The Blood of Angels: Divine Vampires
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Authors: Selena Kitt
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MOXIE
By Selena Kitt
High school senior, Moxie, agrees to be moral support for her friend, Patches, who is totally enamored with a college boy, so she says yes to a double date, even though she has to lie to her parents to do it. But Moxie wasn’t counting on lying about her age to get into an x-rated movie, and she definitely wasn’t counting on her date’s Roman hands and Russian fingers, or the fact that the pants she’s borrowed from Patches are several sizes too small. By the end of the night, Moxie finds herself in far more trouble than she bargained for!
Sam has an unusual interest in humans, and considering she's a fairy of fate whose profession it is to determine their futures, it's no wonder! But it isn't just karma she's curious about. Sam has what her fairy-pal, Alex, thinks is an inordinate and rather wanton interest in certain biological aspects of human behavior—most notably, s-e-x!
When Sam's job leads her into the path of a handsome man who rocks her world, Sam's interest becomes obsession. Alex reminds her fairies get one Christmas wish. Will Sam consider using hers to become human just to experience one night of bliss?
But things aren’t always what they seem. Zeph says he isn’t like most… humans… and when Sam discovers who, and what, he really is, she’s forced to make a choice that will transform her existence. Forever.
I have to tell you—none of us are named “Tink” or “Sugerplum,” and we’re nothing like you see in the movies or on TV. Don’t look so surprised. Yes, I know about all things human. We don’t live in some fantastical magical forest, we don’t glow in the dark, and there is no such thing as “pixie dust.” We live in the real world, just like you do. We’re around you all of the time. You just can’t see us, because we don’t appear in your light spectrum. You know how only dogs can hear dog whistles? Well, it’s kind of like that.
Me? Oh, I’m Sam. And this is my job. You think I’m kidding? Look, fairies don’t grant magical wishes or transform wooden puppets into real boys. That’s for the fairy tales—and how our names got attached to that lot, I’ll never know! What’s my job? It’s boring, really. You don’t want to hear about...
You do? All right then…
Fairies keep track of and fulfill what you humans call “fate.” Ever looked it up in the dictionary? From the Latin,
fatum
, literally, “what has been spoken,” from neuter of
fatus
, past participle of
fari,
“to speak.”
Fari
...
Fairy
... you see what I did there?
So, basically, I listen to
The Maker
and do its bidding. That’s my job. I told you it was boring! Like today, I’m sitting on the arm of a recliner, next to Joe, here, who hasn’t worked in two years. In fact, he’s practically not left this recliner in two years. But today, Joe’s got a job interview. How did that happen? Well, that was me. Joe used to work CAD in the auto industry. Today, he’s got an interview with Boeing. He won’t get the job. Of course, he doesn’t know that. The important thing is, he needs to be late to his interview.
His wife, Lynn... that’s her, over there, wiping her hands on the dish towel. She’s been waitressing and borrowing money from her family, trying to keep them afloat. She’s thrilled he’s got an interview, and is probably happier with him today than she’s been in years. I can use that. Watch.
Joe’s easy. Men are, you know. The power of suggestion is huge with them. All I have to do is stand on his shoulder and whisper into his ear. It’s not talking, really, in case you were gonna call foul on the whole you can’t see or hear us thing. You can’t, trust me. It’s more like I imagine breathing must be for you humans. I just kind of lean in and breathe into his ear. It might translate into something, in words, like, “Look at your wife,” and check it out, Joe’s turning his head! See what I mean? Easy peasy.
“Are you ready, baby?” See how she comes to stand next to the recliner like that? That was me. Look at the way she’s looking at him—so hopeful. Now she’s staring at the Christmas tree in the corner and thinking about how they’re going to afford presents, and hoping he’ll get a paycheck again before then. God, this job sucks sometimes. I hate knowing what’s going to happen next. It’s like knowing the ending to every book. Why read, then, you know what I’m saying?
“As I’ll ever be!” See how he smiles up at her? The way his eyes move over the front of her t-shirt? Yep, me again. Ahh, here we go. Lynn isn’t as easy, but for women, I don’t even have to be close. It isn’t breath with them, it’s more like a “push.” I guess you’d call it a thought, a suggestion. It isn’t really, but whatever it takes for you to at least sort of understand...
See how she’s straddling him? Well, we all know where this is going, now, right? If there’s one thing I enjoy, it’s watching humans interact this way. We fairies have no gender, you know. That whole masculine and feminine thing doesn’t translate. So if you were wondering if I was a girl fairy or a boy fairy—I’m just Sam, that’s all. We don’t have all those interesting, fleshy parts.
I mean, look how they fumble with each other, their mouths and tongues mashing together like that. This is the only time I wonder what it must be like to be human—the look on their faces at the moment of joining... see? The way his eyes close and his mouth opens, the way her head goes back and she grips his shoulders and digs her nails in... there’s something there. Something really... interesting.
“Harder, baby!” There’s a raspy gasp and clutch as she rocks on him, and you can actually hear their flesh coming together, like wet music that fills the room. Me, I just sit on the back of the recliner and enjoy the ride. All the thrusting and grunting and rocking is happening so fast, I have to hold on tight. Their whispers and moans grow louder, in spite of Lynn’s words, “Shhhh, the kids are napping...”
“Ohhhh God, baby! I’m gonna come!” Ahh, now this is the moment I love. How fleeting, how powerful, watching them arch and grab each other! The whole chair is shaking with the force of it, shuddering and rocking, and I’m holding on tight, that funny feeling kind of glowing in my middle as I watch.
Now’s the time. It’s just late enough. Hopping back onto Joe’s shoulder, I breathe into his ear, just a little reminder.
“Ohhhh God, Lynn!” There, he’s looking at his watch. “I’m gonna be late!”
Off she scrambles, and he’s zipping up and grabbing his briefcase. That kiss and wave and the call of “Good luck!” she gives him out the door would break my heart if I had one. Damn, but he’s cruising! I might have to slow him down again. The cell phone call he’s making, telling them he’s stuck in traffic—it isn’t going to matter.
Ah, here we are—parking structure, down the elevator, out into the street. Just two blocks to walk. He’s hustling, but I give him a slow down, make him look into a store window. There’s a toy display, a train running through the center that says, “Santa’s Express.” He’s thinking about his son, Peter, who asked Santa for Thomas the Tank Engine this year. Good. Peter won’t get his toy, but Joe’s slowed just a little. Just enough.
Here we are. The intersection du jour. How many times have I done this, I wonder? Joe’s in a hurry, and I give him one last push not to wait for the light. He does the right thing, looks left, right, then left again. Off he goes, puffing across the street, between a small gap in the busy traffic.
“Whoa, little one, where are you going?” Joe grabs the child, toddling in a fat blue snowsuit into the road.
“David!” The child’s mother screams, grabbing him from Joe and hugging him close. Her attention had been diverted for just a moment by the baby in the stroller on her left. “Oh my God, thank you! You saved his life!”
Yep.
Joe mumbles something and takes off toward the interview for a job he isn’t going to get. The mother—her name is Anna—is still rocking and admonishing young David. I move around them to follow Joe, but...damn, there’s
The Maker
again. Looks like I’m gonna be with Anna for a while. This time of year is so damned busy!
In my job, timing is everything. Sometimes I spend hours waiting for just the right moment. Like I said, it can get pretty boring. Take Anna, for example, meandering around the mall, pushing the stroller with the baby in it, and David, the kid who nearly bought the farm trying to cross the street earlier, tagging after her. It will be another hour until I’m really needed, and if
The Maker
doesn’t chime in with another call, it’s just me following her around until it’s time.
That’s when I spot Alex over near the restrooms, sitting high up on one of those fake, lit-up tinsel candy-canes over the door. I don’t know what it is about Christmas decorations, but they never fail to thrill me. This time of year seems magical somehow, with the trees and lights and shiny things, even if it so busy. The whole “bustling” vibe is part of it, I think. Everything feels more alive. The whole world kind of pulses or thrums around Christmas.
“Hey, Sam!”
I’ve been spotted, too. I wave back, checking to make sure Anna is still in line for pictures with Santa and flit over to say hi.
“Whatcha got?” I take a seat. “Anything good?”
Alex grins, pointing down to the restroom, where a woman pushes open the door. That’s when I notice it says, “Men.” Ahhhh... a tryst! Whose fate, I wonder? Hers? His? Or some unknown third party? We only get to find out on a need-to-know basis. We get a whole hell of a lot bigger picture than most of the humans, but we still don’t have the scope of, say,
The Maker
. We’re pretty sure there’s someone even bigger than that, but who knows?
“Wanna watch?” Alex is already buzzing downward, and I follow, checking Anna’s place in line one more time before slipping through the men’s room door just before it swings shut.
I love the sounds of sex—the unzipping, the fumbling, the moans and the gasps. Just watching makes my whole being vibrate. Alex notices as we perch on top of the stall, seeing the woman lift her skirt and bend over, offering the rounded flesh of her behind to the man. Look at the thing he’s got to put in her! It’s bigger than I am!
“Which would you rather have, do you think?” Alex gives me a nudge. “The hard thing or the soft thing?”
“It’s a penis,” I correct him, watching the man slide it into the woman’s smooth opening. I have to really lean in to get a good angle, but I manage. I’ve done my research about human anatomy. It interests me. “Or a vagina... although they have lots of different names for them, you know... cock... pussy...” Just saying the words gives me a sort of heat.
“I’d want a penis,” Alex decides. “Almost as good as a sword. Or a wand.”
We’ve never had wands, just so you know—another one of the many misnomers about fairies. Alex watches too much Disney.
“I think I’d want... a pussy.” Our corporeal bodies are small and hairless, completely smooth and rounded, although similar to humans. But between my legs, there is nothing but a little mound of flesh, no cleft. What would it be like, I wonder, watching the woman’s face as she reaches between her legs and rubs herself there. The looks on their faces tell me almost everything I want to know.
Almost.
“Hey, then I could do that to you!” Alex gives me another nudge.
“So what’s your assignment?” I have to change the subject. The moans are growing louder, the sounds of slapping flesh echoing in the tiled room. It’s hard to concentrate on anything else.
“He’s outside.” Alex stretches and flies straight upward, his wings buzzing noisily. Too high for human ears to hear, of course, although a few of them have felt the brush of a fairy’s wings on occasion. “Come on.”
I glance down to see the man pulling his cock out, the woman turning around and pumping it into her hand. Thick, white spurts of liquid surge onto her tongue, and I can’t help but wonder what it might taste like before Alex is pulling me.
“Wait here.” Alex is off, and I sit on the candy cane perch and make sure Anna is still in line. She is, but they’re getting close to the Santa Promised Land.
A man is practically running for the bathroom, and I realize Alex has made him ill. Me, I try to be as kind as I can, doing what needs to be done. Some of us are just too vindictive. Alex can be cruel sometimes. The man straight-arms the men’s room door, and practically runs into his wife, still tucking her blouse into her skirt, and the man behind her, buckling his belt.
“Karen? What are you doing here?” The man looks between his wife and her lover. This is that fateful moment. I’d know it anywhere.
“That was mean,” I whisper to Alex as I flit by. “Didn’t he suffer enough?” I don’t look back as I head off toward Anna and the kids. It’s almost time.
The kids get their pictures taken. The baby is great, but David screams in terror the whole time. Not that I blame him. The fat man in the red suit is enough to give anyone nightmares. Then it’s off to home. Anna is a widow, doing the whole single-mom thing, and I don’t envy her. I give the kids little pushes, helping them calm down and get settled in their car seats. Kids can see us, sometimes, but these two can’t, thank goodness.
I settle myself on the dash and get to work.
“Ma’am?” Yeah, that guy in the pickup, rolling down his window and calling to Anna? That was me. “Your tire is going flat on this side.”
“Oh! Thank you!” Anna gives him a wave.
Now she’s off to find the gas station. Checking the time, I realize it’s just a little too soon, so the first one I nudge her toward has an air pump—but the coin slot has been jammed for months. That kills about ten minutes, because she doesn’t have quarters to begin with and, thanks to me, the station doesn’t have any either, so she has to drive down the street to the Subway to cash out a dollar for four of them. Of course, when she gets back to the pump, that’s when she realizes it’s jammed.
Okay, so I said I tried to be as kind as I could. Sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do! Because the next gas station I nudge her toward doesn’t have any air pump at all. It’s just a vacuum she thought was a pump. By this time, she’s practically in tears, and yeah, okay, I feel a little bad, but trust me, I know what I’m doing.
I nudge her toward a third station, half a mile down the street. This one has an air pump, but it’s out of order. Little white sign taped over the coin slot. Perfect. She’s swearing, now, and little David in the backseat decides to mimic her. “Shit, shit, shit!”
Ahhh, here we are! She pulls up behind a black Saturn and gets out to wait for the air pump. She’s thinking about her husband, who was killed in Iraq, how he always used to take care of things like checking the oil and filling the tires.
When the man in the Saturn goes to put the air hose back on the coil, and their eyes meet... see! Look, there it is! That’s a fateful moment if I ever saw one! Sometimes my job is pretty good, for all the waiting around I do. See the smile she just gave him? She hasn’t smiled like that at a man in years!
I’m getting that funny feeling in my middle again, just watching them. I hope
The Maker
doesn’t send a call any time soon. I’d like to see how this one turns out!
* * * *
We don’t sleep, you know. Fairies, I mean. We don’t eat, either, in any traditional sense, although we do kind of rejuvenate ourselves at our spring revival, but that’s a whole other story. Anyway, being up at four in the morning is nothing for us. We’re up all the time. Fateful moments don’t just happen during the day, you know. In fact, quite a lot of them happen just after the bars close, if you know what I mean. Busy time of “day” for us, between two and three in the morning, and during the holidays, it’s ten times worse.
The good news is, I don’t have to avert any accidents for drunks or their possible victims tonight.
The Maker
has sent me somewhere else. I was loathe to leave Anna and her new Beau. No, that’s not a euphemism, that’s his name—Beau. The way they were looking at each other, I thought for sure, if I just hung around a little longer, I’d get to see… well, anyway, I didn’t.
It’s four in the morning, and Steve McCormick is snoring in his bed while his wife, Gloria, is sleeping soundly in her own bed across the hall. They haven’t slept in the same bed in years. I’ve pretty much done everything I can to amuse myself tonight, including freaking out the family dog, at least until he started barking so wildly he threatened to wake the whole house. I tried the TV, but can you believe these people don’t have cable? There’s absolutely nothing on regular TV at four a.m.
Steve’s alarm is due to go off at four-thirty, and I could just turn it off. It would be that simple, except Gloria McCormick has an internal clock that wakes her up at five, and she’s bound to notice her husband isn’t up and about. That still wouldn’t kill enough time. I check on Steve. He’s snoring loudly, his arm thrown over his head. He’s a good looking guy, dark hair cut military-style, his chest broad, belly ridged. The sheet he’s got pulled over him is tented in the groin area and I settle myself gently down on the tip of his cock, chin in hand, thinking. It’s a little wet on the sheet where I’m sitting and I wiggle myself there, hearing him groan. Can he feel me in his sleep? I wonder. The thought makes me shiver.
I’m still sitting there, just thinking, when Steve shifts in his sleep, snorts, and reaches for his cock. He nearly catches me, too, when he wraps his hand around the shaft, and I yelp, flying toward the ceiling just in time! He starts moving his hand up and down under the sheet, his breath coming faster in the dark. Fascinated, I float downward, giving him a little push to pull the sheet off so I can see.
“Oh God, Gloria,” he whispers. “Suck it, yeah!”
That decides me. It isn’t gonna be easy, but I’m determined. It’s actually a little easier because Gloria is still sleeping, curled up and clutching her pillow. I concentrate hard, closing my eyes tight, my whole body vibrating with my effort to give her a “push.” I can hear Steve pumping faster, groaning softly. For a while, I’m sure I won’t be successful, and then I hear the toilet flush across the hall.
The door snicks open, and there’s Gloria in a white nightgown like a ghost in the doorway. She’s a beautiful woman, in her forties, long dark hair, a curvy figure under that nightgown. She’s hearing what I’m hearing, the sound of Steve masturbating and calling her name. I perch myself on the headboard, watching her creep silently across the carpet in bare feet, stopping next to the bed.
“Oh yeah, suck it, Gloria!” Steve is thrusting up into his own hand, and his eyes fly open in the dark when he feels his wife’s mouth sliding down over the head of his cock. “Oh my God! Gloria!”
“Shhhhh…” She takes him all the way into her throat and he groans. It isn’t long before he’s grabbing her hair and thrusting up hard with gasping little grunts.
“Fuck!” His hand squeezes her breast, shoving her down onto his cock. “I’m gonna come!”
I lean forward on my perch, wanting to watch, but to my surprise, Gloria is swallowing and swallowing, and I don’t get to see a thing until she’s licking her lips and looking up at him. Damn! That didn’t kill nearly enough time.
I’m about to give her another little push, when she says, “I think it’s my turn, big guy.” And Steve is on her like a shot, rolling her over on the bed and lifting her nightgown, sinking his face between her legs, forcing his tongue between that fuzzy, fleshy cleft.
I guess I didn’t have to worry about time. The sun is coming up, and Steve is coming again, this time buried up inside that pink hole as Gloria rocks on top of him, before either of them even think about the time. I watch it all from my perch, and find I have my hand pressed over the sexless mound between my legs when Gloria gasps out, “It’s after six!”
“Shit, I’m late!” Steve reaches for the phone, still panting, and dials work. There’s no answer, of course.
“I’ll get your lunch ready.” It’s something Gloria hasn’t done in years. She’s doing a lot of things today she hasn’t done in years, and the thought makes her smile. Wrapping herself in a robe, she sets off to the kitchen, turning on the little countertop TV and humming as she takes out the bread and lunchmeat.
“Steve!” Gloria’s scream brings him out of the shower, still wrapped in a towel. I’m perched on top of the TV, but neither of them sees me, their stunned faces staring at the screen.
“I would have been at work—” Steve states the obvious as they watch the factory, whose gates had opened for him every morning at six for the past ten years, blazing in the early morning light, thick black smoke wafting through the air above what’s left of the building after the explosion.
I give a satisfied sigh, thinking I might go back and check on Anna and Beau, when
The Maker
sends another call. No rest for the fey… off I go!