Two Polluted Black-Heart Romances

by Kevin James Breaux

  Moselle cocked her head in a fashion similar to Sabrina’s. “Fuck me. Fuck Cade. Fuck Weston. Fuck Peter… Seems like you want to fuck everyone, Sabrina.”

  She gasped. She couldn’t remember the last time she heard Moselle swear. “What?”

  “I came to help you and you have made it nearly impossible. There are things in motion here that you don’t understand. Things you don’t even know.”

  “Help me?” Sabrina grumbled. “You brought that thing that attacked me. Nice help there, Moss.”

  Moselle’s stance relaxed some. “I—I didn’t know.”

  “See. There it is.”

  “There what is?”

  “You don’t know everything, Moss. You act like you do, but you don’t.”

  Moselle just stood silently.

  “Sometimes, I wonder why we’re even friends,” Sabrina said as she picked up her cell phone from the table adjacent to the door and then promptly left her room.

  “We need to leave here, Sabrina.”

  “You need to leave here.”

  “And I will, right after dinner.”

  “Good.”

  Sabrina spotted Peter at the bottom of the stairs. She had not spoken to him since his visit to her bathroom almost an hour ago. She still wondered what was on his mind. Did he see what happened? Did he see what really attacked her? Had meeting Moselle and Jackson put doubt into his mind? How would all this affect their relationship, her career, her future?

  Damn it, I need some answers.

  “Sabrina, I was just coming up to inform you dinner was ready.”

  “Oh…”

  He reached out to take her hand as she reached the bottom steps. “What is wrong, love?”

  There were so many things she could say, and Sabrina said the first that came to mind. “We were supposed to have a talk tonight, remember?”

  “Right,” Peter answered as he fixed his cuff links. “I wanted to explain my reticence of late.”

  “Your what?”

  “Why I have been so shy to your advances.”

  “Good.” She didn’t mean to sound or look so defensive, but her talk with Moselle had upset her. “Please. I’m confused and a little fucking frustrated. Sorry.”

  Peter took her hand. “Your friends are here. Dinner is waiting. We’ll have plenty of time to talk tonight after they leave.”

  She wasn’t entirely happy with his answer but didn’t want to push. “You promise?”

  “I promise.”

  “You better.”

  “Now, your friend Jackson is already waiting in the dining room. Shall we join him?”

  “Moselle is upstairs.”

  “I’ll ask Marco to fetch her.” Peter paused a moment and looked up and then down as if searching for something. “Did you feel that?”

  Sabrina’s heart dropped to her stomach. She felt it. She felt it with her entire being. There was another otherworldly presence nearby, one so potent and so massive, she thought she might faint from the vast power it exuded.

  “I—”

  “There…a tremor,” Peter announced. “It has been a seismically busy week hasn’t it?”

  “Peter…”

  “Don’t worry, my dear. It’s probably centered up in Los Angeles again. We’ll be fine here.”

  Sabrina unfurled her wings abruptly, startling Peter and making him take a step back.

  “Whoa. It’s just a tiny earthquake—”

  “N-no, it’s not,” she stammered. “It’s never been.”

  Moselle dashed down the stairs, the look of panic on her face validated Sabrina’s concern.

  “My apartment?” she asked with a shudder.

  “It was an attack,” Moselle revealed. “Just like the hospital. Just like this will be.”

  Sabrina squeezed Peter’s hand. “No.”

  “What’s your friend talking about, Sabrina?”

  She looked at Peter but did not answer him. “I don’t want this place to be destroyed, Moss,” she said. “I love this place.”

  “Destroyed?” Peter asked, confused.

  A stronger tremor shook the house, and as it did, Sabrina watched Moselle shudder.

  “It’s coming,” Moselle said, turning to Jackson, who stepped out of the dining room with his napkin still in his hand. “Get the car.”

  “Shit!” Jackson threw his napkin down, and Sabrina watched him run off through the foyer and out the front door.

  “Sabrina.” Moselle grasped her wrist. “Listen to me. Listen carefully. You are being targeted. We must take you someplace no one will look for you.”

  “Targeted? Targeted by what? What’s happening here?” Peter asked.

  “No one should know I’m here, Moss.”

  “He does.” Moselle nodded at Peter.

  “Wait.” Peter released Sabrina’s hand. “I’ve told no one. Well, a few people—my assistants.”

  “Cade knows you’re here. Weston told us you were here.”

  “Weston,” Sabrina repeated. She didn’t want to think her former bodyguard was involved in something sinister. “And those things you brought here?”

  Moselle nodded. “Yes.”

  There was another rumble, this one strong enough to throw a vase of roses to the floor. The sight of the shattering glass made Sabrina hover several inches off the ground where she felt safer and less likely to be tossed to the floor herself.

  “Why? Why is this happening?”

  “I know some,” Moselle answered. “Cade knows much more. Together we may be able to form the whole picture.”

  “He’s coming?”

  “He should be at my house soon.”

  “We can’t go to your house, Moss. Those things, your guards—they came from your house.”

  “Then where shall we go?”

  “I—I know where,” she stammered.

  “Let’s make haste.” Moselle led Sabrina off.

  “Sabrina?” Peter said in a tone that made her feel like she was in trouble. “Where are you going?”

  “Don’t tell him,” Moselle whispered.

  Sabrina didn’t know what to do. She felt sick to her stomach. She hadn’t felt so surrounded by otherworldlies in a long time, not since the day of the pilgrimage, the day her father announced her to the Elemental Kingdoms.

  “There must be thousands. Tens of thousands,” she said to Moselle. “I feel them all. Malevolent. Angry. Vengeful. They’re near. Why didn’t I feel them before?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Is it the wraiths, Moss?” Sabrina asked earnestly. “You can tell me the truth.”

  “No. It’s not the wraiths.” Moselle released a long sigh. “It’s the Tainted.”

  Peter called out again, and Sabrina turned and faced him as she rushed off. The look on his face—his handsome face—he has no idea.

  “Stay safe, Peter. Please. Stay safe!” she yelled. “I-I can’t lose you.”

  Reruns

  Jackson parked the limo at Peter’s front door and then looked back down at his seat—it was covered in sand. Moselle’s driver…the other two guards must have killed him. But how do you kill a golem? He wondered.

  “Jackson,” Moselle called as she ran out of Peter’s house. “We must hurry.”

  “Where’s Sabrina?” he asked.

  “There!” Moselle shouted and pointed. “Open the moon roof.”

  He looked up and spotted Sabrina; she flew toward the car. Jackson turned his eyes to a panel with several buttons. He had never driven this car before and he wasn’t sure which button to press so he pushed them all.

  Sabrina slipped through the open moon roof with ease, but landed with a thud in the backseat.

  “You okay? You know, you could’ve used the door.”

  “Yeah, but I would’ve had to land on the ground to do that… and right now… no, I don’t trust the ground.”

  “Well…” Jackson smiled and then joked. “You came in hot.”

  “Don’t I always?”

&nbs
p; “You sure do.”

  Moselle opened the passenger door and plopped in. “Go.”

  Jackson floored the gas pedal and the tires squealed. “Didn’t we already do this once?” he asked as he steered the car around the circular driveway. “At the college. Remember?”

  “My wings were gonna pop,” Sabrina added. “I remember.”

  “Your wings…” Jackson shook his head. Kintner wanted them…and I wanted you…

  “Look.” Moselle pointed at the front gate. “Peter opened the gate for us.”

  “Huh. Imagine if he hadn’t,” Jackson said.

  “You would’ve had to drive through it, my love.”

  “Yeah, that only works in the movies, Moss.” He laughed. “I know. I tried it once. Long story.”

  “You can tell it to us later, when we reach our destination.” Moselle looked into the back. “Which is where, Sabrina?”

  Jackson glanced in the rearview mirror when Sabrina did not answer and was greeted by a sight he had not expected. Sabrina was all the way in the back of the limo, bent over, trying to peer out the rear window.

  He looked forward in time to speed through the open gates.

  “A good thing Sabrina decided to wear underwear, or we may have hit that gate after all, right, Jackson?” Moselle grumbled.

  “Sorry.”

  Moselle huffed and shook her head. “I looked too.”

  “You did, didn’t you?” He smiled as he turned the bend out of Peter’s driveway.

  “It pains me to say this…”

  “What, Moss?”

  “Oddly enough, I am the one sans underwear in this odd state of affairs.”

  Jackson looked at Moselle. He hadn’t wanted to say anything before, but the pantsuit was really hideous and seemed to negate her normally exuding sexuality.

  “Well, well, Mrs. Osbourne,” he teased.

  “Who?”

  “Ozzy’s wife. Ex-wife actually…”

  Moselle shrugged.

  “Never mind.”

  “Normally, I would say I would never be caught dead adorned in something this hideous.”

  Jackson laughed. “Was that a joke?”

  “It seemed proper.”

  “Has the shaking stopped?” Sabrina asked from the back.

  He had nearly forgotten why they’d sped away from Peter’s house. “I don’t feel anything.”

  “Me either.”

  “I can still sense them though. They’re still here…still everywhere,” Sabrina groaned. “Keep driving. Point us back to Los Angeles… I’ll tell you exactly where when we get back to town.”

  Home Sweet Home

  Cade and Natalia arrived in Cade’s old neighborhood on a motorcycle he’d stolen on the highway. The street was somber, and Cade preferred it that way. He turned off his headlight and coasted the last fifty feet to the curb. Cade looked up at the building where he used to live and sighed.

  “This it?” Natalia said as Cade kicked down the stand and turned off the bike.

  “Sure is.”

  “Cade’s little love nest,” Natalia sung.

  “Please don’t call it that.” Cade swallowed hard. “Not now.”

  “I am sorry, darling.” Natalia stretched after she stepped off the bike. “You know, I always wanted to see where you and Leanne lived—under better circumstances, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “You two, you never would tell any of us the address.”

  “I told Nico.”

  “No doubt.” Natalia walked the path towards the building. “But the rest of us…you kept us in the dark.”

  “I wanted this to be a safe house. The less people knew about it, the better.”

  Natalia straightened her clothing and then looked back at Cade. “So which one is it?”

  “That one, directly ahead.” He pointed to the middle of the building they faced.

  “With the windows all blacked out.” She smiled. “It would have been my guess.”

  “Almost everyone who lives—lived here blacked out and blocked their windows. Well, there was this one nice family of elves, they used to hang handmade sun catchers in their front window.”

  “Elves?” Natalia asked. “Which home?”

  “They lived next door when we first moved in.” Cade paused to take a deep breath. “But Leanne and I—”

  “I see.”

  Natalia paused a few steps from Cade’s door. “You never explained why you needed to pay your old home a visit. Was this stop part of your plan all along?”

  “I need some weapons.”

  “Weapons,” she chuckled. “You and Nico—”

  “What?”

  “Always playing with guns.” Natalia made her hand into a gun and pointed it at Cade.

  “So?”

  “So, you’re a proud vampire, Cade.” She pretended to fire her finger gun. “You are the weapon.”

  “Hey, guys, is the coast clear?” Joe asked from the motorcycle’s saddlebag. “I gotta take a wicked piss.”

  “All clear.” Natalia answered.

  “On the grass, Joe,” Cade added. “Like a good boy.”

  Joe poured himself on the ground before he transformed into the shape of the dog again. “Here we go with that again…”

  “If it quacks like a duck,” Cade replied.

  “Yo, I make a real ugly duck. Don’t you make me show you. It’ll give you nightmares.”

  “I’m fine, thanks.”

  Cade walked to the front corner of the house where he fished a key out of a pipe.

  “Okay. Let’s hurry. I need to pack up some things and then we’re off. Ten minutes tops.”

  “Need me to do anything?” Natalia asked.

  “Just be careful and don’t light any cigarettes.”

  “How about me?” Joe asked.

  “Yeah, I have something for you to do, Joe. Follow me.”

  Cade opened the door, and when they walked in, Natalia gasped.

  “This…this is not how I imagined it. Not how I imagined Leanne would decorate… not at all. I imagined bright colors: yellows and blues, and tawdry flower-print wallpaper.”

  Natalia was close. Cade and Leanne’s home had been very bright with many flowers. It had reminded him of his human life.

  “Cade?” she called out, pointing to his Confederate flag. “Did Leanne seriously hang this ratty old thing?”

  “No, I did. After the…when Leanne moved out. I redecorated the whole place. There’s a photo album over on the coffee table next to the couch. You can see some old photos of the place back when she…” he sighed. “When Leanne and I lived here together.”

  “You okay, pal?” Joe asked as he ran up. “You sound like you might cry.”

  “I’m fine, Joe.”

  “Did she mean that much to you? I mean, I didn’t see it.”

  “Shut it.” Cade walked to the kitchen, his eyes on one of his weapon’s cabinets.

  “I mean, I thought you were all in love with your hot-ass piece of fairy tail while banging out old Natasha Fatale back there on the side.” Joe nodded to the other room.

  “Natasha Fatale?” Cade shook his head at Joe.

  “Moose and squirrel,” Joe said in a bad excuse for a Russian accent. “Moose and squirrel!”

  “Yeah, I remember that one.”

  “Oh…okay.” Joe looked disappointed. “So, yeah, man, I just didn’t see the love connection between you and Miss Georgia Peach.”

  “I—”

  “She was hot,” Joe said, barking. “Don’t get me wrong. And speaking of peaches—”

  Cade snatched Joe off the ground and placed him on the small kitchen table. He wanted to grab the first blunt weapon available and pound the slime into oblivion, but he didn’t. He still had use for him.

  “Look, Joe, I loved Leanne. She’s the closest thing I will ever have to a real wife.”

  “Real house wife of—”

  “Joe!” Cade yelled. “Listen… She cooked and cleaned a
nd took care of me when I was home here. It was like living in some old black-and-white sitcom.”

  “And you hated it.”

  Cade couldn’t deny it. “Perhaps at times.”

  “So you had one of those love-hate relationships. Who hasn’t?”

  “The relationship wasn’t love-hate. It was the living. I’m a good soldier. A dependable part of a troop. But when not at war, during peace and quiet…”

  “You like to be alone.”

  Cade nodded.

  “I hear ya, bud.”

  “You like to be alone too.” He pointed.

  “Wha?”

  “You didn’t want to be joined with that other slime when I first met you. And I know you don’t want to be part of Pollution.”

  “Yeah, you got me. Not so different are we?”

  “No.” Cade looked at his weapons cabinet again, his mind at work. “So if we’re friends, Joe, then tell me this: What’s Pollution’s weakness?”

  “I wish I could help you there. Not sure of it myself, but if I was to guess, I would say the same thing one slime, mold, or fungus fears would be the same thing the big guy—guys—guy, whatever, would fear.”

  Cade thought for a moment: fire, explosions, poisonous gas, napalm… And then it dawned on him. “Water.”

  Joe shivered.

  “Water hurts you all?”

  “Nah, man, we enjoy a spring shower as much as the next element. Except maybe those fire guys.” Joe shrugged his tiny dog shoulders. “Like, mold, right? Mold loves the water.”

  “Then what?”

  “You know I can’t just come right out and say it. It’s a secret.” He zipped his lip with his paw.

  Cade sighed and then returned to work. He gathered all the supplies and weapons he needed: two pistols, a dozen grenades, and some police flares. He eyed one of his rifles. He wanted to bring it but knew that guns would do this thing little damage. Still, it was like a safety blanket to him. He always carried a rifle into battle.

  “Cade…” a deep voice called out from his living room.

  Natalia screamed, and Joe jumped off the kitchen table. Cade looked into the dark room and immediately found the owner of the voice. Just inside his door, still as a statue, was his neighbor, the gargoyle. Three feet tall and in the shape of an eagle, the gargoyle leaned forward menacingly.

  Cade knew it would be a few moments before the gargoyle spoke again. Slow as molasses this one. Worse in the daylight.