Authors: Natale Stenzel
“Have I mentioned your language? No, I take it back. It’s unattractive in an
uneducated
woman, but you keep lacing it with these witty zingers. I’m finding myself a little, well, stimulated.”
“Retract that thing before I cut it off.”
“Huh? What?” Horseface whinnied and ducked his head before glancing away in near embarrassment. “Uh, sorry. In this form,
I really have no self-control.”
“So why don’t you pick another form, hornball, so we can talk.” She thought a moment, then warmed to her subject. Sizzled,
really. “Human would be great, might make me more comfortable—”
A shimmering—
“No, wait, ” she yelped. On second thought, she did not need to be turned on by a shape-shifting puca, thank you very much.
—flash and—
“Eeep. Um.” Mina stared at gleaming muscles, shoulders to make a woman drool, short gleaming curls of black silky hair. All
spoiled by—
“Sorry about the face. I can’t show it to you. It’s in the fine print of this Druid curse. If you—as my unmarried and nubile
female guardian—can’t see my face, it’s harder for me to distract you from guardian duty. I understand I’m generally hard
to resist in unblemished human form.” And there was definitely a leer somewhere in that blur he once called a face.
“Yeah. Okay.” Still, she continued to stare. This was so over the top. Honestly, the blurred face was almost welcome, given
her original reaction to this form, but the rest . . .
A broad, tanned forehead creased attractively above a blur that replaced his face from brow level to chin. There was just
a sensation of those same golden eyes he’d had as a horse and an impression of features just beyond her conscious eyesight.
He tipped his head forward to survey himself, from plum-colored sleeveless tunic, cinched lightly at the waist with a silver
braided belt, to black breeches and leather boots.
Apparently satisfied with his appearance, he shrugged and turned his attention back to Mina. “Why are you still staring? I’m
clothed. I explained the face. And I’m not offending you with stallion woody anymore. Hey, and speaking of stallions, I gotta
tell you, we’re both just lucky I didn’t mess up when you distracted me mid-shift. Try to be more careful in the future. So.
What now?” A pointed, silky ear twitched.
Mina ran a hand over her hair, touched her ear. Decided not to comment. This really was for the best. Blurred face might not
have been sufficient to repel her depraved libido. Blurred horse-eared freak, however, might actually do it. “Never mind.
So, um, back to answering my questions.”
“Your questions. Yes. Can anyone but you see me? In my human form, not at all. In other forms, not unless I will it. So far
. . .” He shrugged and she had the impression of wicked humor in his stance. “I haven’t willed it.”
Mina eyed him warily. “So, for now, I’m the only one who sees and hears you. I only have my own eyes and ears to believe.
You know, I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not. A second set of eyes would at least give me proof of the state of my
sanity, but then where would that get me? Either I’m stuck with a puca or I’m nuts. All lose-lose, as far as I’m concerned.”
He lifted a sculpted shoulder carelessly. “And what do I want with you? I believe that was your final question?”
“Not the last by any means, but maybe the last one I mentioned on that list you seem to have memorized. So, yes. Give me your
best shot. What exactly do you want with me?”
“This has nothing to do with want. It just is. I’m stuck with you. And you’re stuck with me. You’re my guardian.” He drew
the last word out, mocking both of them.
Stuck with her puca buddy and his little rock home. Gee, that was so cheering. “For how long?”
“Until death do us part. Or until the curse is broken.” He chuckled a little. “So I guess you could say what’s between us
is sort of like a warped marriage, eh?”
Oh, God. For life? Mina stared, her mind blanking. “No. There has to be some way out of this—”
“Like I said, you help me break the curse.”
“What makes you think I can do that?”
“It was foretold long ago that my first guardian instated after the turn of the second millennium—that’s you—would be the
key to my freedom.” He cleared his throat and raised his chin slightly to quote: “ ‘Much like Pandora, the curious woman who
opened a dangerous box, this guardian will free the puca to face another trial. The subsequent November Day will be his judgment
day.’ ” He lowered his head and tilted it thoughtfully. “Given that my little cage there busted wide open as soon as you started
chipping away at it . . . I gotta believe there’s something to the prophecy.”
Mina was frowning. “What’s November Day?”
“November the first. Traditionally, this is considered the puca’s day, the one day each year when a puca must be civil, even
in the face of condemnation. And, occasionally, the puca will hand out prophecies to lucky observers. In my particular situation,
however, November Day will mean a full trial in front of the Druid Council.”
Mina goggled. “
What
kind of council?”
“Druid Council.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. Aren’t those guys long dead now? Are we talking about a jury of ghosts?”
“No. Modern-day descendents of hereditary Druids. There’s a grove meeting regularly in a state park right here in central
Virginia.”
She gave him a deadpan look. “Right. And the pixies all meet in a Philadelphia bingo hall.”
“It’s true. Well, about the Druids, not the pixies.” He blinked in wide-eyed innocence. “I think the pixies patronize a sports
bar in Detroit. Don’t look at me like that. I’m kidding. Who believes in pixies anyway? You know, it’s probably no coincidence
that the Druids have been meeting right in your backyard, so to speak. I think they’ve been waiting for this. For you.”
She shook her head. “We’ll leave that alone for now. Back to judgment day.”
“Right. November first. By that day I must either make amends or break the curse. Otherwise, I poof back into my cornerstone.
Since it’s hard to make amends to dead people, I’m thinking that breaking the curse would be our best option.”
“Uh-huh.” Leaving that one alone as well. “So, we have the who and the when. What’s the how?”
“How do we break the curse? I’m not exactly sure, but I’ve heard rumors suggesting that a human sacrifice might—”
“No.
Oh
, no. Voices in my head and talking horse types urging me to kill. I can’t think of a better definition of insanity.”
“But I’m sure there’s some way around—”
“Nope. All done. Go night-night. I’m going to bed now. With any luck, I’ll be normal in the morning. Good night, figment.”
“This isn’t going to go away just because you want it to.”
But Mina had already turned, hands raised and waving distractedly as she wove unsteadily toward her room. After changing into
sweatpants and a T-shirt—comfort clothes to ease her broken brain—she fell into bed and shut down. The last thing she heard
was what sounded like a lullaby in a tongue she didn’t recognize.
“Good mooooooorrr-ninnnggg.”
Mina jumped, cringed, wished herself inside her pillow. “Oh. God. Who? Ow.” Between the phone ringing what seemed like half
a dozen times last night, and this rotten headache that wouldn’t quit, she needed to start the night’s sleep over. She’d heard
from Teague she didn’t know how many times. Granted, the contractor was worried about her, which was probably why Janelle
called, too. But right at this moment, Mina’s head could be falling off or exploding, it hurt so much. And she was so damned
tired.
“Oh, the head. I forgot. Sorry about that.”
That voice. “No. It didn’t happen.”
“Hey, I tried to let you sleep as long as I could. Wasn’t that patient of me? It wasn’t easy either, you know. With Gladys
kicking off almost a month ago, I’ve been living in that rock with no one to talk to, so I have a lot of words stored up,
all waiting to be said to someone. Are you ready? To hear them all?”
“No. You’re not here.” She burrowed deeper into her pillow.
“Sucks, huh? Sorry about that. Okay, I’m not sorry about that. To be sorry about that, I’d have to wish myself back into that
damn cornerstone. I’m talking hell on earth. No way.”
She turned her head on the pillow and opened her eyes, slowly, reluctantly, to focus on . . . the faceless man. She rolled
to her side and eyed him doubtfully. It was so wrong to have her nemesis encased in such a good-looking body. One long black
ear twitched. Oh, the ears. That helped. A tail, too, she remembered.
“I’m happy to be here, Mina. I just wish it didn’t bother you so much.”
“Oh, don’t go starting with a guilt trip. I have a talking, shape-shifting, faceless man living inmy house. Do you have any
clue how this complicates an already messed-up life?”
“Well, at least I’m not complicating your
perfect
life. I’m just wrecking a mess instead of perfection this way. Isn’t that much better?”
She scowled.
His tone lowered provocatively. “And there just might be something I can do to rectify your mess, if given the chance.”
She eyed him doubtfully but crawled out of bed, heading toward wonderful coffee that had yet to be made.
He followed. “Seriously. We just have to get to know each other, decide how we can best scratch each other’s back.”
She glanced over her shoulder, saw his cocky stance that somehow managed to express amusement.
“And I don’t mean that in a sexual way, since that freaks you out so much.”
“Oh, good lord.” She remembered her kitchen, now open to the outdoors. She wondered if the electricity still worked. She hadn’t
bothered to check last night. She flipped a light switch. Nothing happened. “Great.” So, no coffee. She headed toward the
cabinet. A whole refrigerator and freezer of food going bad. Just what her already distressed budget needed.
“So, let’s start with the explanations. Suppose I introduce myself?”
She didn’t respond, just pulled out bread and peanut butter.
“I’ve been called lots of names over the years, but the name you’d recognize most easily would be Robert Goodfellow.”
She froze. Robert—Oh. No. She opened her mouth. Nothing came out at first. She cleared her throat. It just got better and
better. “I thought it was
Robin
Goodfellow. The, um, devil?” So that was it. She was entertaining the devil and therefore damned straight to hell. She’d always
wondered if that would be her fate, but never suspected that a horse-eared, faceless man would confirm it for her.
“Nope. Not Robin—and not really the devil either, so don’t faint on me. Robin’s my older brother and, according to gossiping
mortals, born to a human woman and son of Oberon, king of the fairies. Well, Robin and I share a father, but apparently, Dad
begat me while drunk on ambrosia and horny with the village idiot. Hmm.” He frowned, then shrugged carelessly as he watched
her shakily smear peanut butter on a slice of bread. “That’s what Robin always said anyway.
“So, all in all, I guess you could say I’m the black sheep of the family. I had a bit of a . . . tempestuous adolescence,
and then there was the Druid curse, which was an embarrassment to the name. They try not to talk about me much.”
“A
Goodfellow
cursed. I see what you mean.” In a surreal sort of way. She took her makeshift breakfast over to the dust-covered table. Paused.
She’d stand and eat.
“No kidding. Eventually the word
goodfellow
came to have a double meaning, thanks entirely to me. Either boon companion or . . . thief. All that was before your time,
of course. Still, worse than any offense I might have committed was the humiliation of being cursed by a
mortal
. Granted, Akker was a really, really pissed-off mortal with his own share of power. Druids were such a strange bunch, ” he
mused distantly, his voice almost affectionate. “Bloodthirsty little devils, but they were so clever. A lot more entertaining
than the nature worshippers who call themselves Druids these days. Dilettantes.”
Then he shrugged. “So, there you have it. You can call me Robert or Bob if you want.” The voice deepened devilishly. “Or the
BobGoblin. Or there’s also Rioghbardon—Riordan for short—which is what my father called me when he was still feeling the love.
I actually liked that one. But I anticipate that ours could be a long marriage so I suppose I should leave the choice up to
you. Please be kind. Or at least creative.”
“Marriage, my ass. So to speak.” She eyed his tail. Given his semitransformed state, the guy looked like a sexy, cross-dressing
satyr. Appealing in a repulsive way. “Look, Robert. Puca. Bob. Riordan. Whatever the hell. You need to leave. Really. It’s
time to go. Hocus pocus, abracadabra, whatever. Surely there’s some way I can make you disappear from my semiconsciousness
so I can get back to recovering.”
His cocky stance subtly wilting, he seemed a little hurt. “Well. Thanks to the curse, I can’t exactly leave you, but if you
ask nicely, I could give you a little privacy. For a while.”
Now she’d insulted a hobgoblin named Bob. This was really getting spoofish. She was starting to sound just like her mother,
bless her weirdo but goodhearted soul.
Weirdo—“Oh. Of course.” She’d call her mom. If she could tell anyone about a puca in her house, it would be her mom. Inspired,
she focused on the puca. “Bob.”
He sighed, almost wistfully.
She relented. “Riordan, then?” At least she wouldn’t dissolve into hysterical giggles. A puca named Bob just sounded funny.
And she would not, could not call him the BobGoblin. That sounded way too much like role-playing for the serious fetishist.
Blech.
He dipped his head, seeming pleased by her choice of moniker. Then he turned his attention toward the light switch she’d tried
earlier. It flipped. The lights went on.
Mina started and gazed around at her illuminated kitchen. It wouldn’t short out or catch fire, would it? “Oh. Um, thanks?”
He responded with a casual bow that was somehow courtly despite tail and ears.