Page 3 of Fiends and Familiars
Finally I gave up trying to convince them and just unlocked the cage. When none of them budged, I grabbed the handle and upended the thing, trying to dump them out on the ground. They held on for dear life and I resorted to shaking the cage and trying to pry their little paws off the wires. One fell out and promptly jumped into the cab of my truck. Another bit the tip of my finger, making me drop the cage onto the ground.
“Ooo! So sorry about that!” I squeezed my finger, blotting the blood on my shirt as I bent to make sure none of the squirrels were hurt. That’s when they made a break for it.
I shrieked as one used my head as a launchpad, then fell back onto my ass, scrambling out of the way and shielding my face with my hands. Thankfully none of the squirrels attacked me.
Not thankfully, none of the squirrels ran into the woods either.
So there I was, sitting in the dirt with another bite on my hand, watching as the last squirrel jumped into the cab of my truck after the others. That’s when Drake returned and dropped a very dead, very bloated, very rotted weasel at my feet.
At least he hadn’t dropped it on my head.
“Lovely. Is that your dinner, Drake? Possum not your choice for tonight? Maybe you can put it in the truck bed then help me get these squirrels out.”
He grabbed the weasel carcass and tossed it into the bed of the truck. I picked up the cage and motioned for him to stand guard at the driver’s-side door and make sure any squirrels I ejected didn’t get back inside.
Then I went in.
The next half hour was like a Keystone Cops film. Those squirrels were agile bastards, leaping all over my truck as I tried in vain to grab them. Sweaty and frustrated with my hair half out of its ponytail, I gave up. It wasn’t going to be easy driving home with a bunch of squirrels in my truck, but I didn’t seem to have any alternative to that besides spending the night here in the woods. Thatwasn’tan option. I wanted my hot shower. I wanted my leftover ribs. And I wanted to sleep in my own bed tonight.
Drake climbed into the passenger seat, and I got in. The car started and I saw a furry head poke out from under the seat. Drake hissed, and the squirrel vanished with a squeak.
“That’s your job, buddy,” I told the vulture. “Make sure none of them mess with me while I’m driving. None of us wants me to wreck tonight.”
Drake agreed with a guttural sound, then got to work glaring and hissing at any squirrel he saw as I drove. By the time I pulled into my driveway I’d realized my mistake. I should have been the one standing guard while Drake went in to herd the squirrels out of my truck. They actually seemed to be listening to him, which they certainly weren’t doing to me.
The motion-sensor light came on and I saw a large, dark shape standing in front of my porch, looking particularly eerie with the lighting behind it. Drake danced from foot to foot on the passenger seat, communicating his unease. Was it a lost dog? Stray animals did seem to find their way to my house, sensing that I’d take care of them and find them a good home—and make room for them in my home until that happened. The thing did seem vaguely dog shaped. Newfoundland? Although it didn’t seem quite that furry from its outline. Mastiff?
It followed us.Drake told me.
Followed us from where? The squirrel lady’s house? The woods? From down the street? The latter had to have been what Drake meant, because I hadn’t seen any dogs chasing after my truck as I drove down the highway.
I got out of the car, dismayed to see the squirrels race out before I could close the door. They took one look at the big dog and shrieked. Drake got out of the truck so fast he nearly knocked me over. Then he half ran, half flew around back to pop the tailgate open, grab his dead weasel, and take to the air.
Jerk. He’d never run from a dog before, but this did seem to be a particularly huge dog. At least he’d removed the dead stinky thing from the back of my truck. Hopefully he’d eat it before he returned and I wouldn’t have to deal with that smell in my house.
I left the tailgate open to air out the truck, grabbed a handful of treats that I kept in one of the crates, and walked slowly and non-threateningly toward the animal. It stared at me, its eyes seeming to glow orange with the reflection of the light.
“Hey boy. It’s okay. You’re safe here.”
The dog held still as if it wasn’t even alive. I reached out with my magic and instead of the easy flow of communication, I got nothing. Was it even an animal?
“Babylon?” I called out, wondering if my sister was playing a trick on me. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d surprised me with some zombie animal.
I took another two steps toward the…thing. “Babylon? Come on, Lonnie. This isn’t funny. Send your dead dog back home and we can have a glass of wine. I’ve got leftover ribs.”
My sister didn’t appear. The dog still remained completely still. I was beginning to sweat a little. Okay, more than a little.
Two more steps and I was finally in a position to better see the dog. It was the size of a mastiff with black wiry hair and a strange musculature. The way its front legs bowed out, it made me think the animal could possibly stand on its hind legs, or that it had a greater range of motion than most canines did. Since my magic wasn’t having any affect, I fell back on plan B and tossed a few of the treats toward the creature. Hopefully he liked freeze-dried liver.
The dog-thing lowered its head to sniff at the treats, then his lips curled back revealing huge sharp teeth. A long forked tongue snaked out and slurped up the bits of liver.
Okay. Well at least I knew it was alive and liked treats. I contemplated whether it would be a better idea to keep trying to make friends with this thing and at the very least ease past it to get into my house unmolested, or if I should give up and go around to the back door. The thought that this thing might come after me the moment my back was turned made up my mind. If I was going to have to fight off a toothy animal, I was going to do it head-on.
“Good doggy. Good boy. Can I get inside? I’ll give you some leftover rib bones later if you let me in.”
I tossed a few more treats, trying to lure the dog-thing off my porch and away from my door. He slurped them up, following the trail, but as I took another step forward, his orange eyes lasered back on me.
“Easy boy. I won’t hurt you. Why are you here? Do you need help? A place to stay?”
