Two Polluted Black-Heart Romances

by Kevin James Breaux

  “Of course.”

  “Good, show me where it is. I’ll go get us some money.”

  Sabrina turned on her phone and asked. “Which bank?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “What do you mean, it doesn’t matter? Which bank do you have an account at?”

  “I’m not going to access an account. I’m going to steal us some money.”

  “You’re gonna rob an ATM?” Sabrina blurted out, appalled by the thought. “What the fuck, Weston?”

  “Do you have any better ideas?” he asked. “Do you want to go back out on the streets, beg for more money?”

  “That wasn’t begging.” She tucked her phone in her shorts and crossed her arms again.

  “You know what I mean.”

  She did. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this.

  Sabrina picked up a stuffed animal butterfly from one of the open totes, a gift from one of the children of the other Fairy Kings on her sixteenth birthday. She looked at it a moment. She’d loathed the eyes on it when she was younger, thought the colors were too florescent bright, and often found herself tossing the thing against a wall out of anger. Sabrina turned and pitched the thing as hard as she could at the unit’s door. Weston did not catch it. She knew he knew better; he had seen her throw it before.

  “Last night, I was celebrating my future. Tonight, I’m wallowing in my past. What the hell, Weston? What the hell!”

  “Sabrina it’s—”

  “Don’t you say it’s going to be okay!” She screamed as she pointed to where she saw his outline. “Just go! Do what you have to.”

  “I’ll bring back food soon.”

  Sabrina looked at the stuffed animal where it had landed on the ground. “Whatever.”

  “I’ll be back soon. Stay here. Stay quiet. Keep the door shut.”

  She nodded.

  Weston vanished through the cracks between the door and the wall of the storage unit, but she was focused on the butterfly. Seemingly indestructible when she was younger, the thing had lost an eye just now when she’d thrown it. She picked up both the stuffed animal and the broken eye, and gripped them tightly. And then, she began to cry.

  Generation Kill

  Cade sat in the passenger seat of an old M54 cargo truck.

  The engine sputtered on occasion, but sounded good for being stored for the past twenty-two years. Nicodemus drove. Seated behind him in the extended cab were both Natalia and Leanne. Cade knew the consequences of his actions, a fate he did not want to condemn Nicodemus to, but the old man was more than just his childe—he was his comrade. If Cade was going to battle, if he was going to face something unknown, he needed Nicodemus at his side.

  “I laughed when you two pushed this rusty old thing into the caves,” Leanne joked as she removed and returned one of her rings to her finger. “I thought, ‘well, that takes the cake. Cade’s truly gone mad.’”

  “And now?”

  “Well now, I must say, I’m impressed this junk is running.” Leanne smiled. “But my opinion about your state of mind hasn’t changed, honey pie.”

  Cade laughed. Leanne must have been nervous; not only was she running off at the mouth, but her southern accent was coming through.

  “And what about me, nurse?” Natalia looked up from filing her nails. “Have I lost my mind too?”

  “Heavens no,” Leanne said. “Why, I wager you’re here for the adventure.”

  “I am.”

  “Not to see Cade’s girlfriend,” Leanne added. “Do tell, Cade, why would you want to have so many of your lovers come face-to-face?”

  “I wouldn’t,” he replied.

  “When Cade changed his plan, I told him I was coming along or I would wake Dunyasha.”

  “Oh my.” Leanne fanned herself. “You’d do that?”

  “I would.”

  “Let’s just stay quiet for a while, okay?” Cade suggested, to which Nico nodded.

  The moon was shining big and bright, and the night was clear. Cade knew it was going to be a long night, not in hours, but in frustration. Nicodemus had done careful calculations; it would take nearly thirteen hours to return to Los Angeles in the slow-moving cargo truck.

  Two nights, Cade thought. The daylight hours—he sniffed—so dominant this time of year. We’ll need to stay someplace dark for an entire day, a highway rest stop or abandoned warehouse maybe. Not another roadside hotel. Not after what happened on my trip to the caves days ago.

  The quiet had lasted longer than he would have guessed, but predictably, Natalia broke the silence.

  “Leanne, darling, has anyone ever told you what happened to the generations before Dunyasha’s?”

  “Natalia.” Cade raised his voice. “Seriously, must you?”

  “I know that they were killed,” Leanne answered.

  “And how?” Natalia continued.

  “There was a battle,” Leanne answered. “That’s all I really know. I was never one to focus on the negative.”

  “Oh, but you should know this story, right, Nico?” Natalia said.

  “Da.”

  “Now is not the time, Natalia,” Cade pressured.

  “Now is the perfect time.”

  “I want to know the story, Cade. Please finish,” Leanne said as she straightened the bow that held back her chestnut brown hair.

  Natalia smiled and flashed her teeth at Cade. “It was during the early days of the last slumber: 1099 AD. Vampires across Europe had gone to ground during the First Crusade. At this time, there were only two generations of vampires born from The Four. The first generation existed of eight total. The second generation of ninety-six.”

  “I know that much.” Leanne sounded proud of herself.

  “Good. So can you imagine a time when only one hundred and eight vampires roamed this whole world?” Natalia asked. “All of them in one place: Europe.”

  “Was this when Dunyasha was born?” Leanne asked.

  “We don’t know for sure,” Cade answered.

  “Rurik,” Nico said.

  “Nico and Natalia think she comes from the early years of the Rurik Dynasty.”

  “Second,” Nico stated firmly.

  “Which would possibly make her second generation.” Cade turned to look at Leanne. “I’ve always thought she was one of the wives of Vladimir II Monomakh.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, maybe one not noted in history.” Cade smirked. “And that would make her closer to third generation.”

  “Second,” Nico repeated.

  Cade smiled and shook his head. Which generation their sire came from had been a long-running debate of theirs.

  “Well, we all agree that she comes from a time just before the slumber was called.”

  “Ancient. Proud.” Nicodemus tapped the steering wheel as he said the words in his best, practiced English.

  “And we know she’s from Kiev,” Cade added. Could she really be second generation? They’re all supposed to be dead. If so, what does that make me?

  “When the first slumber was called, the second generation did not want to sleep. There was war, famine, pestilence, and death in Europe and the Middle East. Tens of thousands of people were sick and dying. The second generation suggested it was our people’s time to breed and overcome humanity. Our very nature was to stalk death, and death had become easy prey,” Natalia continued the tale.

  “Overcome humanity?” Leanne asked.

  “Yes. The second generation came to the conclusion that within another three generations, there would be more vampires in Europe than people. The balance would shift, and humanity would be the ones hiding in dirty caves.”

  “Oh dear.”

  “But The Four had other concerns. The Four told the first and second generation that they only had to look at the armies marching to the Middle East against a common foe. Look and imagine what would happen if vampires became the next common foe.”

  “So The Four were afraid the next crusade would be against us?” Leanne aske
d.

  “Precisely, my dear.” Natalia smiled. “Once more, The Four ordered the slumber. The first generation, the good children that they were, promptly followed orders. But the second generation once again vehemently disagreed. Childe and sire argued day and night; no one slept. By the end of 1099, the second generation announced that they wanted to be autonomous.”

  Leanne cocked her head. “Autonomous?”

  “Independent,” Cade explained.

  “Self-ruling, Leanne,” Natalia said.

  “They can’t. We can’t. Vampires need one another. We need our rules. We need to follow what our leaders tell us.”

  “Out of the mouths of babes, right, Cade?”

  Cade sneered as he shook his head. Who is this story for, me or Leanne? he wondered.

  “The first generation told the second, that if they wanted freedom, they would have to fight for it. But the second generation lacked the strength needed to defeat their sires, so they broke one last rule, a move that enraged The Four,” Natalia said.

  “They bolstered the budding third generation,” Leanne guessed.

  “Correct.” Natalia patted Leanne’s knee. “Originally planned as twelve childe per sire, this new generation grew out of control and was filled with rebelliousness. When the war between the first and second generations started, the third generation had nearly two thousand new vampires within it. More than enough to wipe out everyone above them.”

  “Not The Four,” Nicodemus stated.

  “Not The Four, but everyone else.” Cade agreed.

  “Can you imagine the shock when the third generation, so filled with soldiers, thieves, revolutionaries, and miscreants decided to break apart? Some sided with the first generation, others the second. Others still created new groups. It was chaos,” Natalia explained. “By the time The Four rose and put an end to the war, the first and second generations were nearly wiped out. What remained of the third was too few to count.”

  “They say less than two hundred vampires remained,” Cade added. “The Four destroyed the rest of the first and second generation and forced the third to slumber for a hundred years.”

  “So that’s why Petar refers to us as the ‘new second’ generation,” Leanne said, pondering aloud.

  “Because, as it stands, there are no generations before our sire’s,” Cade clarified. “Unless you agree with Nico, that Dunyasha is a survivor of the true second generation. That would make us true third, and not true fourth.”

  “My head is spinning.” Leanne patted her forehead with a handkerchief she had in her purse. “Is there any way to prove what generation Dunyasha is?”

  “For us, no,” Cade said. “The Four would know simply by looking at her. But The Four are asleep.”

  “I’ve always been afraid to ask,” Leanne said shyly. “Are The Four truly who they say they are?”

  “Yes.” Natalia punctuated her answer with a nod.

  “And we’re really descended from them?”

  “Yes, Leanne, we are.”

  Leanne straightened herself. “Which one?”

  “No one has ever told you?” Natalia asked.

  “No. No one.”

  Silence took over the interior of the truck for a moment.

  “Isn’t it obvious, Leanne?” Cade said with a deep sigh. “We’re descended from the second horseman: War.”

  Like a Phoenix from the Flames

  Sabrina leaned back in the tub. The warm water felt so good, she never wanted to get out. She could see the ocean through the floor-to-ceiling windows. She had only been to Santa Barbara once before, and could now see why people loved it so much—it was beautiful.

  She slipped down into the water more, tilted her head back, and rested it on the folded-up towel that was behind her neck. To her right was a half-drank glass of wine. She didn’t care so much for its taste, but she reached for it again anyway. Bitter, she thought, taking another sip. Bitter but precisely what I need. Numb it away; numb it all away.

  A warm breeze blew in the open window across the spacious bathroom. Sabrina knew it wasn’t Weston. This smelled like roses, and he never smelled so sweet. She peeked at the three crystal vases that sat on the vanity. Three dozen roses.

  Peter knows how to welcome a woman. He has class.

  Lost in comfort, Sabrina released her wings with a deep sigh. “This feels wonderful… A brand new day.”

  “I’ve had it, Weston!” Sabrina screamed. “Two days hiding in a hot storage unit that stinks of Chinese food, urine and musty furniture. Two days of wearing clothes that hardly fit me because they were ones I wore when I was a stupid, naive little girl who believed her daddy would protect her, her whole damn life! Two days of thinking that at any fucking moment the wraiths could appear and kill me.”

  “Sabrina, please—”

  “No!” she shouted. “I’ve had it.”

  Sabrina speed dialed a number on her cell phone and then held it to her ear.

  A chipper voice answered. “Miss London, how may I help you?”

  “Sean, I know it’s Sunday night, but Mr. Rubie said I could call him at any time. I don’t have his number with me—I lost the card. Could you give it to me?”

  “Of course. Is everything okay?”

  “Y—yes. No—no,” she stammered. “Just give me his number, okay?”

  “Okay, do you have a pen and paper ready?”

  Sabrina looked to her right and left—bad memories and trash were all she saw. “No, but I’ll remember it. You’d be surprised just how good my memory is, Sean.”

  “Okay then.”

  Sabrina was elated that she’d called him. Peter Rubie had shown her great kindness. First he’d sent a car to pick her up, and then he’d sent one of his personal shoppers out to get her some new clothes. He treated her like she always wanted to be treated, but Sabrina knew everything came with a cost. After her bath, Sabrina intended to repay it; then and only then, would she finally be able to rest soundly.

  Hand between her legs, she mentally and physically prepared herself. It had been a while—a while since she had been intimate with a man that was not an otherworldly. The thought reminded her of her last bender, a time she had trouble remembering the exact details of.

  “Mira,” she said with a sigh. “If only Mira could see this view. She would’ve loved it.” Sabrina finally understood why her friend had always asked why they lived in the city when they could live on the beach.

  Sabrina’s cell phone vibrated at the edge of the tub, near her wine glass. When she reached for it, she tipped it in the wrong direction and it slid down the side, right into the water.

  “Oh no,” Sabrina gasped.

  She tried to fish the phone out as quickly as possible, but it slipped out of her hand like a bar of soap and shot to the opposite end of the tub. Finally out of the water, she swiped the screen to the side to engage it, but it did not turn on.

  “Ruined,” she stated. “Just my luck. I finally get a phone call and I drop my phone in the fucking water.”

  She got over it quickly though. She gazed past the soaking-wet device, out to the ocean and the distant waves. This places…it’s magical.

  “You okay in there, Sabrina?” Peter Rubie called through the door. “I heard something fall.”

  “I’m fine,” she answered. “Just dropped my phone in the tub.”

  “Oh, such tragedy.” Peter paused a moment. “You know, I read that you can dry out a cell phone by placing it in a bowl of uncooked rice.”

  Sabrina shook the thing and watched water drip out of it. “Worth a try, I guess.”

  “Can I come in?” Peter asked, and when Sabrina did not answer right away he elaborated. “To retrieve your phone, so I can try and save it for you.”

  She took another drink. She was far from drunk but still perfectly ready for him.

  “The door’s unlocked,” she said; her voice nearly cracked midsentence.

  Sabrina withdrew her wings when she heard the door creak open. She c
onsidered whether she should stand and face Peter as he approached, even re-releasing her wings. But something kept her still. Something told her to let the man make the first move if she was what he truly wanted.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were still bathing,” he said from across the room.

  “No, I’m done. I was just laying here enjoying your beautiful view,” she said over her shoulder.

  “A grand view it is.” Peter smiled. “If you throw me the phone I could—”

  “If I throw it? Peter, I’ll probably just break something else.”

  Peter looked about. “Fair enough.”

  “I should get out anyway. I want to lay in the sun a bit. I can’t remember the last time I was able to sunbathe privately.”

  “Very well.” Peter cleared his throat. “Jules bought you three bikinis. They’re in your room.”

  Sabrina stood slowly, cautious not to slip or fall. She knew Peter would be watching and she wanted to put on a good show.

  “You bought me bikinis?”

  “When one lives overlooking a beach, Ms. London…”

  Sabrina had given the man her back. She wanted so much to release her wings, say fuck it, and tell him what she was. But again, she held back. Instead, she gave him something else to look at when she bent over slightly and reached for a towel.

  “Please accept my apologies for staring, Sabrina. It’s just…your skin art…it grows more and more amazing each time I see it.”

  “Well,” she laughed, “I hope this is a slightly improved view from the one you had a couple days ago.”

  “Marvelous.”

  “Thank you.” She looked over her shoulder. Peter had not moved an inch. “You know, some swear the colors change. Can you believe that?”

  “To the untrained eye, such intricate lines and colors may blend and blur together. A sea of red and blue simply becomes purple.”

  “But you see the finer details in things, don’t you, Peter?” Sabrina asked as she slowly wrapped the towel around herself.

  “I do.”

  “And you truly enjoy the beauty of things.”

  “Yes, and I try my best to immerse myself deeply—”

  “I bet you do.” Sabrina smiled.