Fiends and Familiars - Debra Dunbar Page 0,33
thought of my dreams, of a monster with horns and glowing eyes. What kind of weirdo was I? That had been a dream. If I encountered such a creature in real life chasing me through the woods, I wouldn’t be turned on and dragging the guy into my bed or screwing him under the stars in a hay field.
But the dude in the bar? Let’s just say I was hoping putt-putt ended up with that guy in my bed.
“I don’t know how to define it,” I confessed. “But I do know that I want to feel that spark of passion when I look at him, not wonder if he needs a shoe horn and a gallon of lube to get it in.”
“Like Eddy, that guy you dated in college?”
Eddy. Nice, human Eddy. He was sweet. We hung out, watched television, studied, talked about how many cats someone should have before they got labeled a Crazy Cat Person. Spoiler: it’s seven unless you live on a farm and they’re working cats. Then it’s a dozen. Don’t argue, it’s a scientific fact. And Eddy had agreed. In fact, Eddy had agreed with everything. We were so compatible that our friends expected us to get engaged before we got our diplomas. Instead we’d just drifted away after college.
I didn’t want one of those relationships where we were fighting all the time, tossing dishes at each other and screaming so loud the neighbors called the cops. I just wanted someone who was a bit like me, but not exactly like me. I wanted to occasionally disagree. I wanted us to argue, then both work toward a mutually satisfactory resolution because our love was more important than whatever crap we were fighting over. Then I wanted us to have mind-blowing makeup sex.
Yeah. That.
“I just moved into a new house,” I reminded my sister. “Give me some time to get settled in before you start berating me about being a withered-up spinster.”
Cassie scrunched up her face. “That’s not what I meant, Addy. I just want to see you happy.”
“I am happy,” I insisted. “I love my work and my new home. I’m going to a party this week with Babylon. I’ve got four squirrels and a vulture living with me.”
I have a date tonight. But I didn’t want to clue her in on that until I was sure that Ty was going to be more than just a fun evening.
“I don’t think your vulture counts.” She glared at the animal who’d insisted on coming into her office with me. “Okay, but if you’re not dating anyone by Christmas then I’m going to fix you up with someone.”
“Not the werebadger,” I told her with a laugh. “Please not the werebadger.”
She grinned. “Okay, not the werebadger. Get going. I’ve got work to do and I’m sure you have a house to delouse or something like that.”
I stood. “Roaches. Then starlings who are pooping all over some dude’s BMW. Then carpenter bees boring into the side of a woman’s garage.”
“Exciting.” She waved me on. “I’ll see you Sunday. Love you, Addy.”
“Love you too, Cass,” I told her as I herded my sidekick out the door. “Love you too.”
The rest of the day went easy, for once. The roaches were amenable to relocation. The starlings were easily convinced that a nearby shopping center was a better place to hang out, and the carpenter bees liked the nice rotted log I provided them far more than the woman’s garage. I swung by the grocery store and picked up several fifty-pound bags of dog food as well as a dozen bones from the butcher and something labeled as “squirrel feast.” Then as a treat I stopped by the bar where Babylon worked for a drink—well, a drink and to talk to her about my date tonight with Ty. I might be reluctant to talk to Cassie about a possible romance, but Lonnie and I had always been close, not only because we were the youngest sisters, but because our magic was a bit “out there” compared to the other witches in our family.
Drake and the squirrels had been pissed that they couldn’t go inside. They were even more pissed that I locked them in the truck and hung one of Bronwyn’s amulet wards on the antenna to keep them in. The human world was far less tolerant of animals in business establishments, and I couldn’t exactly pass off a vulture and four squirrels as service animals.
“Here. Eat up.” Babylon plopped a plate