Pooka in My Pantry

by R. L. Naquin

  “Oh, honey,” she said, patting my hand. “The Board does whatever they like. They hold all the power in the Hidden world. I don’t know what an Aegis is, exactly, but maybe we’d better do some research. Even if you’re not one, maybe we can fake it.”

  I shook my head. “That’ll keep me from dying, but it won’t get me out of trouble. Isn’t there a third choice?”

  She squeezed my shoulder. “My first concern is keeping you alive, love. One thing at a time.”

  For a tiny old woman, Aggie had a lot of unexpected physical strength. She grabbed me by the wrist and led me into the next room. I tossed a mournful look at my half-eaten cookie before she yanked me through the doorway.

  Floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with dusty books hid every wall of the room. My mother’s books had the entire far wall to themselves. I complained a lot that I didn’t have a procedure manual for what I was doing, but most of my questions could probably be answered somewhere within those tomes.

  Some of the covers didn’t have titles. There was no central index or obvious method of organization to the shelves, and I was too overwhelmed to know how to use them for research. My mother could probably have explained her particular shelving order. But she wasn’t there, and I couldn’t see any sort of a pattern.

  Luckily, I had Aggie and her sixth sense for finding the vaguest reference to whatever we needed. She muttered to herself while she scanned the shelves, running the palm of her liver-spotted hand over the spines. She slid a dark burgundy volume with flaked gold letters, no longer decipherable, off the shelf. Her rings glittered as her fingers flipped through the pages. She grunted, then replaced the book.

  I kind of felt stupid, standing there watching instead of helping, but anything I grabbed would be a random choice based on aesthetic appeal.

  After the fifth try, Aggie’s information dowsing succeeded. She had a faded blue book open to the table of contents and scanned the list with her fingernail.

  “There,” she said. “‘Chapter 17: Aegis Indoctrination and Training.’ I think we may have something.” She paged through the chapters. “15, 16...18.” She shook the book like a Magic 8 Ball. No stray chapters fluttered to the carpet. She looked up at me, alarmed. “It’s gone.”

  I took the book from her and fanned the pages. It was unlikely my shaking it would yield better results, but I tried it anyway. Close examination of the seam revealed jagged bits of paper between chapters sixteen and eighteen where the missing pages had once been. I was crushed. “Why would somebody do that?” I shoved the useless book on the shelf. “I’m running out of time before Silas wakes up from his morning nap. Maybe we’d better switch to pookas for now. Whatever’s coming with this Aegis test is happening whether I read up on it or not.”

  A half hour later, I’d found two books that might help. One had a short blurb on the nature of pookas, and the other was a journal written by an accountant who’d crossed paths with one. Dry reading, but I was hoping it would be useful.

  When we returned to the kitchen, my cookies were cold and my milk was room temperature. Still good though. Aggie wrapped some cookies in a paper napkin for me to take home.

  I blinked in the sunlight after being in the gloomy library for so long. A white rosebush caught my eye and I smiled. “I remember something.”

  Aggie squeezed my hand. “What do you remember this time, sweetheart?”

  “My mother planted that bush for you, didn’t she?”

  “Yes, she did. Anything else?” She smiled in encouragement.

  “There was a lady with her. A lady with greenish skin. She did something to the soil.” I scrunched up my face, trying to force the memory.

  Aggie waited.

  “No,” I said. “That’s all. I can’t remember the rest.”

  “She was a dryad. She fed the soil. See how big the blooms are? How green the leaves?”

  “A dryad. Okay. I can see that.” I still had trouble imagining dryads were real, let alone that I’d met one. But every new memory I pried from my locked-up head was a triumph.

  “Go check on your house, sweetheart. I’ll be here when you need me.” She kissed my cheek and patted me on the arm. “The memories will keep. The pooka might not.”

  She was right. I needed to get home.

  I walked through the woods that separated our property, nibbling on cookies and trying not to dwell on the missing Aegis chapters. Was the book like that when my mother added it to her collection? Or was she the one who removed the pages?

  The question I was avoiding forced itself into the light. Was my mother an Aegis?

  Iris was squatting in front of the guestroom window when I came around the house, intent on his spy work. I didn’t think he noticed me until he glanced up, grunted, and went back to peering inside.

  I gave him my last two cookies and left him munching thoughtfully.

  I wanted to read when I got inside, but the bathroom needed to be my first concern. It was disgusting work. By the time I was finished, I could hear my hairy guest moving around in his room. There would be no time to read. I couldn’t exactly plop down in front of him and research his habits. That would be rude.

  He met me in the hallway, cheery from his nap. And hungry.

  “Ah, there you are,” he said. “What’s for lunch?”

  I didn’t answer. He followed me into the kitchen and sat watching me while I collected sandwich stuff. I plopped it on the table in front of him, gave him a plate, and waved in his direction. “Help yourself.”

  He snorted. “This is the worst bed and breakfast I’ve ever stayed in.” He slapped some bread on the plate, eyeing the meats and cheeses. “Imagine. Sandwiches! And I have to do it myself.”

  He muttered to himself for a moment before resigning himself to the indignity of making his own lunch. I sat down in front of him and watched. He assembled a sandwich the same way he did everything—with enthusiasm and no regard for manners or cleanliness. Mustard smeared along the side of his face, and bread crumbs speckled his shirt. A piece of salami flew past, grazing my ear.

  “Hungry?” I said. I rested my elbows on the table, my hands folded under my chin.

  “Starving,” he said. He took an enormous bite, which slid down his throat in an unchewed mass.

  “Good. Eat as much as you like. There won’t be any more after this.”

  He stopped, mid-bite. The sandwich dangled in the air between the plate and his mouth. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Tell me why you’re here, and maybe I’ll reconsider. Obviously, I can’t make you leave. But I can refuse to feed you. I’m not cleaning up after you anymore, either. And I don’t have to put up with your crap. You’ll give me a good reason why I should help you, and you’ll respect the rules of this house, or you’ll go hungry.”

  Silas sent half a second sandwich down his gullet before answering. “What rules?”

  “If you get it dirty, you clean it up. And stay the hell out of my bathroom. You’re in my parents’ old room, for God’s sake. You have your own bathroom. “

  He nodded. “Fair, I suppose.”

  “I’ll keep the fridge stocked, but I don’t cook. Trust me, this is a rule that benefits both of us.”

  “I’ll make a grocery list.”

  “Fine.” I paused, trying to think of what else was important enough to be negotiated now, while I had the illusion of the upper hand. “Pants! Outside of the guestroom and bathroom, pants are always required here. Always.” I gave him the stink eye for emphasis. “Always.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Fine. For the record, though, I’m feeling oppressed by these rules.”

  “There’s the door to freedom,” I said, gesturing toward the front of the house.

  His eyes followed my hand, and he shrugged. “I can tough it out. I’ve been through worse.” He l
icked his fingers and shook a pile of chips on his plate. “It’s a deal then. I’ll stay.”

  I held my hand up. “Hold it, tiger. You still need to tell me what the hell you’re doing here. If you’re in trouble or have a problem, that’s one thing. But my house isn’t a vacation destination.”

  He sniffed. “I’d hardly call this place a vacation. The staff is terribly rude and the food is less than gourmet.”

  “It’s better than the nothing you’ll be having for dinner.”

  He glared at me and shoved a handful of chips in his mouth. When he spoke, he sprayed all over the table. “I’m here because you need me.”

  I might have laughed if I’d been in a better mood. “That is the single most delusional thing you’ve said to me so far.”

  He shrugged. “It may seem so, but I guarantee you need me.”

  “For what, exactly? Aggravation really wasn’t on my wish list.”

  “Hey, I don’t like it any better than you do. I have my own stuff to do, you know. I was perfectly happy following around a congressman in Utah, making him look stupid at press conferences. Helping people isn’t in my nature.”

  “Then what are you doing here?”

  “I’m not exactly sure.”

  “Did somebody send you?”

  His eyes darted to the window. He ducked his head and lowered his voice, as if he might be overheard. “Darius sent me.”

  “Who the hell is Darius?”

  “He’s a soul catcher. You don’t say no to a soul catcher.”

  I shook my head. “What the hell is a soul catcher, and why would one send me a pooka?” Either I had enemies I didn’t know about, or this Darius person had a warped sense of humor.

  Silas shrugged and chewed his sandwich. “The Hidden know you. Everybody is talking about you. Darius didn’t tell me why he wanted me here, but once I got here, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had to stay for awhile.” He squinted at me and leaned forward, his face earnest. “I think you’re the one in trouble.”

  I couldn’t disagree with that.

  “I’m always in trouble these days.”

  “Welcome to the world of the Hidden, sweetie. Hold on to your ass.” He eased back in his chair. “So. It’s settled then. I’m staying till we figure out why I’m here.”

  I had little choice. “Fine. Just...follow the rules, okay? And don’t break anything or blow up my house. Wait. One more thing.”

  He groaned. “Now what?”

  “Give me back my damn rock.”

  “That I will do with pleasure. It’s screwing with my mojo anyway.”

  “It’s a rock.”

  “It’s not a rock. You had it on your mantle and didn’t know what the hell it is?”

  I shifted in my seat. “It was a gift. I thought it was pretty. I get a lot of strange gifts from people I help.”

  “It’s a chunk of dried gargoyle snot.”

  I recoiled in disgust. “Oh, gross. Why would Phil give me something he fished from his nostril? Maybe I don’t want it back.”

  “Lemme give you a piece of advice, girly. And listen up, because I don’t do this often. It goes against my nature. Keep the snot. There’s a lot of good luck packed into those boogers. Forget where it came from and keep it with you at all times. It’ll take away the sting of having me here.”

  “It didn’t keep you away.”

  “No. But it’s kept your house from falling down, I bet. I am a pooka, after all.”

  “You’ve mentioned that,” I said, unsure of where he was headed.

  “You need to study up on the Hidden. I am bad luck personified. People stub their toes when I sneeze in their vicinity. I once walked down the street and a piano fell on a guy.”

  “No it didn’t. You’re making that up.”

  He held his hand over his heart. “I swear on my mother’s favorite hairnet. I laughed about it for days.”

  “That’s so wrong.”

  “It’s what I do. It’s what I am. Keep the snot rock. Whatever I’m here for, I don’t think it’s to give you a flat tire on your way to a meeting. Trust me on this.”

  He took the rock from his pocket, belched, and handed it over.

  It was heavy, shiny, and had a polished sheen. I’d thought it was some kind of green marble with silver streaks shot through. I refused to think about what it really was, and shoved it into my own pocket.

  Silas heaved himself from of his chair. “I’m going for a walk. I assume you’ll clean this up, since you’re the one who took it all out.”

  And then he was gone.

  Not for the last time, I wished Maurice were around. I worried about how things were going with his wife. I wanted him to be happy. I didn’t believe that could happen if he stayed with Pansy. Would he stay with her anyway? He’d been gone less than twenty-four hours, and I already missed him like crazy. I hadn’t eaten anything but cookies all day, and my stomach gurgled. There was no way I was eating from the disaster of mangled lunchmeat and cheese Silas had left behind. I dug through the bread bag in search of a few slices his grubby hands hadn’t touched.

  There’s nothing wrong with a grown woman eating peanut butter and jelly.

  While I ate, I skimmed the books from Aggie’s house. There wasn’t much new to learn. Silas hadn’t been lying when he said he was bad luck. Apparently, it was a pooka’s calling card. The movie Harvey had it all wrong. Well, almost all wrong. Pookas did have the ability to be invisible when they didn’t want to be seen.

  Silas’s mission made no sense. Why would someone think I needed bad luck? Nobody needed bad luck. I wondered if Darius, the mysterious soul catcher, was a benefactor or a jerk.

  My phone jangled the wedding march and I flipped it open.

  “Zoey, are you okay?” Riley sounded panicked.

  “Yeah. Should I not be okay?” The level of his concern was alarming. I glanced out the window, checking for a freak lightning storm or tidal wave.

  He exhaled in a rush. “Good. Good. Okay. I can’t talk long. I just wanted to check on you.”

  “Should I be worried about something?”

  “No, I guess not. I had a weird feeling is all.”

  “Care to tell me what I should watch out for?”

  “No, it’s nothing. Hey, are you busy on Saturday? I might be able to get away, you know, from Art.”

  I had my suspicions about his weird feeling, but I let it go. “He’s still tagging along?”

  Riley grunted. “He’s still tagging along, yeah.”

  “Okay. Saturday then.”

  “I have a lot to make up for.”

  It was my turn to grunt. “I’d be fine with staying alive as payment.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. Try to stay out of trouble until then.”

  “I’m not sure I know how to do that, but I’ll give it whirl.”

  I hung up and looked around. Without Maurice around, I felt a little deflated. Normally, I’d dance around the kitchen singing, but I was by myself. I missed my friend. I had a date with Riley, and there was no one to tell.

  That thought made me feel a little guilty. Sara used to be the one I confided in, but I couldn’t tell her everything anymore. The partial lies were wearing thin on both of us.

  It took forever to clean the kitchen. I found mustard splattered across one cabinet door, and nearly missed the half slice of cheese plastered to the side of the fridge. When I was done, it didn’t look nearly as pristine as if Maurice had taken care of it, but it would have to do.

  I went to check on Frannie and the new baby. Maurice had been keeping the pool clean and tossing in fish I brought home from the wharf. Without his attention, the water had turned murky and smelled like a fish market.

  It was also empty.

 
I squinted into the deep end, thinking maybe the sea serpents were curled up together on the bottom. It was difficult to see through the muck, but there was nothing down there large enough to be a sea serpent. They were gone.

  I hugged my arms to my chest to ward off the chill of the late October air and the feeling of desertion I didn’t want to admit was creeping in. I told myself to be happy for them. They were safe and healthy, and had returned to the place in the world where they belonged. I told myself I should be used to it. The odd creatures in my life came and went that way, often without good-byes.

  Moping wasn’t going to help. I ought to clean the pool. Who knew when a naiad being chased by gangsters or a swamp monster with a toothache might need a place to stay?

  I spent the afternoon skimming fish gunk out of the water—no sense leaving stuff to rot in there. If I called a pool cleaner, I didn’t want to have to explain the floaty bits. They might send PETA to investigate why I was keeping a killer whale in my backyard.

  “That, my friend, is disgusting.” The voice at my elbow was so unexpected, I startled and dropped the skimmer in the pool.

  “Dammit, Silas,” I said. “Make some noise or something first. How the hell am I supposed to get it up from the bottom now?”

  He pinched his nose closed. “Guess you’ll have to go in after it.”

  It was his fault the skimmer was submerged. I turned on him with the intention of telling him to go in after it himself and skidded on something on the lip of the pool. My brain screamed no! as I fell sideways into the water. I suppose I should have been grateful I didn’t have time to scream out loud, or all that brackish, fishy gunk would have flooded my mouth.

  The cold was as shocking as the smell.

  I sputtered to the surface, cursing.

  Silas watched me with an amused, but puzzled, look. “Don’t forget the thingy you dropped,” he said.

  I tossed a glare at him before hooking the skimmer with my foot to pull it up. “Thanks.”

  “I thought you put the snot rock in your pocket. Did you put it back on the mantle?”