Page 13 of Dybbuk's Detritus

Theo 10.

I don’t like this plan. In fact, I would go far as to say I loathed it. Detested it. Abhor it. I am also not a fan of logic right now either. Because, logically, they are right. Rurik is the logical choice for the dybbuk. It’s growing more powerful, and it needs an equally powerful food source. A newly mated Aleph-Tav is as high as it gets, especially in these parts.

Bronimir and 10 guards are here with us, circling Rurik and I. Magnus and Chloe have set up shop about 20 feet away, protected by their own net. It’s imperative that they remain safe to cast the binding and corporeal spells. Another group of guards are in a net at the village hall, where the majority of the Family is sequestered.

A small opening has been created in the net, and Chloe amplified the scent of the Family, particularly Rurik’s, to draw it to us. It’s working, as the painful tug in my torso worsens.

“Stand guard!” I shout to be heard, Rurik flashing an uneasy smile over his shoulder. “It’s found us.” I fall to one knee as the tug burns my insides, threatening to liquify me.

“Theo!” Rurik cries, but I wave him off. He needs to focus.

“I’m ok, Rurik. I love you.” Gritting my teeth, I push the words out.

“Love you too, Theo. I think after this, I deserve a blow job.” I manage a small chuckle.

“That will be the least of what you deserve.”

The winds change, a cold chill accosting us out of nowhere. “It’s here.” I whisper just as the darkness descends. I am unable to look away as the dybbuk swirls menacingly around my mate before it takes hold of his soul. That’s my soul, dammit. He is my soul. Rurik screams, the agony shredding me to the bone. His back arches, his chest pushes forward, his arms dangle helpless at his sides. I can hear chanting, I think, but my focus is on Rurik.

“Fight, Rurik! Fight!” All I have are words and they feel woefully inadequate. His honey-colored skin darkens to a mud brown, once firm and supple now pitted and dry. I can’t watch him die; except I can’t look away. “Rurik!” I spin around to see Magnus and Chloe. Their lips are moving rapidly, their hands gesticulating in unknown patterns, a faint purple glow emanating from a bowl placed between them. “Do something! Chloe, bind the son of a bitch!”

Seconds later, they both push their hands out in front of them, the purple glow zipping across the field and into the dark haze of the dybbuk. It’s enough to stun it, releasing Rurik in the process. I run forward on shaky legs, draping myself over his motionless body.

An intense surge of energy travels through me. When I look around, I see that I’m not the only one left stunned in its wake. Magnus takes measured steps toward the dybbuk, a fierce expression taking over his usually congenial face.

“Ex aere in terram. Inde spiritus ad os. Huc nati sumus. Hic non morieris.”

A horrific shriek rattles the ground beneath us. A blinding light flashes like lightning, the smell of ozone burns my nose.

“Bronimir, guards! Now!” Magnus shouts and I turn my attention back to my mate.

“Chloe!” I yell for her, jerking when a soft touch lands on my arm from in front of me. I hadn’t even realized she was here. “Help him! Please!” Sitting back to give her room, I hold Rurik’s hard, dry hand, bringing it to my lips to kiss. She passes her hands over his body, her lips forming silent words.

Gavril, Rurik’s father, is suddenly at my side. “He must feed from you, Theo.” He urges me, but I don’t understand. I glance at Chloe and see she’s thinking it over. Eventually, she nods in agreement.

“How? He isn’t moving.” I’m desperate to heal him, I’ll do anything, but if he can’t drink what do I do?

“Bite your wrist and drop the blood into his mouth.” Gavril explains. Without a second thought, I puncture my wrist and lay it over Rurik’s slightly parted lips. Gav massages Rurik’s throat as I continue to drip into his mouth.

“I think it’s working.” Chloe barely speaks above a whisper, no doubt afraid to jinx us.

“I can feel him trying to swallow on his own.” It’s taking so long, and I am not a patient man. Not when my mate is dying in my arms. I stand abruptly, ignoring the looks of surprise from Chloe and Gavril. Marching to Bronimir and his men, with laser focus I stalk the dybbuk like the prey he is. A frail, decrepit old man now made rotting flesh. No words are spoken, no orders issued, Bronimir steps back, his men following suit, leaving the dybbuk to barely stand on his own.

One hard push to his sternum and I knock him to his back, landing with an audible thump. I shift my foot into a razor-sharp talon and step on his chest. The snap of bone and cartilage give way to the squish of tissue until I grip his still beating heart and rip it from his thoracic cavity. I squeeze, and squeeze, the organ nothing more than mush by the time I’m done.

Chloe’s burst of, “Holy shit!” has me spinning back to Rurik. Shifting my talon to my foot, I sprint back to my mate and drop to my knees. His skin…is rehydrating? Is that the right word? I’ve never seen anyone be de-mummified, but that’s what’s happening.

“Dude, no way!” Javaid, the vampire, stands above us, peering down at Rurik like he’s some kind of science experiment. “I saw this episode of Bones once, where they used fabric softener to rehydrate a slightly decomposed finger to lift the prints. Just like this! His soul is like fabric softener, he’s Downy fresh.”

“I prefer Snuggles.” Rurik mumbles hoarsely. I lean down and kiss him gently. He whines when I pull away, so I kiss him again. He slips his silky tongue between my lips and takes over. I happily submit.

“You scared the fuck out of me, tav.” I speak against his lips, unwilling to separate.

“Better not. I like your fuck.” He sasses, his eyes still closed. “Besides, you owe me a blow job.” As tears cascade unchecked down my cheeks, I laugh the slightly maniacal laugh of a relieved man. I will never be able to unsee his body lying lifeless. I’ll just have to hold him every day a little longer to reassure myself he’s alive.

“Let’s get you up to our rooms and washed.” Finally, finally, he opens his eyes. The dark brown, almost black is the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.

“Why? Did the whole mummified corpse thing turn you off?” He pouts adorably earning another kiss.

I shrug. “Not exactly, it’s just I’m not a fan of burnt sausage.” Chuckles echo through the group still gathered around us. I kind of forgot they were here. Listening to our conversation. Shit.

Rurik’s eyes widen comically in alarm as he thrusts one hand down his pants to cup his junk. He breathes out an exaggerated sigh of relief. “It’s back to normal. Actually,” He moves his hand around a bit more. “I think it’s bigger.”

Gavril chokes on his words, “Well, that was nice of the dybbuk to leave you with a parting gift.”

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