Pandora's Box (17 page)

I’m telling you, I’d be happy to appreciate it if you’d just go on
ahead and—

Shut up.

“So, is it the leapfrogging of steps again?” Teague tried to smile.

“I’m afraid so. That and, as much as I enjoy spending time with you and as much as my mother was right about you being good
for me right now . . .” She shrugged fatalistically. “I really should talk to my mom while everything’s fresh in my head.
We have some things to straighten out.”

“I see. I guess that’s probably smart. Even if it sucks for me.” He smiled crookedly. “I hope things go well.”

She relaxed. “Hey, thanks to you, I may refrain from murdering her.”

“Wow. I averted murder with a mere kiss, ” he marveled facetiously.

“Uh-huh. Don’t kid yourself. There’s nothing ‘mere’ about your kisses. Potent, lethal, all that good stuff.” Grinning, she
stood up and turned to offer him a hand.

He accepted it. “Well, hey. If that’s the way you feel about it . . .” He tugged her down for a brief but firm kiss.

Groaning, she gripped his shoulders a moment, enjoying the hot contact, before tugging back. “You don’t make this easy.”

“Not my job.” His lashes drooped low, revealing only wicked slivers of green. “Are you sure I need to go? Now?”

She eyed him wistfully. “Yeah.”

With a great but not-bad-natured sigh, he released her and stood up. “So I’m getting booted. You kiss me like a crazy woman
and then heartlessly throw me out.” He followed her to the door.

Blech.

Mina ignored Riordan and unlatched the door. “I know. It’s killing me, believe me. Seriously, though, Teague. Thanks for putting
things into perspective. That helped a lot.”

“My pleasure. So. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I’m paying you. I damn well better see you tomorrow.” She grinned up at him.

“I feel like a gigolo.”

She raked a gaze over his fabulous body. “Look like one, too. And with the tool belt on?” She gave a slow, wondering head
shake. “Oh, man.”

Really blech.

Shut up.

Chuckling, Teague bent and kissed her again. Helplessly, she fell into the caress, wishing for more. When he responded with
growing enthusiasm, she laughed and protested against his lips. Holding him off finally, she gave him a good-natured little
push out the door and watched as he trotted down the steps and walked to his truck.

She frowned at the sight of his vehicle, parked in the street like that but definitely in front of her house. “I never saw
his truck there when we pulled up. Or did I?”

“You were a little distracted.” This from behind her. “And probably used to seeing it, so you didn’t really notice before.”

She turned to glare at Riordan, projecting every iota of the frustration that jittered along her nerves. “Look at me. This
is all your fault. I’m shaking, I’m so worked up, and I had to send him out the door. For you. Is that right?”

“Hey, like I said—”

“Oh, don’t. I’m real close to violence here.” She marched past him.

“Look.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. I could’if you want—try to cover eyes and ears and all that, but I can’t help the mind link.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Another. Then turned to him. “I know. You can’t help it. But I
never did anything to deserve any of this.”

“And I did. I know.” He shifted uncomfortably. “I thought you were going to call your mom.”

“That was just an excuse. I needed to get Teague out of here before I forgot about you—and any shame I might have acquired
in spite of my mother’s influence—and jumped the guy.” She eyed him measuringly. “Meanwhile, I wholeheartedly suggest that
we do something about this curse of yours.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“And we’ll do this my way.” She strode decisively toward her laptop.

“Your oh-so-marvelous Internet.”

“It’s what I know.”

After twenty minutes of surfing weirdo websites—which would undoubtedly garner some really scary adware—she had a pile of
printouts in front of her. “Okay. Here’s what I found. First, the
geas
. Is that what was done to you? It’s Irish or Celtic or something, but we are talking about Druids.”

“Yes, that’s a big part of it. Akker was descended from the Irish Celts, so he knew exactly what he was doing.”

“So explain this
geas
to me.”

“What, your research didn’t make things clear enough?”

“Riordan—”

“Okay, okay. A
geas
is something a Druid places on someone, usually a warrior, at the time of the man’s birth. It’s a request that can be anything
from don’t eat beef, to never cross paths with your father’s cousin, to . . . never deceive or take advantage of a human female.
If the man breaks the
geas
, usually the result is death or some social catastrophe.”

Mina digested that. “So Akker was around for your birth? You must have been a baby when you did the nasty with his daughter.
Relatively speaking.”

“No. I was born two centuries before Akker’s own birth. He did, however, attend my coming of age party, when I first came
into my full powers.”

“Maturity, ” Mina mused. “Or more importantly, the birth of your powers.”

“Exactly. Rules can be applied differently with immortals, or so I understand.”

“And that’s when he burdened you with this
geas
?”

“That’s my best guess, although you’d think he might have been sporting enough to tell me that.”

“Why would he do that to you, though?”

“Well.” Riordan cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Like I said, it was my coming of age party. Things got a little wild.”

“Isn’t that sweet?” she crooned mockingly. “An orgy in King Oberon’s fairyland. So, do they call that swapping fairy tails?”

He gave her a bland look. “What can I say? It’s a different culture. Anyway, it could be that Akker worried what I might do
or become. Or maybe he actually foresaw what would happen.” Riordan lowered his voice. “As it turns out, he was right.”

“Hmm. Well, at least we know the root of it. So how do we undo a
geas
?”

“I don’t know of a way to undo a
geas
. Once the request is made, it’s for life, and it’s unforgiving, too. One literally does not break the
geas
, no matter the consequences of abiding by it. Ignorance of the
geas
is no excuse and, as far as I know, there is no out clause.”

“So. We are seriously screwed.”

“But there must be a way around this, out clause or no. It was foreseen. Hell, I’m the one who foresaw it—and you.”

She scowled at him. “So why didn’t you foresee some of the details, then? They’d sure come in handy right about now.”

“No doubt. But it’s not something I can control.”

She sighed. “I know. You told me. Sorry. I’m a little nervous. Some of these ideas I printed out are pretty weird.”

“And having a cursed puca, recently freed from his cornerstone and living in your house, is normal?”

“Good point. Let’s try these, then. How about this one?”

Riordan skimmed the page.

“Wait. You can read modern English, right?”

“Yes, yes. Give me the damn paper.”

“Well, I just thought, since you couldn’t read the letter that Gladys sent me—And where did that thing go, anyway?”

“I can’t read it because it was prohibited. More rules, more spells, all that good stuff. And it’s around here someplace.
I’ll get it for you later.”

“But—”

“Sssh. I’m trying to read this. It looks . . .”

She hushed and watched until he looked up. “Well?”

“Fire?” His voice rose with disbelief. “We’re going to play with fire? Seriously? How and where?”

Mina rolled her eyes. “Oh, ye of little faith.” She went to one of the windows and was grateful to see the colors of sunset
fading over the horizon. She went to gather some necessities.

Half an hour later, under cover of darkness, Mina placed two metal trashcans six feet apart in her yard. She’d wadded up a
week’s worth of newspaper she’d saved for recycling pick-up and placed an equal amount in each can.

Riordan studied them skeptically. “These are bonfires?”

“A little imagination, please? I have to believe it’s the fire that does the cleansing, not the pile of wood, you know? So
we make two fires and you do your thing to effect the necessary cleansing and purification.”

“Hmm. Well, for the record, I think you’re nuts.”

Mina glared at him. “Oh, yeah? Well, for the record, I think you’re an ungrateful jerk. I’m trying to help you here. Isn’t
this what you wanted?”

Riordan dropped his arms to his sides. “Yes, of course it’s what I wanted. I just . . . I’m having a hard time believing in
the possibility of all of it.”

“I guess I can understand that. But consider this. I had a hard time believing in possibility myself. You know, minor things
like the possibility of fairyfolk and pucas living among us. Ring a bell? And yet, since you introduced the impossible to
me, you’ve made it possible for me to keep my house and continue my teaching career. The power of possibility.”

Riordan pondered for a silent moment. “You make a very good case, Pandemina Dorothy Avery. A very good case. All right. Open
mind. I’m visualizing two bonfires. Ready to light them?”

Mina nodded, silently praying for her yard and home not to burn down. Oh, and for the neighbors not to call the fire department
on her. That would be good, too. She had to be breaking all kinds of laws to do this. Hoping for the best, she clicked the
butane lighter until a flame ignited. Holding her breath, she dipped the flame into one trashcan, waited for it to take, then
dipped it into the other trashcan. Soon, both were blazing along merrily.

She stepped back and regarded Riordan, or rather, what little she could see of him in the dark. “Okay. You’re on. You know
what to do.”

“I feel like an idiot.”

“So change to dog form. It probably doesn’t matter what form you assume.”

“No. I committed the crime in human form, so that’s the form we’ll purify. When and if it works.”

“Riordan.
Possibility
? None of this when and if stuff.”

“If and when allow for possibility. By definition—”

“Oh, good grief. Just jump, would you? Before the fire goes out or the neighbors bust me.” She glanced from one house to the
other. The houses weren’t built exactly on top of each other, but they were certainly close enough to see flames this bright.

“Wait—” Riordan, eyeing the flames, turned back to Mina. “You have to jump with me.”

“What? Now wait a minute—”

“You were condemned every bit as much as I was. In your role of guardian, you pay for your ancestors’ guilt in helping me.
My crime can’t be forgiven completely unless yours is, too. Trust me on this.”

Swallowing and unable to argue with his logic, Mina eyed the flames. “O-kay. I think. So . . . how?”

Riordan held out a hand and Mina stepped forward to take it. They stood side by side and about fifteen feet away from the
blazing cans, which themselves stood six measly feet apart. The object was to jump between them, not into them. But six feet
apart didn’t look all that big when two people were trying to squeeze past.

Mina glanced warily at Riordan. “If I catch on fire, I’m never forgiving you. So you can just forget any kind of purification
ceremony. Nothing will save you from my wrath.”

“Understood.” There was a smile in his voice and, she would swear, admiration in his regard of her. “Ready?”

“As ready as I’m going to get.”

“On my count and . . . go!” Tightening his grip on her hand, Riordan charged the flames and, at the last moment, leapt, tugging
her with him. They landed just beyond the trashcans, with Mina stumbling until Riordan steadied her. She was relieved to find
no part of herself consumed by fire.

Then she turned to Riordan. “Well? Did it work? Do you feel cleansed and/or purified?” The jump behind them now, Mina felt
almost giddy.

“I don’t know. How would I know?”

“Well, do something. Something you couldn’t ordinarily do.”

“A better idea. My face. Can you see—”

“I can’t see anything. Come here.”

He did so and Mina angled him toward the firelight. She saw the same blur obscuring his human face. “I . . . no. But wait.
Flash to dog, then flash back. Maybe it’s like rebooting a computer.”

“Rebooting—”

“Oh, come on. Just try it. What can it hurt?”

He shrugged, then flash-shimmered into his canine self. Paused. Then flash-shimmered back to human form.

Faceless human form.

Mina sighed. “No. It didn’t work. Damn. I thought—”

Riordan shrugged. “It’s okay. Hey, it’s our first try.”

“Well, yeah, but that was actually a Celtic solution. I thought it was our best shot out of that whole stack.”

“Solutions aren’t always obvious.”

“I guess not.” She sighed. “Let’s put the fires out.”

“Sure.” He turned with intent toward the baskets—

“No!” She glanced around nervously. “Don’t poof it or whatever you do. What if the neighbors see? Use the water hose. It’s
already attached to the faucet.” She pointed to the faucet and a skein of rubber hose piled by her house’s foundation.

“It’s too dark for them to see anything. But if you insist.” He walked toward the house and, twenty feet later—a mere five
feet from his goal—rebounded off an invisible wall.

Mina winced for him. Talk about adding insult to injury. “How about I help you with that?”

He didn’t respond, just waited for her to catch up with him, then followed her to the outdoor faucet.

“It’ll be okay, Riordan. We will figure this out. We just can’t give up hope.”

He nodded.

The man was downright depressed. She couldn’t stand it. Where was her puca? The man who so cheerfully played BobGoblin? Narrowing
her eyes in thought, she casually picked up the hose nozzle and handed it to him. “You hold this. I’ll turn it on.”

“Okay.” He held it gingerly, obviously unfamiliar with hoses and their like.

Which gave Mina an idea. “Oh, not like that. You have to hold it like
this
. Watch for the water to come out and tell me when you see it so I can adjust.”