Fiends and Familiars - Debra Dunbar Page 0,1

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 the Addam’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 the Angry Birds movie,” I told