Two Polluted Black-Heart Romances

by Kevin James Breaux

  “Yes, my love? Sounds like a wonderful adventure, right?”

  “This… It does. But you should’ve asked me first. A trip like that, overseas, for that long, I need to be asked first.”

  “All your travel arrangements were taken care of, my love. No worries.”

  “Moselle. My job? My friends and family? My life? Things are already messed up enough.”

  Her mood shifted. “Could any of those offer you such as I am now?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “No, they could not.”

  “Fine. But they wouldn’t have me in this situation either. You’re asking me to flee, flee some imaginary spirits of vengeance that you think—not know, think—are coming to get us.”

  Moselle didn’t answer. Jackson didn’t speak another word. They simply stared at each other until the wind picked up, and slowly Weston formed between them and Moselle’s limo. Jackson saw him first. The air spirit struggled to take form, his moans like a howling wind. His body flickered in and out of sight and his limbs stretched, as if to reach for something to hold himself in place. When his hand brushed against Moselle’s shoulder she screamed, “They’re here!”

  Jackson jumped. He had never heard her sound so terrified.

  “Who! What?”

  “The wraiths!” Moselle shouted as she backpedalled, tripped over her own feet, and fell to her butt. “Jackson, run!”

  Jackson saw only Weston.

  “It’s Weston,” he said. “Materialize more, Weston.”

  Weston took shape the moment Jackson told him too. His face showed signs of relief.

  “What’s happening?” Weston asked. “You told me to vanish and I…I just did. I was trying to reform the whole time you two were talking and I couldn’t.”

  “Weston?” Moselle said softly as one of her guards lifted her up from the ground. “You’re Weston?”

  Weston ignored Moselle and stayed focused on Jackson. “How did you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “You-you controlled me.”

  “What? No.” Jackson could not even imagine what that meant. “I just told you to go away, that’s all.”

  “Yeah, and I couldn’t help but do it!” His voice blew past Jackson when he shouted.

  “Listen, I’ve had enough. Since waking up in the base—subbasement here, I’ve been hit with crazy shit after crazy shit. It has to stop!”

  “Jackson, I—”

  “Enough.” Jackson raised his voice further. “You”—he faced Moselle—“you can go to Marrakesh if you want. I’m not going.”

  “Jackson—”

  “And you, Weston. You want me to go talk to Sabrina, tell her she’s in trouble. I’ll go to her, but only to tell her that Moselle, Cade, and I are all alive and well; that Cade is looking for her; that something strange is happening down where her apartment was; and that she should probably stay away from it, whatever it is. Whatever ‘pollution’ is in this context.”

  “Not what—”

  Jackson spoke over Weston. “Listen to me. I’m gonna give her the stuff you found, Weston, and then I’m going to ask her…ask her, you understand? Ask her if she needs anything. Ask her if she is okay where she is. If she says she’s fine, then great. I’ll be happy for her. I’ll give her a hug good-bye and move on knowing at least one problem you all have stuck me with is solved.”

  “You don’t understand, man. Pollution is here. It’s coming. It’s looking—”

  “Shut it,” Jackson said. “To be totally honest, I don’t know who or what you are. And I’m tired of listening to you and your damn ramblings. You need to go. Get out of here.”

  “I—” Weston gazed down at himself with a look of shock. Then, with a sudden gust, he was gone.

  “Jackson?”

  He drew a deep breath to calm himself and then answered, “Yes, Moselle.”

  “I’m coming with you. I desire to see my friend, to discern whether she is safe or not too.”

  He barely heard her. He felt like he was stuck in a maze and all paths led him back here, to new troubles. Secretly, he was hoping Sabrina could help him find his way out.

  “Fine. Whatever.”

  “Are you okay? Are you mad at me?”

  “I don’t fault you for wanting to run away,” he said softly. “We all need to escape our troubles, our lives, sometimes.”

  “This is why I love you, Jackson.” Moselle took his hand. “Much like my father, you show wisdom during times of great difficulty.”

  “I love you too, Moselle,” Jackson said the words, but he didn’t feel the weight of their meaning like he had before and that worried him worst of all.

  “So where shall I tell my driver to take us?”

  “Santa Barbara.”

  Moselle instructed a guard to bring the luggage she left at the front door. “I am ready when you are.”

  “Good.” Jackson looked up to the sky and pondered something Weston had said. “I think we should bring a few of your guards with us.”

  “I had already tasked several to join us on our trip.”

  “Great.” Jackson nodded. “Wait, is he coming?”

  Moselle smiled. “You mean my senior guard… I will instruct him to remain here. Another will take his place.”

  “Perfect.”

  Time’s Up

  Moselle’s limo arrived outside of Peter Rubie’s estate only moments before Peter did. Jackson had already hit the buzzer at the gate before he realized another car had arrived.

  “Jackson Abernathy, here to see Sabrina London.”

  A voice over the gate intercom answered a moment later. “Sorry, you are not on the approved guest list. Please get back into your car and exit the area. Thank you.”

  Jackson pressed the button again. “Just tell Sabrina that Moselle and Jackson are here.”

  “Please, sir, return to your car and exit the area, or I will be forced to call the authorities.”

  “Please, just tell her—”

  Jackson was interrupted by the piercing honk of the car that waited behind him.

  “Greetings. I’m Peter Rubie. This is my place. May I help you?” Peter called out from his car, a white 2015 Jaguar F-Type.

  Jackson smiled and waved. He may not have had any patience left, but the last thing he wanted was to get arrested outside some music mogul’s home.

  “Hey, sorry to bother you. We’re just looking for Sabrina. We’re friends of hers.”

  “Friends?”

  “Yes, she might have mentioned us. My name is Jackson, and this is Moselle.” He pointed to Moselle, who had rolled down her window.

  Peter smiled. “Jackson and Moselle.” He opened his car door and stepped out. “She thinks the lot of you are dead.”

  “In the hospital collapse.” Jackson nodded as he took a few steps forward. “We… I was discharged before it happened. Haven’t been able to reach Sabrina on her phone. Just wanted to let her know we’re alive.”

  “Alas, her cell phone suffered the fate of fates.” Peter chuckled.

  “Her cell phone died? Did you hear that, Moss?”

  “The poor girl has lost so much—her apartment, her belongings, her phone. It will do her well to see she has not lost her friends,” Peter said as he approached Jackson with his hand out. “Have your limousine back up, let me pass, and follow me in. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to see her friends. This is a cause to celebrate, right?”

  “Sounds good to me.” Jackson shook hands with Peter. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise. Cheers.”

  Moselle instructed her driver to park on the outside bend of the circular driveway outside of Peter Rubie’s large garage. Jackson eyed the man himself as he parked his car in what could have been a dealer’s showroom of Jaguars from the past fifteen years. The place was spotless.

  A man with a folder filled with paperwork in one hand and a glass of wine in the other, waited for Peter when he got out of his car.

  This is the life, Jackson thought. This guy has
it all.

  “Jackson Abernathy, why does that name ring a bell?” Peter asked him as he approached. “Do you perform? Are you a musician? A DJ? hip-hop artist perchance?”

  “No. Not at all.”

  “Oh. Well.” Peter looked perplexed. “Would you mind leaving your guards with the car? I will have one of my men see that they are taken care of. I—I am just not accustomed to having armed men in my home. You understand, of course.”

  “They aren’t my guards.”

  “They are mine.” Moselle stepped up and bowed. “Moselle Abdul Aziz Al Ghurair.”

  “Moselle Abdul Aziz Al Ghurair,” Peter repeated as he took her hand and then kissed it. “Now that is a name I do know. I’ve attended several of your father’s openings, Moselle.”

  “New York?” Moselle inquired.

  “Sadly, no. Although invited, I was unable to make that one. I attended the ones in Los Angeles, San Francisco, and the one in Madrid.”

  Moselle looked at Jackson when Peter said Madrid. “That was several years ago.”

  “Has it been several years? If I recall, you hosted all three. You look as if you haven’t aged a bit, Moselle. Truly stunning.”

  “I drink lots of water.”

  Peter gazed down into his half-empty wineglass. “Good to know.”

  “Please forgive me, Peter, my memory is dreadful at times.”

  “No, no. I am the same. I did not recognize you until I heard your name. I am the one living in a glass house,” he laughed.

  “So where’s Sabrina?” Jackson interjected.

  “Inside. Actually, well, if I was to guess, she’s probably out back sunning herself. She does love the sun, that one.”

  “Sir,” Peter’s assistant interjected. “She’s waiting for you.”

  “Oh…right.”

  Jackson watched Peter’s mood spoil. Something happened here, but what. Is Weston right? Is Peter more than what his charm suggests?

  “Please, if you don’t mind, follow Marco to the back patio, and I will find Sabrina and bring her out to join us all for a proper dinner.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Will your family be joining us?”

  Jackson smiled when Moselle asked the question. He was sure she was thinking the same thing he was: this middle-aged man, his fancy sports car, his huge estate that overlooked the ocean… How many young women came here wanting to start their music careers only to end up in his bed? Jackson’s smile faded. There are worse, more dangerous things than lecherous men. He knew that now, and with the sun out, he could cross vampire off the list of possible monsters Peter was.

  “It is only me here,” Peter answered.

  “Oh.”

  “My wife and daughter died many years ago in a car accident with a drunk driver. It was all over the news. In fact, your American reporters do a story on it almost every year.”

  “You have my deepest condolences.” Moselle bowed.

  “Yeah, sorry,” Jackson added.

  “Marco?” Peter nodded to his man, who pointed the way around the house to the back.

  “Follow me please.”

  The walk around Peter’s home felt longer than the walk around the San Jose Shark’s arena. How big is this place? Jackson thought looking up at it. It was larger than Moselle’s home—at least the parts aboveground. When they finally reached the back, Jackson’s couldn’t believe the splendor. A pool, spa, gardens, backyard kitchen, abstract stone art, and a cliff’s ledge that seemed to blend right into the ocean.

  “This place is amazing, Moss.”

  “A place even the gods would enjoy.”

  “Please make yourselves comfortable. Peter will return momentarily with your friend.”

  “Thank you.”

  Jackson marched straight across the yard to the cliff. The ocean called to him and he had not had a chance to visit it yet this year.

  “Moselle, look at this view.”

  “It is stunning, nearly equal to the view of the Nile from the mortuary temple.”

  Jackson gasped as he stepped up to the edge and gazed out; sparkling water filled the horizon as far as the eye could see. “Wow. Seriously… Wow. You can see the beach and the sailboats. I bet with some binoculars, you could see all the sunbathing ladies—”

  All of a sudden, Sabrina appeared atop a gust of wind, rising up from beneath the side of the cliff. Jackson stepped back as the air scooped under Sabrina’s wings pushed against him.

  “Jackson!” She shouted.

  Before he could even process what was happening, she landed in front of him and wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace.

  “Sabrina…”

  “I was so sure you guys were dead,” She said as she released her hold on Jackson only to plant a quick kiss on his lips.

  “We were worried you were dead too,” he said nodding.

  “Nah. I’m good.”

  “You should have called, we—” Moselle began until interrupted.

  “Moselle!” Sabrina leapt from Jackson to Moselle to give her a hug too. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

  “Sabrina, your wings,” Moselle stated, as if to remind her friend they were out.

  “Yeah. I was hovering down there when I swore I heard Jackson’s voice,” she said smiling at him. “There’s such an amazing updraft, Moselle. I don’t even have to flap much. I can just sort of dim my wings and float. It feels incredible.”

  “My friend, we were very worried about you,” Moselle said as she squeezed Sabrina’s shoulder.

  “As you can see.” She stood up tall and smiled. “I’m perfectly fine.”

  Sabrina waved her hands as if to present herself, and Jackson finally noticed her tiny white bikini barely covered her. “Damn, Sabrina.” he grunted.

  “My wings are really intense, right?” she asked. “It’s all this sun, and I’ve got nothing to hide here, so why not let them blaze.”

  “Clearly,” Jackson laughed. “In that bikini, you ain’t hiding nothing. You’re pretty much naked, Sabrina.”

  “I know.” Sabrina smiled. “You like? It’s a little small, but—”

  “Oh, I like!”

  “Jackson,” Moselle said in a warning tone. “Now is not the time.”

  “Now is the time, Moselle. Look around. Now is my time,” Sabrina said. “Can you believe, just a few days ago, I thought you were dead and I was sure the wraiths were trying to kill me? Just days ago.”

  “Funny you should say that,” Jackson said.

  “Now, I’m preparing songs for my new recording deal. I’m living in an oceanfront estate with the boss of the company and I don’t have a damn care in the world. Well…maybe one,” Sabrina said and then winked at Jackson. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Sabrina, my friend, you said you thought the wraiths had come to kill you. Is that in connection with what happened to your building?” Moselle asked curiously.

  “Well, yeah, I thought the wraiths killed you guys and then destroyed my place in order to kill me. But I escaped. And Weston told me there is no escaping the wraiths. So then I realized I was just being silly. Actually, it was you and Cade that got me all worried about these stupid things that probably don’t even exist. Since getting here…I’ve been fine. Nothing and no one has tried to hurt or kill me.”

  Jackson nodded. “That’s great.”

  “It’s a refreshing change.”

  “Sabrina,” Moselle interrupted. “Something killed everyone at the hospital and then destroyed your home. My home was struck too.”

  Sabrina stopped smiling. “What happened to your place?”

  “Minor damages. The earthquake that hit you hit us too,” Jackson answered for Moselle.

  “So it was an earthquake?” Sabrina confirmed.

  “Tell her what you saw when you visited her street, Jackson. Explain that to her.”

  “It wasn’t the wraiths,” Jackson argued.

  “Then what?” Moselle crossed her arms.

  “I don’t know.
Weston called it pollution. It looked like something out of an hentai video.”

  “Hentai?” Moselle asked.

  “Japanese animated porn, Moss.” Sabrina shook her head. “So Weston ran into you guys? Is that why you’re really here?”

  Jackson watched Sabrina’s face light up, and when he turned to see what she was looking at, he saw Peter Rubie.

  “Peter,” Sabrina whispered.

  “Sabrina, your wings,” Moselle blurted as she tried to position herself in a way that would hide them from Peter. “Quickly. Put them away.”

  Jackson watched Sabrina wave to the man, a motion that made one breast nearly pop out of her bikini top.

  “So, you like this guy?” Jackson grumbled. “This guy?”

  Sabrina smiled in response.

  “Is he treating you okay?” Jackson asked. “Is he a monster?”

  “He’s treating me very well, and he’s as human as you, Stonewall.”

  “Your wings,” Moselle whispered.

  “He’s seen them already. Chill, Moss.”

  “Sabrina, my dear, sorry I’m late. Marco told me you were waiting for me inside. I admit, I was worried when I couldn’t find you, but here you are, already outside with your friends.”

  Sabrina kissed Peter’s cheek. “I got tired of waiting inside, so I came outside for a little bit. The crosswinds and updrafts get more and more exciting by the day. You should see this Peter. When a big wave comes in, I can jump off the cliff and be pushed right back up by the currents without even flapping. It’s like-like—”

  “A trampoline?” Peter asked.

  “Almost,” Sabrina laughed. “Kinda like bungee jumping.”

  Peter reached up and ran his finger along the edge of one wing, an action that caused Sabrina to shudder slightly. “You are blessed to have these.”

  Jackson glared at Peter. Had Moselle not motioned to him to smile, he would have kept doing so.

  Why does he have it all? Jackson thought. It should be me. This should be mine.

  “Sabrina and her wings are incredible,” Jackson said and then ran his hand down Sabrina’s shoulder to where her one wing protruded from her skin. His touch also made her shiver.

  “Well. Well.” Sabrina looked about. “I do feel lucky. All this attention, after such a long and lonely day…you boys are going to spoil me.”