Three Burning Red Runaway Brides
Write Makes Might!
Three Burning Red Runaway Brides
Kevin James Breaux
CONTENTS
Title Page
Dedication
Three Burning Red Runaway Brides
Copyright
Perfect Body Double
Slippery When Wet
The Mission
Home Sweet Home
Of Two Minds
Sunbathing in Paradise
Radiation Sickness
Past Perfect
Autoerotic
Making Moves
The Day After
Impatience is a Virtue
Massacre City
Joe and the Battle of Long Beach
Face Front, True Believers
Not So Quick
The Birthplace of War
Lessons Learned
Escape Plan
Glass Houses and the Stones Thrown
Nut Up or Shut Up
Burn, Baby, Burn
You Can Never Go Home
The Big Boom Theory
Having Children
Dawn of War
Fortify the Lie
In Service of Death
One Way Ticket to Los Angeles
Seks Gneva…[18]
…Is The Best Kind
Regrets—Sabrina Has Had a Few
That L.A. Smog is Killer
City of Trash
Runaway Bride
Two Brides, One Groom
One Night in London Makes the Hard Man Humble
One Night in London Makes the Tough Man Stumble
One Night in London and the World’s Your Oyster
Four Fairies, One Lord
Blood is Thicker Than Water
Water Vs. Waste
Waste Vs. Water
Water vs. Water vs. Filth
Water vs. Filth vs. Filth
Water vs. Filth vs. Fire
Earth Science vs. Filth
Aftermath
Epilogue
The tale of the Water Kingdom may be over, but the story of the Fire Kingdom has just begun.
About the Author
Links
Footnotes
Copyright © 2019 Kevin James Breaux
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13: 9781546733454
Editor: Gretchen Stelter of Cogitate Studios
Proofreader: Cassandra Wengewicz
Cover Artwork: Le Vuong
Cover Design: Kevin James Breaux
Interior Layout: Kevin James Breaux
Perfect Body Double
There was a time when Sabrina London lived for this—the loud, thumping music, the bright, pulsating lights, the scent of perfume mixed with sweat—but that was then, not now. Crazy, just how much could change in six months—seemingly everything.
This was her first time back in civilization. Fitting that it was the hottest spot in Los Angeles on one of, if not the biggest, nights to party: Club Afterlife on New Year’s Eve.
Every year, the club hosted one of their famous masquerade balls. This year’s theme was Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Masque of the Red Death.”
Sabrina blended in, just another partygoer draped in a loose, crimson robe, with a stark white, full facemask on. The disguise allowed her to witness the events of the night anonymously.
She may have been there in secret, but she was not there alone.
Her partner had circumnavigated the long lines and gained entrance to the club with ease, then singled out her target and made her move. After months and months of development, the plan was finally in motion.
Sabrina watched from across the crowded club. Her double had done a good job, maybe even too good a job. Jackson had been easily seduced.
Her double had commandeered a VIP booth and then slyly fucked a man Sabrina had feelings for. Sabrina had not realized until then, when her nails cut into her sweaty palms, that she had made two tight fists—one for each of them.
Skipper sauntered back, although clearly uncertain on her heels and clumsy in her billowing, Victorian-style dress. Sabrina had nicknamed her body double Skipper for many reasons. One was to remind her of her place—Skipper was always Barbie’s lesser and Sabrina hoped the name reminded the girl of just that.
Just as Sabrina felt her blood heat, Jackson called out her name; the ruse had worked.
Sabrina waved to Skipper from where she hid around a tall marble pillar. When the girl got there, Sabrina could hear her panting—she was almost out of breath.
“I didn’t tell you to fuck him. Here. In front of everyone,” Sabrina snapped. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“You told me to seduce him,” Skipper said over the loud dance music. “I did, and it worked.” She smiled as she fixed her lace Venetian masquerade mask. “You heard him, right? He just shouted out your name.”
Sabrina settled herself quickly. She could see Jackson approaching through the dense crowd. “Fine. Time to take this to the next step. He needs to see you. All of you.”
Skipper nodded.
“He’s coming,” Sabrina's guard interrupted.
“Already did,” Skipper said under her breath.
“Remember the plan. Get him to take you home,” Sabrina repeated for what felt like the thousandth time. “Do whatever it takes to convince him you are Sabrina London. He needs to…one hundred percent…believe the lie.”
“And if he doesn’t believe me?”
“You know that answer. Don’t make me say it again.”
Skipper nodded.
“Good. Go. Run out the door. He’ll follow you.”
“Will you be okay here?”
Sabrina made a sour face as she glanced about, like it all—the music, the lights, the crowds—disgusted her. “Me? I’m leaving.”
“Okay. Wish me luck.”
“Good luck, Skipper.”
With that, Sabrina’s double stepped into the crowd, caught Jackson’s attention and then dashed for the door. Sabrina stared longingly at her former lover as he passed her by, but he didn’t even glance her way. Even if he had, all he would have seen was another person dressed as Red Death.
“We should get you to the roof,” Sabrina’s guard urged. “Dunyasha will be waiting for us.”
Sabrina gazed at the ceiling, as if she could see the vampire through it. “She’s pacing. For someone with so much time at her disposal, she’s incredibly impatient.”
“My queen?” her guard prompted again.
“Yes, Voss, let’s go home. I’ve had enough of this place.”
Slippery When Wet
Skipper ditched her heels in the club’s entryway and ran on stockinged feet into the cool street. She quickly retrieved a small container of eye drops she had hidden in her dress and sprayed the fluid recklessly into each eye, making them look glassy and ready to unleash a flood of tears. She knew every added detail would help sell the idea to Jackson.
“Sabrina!” he shouted from behind her. “Sabrina!”
I got you now. She slowly turned her head and gazed over her shoulder at him. He looked concerned. Perfect, she thought.
“Sabrina…”
She lifted her hand to her lips to shush him.
“What?”
“Are you trying to get us both killed?” She wiped an eye, smearing her makeup.
“What? No—”
“Then stop screaming my name.” She glanced side to side, her best attempt to look paranoid. “I’m in disguise for a fucking reason.”
He tucked a lock of hair that had fallen loose back under her wig. “The wig is a nice touch.”
“Are you even listening
to me?”
“Yes,” Jackson said smiling. “Why are you here, Sabrina?”
Skipper hushed him again before she answered. “It’s New Year’s Eve. I needed to get out.” She paused to fix her mask to better cover her face. “I wanted to see you.”
“Really? Why now? It’s been months.”
“I missed you.”
Jackson hesitated a moment. Skipper struggled to read his expression, as it seemed to teeter between anger and frustration to excitement and something that looked like sad puppy dog eyes.
“I missed you too.”
Skipper twisted away, as she nearly cracked a smile. Jackson was turning out to be more easily manipulated than expected.
“I-I have to go,” she said.
“No, wait.”
“I can’t…”
Throughout her months of training, Sabrina had made Skipper endure countless hours of soap operas and teen-angst dramas. Skipper had laughed while she’d watched them and constantly made fun of the sappy dialogue and overemotional characters. Now she felt like she was living in one of those worlds.
“Sabrina, I just—”
“You just created a scene in there, calling out my name like that, dressed in your street clothes. The Tainted no doubt know I’m here now. They’ll kill me if I don’t run, Jacks.”
Skipper took a step but was stopped by Jackson’s hand on her arm. “Run where? Where have you been?”
His grip on her arm ignited her fight-or-flight response. She wanted to pry his hand off and punch him in the nose, but she had to play her part. Sabrina wouldn’t hit him, so I can’t.
She exhaled slowly to calm herself. Acting weak was as bad as being weak for her people.
“I’m out of time. If I stay here any longer, they’ll find me.”
“Then come home with me.”
Skipper turned and looked him in the eyes. “Will I be safe there?”
“Very safe.”
“Then let’s hurry.”
Skipper had played her part during the short ride to Jackson’s apartment, but now that they were inside his home, she dropped the scared-child routine and played into some of the skills she enjoyed more.
“I always wanted to see your apartment, Jacks,” she said as she ran her fingers down his arm.
Jackson smiled. “You know, you can take that silly mask off now.”
“Oh right.”
The masquerade mask was only one of the many layers of disguise she wore. Months ago, when Sabrina had first found her, Skipper had had an entirely different nose and chin. Those, and a few other things, had been cosmetically altered to make her look like Sabrina.
Skipper was confident Jackson would believe she was Sabrina. Why wouldn’t he? He hadn’t seen Sabrina for months, and Skipper was the spitting image of her.
“Are you thirsty?” Jackson asked as he walked into his eat-in kitchen.
“I’ll have some water. Thanks.”
“Just water?”
She nodded. There was a lot to remember. “To start.”
Skipper couldn’t help but notice all the framed photographs that adorned the walls. Jackson must have had fifty or more images on display just in his living room, hallway, and kitchen.
“Are these all yours?”
“Yeah. After I lost my job at the advertising agency…you know, after everything happened…I started doing more art photography. I was suddenly, for lack of a better word, inspired, and soon after I started, one of my former colleagues got me placed in a good gallery downtown. Had a…sizeable opening a month ago. Big payday.”
“Photographing all these hot naked chicks, huh?” Skipper’s personality slipped out. “I mean models. All you’re doing is shooting nude models now?”
“I mean, I was shooting models at the ad agency too. I’m just doing it now for my own series.”
“Series,” she repeated. “And your primary focus seems to be…” Skipper realized what she was looking at—all of Jackson’s photos were fairy themed. “Oh.”
“What?”
“I think you missed me more than I realized,” she said with a few taps on the glass of one of the photos in front of her.
“They aren’t all supposed to be exactly like you, Sabrina.”
“Right. Well, nice blond wig on this one, but she’s a little too skinny. My ribs don’t show like this. This poor girl, she looks like she’s starving.”
He nodded. “That’s an early one. Notice the wings are made of tinfoil and lined with LED strip lights. I went back and forth between physical and painted wings for a while before I settled. Polina was tons of fun to work with, but since she got her implants, she doesn’t quite fit what I’m going for anymore…in this series.”
“Oh, I took you for a ‘tits on a stick’ kinda guy.” Skipper closed her eyes a moment and shook her head. She wasn’t sure if that was her or Sabrina talking.
Jackson chuckled as he handed her a bottle of water. “I really did miss you, Sabrina.” He placed his hand on the small of her back and gazed longingly at her.
Okay, now or never.
“I’m all sweaty and sticky. I need to get out of this ridiculous dress and take a shower. Do you have any clothes I could wear?”
“I’m sure I have something that will fit you.”
“Great.” Skipper pointed at the door she suspected was the bathroom. “This way?”
“That’s it.”
She undid the hooks on her dress while she walked to the bathroom. ”Why don’t you join me in a few minutes?”
“Yeah? I’d like that.”
“Good. See you soon.”
The hot water felt nice on her skin. The heat usually would have relaxed her, but in this instant, every inch of her body already felt like it was a forest fire ablaze, the flames on the move.
This is what you signed up for. This. Months of studying, training, reshaping your face, body, and mind. It’s all led to this first hurdle. There can be only one of two outcomes now: success or failure. And fire does not fail.
She drew a deep breath and repeated her maxim. In the fire, I am purified. In the fire, I am free. In the fire, I am welcomed. We burn as one.
Skipper would never forget the day this all started.
She had stepped from the lava tube, her eyes not yet adjusted to the sunlight. She had heard the most sickeningly sweet sound call to her—a voice. Sabrina London’s voice.
“I was told I’d find you here, Amber.”
“But no one told you just how dangerous here was,” she said as her eyes further adjusted. “Did you see her erupt? Did you behold the power of Soufrière Hills Volcano?”
“I’m thankful I missed it.”
“You may have missed the eruption, but you’re here in time to watch the lava cleanse the island.” Amber—because she was still Amber then—finally took her first good look at Sabrina. “Wow, you are much prettier than they said. Glad I just bathed.”
Sabrina hovered above the lava flow at the side of the mountain. The winds pushed her back, but the gusts were no match for her large wings.
“Bathed?” Sabrina looked puzzled. “You’re covered in ash. And how can you stand this heat?”
“For an elemental queen, you sure don’t know much about your kind, do you?”
Sabrina crossed her arms. “I’m not a queen…not yet.”
“Not yet.”
“Look, you know what kingdom I represent. You know my people and your people have never meshed well.”
“The Fire Kingdom fears no one, especially other fairy, Water Sprite.” Amber watched Sabrina look her up and down.
“You look strong.”
“I am strong. And like my mother and her mother, I am fireproof.”
“The assembly said they’d find someone who looked similar, I’ll give them that.” Sabrina nodded and smiled. “We look similar, but you and I are nothing alike.”
“I’d never want to be you.”
Sabrina laughed. “But here we are.”
“Your king told you what I expect of you.”
“He did.” Amber scrunched her nose and fanned errant strands of red hair out of her face. “Nothing more or less than he himself would expect of me.”
“And you agree to the terms?”
“I do.”
“Then put some clothes on and let’s go, before this…this thing erupts again.”
“Where are we going?”
Sabrina hovered higher. “Home.”
The handle on the door jiggled a moment before Jackson opened it and stepped in. He was fully nude, and while she had felt him under his clothes at the club, Skipper was still pleasantly surprised by just how muscular he was.
“You’ve been working out, Jacks.”
“A little.”
He stepped into the tiny shower stall and shut the door behind him. “My God, you’re sexier than I remembered. Looks like you’ve been working out a little too.”
Skipper shrugged and smirked. She used to be much more muscular, but pretending to be Sabrina had changed all that. What she saw now when she looked down at her own body still felt foreign to her.
“Come here.” He pulled her into him by her waist. “Let me look at you. It’s been forever.”
Skipper went onto her tiptoes. She was almost an inch and a half shorter than Sabrina, something easy to fake with heels, but in the shower, with no way to disguise it, she had to improvise. Luckily for her, Jackson was more interested in other things.
“I’ve dreamt of these,” he said as he massaged one of her breasts with one hand and rubbed the hot water the shower sprayed on her lower back with his other.
“You like them?”
“You know I do.”
“As nice as you remember?”
He squeezed harder. “Oh, they are.”
She was relieved to hear him say so. Sabrina told her how her boobs would be as important to convincing Jackson as her wings.
“Easy, okay? They’re tender.”
“Okay.”
Skipper turned around. “Do me a favor, wash my back. It’s covered in makeup.”
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