Pandora's Box (7 page)

She nodded, a little awkwardly. “So. Riordan it is.” She cleared her throat. “Riordan . . . would you please honor me with
your absence? Until I call you back—”

A shimmer and he was gone. Except for a hollow voice echoing in her head.
No, your kitchen won’t catch fire. Just
give me a yell when you want to talk. And, speaking of fire, you
might want to avoid the phrase “speak of the, ” you know. Guy
from the hot place.

“Why? What happens then?” She shouldn’t ask. She knew she shouldn’t ask. But maybe forewarned was better?

Out I pop, in full view of everyone, in whatever form happens
to be on your mind at the time. Things could get dicey.

“I’ll bet. But I thought you said you weren’t the devil.”

A sigh.
Oh, come on. Has no one ever called you a cute little
devil? It doesn’t mean that you are literally the devil, but things
can get blurred in my part of the world. Metaphorical and literal
blend a little more here. So, basically, if the king of the fairies
makes a practice of calling his troublemaking halfling son something
like that . . . well, scary shit happens.

Really, really, really scary. “Bye, Riordan.”

No response.

“O-kay.” Mina took a deep breath. Then another. Then finished her cold breakfast. She looked around her now-silent kitchen.
It was still her house, at least for now. Same as it always was. Well, except for the new ventilation, courtesy of her contractor
Just Teague and, possibly, a puca.

A puca. Courtesy of a puca. She really needed help. “Yes, ” she said, talking to herself out loud. “Call Mom. Even if I am
nuts, she’ll never know it. I’ll just be one of her kind. Finally. A true-blue member of the abnormal Avery-Dixon family.”

After wending her way back to her room and throwing on some jeans and a T-shirt, she gingerly picked her way through the living
room and glanced around for her purse. The house really was wrecked. She’d left it messy to begin with, and then the contractor
and his guys had moved a lot of stuff from the kitchen to the living room. Locating her purse on the floor by the couch, she
pulled out her cell phone and hit speed dial.

“Good evening, darling.”

“Mom. Thank God you’re home.” Mina inhaled deeply to calm herself. Her mother was bonkers all by her endearing little self,
so she was in no position or frame of mind to judge. Having a bonkers daughter would only make her proud—not inclined to notify
the nearest mental hospital. “I have something to tell you. No, ask you. And it’s going to sound weird, so—”

“Then let me make it easier for you. I heard Cousin Gladys died. Her attorney contacted me, looking for you. So, am I to understand
that you’ve inherited the family puca?” Her mother sounded wickedly amused—even smug.

She knew? “No. Nonononono.” In a truly mature move, Mina hung up on her laughing, protesting mother. “It can’t be real.” Her
mother’s wasn’t exactly the most reliable opinion on occasions like this. She needed someone objective, someone scientific.
Yes. So, maybe . . . Janelle the doctor? Yes, she’d call Janelle. Where was the damned business card again?

She stumbled over to the end table, ignoring a wave of dizziness. See? More proof that she just had a really bad head injury.
That was all. A physical problem, easily cured. She carefully keyed in the phone number and listened to the rings.

“Hello—”

“Janelle! Look, you’ve got to help me. I’ve . . .”

“—can’t come to the phone right now, but if you leave your name and number—”

Not home. Mina hung up. She closed her eyes. What now? What else was there? “Riordan.” She smiled grimly, her inner vision
a wickedly appropriate one. “Speak of the devil.”

Flash-shimmer
and the puca landed on his ass. An ass landing on his ass. Now that was a sight for sore eyes. The ass glared at her. “Hey,
I turned your electricity back on. Well, flipped the switch in the fuse box, anyway. Still, it was a favor. Aren’t you supposed
to be nice to me?”

“Yeah, but you’re supposed to not be real.”

“But this?” He glanced down at himself. “I suppose you think this is funny?”

“I think it’s fitting. If I’m going to have a psychotic episode, then I’m damn well going to be in charge of it.”

“Ever piss off a puca before?”

“No. But what are you going to do? Take my house away? Blow a hole in the back of it? Bust my head? Bankrupt me? Drive my
family to insanity? Saddle me with a curse and a smart-mouthed, perverted puca? Gosh, I’m scared.”

He frowned and scrambled to his feet. Hooves. “Look—”

The doorbell rang. Mina froze.

Riordan the talking ass stilled. Then narrowed his eyes over what had to be a calculating little smile.

Mina stared at that smile. “No. Oh, no.”

“Mina, open up.” It was Teague.

CHAPTER FOUR

“Well, damn.” Mina heard Teague muttering, presumably to himself, just outside her front door. “She’s probably sleeping it
off. I’ll just go around—”

“No!” Mina shouted in a near panic. “I’m. Um. Not dressed. Give me. A minute.” She glanced around wildly. It could be the
ultimate test, or—

“So what’s it going to be, lovely Mina?” No ass should be able to croon in such a mocking manner.

Nerves clanging, Mina lowered her voice and tried for an ingratiating, borderline butt-kissing tone. “Um. Riordan? I’m really,
reeeeeaaaally sorry about calling you up like that. Any chance you could just poof yourself back into—”

He was already shaking his head. Didn’t seem the least bit disturbed about it either, the ass. “You commanded the form and
when you command it, it’s solid. No invisible asses for you, sweetie. Say goodbye to disembodiment. Didn’t I mention that
part? It’s all in the adjusted rules of my semi-confinement, so I must have forgotten. Or it could be that I’m still learning
them myself. Hmm. After this little lesson, we should probably proceed with caution, don’t you think?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m saying you can ask and we can all be polite about it, come and go as we please, but commanding is different. Once you
commandme to a solid form, I can’t voluntarily return to disembodiment anymore. I’m here. Hey, you know, I did try to warn
you about that phrase and what would happen, but noooooo. You got mad at your puca and called upon the hot guy. So here we
are. You and your ass. And now you’re in a bind.” He sounded absolutely delighted about it, too.

She glared at him. “Hey, you did that on purpose.”

“Well, maybe I did. But nobody forced you to be rude to me, now did they?”

She groaned, wringing her hands and nearly dancing in place now. A malicious puca—or even a talking ass—was not what she needed
right now.

“Although . . .” The ass shuffled coyly.

“What?
What
?” Mina tossed a panicked look at the door then back to the puca. “Anything.”

“Anything?”

Mina groaned at the lilt in his voice. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“Well, if you ask nicely, I could always shift—”

Another knock on the door. “Mina, just let me in. I’m a thirty-four-year-old man who’s been around the block a few times.
It’s not like I haven’t seen everything before.”

Gaze still on the puca, Mina raised her voice. “Well, you haven’t seen mine, buddy.”

“Yet.” The puca muttered it speculatively.

“What? Never mind. I never like the answers.” She whispered it furiously. “Now change—or shift. Whatever. Something he won’t
be able to—”

A shimmer-flash, and the puca ass shifted to a dog.

“A dog?” She blinked. Okay, a dog was at least a little more explainable—

Glowing yellow eyes peered up at her.

She stumbled back a step. But . . . at least a dog wasn’t immediately objectionable. Right?

She eyed the puca cautiously. “If you’re real, he’ll see a dog. Right?”

The dog wagged his tail. “Yeah. You like?”

She pondered, desperately, then groaned. “A talking dog with demon eyes. I’m telling you, this is not going to work.”

“Um. Ahem. Bark?” More tail wagging. Canine brows rose in question over slitted eyes that only mildly spooked.

She winced. “Maybe you could be a mute dog?”

“Picky, picky.”

Maybe Teague wouldn’t even see the dog. Maybe it really was just some kind of ghost or even a figment of her busted imagination.
Gee, there was a cheery thought. Which was better? A busted imagination or a puca for a ward?

Heart pounding, Mina walked toward the door.

“Mina?” Teague’s concern and probable intent spoke loud and clear.

“Right. I’m coming. Sorry.” She disengaged the deadbolt and opened the door.

Teague. In all his hotness. A rugged hotness equal to challenging the sexy faceless man Riordan had shifted to earlier. Better
yet, Teague had a sexy, gorgeous face and no confusing horse ears and tail. She almost whimpered in gratitude. “I am so happy
to see you, Just Teague.” Dibsies. He belongs to Janelle. Remember dibsies, Mina.

He looked surprised. Pleasantly so. “Yeah?” Then he frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“I . . . No. Why don’t you come in?” She stepped back.

You know, subtlety’s not exactly your strong suit.

She jumped. Riordan could talk in her mind even when he was sort of, well, physically there? Not that she’d completely accepted
that he might be here. She could still be nuts. But if she wasn’t, there was no way that dog could actually pass for a dog.
Not on close inspection.

Say no more, my guardian.

“Bark.” A black blur passed her and skittered off toward the back of the house.

Startled, Teague glanced after it. “Hey, you have a dog.”

“Yeah.” Not nuts. Was that good or bad?

“So, what kind of dog is he?”

“He’s a puc—Uh.
Peekapoo
.” Almost busted herself. A flustered Mina was not good at subterfuge.

“Pookapeekapoo?” He grinned a little. “Wait, I know. Like a cockapoo and peekapoo crossed?”

“Something like that.” No, more like a smart-mouthed hellhound. Which he very well might be.

I noticed you forgot the cock part of that concoction of yours.
Never forget the cock.

She choked.

“I dunno. I didn’t see him all that well, but he looked bigger than that. Like a chow-shepherd mix maybe.”

“That, too. He’s a mutt. Um, the other was a joke. The peekapoo part. Cockapeekapoo. Pookapeekapoo. Whatever.”

Smoooooooth. Maybe you should leave the talking to me?

“So.” Mina raised her voice, struggling for distraction from the demon pet. “What brings you here?” Stupid question. Dumb,
dumb, dumb. He’s your contractor. Why do you think he’s here? To work, idiot. “I mean, in my house here. Y-yesterday you just
went right to work. Outside. No need to even see me.” She shifted her weight and tried to arrange her features into an intelligent
expression. “So are you guys working inside the house today?” Still very, very lame, no matter how hard she tried to save
it.

She heard a puca snort in her mind.

“I just wanted to check on you before I get started mucking through what’s left of your kitchen wall. How’s your head?”

“My head?” You have no idea, buddy. “It’s okay. A little achy, naturally, but not broken.” Debatable, Mina. Seriously debatable.
“Thanks for asking.”

“Hey, what’s this?” Eyes narrowing, Teague bent past her. Bracing herself, Mina followed his gaze and saw a white corner visible
from beneath her armchair. Teague snagged it and turned back to her.

The envelope the attorney had given her.

“Is this what you were looking for yesterday?” He held it out.

“Sort of.” She accepted it from him and flipped it over, regarding it more seriously than she had before. Hey, when a girl
inherits a puca, she realizes it would be good to have an owner’s manual to go with him.

If I were you, I wouldn’t open it in front of this guy. Unless
you think he’d love to meet a puca in person? Or, rather, canine?

Mina started, glancing around discreetly for the whereabouts of her non-dog.

Oh, come on. I’m out of sight. Being good. And now I’m just trying
to help, based on past, extensive experience with guardians who
thought for sure they could convince other humans to believe in me.

“Are you going to open it?”Teague looked curious. “What is it, anyway?” He shook his head. “Never mind. I’m just curious,
but maybe you don’t want to read it in front of me.”

Mina pondered—to open or not to open—then spoke slowly. “No, that’s okay. I don’t mind.”

Suit yourself, lady. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

“This is the letter the attorney gave me when he told me about my inheritance.”

Teague raised his brows. “Really. Sounds interesting.”

“That wasn’t my thought at the time, but now . . .” She carefully broke the seal and slipped out a folded sheet of paper.
Just plain old notebook paper. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or let down by the lack of a flattened, centuries-old
scroll of parchment.

Last chance, baby. Keep in mind Cousin Gladys was pretty
batty and outspoken as all hell. You didn’t know her, but I did. You
could maybe stand a chance—romantically speaking—with this
guy if he doesn’t think you come from nutty stock, right?

The damn dog might as well have read her mind. Her history. She couldn’t count the number of boyfriends who’d ditched her
once they met her mom and stepdad and realized what they were getting themselves into. A talking puca would have fit right
into her teenage household. Just one more meddling nutcase with a fixation on the otherworldly.

“Well, maybe I will wait to read it until later. My head still hurts and besides, how urgent could a letter accompanying a
rock be?” She slid the paper back into the envelope.

No, she didn’t do it because she thought she really had a shot at Teague, romantically speaking. She mentally glared at the
puca. The man was taken, she reminded herself. But maybe she didn’t want to witness the expression she knew she’d see on Teague’s
face once she revealed herself for the freak she was raised to be.

“You’re right, the letter’s probably not too urgent. Still, aren’t you curious? Maybe it gives you some idea what used to
be in that rock of yours. Or where you could find copies of whatever was in there. Didn’t you say it was probably family history
stuff? Mementos?”

“The attorney was just speculating. He also implied that Cousin Gladys was pretty eccentric. Maybe even downright nutty. For
all I know, she collected empty Dorito bags, and just decided one day to stuff her ‘treasures’ in that rock.”

Dorito bags? That’s going a little far, don’t you think? I mean
I’m all in favor of discretion and reading that letter in private,
but you could show the lady some respect. She didn’t eliminate me
when she had the chance.

He could be eliminated? He could? How?

I know what you’re thinking, and don’t even go there or I’m
going talking dog all over your little date here. And yes he is, too,
your date. Or will be.

“Listen, I have to be honest, ” Teague was saying. “I wanted to see you this morning. You know, to find out how you’re feeling
after yesterday, but maybe it wasn’t the only reason.” He laughed a little. “Well, this is going to sound stupid, but . .
. are you seeing anyone?”

“Wha—?” Mina glanced around nervously. The puca had been talking only in her head, right?
Right
? “Um, who exactly should I be seeing?”

“I mean . . .” Teague frowned. “Look, my timing sucks as usual, but I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me. Tomorrow,
maybe? Unless you’re otherwise occupied . . . or committed?”

“Oh, you mean
seeing
someone, seeing someone. I thought—Never mind.” She frowned. “But what about Janelle?”

“What about her?”

“Well, I thought you two were . . .” She raised her eyebrows.

“Nah. I mean, sure, I did ask her out once, but she turned me down. She said I looked too much like her ex, which was a big
turn-off to her.” He grinned ruefully. “But we got to be friends in spite of my ugly mug.”

She smiled. Damn, but he was a cutie. And he was available. And he was asking her out.

Oh. The dog was right. Teague was asking her out. So was it simple observation, or could the puca read minds or . . . oh,
shit, she hoped he couldn’t read minds.

Told you so.

“Stop that.”

“Huh?”

“Not you. The dog.” Oh, good grief.

“Huh?” Now Teague looked uneasy again.

She laughed nervously and shrugged. “Just one of the perils of living alone. You start talking to your dog and figure they’re
talking back to you. Sometimes he gets this look and I’d swear he was thinking about something besides dog biscuits and trashcans.”

Oh, thanks. I’m so flattered.

“Don’t mention it.”

“I . . . won’t?” Teague tipped his head, obviously amused. “Why, does someone think you’re nuts for talking to your dog?”

“My mom would.” No, she wouldn’t. Woman was nuttier than a fruitcake. Nuttier than Mina, until now. And why had she brought
up her mother? Self-sabotage, no doubt.

“Hey, moms are like that.” He moved closer. “Don’t worry about it. Dogs are pretty smart, anyway. I wouldn’t be surprised
if he could hone in on what you’re feeling sometimes. Hell, I could almost envy a dog of yours. I wouldn’t mind being able
to read what you’re thinking right now.” Still smiling, Teague peered into her eyes. His own narrowed, emphasizing a ridiculously
attractive spray of laugh lines around the outside corners. He could almost be laughing with those sparkling green beauties.
He was so hot. And he was obviously flirting with her. She’d wondered before, but now—

“Woof.” Riordan spoke his spooky bark from the other room, and she jumped.

Stupid puca. She’d really be enjoying this one on one with Teague if the damn puca weren’t eavesdropping.

Think no more, sweetie. Consider me gone.
A galloping click of nails and Mina felt a discreet tug as the envelope was plucked from her slackened grip. She glanced down
in time to see a black blur hurtle into her bedroom.

“Hey!”

And slide under her bed? Sure enough, she saw a shadow darkening the bedskirt. Was he eating the letter now?

Now don’t start whining about the letter. No, I don’t eat paper,
and loverboy didn’t see me take it from you. I’ll keep it safe so he
doesn’t open it when you’re not looking.

She stared after the dog. “Oh, shit.” Well, that was one question answered. He could hear her thoughts? He could hear her
thoughts. Not just talk to her in her head, but actually pick out and listen to any darn thought she had.

Oh, cripes. I can hear them when you shout them. If you don’t
want me to hear every little hormonal sigh and moan, keep it
down and I’ll try to be polite. Unless I’m bored.