Pooka in My Pantry

by R. L. Naquin

  I didn’t know if closing them would help. The rules to all of this were still hazy, but I was sure the leprechauns could undo the damage. They had to have a way. I spun around to confront them and nearly ran into a smug-faced O’Doyle.

  “Pretty, isn’t it?” he said.

  “Cancel it,” I said. “There are hundreds of elderly people about to come in here for a celebration. Cancel the bad luck. I know you have that ability.”

  He grinned. “Half a million dollars might make that happen.”

  I didn’t consciously make a fist, and didn’t realize I’d taken a step forward to punch him in his shiny, grinning mouth until one of his thugs grabbed my arm.

  “Now, now, Miss Donovan. Violence never solves anything.”

  I gritted my teeth. “It’ll make me feel better.”

  “Zoey, what’s going on?” Riley crossed the atrium into the dining area. He grabbed the leprechaun who held my arm and shoved him away.

  My throat tightened, threatening exasperated tears. I flicked my hand around the room. “Open umbrellas,” I said, as if that explained everything.

  Apparently, it did. Riley, ever the gentlemen, punched O’Doyle so fast my eyes couldn’t follow it, and the leprechaun bodyguards didn’t have a chance to move a muscle before O’Doyle’s nose was broken.

  Blood sprayed across Riley’s knuckles. O’Doyle doubled over, holding his face, and his two flunkies moved forward to jump Riley.

  Sara came out of nowhere, hissing at us in stage whisper. “The guests are coming. What the hell are you all doing?”

  Every one of us looked up, startled. Andrew was behind her, his face red and panicky.

  “Move,” I said, shoving O’Doyle and one of his buddies toward a side door. “You’ve done enough already. Do not make this worse.”

  O’Doyle resisted a moment, but relented when he realized how much blood was flowing from his nostrils. “I need a wet rag. I’ll be sending you the cleaning bill, Reaper. And Miss Donovan? We’re not done. We’ll be staying for the show.”

  The three of them disappeared into the public restroom around the corner, O’Doyle pressing a handkerchief to his face. Andrew already had a wet cloth and was mopping up the blood on Riley’s hand.

  “Pull it together, guys,” Sara said. “Everybody’s coming.”

  “Andrew.” I pointed at the many decorative lacy umbrellas displayed around the room.

  His face went pale. “Holy hell. Can we close them or is it too late?”

  “I don’t know. We can try.”

  “Zoey, there’s a problem,” Riley said. He was holding his phone, squinting at the display.

  “No,” I said. “There are no more problems. There will be no further problems, and the current problems are going to be fixed by closing the umbrellas and ignoring the leprechauns until they go away or a house drops on them.”

  Riley touched my sleeve. “Zoey, I have a text.”

  His words chilled me. “No. No texts with the name of a potentially dead person. Not today.”

  “Zoey.”

  “No.”

  “Zoey, it’s not just one name. It’s a list of about thirty people. And it’s supposed to happen at this address.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I had no time to grab Riley’s phone and scan the list of names. I barely had time to react to the news before the guests started drifting in. They were laughing and joking with each other, taking seats around the tables. I heard them admiring the decorations and oohing at the number of daisies covering all the surfaces.

  I also heard one lady muttering under her breath to her companion, “Why on earth would someone open all these umbrellas indoors? Don’t they know it’s unlucky?”

  Martin and Sophie came in last, beaming with happiness and love for each other. They moved through the room, stopping at each table for a word here and there. When they reached me, Martin gave me a tight hug and Sophie squeezed my arm.

  “It looks wonderful,” Martin said. “You did a fine job.”

  “Lovely,” Sophie said. “I’ve never seen so many daisies in my life.”

  My bright smile felt pinned to my face. “I’m glad you like it. The parasols were not part of the original decorations. There was a mistake in the order. We’re just going to squeeze through and take them down.”

  “Oh, but they’re so pretty!” Sophie said.

  “I’m sorry. They need to go back. We’ll be quick about it, though. You go ahead and have a good time.”

  I started to walk away but she grabbed my sleeve. She tilted her head toward Riley and gave me a sly look. “Is this your young man?”

  My fake smile melted into something more natural. I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She winked at me. “Good for you.” She looped her arm through Martin’s and they made their way to their table.

  Andrew and Sara already had a small pile of closed parasols by the time Riley and I swooped in to pluck them from their various spots. It only took five minutes before we’d retrieved and closed them all. I had to stand on a chair to get to the last one, which was dangling by its handle from the ceiling fan.

  I closed my fingers, pressing the button to collapse it, when I heard a shout from the kitchen. If Riley hadn’t been standing next to me, I would have fallen off the chair.

  No one reacted at first. I looked across the dining room from my perch on the chair and saw nothing amiss. People chatted with a comfortable, vague crowd noise, dishes clinked, glasses tinkled.

  From the hallway, six leprechauns moved in, taking places around the room, silent and still.

  At another shout from the kitchen, a few people glanced up from their plates in curiosity. Then the door to the kitchen burst open, and everyone’s attention turned that way.

  Smoke billowed in from the doorway.

  The fire alarm went off, its shrill blare spurring everyone into action. Some jumped up in panic. Others struggled to get to their feet. Within seconds, flames licked through the open doorway. Andrew was at his grandparents’ side, helping Sophie to stand and leading them toward the lobby. The crowd pushed in that direction. I had trouble getting down from the chair, afraid of knocking over an unsteady woman with a walker.

  Riley gave me a hand, and I headed into the crowd to help, feeling like I was moving against a tidal wave. One frail-looking gentleman, seated close to the kitchen door, struggled with his oxygen tank, trying to get the wheels to cooperate. He was sweating, either from the stress or from the heat pouring out of the kitchen.

  I was terrified for him. I had some vague idea that oxygen is highly flammable. Whether the heat alone could make the tank explode, I wasn’t sure, but I had to get him away from the kitchen, regardless.

  I yanked the tank free of its entanglement with the table leg and helped him to his feet.

  “Let’s get you out of here,” I said. I coughed on smoke and my eyes burned. I was grateful the man had oxygen for himself. I was afraid he wouldn’t be able to breathe otherwise.

  I led him away and toward the lobby, handing him off to Andrew, who’d returned with Sara for more people needing help.

  The retirement home staff performed admirably, shuffling people toward safety. The dining room was cleared fairly quickly, and the residents trickled their way through the front doors to the lawn.

  I heard fire trucks in the distance, making their way toward us. The overhead sprinklers, a little late in engaging, activated all through the building and rained down on our heads. I dashed into the dining room to rescue the Shipley’s photo album and guest book. Riley, Sara, and Andrew were in the lobby, helping the staff get people outside.

  The leprechauns, eerie in their silence and their quiet smiles, followed me with their eyes, then walked from the dining room to the lobby, took up spots along the
walls there and stopped.

  I dashed after them, my heart thudding. About thirty or forty people were still working their way to the front door. Riley held it open from the outside, but let go in time to catch Abe as he tripped over the cane of the man next to him. Riley reached out, and the door slammed shut. He helped Abe up, and tried to open the door. It refused to budge.

  The wet ceiling in the lobby chose that moment to give way, and a lighting fixture crashed to the floor, leaving us in murky darkness, punctuated by sparks from the exposed wires.

  The crowd, smaller, but still a crowd, moved away from the sparks. A chunk of plaster knocked Andrew on the shoulder, but he stumbled out of the way before anything larger could hit him.

  We were stuck. Riley pulled at the door from the outside, trying to jar it open, but the locking mechanism seemed to have jammed. Water puddled on the floor, waiting for a stray live wire.

  My eyes narrowed, and I found O’Doyle, smug and comfortable in the corner. I strode across the room to him and shoved him against the wall.

  “Take it back,” I said, gritting my teeth.

  “Oh, I don’t think so. This is more entertaining than anything I’ve seen since the Titanic.”

  My hands shook with anger. “You’ve ruined the Shipley’s party. That should be enough. Nobody dies today. Take back the bad luck.”

  He looked past me at the ruined lobby and shook his head, his blue eyes dancing. “No, I don’t think so.”

  The thin light made it hard to see, but the wall behind him had a ghostly quality to it. The wallpaper pattern of stripes and flowers shimmered and swam. I squinted, and the odd visual moved in slow motion. A smile like the Cheshire cat’s appeared against the wall. Gremlins.

  I let go of O’Doyle.

  “That’s a very pretty shiny you have on your coat, Murphy,” I said in a loud voice. I tapped below my collarbone, indicating the spot.

  O’Doyle lifted his fingers and stroked the shamrock. “It’s a family heirloom.”

  “I bet.” My volume increased and I looked past the leprechaun at the wall over his shoulder. “It would be a shame for you to lose it.” I tapped below my collarbone again, hoping I was being understood. “In fact, it would be a shame if all of you lost your shinies, wouldn’t it? I bet the fire would go right out.”

  He chuckled. “We’re hardly going to hand them over.”

  The pattern on the wallpaper moved toward the leprechaun. It oozed over his shoulder and toward his lapel.

  The pin was there, and then it wasn’t. My vision adjusted and I located the edges of the figure. I smiled, and the figure smiled back. A gremlin had swiped O’Doyle’s gold shamrock pin.

  Each time I’d seen the leprechauns doing their dirty work, they’d touched their shamrocks—first when they pulled a black cat from a sack to throw at Andrew and again, before trying to walk him under the ladder.

  I glanced around the room and saw each of the watching leprechauns was missing his shamrock. The gremlins had done what they do. They stole the shinies.

  I leaned into to O’Doyle, though being that close to him gave me the willies.

  “Aren’t you afraid the bad luck will affect you? There’s smoke, water, fire, stray electrical currents—it’s pretty dangerous for all of us.”

  He smiled, confident in his immunity. “Oh, I don’t think so, Miss Donovan. This show is all for you and those around you. My boys and I are quite safe.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Are you so certain?”

  He grinned. “Quite certain.”

  I tapped his lapel. “Really?”

  His hand flew to the empty space where his protection had been, and his face froze in shock. “What did you do?”

  I shrugged. “I didn’t do anything. But you should be more careful who you screw with.”

  “Where is it? I demand you give it back.”

  Over the noise of the sirens and bells, one of his henchmen yelled. “Hey! Where the hell is my shamrock?”

  That alerted the rest, and the general crowd noise and various emergency sounds were joined by the voices of distressed leprechauns.

  I moved close to O’Doyle’s ear, my lips nearly touching him. “Now cancel the bad luck and get the hell out of my town.”

  “This isn’t over,” he said. “We have reserves, and we’ll be back for you.”

  I raised an eyebrow and smiled through gritted teeth. “Really? You mean, a little pine box buried by the Rainbow Tunnel?”

  Fear oozed from of his pores. It nearly gagged me with its rancid stench. His eyes looked close to popping out of their sockets and propelling themselves to the floor. “How did you find that?”

  “Don’t fuck with the Aegis,” I said.

  He looked like he’d been struck. “He told us there were no more Aegises. He promised the ogre patrol wouldn’t bother us anymore, either. He said we could make our own rules.”

  “He who?”

  Before O’Doyle could say anything else, the room echoed with a crash and the sound of shattering glass. I turned to see what was happening, and a mob of leprechauns jumped me. It happened too fast to react beyond ducking. I had no idea if reinforcements had smashed into the building through a window, or if these were the same guys who’d been stationed around the room watching the show.

  They grabbed at me from all sides and pulled me away from their leader. I couldn’t tell how many there were, only that there were hands everywhere, yanking and dragging me backward. I lost my balance and pinwheeled my arms to recover, smacking one in the face. I think I may have split his lip.

  The light was hazy, dulled sunlight through smoke. I could hear the wet thunk of a fist, the sound of air forcibly whooshing from someone’s lungs. One by one, the groping hands left me. Riley must have come to my rescue.

  I regained my bearings and squinted through the haze. O’Doyle muttered nonsense words under his breath, and I stepped toward him.

  “Is it done?” I asked.

  He nodded. “It’s done. I don’t know how you managed to take our shamrocks, but I’ll have them back now.”

  I shrugged. “Good luck with that. I don’t have them on me.”

  I turned my back on him.

  With the glass doors shattered, smoke poured out, clearing the air. Someone, probably the fire department, had turned off the electricity, and the stray wires lay quiet and harmless. The kitchen crew trudged through the dining room, soot-covered and sweaty, announcing the fire was extinguished.

  “I don’t know what started it,” one said. “And then it just went out on its own.”

  The rest of the residents were already through the door and being treated by paramedics, including Riley. I could see him through the window, draping blankets across shoulders and getting people comfortable. Andrew and Sara hovered over the Shipleys, holding cups of water.

  I was puzzled. If Riley was outside already, he couldn’t possibly have knocked out all those leprechauns.

  I scanned the room. A tire iron lay forgotten among the glass shards from the front door.

  And there in the corner, nursing the broken skin on his knuckles, was Art.

  Chubby, greasy-haired Art had broken in with a tire iron and come to my rescue. It was hard to reconcile the damage to the retreating leprechauns with the obnoxious ass I’d come to know and hate.

  I picked my way over to him, trying not to step in glass, slip in puddles, or trip over bits of plaster. Fortunately, my luck was neutral again, so I was only burdened with my usual clumsiness and made it across the few yards safely.

  “Hey,” I said. “You okay, killer?”

  He nodded, but didn’t say anything.

  I touched his sleeve, and he flinched. I hadn’t realized how much he loathed me, that even that little contact was offensive to him. I took my han
d away. “Thank you.”

  He didn’t look directly at me, fixing on a point somewhere past me. “It’s my job.”

  “I doubt the Board expects you to smash through a door and dispatch a crew of thugs.”

  He sniffed and looked out the window. “My job is to test you for Aegis magic, then convey you safely to headquarters. I can’t do that if you’re dead.”

  “We don’t have to be enemies, you know.”

  I could feel his emotion through my filter—and it wasn’t hostility or contempt. It was shame. It was sticky and heavy like thick syrup, and it poured over me in great globs.

  “I never intended to be your enemy,” he said, staring down at my feet. It was a start. At least he was looking at a part of me instead of past me or away. “You’re so kind to everyone, but you stare at me as if I were something particularly vile you stepped in.”

  Did I do that? I certainly didn’t mean to. There was something about Art that tweaked me and made me want to flick him in the ear every time he spoke. I must have been wearing that urge on my sleeve.

  “If I’ve been doing that, I’m sorry. Maybe we got off to a bad start.”

  He nodded. “Maybe we did. I suppose greeting you with a death sentence wasn’t the best way to make friends, but it’s my job, after all. And you don’t make things easy, Miss Donovan. I’m a man of rules. You are a woman who breaks them.”

  “We do seem to be at an impasse.”

  He took out a handkerchief and dabbed at the fresh wounds on his knuckles. “It was like that with your mother, too. I suppose she was trying to do her job while I was trying to do mine. Maybe the Board never would have given me that promotion anyway.”

  The world moved around us, clearing of wreckage and people. A fireman came in and nudged us to leave the building, citing safety codes. Outside we found a relatively quiet spot under a tree. I was dripping from the ceiling sprinklers, and the fall breeze made me shiver.

  “How about we start again?” I stuck my hand out at Art. “Hi. I’m Zoey. It’s nice to meet you, Art.”