Page 4 of Dybbuk's Detritus

“I’m seeing a minivan, right?” I ask when we’re closer, and the white vehicle comes into view.

“Uh, yeah, that’s a van.” Magnus sounds as confused as I do. He stands on his tip-toes and squints his eyes. “And I believe that’s an infant in the back.”

“How many dark entities bring their families?” He chuckles unexpectedly, and I share a smile with him.

“Not many, sir, I would think.”

“Tilly!” I shout at the top of my lungs, knowing that crazy old bat can hear me from anywhere in the village. Don’t be offended on her behalf, she’s literally a bat and she’s old and a damn fine chef.

“Yes, Aleph-Tav?” She pops up behind me and scares the shit out of me.

“What the hell, Tilly!”

“Shall I fetch you a clean pair of underwear, sir?” She drawls, her eyes alight with amusement.

“Shush it. I think I may have a few guests for dinner, can you adjust the menu properly? One is an infant if we aren’t mistaken.”

She nods immediately, smiles at Magnus, and then disappears. “She creeps me out. And I’m a warlock.” He shivers, then turns to me with wide eyes. “Damn if her brisket isn’t the best I’ve ever had.”

“And don’t forget her chocolate silk pie…better yet, do forget it, it’s mine!”

“Yes, Rurik, I would never think to eat your precious dessert.” He bows to me like a jackass.

“See that you don’t.” I sniff haughtily, turning my focus to the now parked vehicle and its inhabitants, a man driving, a woman in the passenger seat and an infant in the middle row. My breath catches when the driver’s door opens, and a Native American demigod steps out to greet us. His golden yellow eyes are hard to look away from, but I manage to take in his broad nose, thick juicy lips, strong brow, and the glossy black hair feathered back from his forehead, cut short on the sides. Muscular neck, wide shoulders, and a thick torso of granite underneath a cobalt blue t-shirt have my mouth watering where I stand. He’s taller than Magnus by at least a couple of inches, with long strong arms.

My body finally remembers to breath and when I do, the most tantalizing scent tickles my nose before lighting my body up like the hanukkiah on the eighth day of Hannukah. My dick hardens painfully in my pants, my ass slickens, no doubt alerting everyone in a five-mile radius that I’m horny, and my hands itch to touch and explore every crest and valley of his magnificent body.

His almond eyes narrow on me with an intensity that only causes my ass to completely flood my pants before I watch his chest swell with his breath. A high-pitched sound builds low in his belly, and I find my feet moving in his direction without my permission. An answering shriek escapes my mouth and then I’m launching myself into his arms.

He catches me, inhaling my hair and clutching me tighter, his fingers digging like talons into my flesh beneath my shirt. Oh, he’s a bird. I sniff his neck, that scent stronger now, wrapping itself around my heart and invading my soul. A bald eagle. Well, isn’t that strange.

My fated mate is a bald eagle, traveling with a woman and a baby? Fates, I hope they aren’t his.

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