Two Polluted Black-Heart Romances

by Kevin James Breaux

  “You’ve done so much for me.”

  “And I will do much more…” Peter moved closer, eyes focused keenly on her wings. “What are they—what are they made of?”

  Sabrina laughed. “You know, you are the first person to ask me that. You’d think that would be someone’s first question, right?”

  Peter nodded. “They bring many, many questions to mind.”

  “Well, Peter, let me answer this one for you,” she teased as she amped her wings up slightly. “My wings are made of solar energy.”

  “Outstanding,” he gasped.

  “You see, fairies have two circulatory systems.”

  “One for blood, the other for…for energy?”

  “Exactly.” Sabrina was impressed. “Would you like to touch?”

  “What? Your wings?” Peter looked hesitant.

  “Yes.” She smiled. “Unless you’d prefer…”

  She began to lower the arm that covered her breasts, but Peter took her wrist and held it up. “Let’s save that for another day.”

  Sabrina didn’t know how to respond, but she was quickly distracted when he ran the tips of his fingers against the edge of one wing.

  “They’re warm.” His eyes widened with astonishment. “That’s why you took off your top.”

  “When first released, my wings can be pretty darn hot. They’ll burn my clothing if I’m not careful.”

  “They must be, what…a hundred degrees? Equal to your body temperature, I’d wager?”

  Sabrina was surprised by Peter’s intuition. “A little warmer.”

  “Truly amazing.”

  With that she stretched them out and up, then flapped them enough to lift her off the ground several inches.

  Peter gasped. “And you can fly?”

  “I can.”

  He had more questions; she could tell by the look on his face. She could also tell he was mulling something over.

  “Sabrina, tell me…this…you can do this whenever you want, right?”

  She set herself back down. “Release my wings? Fly? Of course.”

  “Then, darling, I have an amazing idea.” Peter reached out and gently caressed her wing again. “We should talk.”

  Sabrina dropped her arm and finally bared her breasts. “Just talk?”

  “Tonight? Yes.”

  “And what about tomorrow?”

  “Ten minutes ago, I could have listed all I had planned for tomorrow. Now, well, Miss London.” He shook his head. “Now everything has changed.”

  “All for the better?”

  He took her hand. “All for the better.”

  “Good.”

  “Let’s hurry inside.” Peter led her back toward his home. “Tell me something, my beautiful pixie—”

  “Fairy.”

  “Fairy.” Peter shook his head. “Marvelous.”

  “What else did you want to know?”

  He looked her in the eyes. “Why did you decide to share this incredible secret with me?”

  Sabrina wanted to be witty, to keep his attention, so she thought of a comparison he might enjoy.

  “Because, Peter, like the mighty phoenix, now is my time to rise from the ashes.”

  “Well played, love. Well played.”

  Jackson Orders Out

  Jackson hung up Moselle’s cell phone and put it on her bureau. He’d been trying to call Sabrina all day with no luck. Reports said her high-rise building, and the one adjacent to it, both fell during the earthquake on Saturday morning. Moselle thought Sabrina was dead, and she’d handled it better than he might have expected until today. Jackson had watched her fall into a dreadfully solemn state as the hours passed by.

  Even now, as Moselle bathed, he felt her melancholy. He imagined her sitting in the tub, her head hanging down and her eyes filled with tears. But she can’t cry. She told me before, the undead can’t cry. All those pent up emotions…it must be frustrating.

  Jackson picked up the cell phone again. If Sabrina would only answer, I could tell Moselle her friend’s fine and everything would be better. Everything could go back to normal.

  He dialed the number again, but it went to voice mail, just like it had all the times before.

  “Sabrina, it’s Jackson again. Please call us.” He hung up. “Fuck.”

  He sat down on the corner of Moselle’s bed. The moonlight lighting the room, the touch of Moselle’s fine Egyptian cotton sheets, the scent of lavender in the air—it all reminded him of that night. It felt like only a day ago that he’d first had sex with Moselle and if she would have asked him if he wanted to, he would have told her he ached to be inside her again now.

  But she did not ask, and Jackson understood why. Moselle had been hyper-focused, panicked about an impending doom that he truly thought was all in her head. That earthquake did one thing right. He flopped back on the bed and yawned. It got us out of that damn uncomfortable basement.

  He was amazed. Moselle’s bedroom had seemingly suffered no damage in the quake, with the exception of two broken empty perfume bottles.

  He began to drift off into sleep, tired from a long day of house repairs. He fought to keep his eyes open until the sound of a rattle roused him. Snake! Jackson jumped off the bed and carefully peeked under it, fully expecting to find a rattlesnake hiding in the shadows.

  “Nothing.” He was surprised. “Where have all the snakes gone?”

  “Jackson, what are you doing down on the floor?” Moselle asked as she walked in.

  “I was looking for snakes.”

  “And?”

  He stood up. “None.”

  “So odd,” she sighed, adjusting the towel she had wrapped around her.

  “Has this ever happened before?”

  Moselle walked to her bureau where her lotion bottles sat. “While you were repairing the damage outside, I searched through some of my old journals for answers.”

  “Find anything?”

  She picked up one of the lotion bottles and stared at it a moment before she answered. “I’ve had this nagging feeling, like this has all happened to me before, and when it did, I was equally confused as I am now.”

  “And?” Jackson prompted.

  “I delved into journals I kept when I was living in South America.”

  “You lived in South America? You never told me that.”

  She pointed at her head. “I forgot, my love.”

  “Oh, right. Your brain was removed—”

  “Not all of it,” she said.

  “Yeah, but still…”

  Moselle frowned. “Shall I continue, or would you rather talk about the process by which I was mummified?”

  “Sorry.”

  “Yes, well…I was living in San Juan, Argentina, during the seventies. And in my journals, I found a time that I noted how all the snakes had vanished from my presence. You would not believe why, Jackson.”

  His eyebrow arched. “Why?”

  “They vanished several days before a severe earthquake.”

  “No shit,” he blurted out. “That would’ve been good to know days ago.”

  “It would have been.” She agreed. “There’s more. I also noted in my journal how the earthquake had released a lot of natural gasses, ones like what I smelled in the hospital.”

  “That’s freaking weird.”

  “It gets freaking weirder.” Moselle sounded funny when she spoke in slang. “I had the forethought to mention in my journal that this had happened once before, before my father and I left the Middle East. Shortly after my resurrection.”

  Jackson did not know how to respond. If she was alluding to something, he needed her to be more explicit. “So what are you saying?” he finally asked.

  “Honestly, I’m not sure.” Moselle shrugged, a look of guilt on her face. “But it is something, right?”

  “Right,” he said, feeling a little let down there wasn’t more. “Moselle, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Okay…” He wasn’t sure she was
being totally honest. “Well, if we don’t start seeing some snakes around here soon, we might want to prepare for another quake.”

  Moselle nodded and then asked, “Did Sabrina answer your calls?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  “I fear she’s lost.”

  Jackson gently gripped her arms. “She’s not dead, Moselle.”

  “Then why hasn’t she called us back? Why isn’t she answering her phone?”

  Jackson noticed some dead skin peeling around her hairline and then realized her arms felt exceptionally dry.

  “Why didn’t you answer her calls? How many messages did she leave you when you were hiding in the basement?”

  “The subbasement, my love.”

  “Whatever.” He shook his head as he stepped away. “You know what I’m saying.”

  “I do.” Moselle nodded. “Do you think she declines to answer because I did not answer her?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “Would she be so petty?”

  “Would she?”

  “I guess.”

  “Look, where else would she go?” Jackson asked. “If she can’t go home and she hasn’t come here. Where else would she go? Where would Cade go?”

  “Cade…” Moselle looked startled when she said his name.

  “What?”

  “I forgot.” She put her hand over her mouth in horror. “I called him, asked him to come to the hospital before it collapsed. He could be…”

  “Did you call him back?”

  “No.”

  “Jesus, Moss, why not?” Jackson’s voice rose. “We should call him. He’s probably with Sabrina right now. They’re probably at his place.”

  Moselle turned and reached for her cell phone. When she moved, Jackson noticed more dead and peeling skin on her lower back.

  “Moss, wait.”

  “What?”

  “Seriously. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she said over her shoulder.

  In the candlelight, he began to see more. Moselle had seemingly aged several years since she bathed. “You look…tired. When was the last time you…ate? Fed?”

  She had a somber look. Jackson wasn’t sure if he had reminded her of something or if she was insulted that he asked her such a thing.

  “I have not…fed…in days. Many days.”

  “Then take some from me.”

  “I told you before, Jackson, my love, I do not want to extinguish your flame any more than I already have.”

  “Then what do you do in these situations?”

  “Normally, my guards would take care of it.”

  “And they haven’t?”

  “They have not.”

  “Okay, so what would they normally do?”

  Moselle paused a moment before she answered. “Order out.”

  Jackson stopped. He stopped moving, stopped talking, and stopped thinking.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Did you say ‘order out’?”

  “Yes, my guards would place a take-out order, pizza, hoagies, Chinese…”

  “Chinese,” Jackson repeated softly. “Moselle, I read a newspaper article that said the police suspected a delivery man was killing people in the city. Someone who would deliver food—”

  “Jackson!” She snapped. “You are not connecting me with the fiend who is killing families in their homes when they are waiting for their dinner.”

  “I—”

  Moselle wrapped the towel back around herself before she spoke. “That—that person is no doubt a rogue vampire, and he’s going to their homes. Their homes, Jackson.”

  “Oh, right.” He felt suddenly stupid.

  “I’m ordering food brought to my home.”

  “I get it.”

  “And I’m not killing anyone.” Moselle crossed her arms. “But maybe I should,” she said with a raised eyebrow.

  “I’m sorry.” Jackson smiled and stepped closer, so he could grab her shoulder. “Seriously, I’m sorry. There’s just so much on my mind.”

  She kissed his hand where it rested on her. “Apology accepted. Now let me call Cade, and then you can assist me in ordering a pizza.”

  “Oh?” Jackson said. Pizza sounds great right now. “What kind of pizza?”

  “You ask because you want to eat it?” She nodded. “In the past, what kind of pizza did not matter. I would not eat it, nor would my guards. It was thrown out immediately.”

  “Not tonight.” He patted his stomach. “Tonight it gets eaten. I’m going to order half mushroom and half pepperoni.”

  She turned her back to him again and picked up her cell phone. “Silly, Jackson.”

  He watched Moselle lift the phone to her ear, her towel slipping down a bit to reveal her hips and buttocks. She may have been peeling, but that didn’t change how much he desired her. He drew a line down her spine with his finger and watched her wiggle. He had given her the chills; it only challenged him to do more.

  “Cade?” Moselle said into her phone. “Cade, can you hear me?”

  Jackson stepped around in front of her. “You got Cade?”

  She nodded. “Cade, are you okay?” Moselle asked. “And Sabrina? Is she okay?”

  Jackson couldn’t hear Cade’s voice, but he heard some static, maybe wind.

  “No, she’s not with me,” Moselle answered. “Yes, I saw what happened with her home. It was destroyed, Cade.”

  “Where is he?” Jackson asked Moselle.

  “What do you mean it’s all connected. Is it the—”

  “Moselle, where is he?” Jackson asked again.

  “No? Are you sure?” Moselle asked Cade. “You’re positive?”

  Jackson could see Moselle looked worried about something Cade said. Her face had fallen, and she looked somewhat shocked.

  “What? Moselle? What?” he asked.

  “I don’t know where she could be. If I find her, I will call you. You will do the same, yes?” Moselle nodded several times and then said, “Thank you. Yes. See you soon.”

  The moment she hung up, Jackson asked, “Where is he? Does he know where Sabrina is? What’s his plan?”

  “Jackson, please.” Moselle rose her hand up, palm out and then composed herself a moment before saying, “He does not know where she is. He was out of town, but is returning to Los Angeles now.”

  “Out of town?”

  “He was visiting his clan. He told me that they will help him find Sabrina, help us find her.”

  “His clan?” Jackson did not like the sound of that. “Aren’t they all supposed to be asleep? What does that mean?”

  “It means they are awake and they are coming here first.”

  “Great,” he sighed. “More mouths to feed. So, how many pizza’s do we need to order now?”

  “Cade alluded to engine trouble. I’m afraid they will not arrive for another day.”

  Jackson dialed Pizza Hut on her cell phone, placed the order, and then hung up.

  “Good. Then you don’t have to share your meal.” He reached over and pulled off her towel. “And I don’t have to share you.”

  “There’s no time,” Moselle whispered. “I need to dress and—”

  “We have thirty minutes.” Jackson stepped up and planted a kiss on her waiting lips. “Or less…”

  Moselle breathed heavily. “Then we better hurry.”

  “Hurry,” he said over her lips. “Thirty minutes is just enough time for foreplay. After you’ve…eaten…we can get to the real action.”

  “Such boasting. Are you sure you can, how do you say it, back it up?”

  Jackson kissed her stomach and hips as he moved. Once kneeling, he nestled his face between her legs and kissed her soft folds. The taste of her wetness aroused him.

  “Maybe you should lay back so I can show you,” he said between kisses.

  “Such a treat should not go unaccepted.” Moselle moaned. “You know you drive me crazy, Jackson.”

  “No more than you drive me crazy, Moselle.
”

  Jackson watched reports on the earthquake as he waited in the TV room. The newscasters repeated that the quake was not along any known fault line. What that meant exactly, no one was sure.

  When the doorbell finally rang, one of Moselle’s guards opened the door, but Jackson pushed past the big man and welcomed the pizza delivery boy in.

  “One pepperoni and mushroom supreme. Twenty-two dollars, sir.” The young guy, most likely just out of high school, looked eager.

  “Here’s thirty. Keep the change,” Jackson said as he handed over the money and took the pizza.

  “Thanks, man.” He smiled. “Nice place you got here.”

  “Yeah, but we had some damage in the earthquake. You should see this massive crack in the floor inside. It goes all the way down to the basement. It’s crazy looking.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, just inside.” Jackson pointed behind himself. “Let me show you. You can seriously fit your head through it.”

  “Cool. Cool.”

  The guy strolled into the foyer, wide-eyed. “Wow, man, shit this place is rocking.”

  “It’s my girlfriend’s.”

  “Oh?” the young guy said. “What’s with the militia? They look like something out of a Modern Warfare game. You play?”

  “Never mind them,” Moselle said as she sauntered out of the room she kept her sarcophagus. “They are harmless.”

  Moselle was dressed in a silk robe, loosely tied. Jackson did not know if she was trying to seduce him or the pizza boy with her lack of attire, but he was sure it worked on both regardless.

  “Is that your girlfriend?” the guy whispered to Jackson as he lifted a fist for Jackson to bump. “She’s hella hot.”

  “She is.”

  “Yo, you guys shoot porn here?” the young guy asked. “I’d totally be down.”

  “Come here.” Moselle’s voice was smooth. “Let me see you…up close.”

  The guy looked at Jackson for approval.

  “She wants to see you, brother. Go see her. Maybe she has your tip.”

  “Just the tip?” the pizza guy chuckled.

  Moselle looked incredible in the torchlight. Even with her skin peeling, a few wrinkles around her eyes, and lines around her lips, she was undeniably beautiful. Jackson started to wonder how many times she’d done this before and if she needed to feed like this daily.