Pooka in My Pantry

by R. L. Naquin

  The herb shop was quiet when I got there. It wasn’t all that unusual—even when there were customers, the place carried a respectful hush, much like a public library. I heard Andrew humming softly, somewhere in back, so I followed the music. I found him sitting on the floor, next to his favorite chair.

  My face split into a grin. Lying next to Andrew in a small, blue doggy bed lay Milo. When he saw me, his splinted tail slapped against the bed and one ear perked up. A bandage bound the other ear to his head. The top three inches of the ear were gone. The doctor couldn’t save it. The imbalance gave him sort of a saucy look, as if he wore a jaunty hat tilted to the side.

  He’d been lying on his side with his shaved and sutured belly showing. My presence had him squirming to flip over, trying to make his way to his feet, despite the cast on one of his front legs.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Andrew said, placing his palm on his small ward and easing him back down. “She doesn’t want you getting up any more than I do.” He kept one hand on Milo and turned his head up to me. “Come sit down. He’ll never be still until you give him some love.”

  I sat cross-legged on the floor next to them and ran my fingers over the fur on his back and side. I pressed my face close to his and kissed his soft muzzle. “You scared me so much,” I whispered. “Don’t you know cats are dangerous?” I kissed him again and rubbed his one remaining enormous ear.

  Andrew put an arm around my shoulders and squeezed. “You made it home.”

  “Had to. You boys would be a wreck without me.”

  He nodded. “That we would.”

  We were quiet for a few minutes while I fussed over Milo, petting, kissing, checking every part I could see for permanent damage I didn’t know about. The leg would heal. The stitches would disappear. The tail might have a permanent kink to it. The ear would never be the same.

  “Can he hear out of it?” I asked.

  “The doctor thinks so. We’ll see.”

  “Andrew?” I picked at a seam on the side of the doggy bed, afraid to look up. “I’m really sorry about the party.”

  Andrew heaved a sigh. “Honey, you saved everybody. Gran said she was so grateful no one was hurt or killed.”

  “But it was my fault the leprechauns were there. It was my fault they brought all that bad luck in. And in the end, I wasn’t the one who stopped them.”

  “No?” Andrew shook his head and laughed. “Who stopped them, then?”

  “The gremlins. Well, and Art, believe it or not.”

  “And why would the gremlins—and Art—have interceded?”

  “For me, I suppose.”

  “Exactly. You disarmed those leprechaun thugs—you just used gremlins to do it. And you chased them away afterwards using a reaper.” He sat grinning at me like it was the simplest thing in the world to understand.

  I shook my head. “I still don’t think I was responsible for saving anybody.”

  He patted me on the leg. “Okay, then. Have it your way. But if you aren’t going to take any responsibility for how it all worked out, you can’t take responsibility for how it all got screwed up in the first place.”

  “I still want to apologize to your grandparents.”

  “What for? As far as they know, there was a simple kitchen fire. They had a fantastic time up to that point, and they can’t stop gushing over how wonderful you are. Let it go.”

  “But—”

  “Let it go.”

  * * *

  True to my word, I kept in constant touch with Bernice. She and Art were rebuilding the infrastructure of the Board, and I promised to keep my eyes open and let her know if I learned any new information. Considering my status as Aegis, Riley’s probation was terminated and any disciplinary letters were removed from his file. I still wasn’t exactly clear on how the reaper power structure worked, but I got the impression that Bernice gave him a promotion. He wouldn’t come right out and admit it, but I think she made him some sort of official minder to the only remaining Aegis as a side job.

  I decided against pestering him too much about it. I liked our relationship the way it was. I preferred to believe he was with me because he liked me, not because it was his job.

  Our past date history was atrocious. We’d tried a quiet dinner out. We tried an elegant dinner cruise. We tried an outdoor date at the zoo. Even meeting for coffee had resulted in a death sentence hanging over my head. It was true that most of the obstacles that caused our dates to blow up in our faces were gone, but maybe it was time for something less fancy or complicated.

  Riley brought over some old movies, and we stayed at my place. Maurice insisted on creating a lavish, candlelit meal, but we were to eat in my own kitchen, within my own walls. Once Maurice had the food served and the table set to his liking, he cleared out, promising we wouldn’t see him again. He disappeared down the hall with a dishtowel thrown over his shoulder while humming “Some Enchanted Evening.”

  In the low light of an exorbitant number of candles, the table was lovely. Wine chilled in a silver bucket I’d forgotten I owned. I had to smile at the offerings Maurice had left us. Fancy, yet simple. He made us meatloaf, but I could tell by the spirals in the center of the slices he’d stuffed it with something that promised to be incredible. There was macaroni and cheese, one of the most basic foods out there, but I was betting from the grocery list he’d given me beforehand that it utilized no fewer than five different cheeses from around the world. There was a salad made from some of the best vegetables in Aggie’s garden. And for dessert, chocolate cake. Again, one of the simplest of foods, but I’d watched him make it. I knew the minute I cut into it, chocolate amaretto would ooze like molten lava.

  I laughed and gestured at the spread. “He made us comfort food, but he made it gourmet,” I said, shaking my head. “Only Maurice.”

  Riley slid his warm hands around my waist and pulled me close. I looked up into those smoky gray eyes and felt my knees melt. He gazed down at me as if I were the only person in the entire world worth knowing, and I felt like I could stare up at him forever. He leaned close and grazed his lips against mine, sending electric sparks down my spine, then crushed me tighter against him. This. This was the kiss I’d been waiting for. Not a chaste peck on the cheek because we had a chaperone. Not a teaser before leaving me bereft and alone. And certainly not the rough passion of finding me alive when he’d thought I was dead.

  No. This was gentle, yet insistent. Controlled, but full of want and need. I circled my arms around him and smoothed my palms across his broad back and shoulders, feeling the muscles move beneath them. His skin had a subtle scent of aftershave, like citrus mixed with the ocean. As he kissed me, every metaphorical brick in my carefully constructed barrier faded into wisps of smoke, leaving me bare and vulnerable to his emotions and mine.

  I’d never felt anything like this before, this melding and blending of him and me. I felt his want like feathers brushing my skin, and mine brushed his in return. Still, desire wasn’t at the forefront. I refused to label it love; it was too soon for that. I decided to go with extreme like, a deep caring that overpowered everything else I could see, touch, taste and smell, and it came from me as much as it came from him. He kissed my lips, but I felt it all through me, and all through him, as if we were both standing barefoot on the beach, sunlight enveloping us in a bubble of warmth and comfort, one body with two souls.

  He ended the kiss and smiled. His eyes were sleepy and full of self-satisfaction.

  “Ahem.” Maurice stood in the doorway looking embarrassed and trying to avert his eyes.

  I felt unsteady and a little drunk, despite having had nothing yet to drink. “I thought you said we wouldn’t see you again tonight.”

  “Sorry. There’s a problem.”

  I sighed and took Riley’s hand. “Of course there is.”

 
Maurice gestured to follow him and led us out the front door.

  We stood on the porch for a moment in silence, trying to make sense of what we were looking at.

  Riley finally spoke up, his voice cracking a little. “Is that a unicorn?”

  A white horse with a single, golden horn jutting from its forelock stood on my front lawn, nibbling at blades of grass. He stomped his hoof and sparks shot up from the earth. His hide glowed a soft, gentle blue like a quiet aura. The glow faded and disappeared around his right hind leg, which looked a little swollen and raw. I squinted, trying to see what was wrong.

  “He looks hurt,” I said, taking a step forward.

  Maurice put his arm up and blocked my way. “Zo, you can’t touch him.”

  “Why not?”

  Maurice rolled his eyes. “Come on, Zoey. This is one of the most basic rules in folklore. You have to at least know this one.”

  I shook my head. “I’m lost.”

  Maurice gave Riley a pleading look, and Riley laughed.

  It took another minute for me to realize what I was missing.

  “Well crap,” I said. “Where do we get a virgin at this time of night?”

  * * * * *

  Enter a world where monsters don’t just exist in your nightmares... Be sure not to miss the first book in the Monster Haven series, available now!

  Monster in My Closet

  I stopped believing in monsters long ago. But I knew I wasn’t imagining things when I found one in my kitchen baking muffins. I’d seen him before: lurking in my closet, scaring the crap out of my five-year-old self. Turns out that was a misunderstanding, and now Maurice needs a place to stay. How could I say no?

  After all, I’ve always been a magnet for the emotionally needy, and not just in my work as a wedding planner. Being able to sense the feelings of others can be a major pain. Don’t get me wrong, I like helping people—and non-people. But this ability has turned me into a gourmet feast for an incubus, a demon that feeds off emotional energy. Now, brides are dropping dead all over town, and my home has become a safe house for the supernatural. I must learn to focus my powers and defeat the demon before he snacks on another innocent woman and comes looking for the main course...

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  About the Author

  Rachel’s head is packed with an outrageous amount of useless Disney trivia. She is terrified of thunder, but not of lightning, and tends to recite the Disneyland dedication speech during storms to keep herself calm. She finds it appalling that nobody from Disney has called yet with her castle move-in date.

  Originally from Northern California, she has a tendency to move every few years, resulting in a total of seven different states and a six-year stint in England. Currently, she’s planning her next grand adventure. Rachel has one heroic husband, two genius kids, three annoyed cats and an imaginary dog named Waffles.

  She doesn’t have time for a real dog.

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  ISBN: 978-14268-9524-1

  Copyright © 2013 by R.L. Naquin

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  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

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