Three Burning Red Runaway Brides

by Kevin James Breaux

  “And…?”

  “I managed to get my hands on some of the vampire scriptures. Some left behind by a vampire who lived there before Cade. I read them day and night for weeks. Most of it was propaganda. It read as doublespeak. I did not know what to think, but then I came across some stolen information from a Tainted spy. Once pieced together—”

  “Rue, you sound as if you are a…conspiracy theorist.”

  “I think it is a good thing I did not show you my room with all the maps and strings.”

  Moselle looked at him until he laughed.

  “I am joking. No such room exists…not anymore.”

  “Rue.” Moselle smirked but had limited patience. “Please continue.”

  “Yes. Well, it turns out the Tainted studied Dunyasha. In fact, they had theories of their own, some fortified by fact, others…well…hearsay and rumor. You see, they believed that Dunyasha was a powerful second-generation vampire who killed her sire during the wars. They also believed that she later drank the heart blood of the being that was originally War.”

  “The curse?”

  “The fairy curse transferred to her, and Dunyasha became something of an amalgamation: herself and the Horseman.”

  “I do not like this.” Moselle frowned. “If true, War was killed and replaced by one of her children.”

  “One that has no doubt lost her mind.”

  “We cannot trust her.”

  “I believe our only option is to go directly to the Fire Kingdom. They should have answers,” Rue suggested.

  “Into the lion’s den? The king of the Fire Kingdom would know who we are.”

  “If keeping Death fragmented is his job, then shouldn’t he know the locations of us all?” Rue said.

  “Then I wager his children would know too.”

  Moselle thought of her years of friendship with Sabrina, recalling how she was never told the truth, that Sabrina was royalty.

  Is this the reason why? Is this why she never told me she was the princess of the Water Kingdom. Did she know? Did she know who I really was? Did she know what I would one day strive to become? Was it her job to keep me in place, distracted by frivolous things, frivolous people, humans? Was our friendship ever real?

  “What is wrong, Moselle?”

  “I was thinking of Sabrina.”

  “Cade’s lover. That does not explain the sour look on your face.”

  “I have much to tell you,” Moselle said. “Starting with that she was the princess of the Water Kingdom and is now queen.”

  “Oh, I see. You mourn your friend.”

  Moselle did not understand his statement. “What?”

  “You mourn her passing.”

  “Her passing?”

  “She’s surely dead,” Rue replied. “War has returned, and she no doubt killed your friend.”

  Moselle considered what he was saying. It could be true. She felt nothing either way; she did not care if her old friend was alive or dead.

  “It seems her story comes to and end as ours begins. Now—”

  “Fate calls,” Rue interrupted with a raised voice and a flourish of his hands.

  “War…she no doubt stalks the home of the Water Kingdom as we speak.”

  “Then I must ask you, my bride, would you prefer a trial by fire or water?”

  “Neither,” she announced with certainty. “There will be a great storm, one we will wait to pass.”

  “We watch War’s opening gambit, instead of becoming it ourselves. Very wise.”

  “If we’re fortunate, her actions will bring the parasite out of hiding. I see no reason to leave this place in haste. Let us relax and enjoy what time remains.”

  One Way Ticket to Los Angeles

  Was she War, one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, or was it Dunyasha, the elder vampire? Amber did not know what to think. Regardless, the being had lifted her from the ground like she weighed no more than a small child, then sat Amber astride her horse. Before she could ask what was happening, the horse launched into a gallop that would have matched a bullet train.

  A portal opened just past the waves on the eastern side of the island, and in a blink, they were upon it.

  War’s arm around Amber’s waist did not feel human, but it did not feel hostile either. War held her carefully and protected her as Dunyasha always had.

  “Where—” A flash of bright light stole her words and blinded her momentarily.

  “To the city of Los Angeles.”

  Amber rubbed her eyes. “Dunyasha promised to take me there. I thought you said you weren’t her.”

  “I am War…and I owe you, fairy queen, for undoing my curse. You set me free.”

  A gust of wind carried the scent of the ocean. Amber blinked a few times as she realized they’d stopped.

  “Fuck…” Amber looked around. She was still atop War’s horse, which was now perched at the edge of a high cliff that overlooked the ocean and a distant coastline. “Where are we?”

  “The Channel Islands.”

  “Volcanic rock…the volcanos are long gone, dead for millions of years. But there are still tubes down there. I can feel the lava flowing.”

  War did not respond, so Amber turned her head ever so slightly. War was bigger than Dunyasha, with much more apparent strength. Amber wondered if she was considered an otherworldly, because her senses told her she was and she wasn’t.

  “What are you?”

  “I was a fallen angel. What I am now, I am unsure. Fairy magic altered everything that I was.”

  “Yeah? Well, fairy magic still senses you but it’s muddled—confusing…”

  War did not answer her, making Amber uncomfortable.

  “Is that Los Angeles?” she asked. “Why didn’t we just portal there? I mean, a giant red horse galloping atop of the ocean…it might cause a stir.”

  “Man is too caught up in himself, his gadgets, and the fallacy that his efforts shape this world. His efforts are meaningless.”

  “Okay…”

  “They cannot perceive us, not as long as we are atop Ignis,” War said. “Not until they are threatened.”

  “Got it.”

  A moment passed before War asked, “Are you ready to complete your task, fairy?”

  Amber nodded. “Where will you go?”

  “Go?”

  “Once you’re done taking me to Los Angeles,” she said. “Once you drop me off.”

  “I will go to Rome, to await the return of my brothers and sisters.”

  Amber felt War’s horse stir, and before she knew it, it had launched across the water like a cruise missile.

  The force pushed Amber back into War. “Hey, park this thing over there.” She pointed at a large dock. “See the fishing boats and the cannery? Between them.”

  “It shall be done.”

  Amber looked over her shoulder again, this time directly at War’s hair. It reminded her of an earth spirit she’d once encountered as a child. It had formed in a junkyard and was littered with debris. The thing was pained, like an old man with arthritis. She had attempted to melt a piece of jagged metal that was lodged in its leg and had succeeded, so she thought it would be just as easy to burn away the rebar that stuck out of its head.

  Amber remembered how young and enthusiastic she was; all she wanted was to show the others how easy she could melt the metal out of the damaged elemental. But her overconfidence betrayed her, and she burned the metal and the entire head right off the earth spirit, killing him.

  “Remorse?” War said. “For what?”

  “I-I was thinking about a time when I was a child. I tried to help someone, and it turned out bad. I ended up killing the person I was trying to help.”

  “Your first kill?”

  Amber was not surprised War had guessed it. “My first kill.”

  “You know the proverb. The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

  “I do. It is.”

  Ignis, War’s horse, leapt over the large bulkhead, over the
dock, and to a space not far from where Amber pointed.

  “You are here.”

  Amber swung her legs to one side and slid to the ground. “Now what?”

  “The Tainted and Lord Raion have a stronghold in this town’s largest dump. You will find him waiting there.”

  “That doesn’t really narrow it down—this whole town is a dump,” Amber whispered to herself. “Okay. Thank you, Duny—I mean War.”

  “Thank me by succeeding in your mission, copycat.”

  Amber looked up at War. There was no denying it—she heard Dunyasha in that comment.

  “I will.”

  Seks Gneva…

  [18]

  Sabrina waited for Jackson outside the roadside burger joint where they had had a meal at last year after confronting Alexander Kintner for the first time.

  She was early, much earlier than they had originally agreed to meet. In fact, it had taken her three texts that morning to get him to change the time and agree to meet for lunch. Nevertheless, she was glad he did; she was tired of waiting.

  Sabrina had spent a sleepless night in a cheap roadside motel, one inhabited by several werewolves. She chose it for one reason, and one reason alone: no vampires.

  It seemed like everywhere her Uber driver took her last night, there were vampires hanging about. Bars, clubs, hotels, restaurants—L.A. was seemingly infested. It took several stops before she found a safe spot. No sane vampire would come within a half a mile of that place, she was sure of it.

  The driver, the second one she had hired that night, was a friendly enough young guy. He had urged her not to stay in such a rough part of town; he even refused payment, so she would have money for a better place.

  She knew at the very least, if she had too, she could flash her wings at the werewolves and they would—should—back off out of fear and respect. Conversely, if she had released her wings in front of her driver, she would have had to kill him.

  Sabrina dressed the same as she had the night before. It was the only style of clothing Chelsea had given her, and she thought it was the perfect disguise.

  As she sat waiting for Jackson, she fidgeted with the cuff of the sleeve of the Slayer T-shirt she wore. It had a hole in it, and she kept pinching the fabric between her thumb and index finger. She missed her fairy bangle, especially in moments like this, when its presence would have calmed her.

  She stood up and picked at the wedgie caused by her cutoff jean shorts. They were ridiculously tight and barely covered her, not to mention not her style, but she was getting used to the look. She felt like rebel, a rocker, a bad girl.

  Damn Chelsea, how did your vagina breathe in these?

  Sabrina sat back down and inhaled deeply. She steadied her nerves and reminded herself that she had chosen this location to meet because Jackson would remember it and hopefully find it as quaint as she did. She looked around at the place.

  Last time I was here, I thought my world was ending. She laughed. Fuck, how many times have you felt that way? Seems like it’s always something.

  Sabrina looked at her phone again. It was ten minutes past the time they were to meet.

  I’ve never had this much trouble with men in my life, she thought. It’s frustrating and…weirdly refreshing. It’s nice to be the one who wants for a change and not the one being wanted.

  Sabrina spotted an SUV slowly approaching. Could that be him? It was. Sabrina was slightly taken aback; this vehicle was very functional even—she hated to think it—family friendly.

  Should I tell him?

  Sabrina stayed seated as Jackson pulled past her to park. She figured he probably wouldn’t recognize her; he would be looking for a blond at the very least. She was happy her camouflage worked, but when she ran her hand through her hair, she missed its length.

  It’ll grow back, she told herself. It will grow back.

  When Jackson stepped out of the truck and tied his hair back in a bun, Sabrina remembered just how attracted to him she had been that day in the limousine—the day she had given herself to him. Her chest tingled. He was ruggedly handsome and looked stronger than ever.

  She took another deep breath to calm her nerves, then panned the parking lot. What few people were around were focused on getting food. No one here recognized her; she reminded herself that she was safe.

  “Jacks…” she called to him softly. When he turned to face her, she waved. “Hey.”

  His head tilted; he looked confused. He approached with caution, glancing around. “Sabrina?”

  She stood and bounced on her heels a bit to give him a little braless jiggle show. “Yeah, it’s me.”

  He looked her up and down, then rested his eyes on her dark hair. “Another wig?”

  “No, that’s all me.” Sabrina smiled. “Real deal, Grade-A Sabrina London.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He seemed less than impressed, and that hurt her. She wished that he felt the same way she did: ready to explode with passion at any moment.

  “Look, Jackson—”

  “You abandoned me.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Yeah, you did.”

  She shook her head. “No. No, I didn’t.”

  “I don’t have time for this.”

  When Jackson turned to walk away, Sabrina grabbed his arm. “Jacks, that wasn’t me that night, that was Skipper.”

  “What?”

  “My double, my doppelgänger.”

  “What the fuck are you saying, Sabrina?”

  “I’m queen now. Was queen. I needed to be safe, stay safe. I had…things to protect and it forced me to find someone to take my place, to pretend to be me.”

  Jackson leaned in, and when he did, Sabrina felt compelled to step back. She bumped into the bench behind her and fell to her seat.

  “Sabrina, we fucked. I know it was you.”

  “It wasn’t.”

  “In the club. In my shower—”

  “Wasn’t me,” she said, shaking her head.

  “No. This is crazy. It looked like you. It felt like you.”

  Sabrina stood again, pressing her body against his.

  “What are you doing?”

  Almost nose to nose she asked, “Did my wings look different?”

  “Yeah, but you said you were going to shed.”

  “Right…and what about my tits?”

  “What about them?”

  Sabrina took his hand and latched it on to her right breast. “Squeeze.”

  “I don’t want to, I—”

  “Squeeze it, Jacks! Hard. Like you did in the limo. Like you did when we fucked.”

  Jackson reached up with his other hand and squeezed them both so hard she nearly yelped. His touch made her shiver with excitement and his forcefulness made her wet.

  “Ouch!” She shoved him back. “Jesus, Jackson!”

  “You told me to.”

  “Yeah, I did.” She rubbed her hands over her shirt. “And what did you feel?”

  “Your tits. Real deal…Grade-A…Sabrina London.”

  “Did you squeeze them this hard when we fucked in the shower?”

  “No, you said they were tender.”

  “Uh-huh, because that wasn’t me, and those tits were not natural. Although an amazing job, those were fake, Jacks. All of her is fake.”

  “No…”

  Jackson grabbed Sabrina by the waist and spun her around. The mystery of his actions wetted her pussy even more.

  “What?”

  “Pull your shirt up, show me your wings.”

  “I can’t pop them here, people are staring already.”

  “Just show me your tattoo,” he said through gritted teeth.

  Sabrina covered her chest as Jackson yanked her shirt up her back.

  “I can’t fucking believe this.”

  “I told you. That girl wasn’t me.”

  “Your—her tattoo was faded. It looked dull and… Did you shed?”

  “No, I didn’t. That wasn’t me,” Sabrina said agai
n. “Her name is Skipper and she tricked you.”

  “Why?”

  That was the question. Sabrina wanted to answer but wanted to be sure he would handle the answer calmly first.

  “Do you remember the food here?”

  “Yeah, it was good.”

  “So, buy me a burger and milkshake, and after we eat, I’ll explain everything.”

  Jackson stared at her a moment. She could see his brain at work but had no clue how he was going to respond.

  “Just tell me something first, okay?”

  Sabrina sighed. “What?”

  “Why?”

  “I—”

  Jackson’s voice rose as he interrupted. “Your lookalike seduced me at that party and then convinced me to take her home and fuck her again. Why? Did you tell her to do that, Sabrina?”

  “I had to—”

  “Fuck!” Jackson said loudly enough to cause a few of the customers who ate outside to look in their direction. “I went down on her. I thought she was you and I went down on her in the shower.”

  “I know. She told me and I—”

  “It should have been you.” Jackson was red in the face as he paced back and forth, looking like he could put his fist through a wall. “I wanted you.”

  “But I—”

  “Damn it! I wanted to be inside you, Sabrina. Not some cheap imitation of you. The real thing.” Jackson grunted. “I just wanted the real thing.”

  Unbridled anger grew inside her. Jackson had photos of models that were dressed and posed to look like her. Skipper was not the first Sabrina rip-off he had had, she was sure of it.

  “Yeah? Well, what about all those photos, Jackson?” she demanded. “What about the cheap models?”

  “What other choice did I have? You left me. We shared one of the most special moments of my life in that limo, and I…” Jackson pointed off in no apparent direction. “I was ready to die for you at Moselle’s house! And what did you do? You left! You abandoned me there!”

  “I was in danger!” Sabrina shouted. “I had to go!”

  “I would have protected you.”

  “How?” She cocked her head. “You couldn’t protect me. You just wanted to fuck me. You just wanted a whore whose holes you could fill, and I gave you that. And she looked just like me. A near perfect match. Seriously, you should be thanking me, Jacks.”