Page 2 of Fiends and Familiars
Adrienne
“There’s another one!” The woman screamed, clutching her ample bosom as I raced after the scampering squirrel.
Normally my pest control and wildlife removal company was the easiest job ever thanks to my magical talents. Waltz in. Tell a colony of a few hundred ants to go elsewhere, relocate a huge wasp nest from someone’s eaves to a remote tree, convince a dozen bats to take up residence in the comfy bat boxes I’d constructed rather than an attic. I spoke to animals, and they generally were amenable to doing my bidding.
Not these squirrels. They were determined to stay in this woman’s house. Basically, they’d given me the middle finger, and told me if I wanted them to move, I’d need to catch them. Which is why I’d been here for an hour, chasing the furry things all over. I’d caught three, but this last one was proving to be a clever little bugger.
Drake hissed and hopped from foot-to-foot, causing the woman to shriek once more. She wasn’t all that happy about my co-worker, but Drake had been my constant companion for the last three weeks. I think he was what the spell books would have called a familiar, but I hadn’t done any rituals to bring one to my side. He’d just sort of appeared one day and never left.
Most witches who had familiars seemed to get a cat. Figures that I’d get a turkey vulture with a six-foot wingspan and a bright red, bald head. I don’t know what had possessed me to name him after a hip-hop artist when he looked more like Lurch from theAddam’s Family, but the name had stuck, and he would be forever known as Drake.
“Could use a bit of help here,” I complained to the vulture. He cocked his head at me and I realized I probably didn’t want his help. Turkey vultures didn’t have the sharp talons that birds of prey had. His chicken-looking feet were better suited for holding down long dead carrion than snatching a running mouse from midair. His beak could do some serious damage, though. That thing was like a scalpel. I’d seen him pick a pig’s head clean down to shiny bone in less than an hour. One stab and that squirrel would be shish kebab.
I might be a bit annoyed, but I didn’t want the furry little guy dead. I just wanted him in the cage with his brothers.
The squirrel darted out from behind the fridge and the woman screamed again, swinging wildly with her broom and by some incredible luck actually hitting the animal. It went airborne and I dove, catching it before the thing took a header into the cabinetry.
Don’t bite me, I told it, hoping the fact that I’d saved the squirrel from a minor concussion might work in my favor. Normally animals happily did whatever I asked. Not today.
The squirrel bit me. I let out a curse, but kept a tight hold on the thing, wishing I’d let Drake skewer it after all.
Shoving the squirrel in the cage with the others, I turned to accept a check from my client. She also handed me a paper towel to soak up the blood that was covering my fingers and threatening to drip onto her carpet.
“Let me know if you have any further pest or wildlife problems.” I smiled through my pain and recited the usual blah, blah, blah that would hopefully get me either repeat business or a referral.
She nodded enthusiastically. “I will. You’re the only one who’s been able to catch them. I called three others and none of them could. They even put out traps and poison, but the squirrels wouldn’t go near any of it.”
I was thankful for that—well at least about the poison. I didn’t mind humane traps, but ones that injured or killed the animal weren’t something I’d ever use or approve of. And I hated poison. Of all the terrible ways to kill something, that was the worst in my opinion. I’d seen what poison could do to a mouse and I wouldn’t wish that death on a cockroach.
Actually, I kinda liked cockroaches. Of our family of witches, only Babylon’s specialty was considered weirder than mine. That plus the fact that we were the youngest of seven sisters made us rather close. A necromancer and a witch who could communicate and persuade animals to do her bidding. We were an odd pair, but then again all my sisters were odd—even the ones with more conventional witchy skills.
I left my client with a handful of business cards and loaded the cage of squirrels in the back of my truck. Drake hopped along beside me, jumping into the passenger seat and promptly rolling down the window. There was a fall nip in the air, but the bird liked to feel the wind in his feathers, so I left the window open and turned the heat on as I pulled down the driveway.
This had been my last job of the day, and I was looking forward to a relaxing evening at home. All I had to do was drop these squirrels off somewhere far enough from my client’s house that they wouldn’t be back, then I could enjoy a hot shower, some leftover takeout ribs and a glass of wine.
“What do you want to watch tonight?” I asked Drake as I maneuvered the truck onto the highway and toward the mountains.
The vulture made a hissing noise, but thanks to my magical ability, I perfectly understood him.
“I’m not watching theAngry Birdsmovie,” I told him. “Pick something else.”
He tapped his beak on the dash.
Rio.
I sighed. “How about something that’s not a cartoon? We sawUplast night. Let’s go for a romance, or drama or something not animated.”
I’d enjoyedUp, although I’d seen it a dozen times before. Drake had been particularly fond of the scenes with Kevin the bird in them—go figure—and I never failed to cry at the part where Carl’s wife, Ellie, dies.
Was that a spoiler? I hope it wasn’t a spoiler.
Drake hissed again.
“The Birdsis a classic,” I admitted, “but I’m not sure I’m in the mood for horror tonight. How about we watchLadyhawke, and saveThe Birdsfor tomorrow night? I’ll even scrape a possum off the side of the highway for you to eat while we watch. Put it on a plate for you and everything.”
Drake seemed to think this was a good compromise. I turned on the radio as we took an exit and headed up the mountain toward the pass that marked the boundaries of Accident. I figured that would be a good place to turn loose a group of belligerent squirrels. There was plenty to eat, lots of good spots to stay warm during the coming winter, and the werewolves would most likely ignore them since they preferred to hunt larger prey.
I pulled down an unmarked dirt road, throwing the truck into four-wheel-drive as we bounced over potholes and some tree limbs that had fallen during the last storm. About a mile in I put the truck in park and got out. Drake joined me, but took to the air as soon as I lowered the tailgate. The squirrels were not happy. I tried to tell them how wonderful this place was, and how peaceful it was going to be here without some woman screaming at them all the time, but they weren’t having any of it. It seems they’d grown fond of indoor living, and were not interested in making their home out here in the wilderness.
