GENRE: Urban Fantasy
“CONDOMS, condoms . . . where the bloody hell . . . ?” As he rifled through the bedside table, Gavin Cassidy’s hand fell upon a familiar old cigar box. He removed it from the drawer and ran his fingers across its frayed, papery surface.
It hadn’t been there yesterday.
Though he hadn’t thought about his favorite childhood toy in ages, he was grateful for a diversion before heading off to yet another party promising steady supplies of alcohol and eager groupies who fed the illusion that he was living.
Typical night at Mike’s house.
Hell, typical night period.
Tossing a dirty shirt aside, he took the box, sat cross-legged on the bed, flipped open the lid, and removed the tiny bird. A smile creased his lips.
The colors had faded a bit, and the branding on the wooden body was a little worn, but overall, the falcon had held up well for, how long had it been? He remembered playing with it when he was maybe two or three ….must’ve been twenty years he’d had the bird.
He pulled the string on the belly, his smile spreading into a chuckle as the seashell wings flapped. His Aboriginal friend, Yileen, would appreciate a bird like this. In fact, the craftsmanship reminded him of Yileen’s.
He didn’t know where it had come from, but the falcon had always brought him luck. Man, he could use some now.