kill you both. Understand?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“Good.” Raedeman rose back to his full height, and departed, leaving Kale behind to pay their bill. But Kale had a feeling that the price of a few drinks was the least of what this was going to cost him.