“Grr herrr!” squeaks the creature, pulling down its ears. “That’s annoying!”
I’ve just turned off the last of the burners when the fire extinguisher activates, flooding the range and room with white, hissing gas—and abruptly rocketing into the air.
“Ahhhh!” cries a troll-like silhouette, clutching to the device as it bounces off the ceiling repeatedly. “I’m too wee to control it!”
“I can’t see anything,” cries Mandy, slashing at white fog with her knife. “Where’d it go?”
“Oh no! To the perimeter, lads,” squeaks a gnomic voice. “Take defensive measures!”
The pooka laughs triumphantly. “How the tee-ter-tables have ter-turned!”
That’smyline, damn it!
Gritting my teeth, I heave a hot frying pan over my shoulder, prepared to go in for the kill. Because while that pooka may be rendered temporarily invisible to everyone else, I know everything there is to know about blending in, and I don’t miss a thing. A thin line of fluorescent light illumines the diabolically fluffy edges of the pooka’s silhouette as it waits stock-still in the galley. With its body mostly—but not completely—covering the foil ball and a tiny, flickering flame.
It’s eyeballing the gas lines connecting the wall to the range with a dangerous, beady eye.
“Go ahead,” I say. “Do it. You can burn it all down. But you won’t be happy if you do!”
The pooka grunts. “Whyever not?”
“Because the guests will think it was a spectacle paid for by the bride’s family. They’ll love it. They’ll all clap.”
“Oh,” says the creature sadly. As the CO2from the fire extinguisher clears away, the pooka’s form grows more obvious. It crinkles up its ball of foil, tossing it over a furry shoulder. Then its ears perk up. Oh no: it has an idea. It bounces in three massive springs, straight at me. Too fast for the gnomes to tackle it, or for me to do anything but brace for impact. Except the pooka diverts at the last moment for a toppled catering cart. At that moment, Levi the photographer rolls out from behind the food-service equipment.
“What the…” I say. “Why is he here?!”
“Eep!” says the pooka.
“Umm,” says Mandy.
“Hoo hoo hoo! That man will do!”
The gnomes pick Levi up and hurl him straight at the startled pooka—and right into Sidney’s thirty-thousand-dollar wedding cake.
18SO LONG, AND PLEASE DON’T FALL INTO THE MOP BUCKET
OH NO. NO, NO, NO, no, no.
“Tee hee terr herr,” the pooka says as Levi rolls out of the ruined top tier of the cake. Sensing her moment, Mandy drops the knife and swoops in, snatching the creature from behind.
“Cuddle attack!” she shrieks, squeezing it joyously.
“No! My weakness!” the pooka sobs.
Mandy cries too, apparently overwhelmed by its evil-cute vibes. I can barely contain my own tears. All that work, and the saboteur has won. The wedding cake is lost—an absolute, irredeemable, thirty-thousand-dollar mess. Also, is Levi okay? He’s gone unconscious—I hope he won’t need a hospital trip?
Once I confirm Levi is breathing, I grab a loose apron and get Mandy’s help to roll the pooka in it longwise, like I’m constructing a giant, savory croissant.
“Nooooo!” the pooka wails. It paws its icing-covered mitts desperately against the apron. “I’ve been trapped!”
“Tee hee her herrrrr,” I tell it.
The pooka doesn’t find this amusing. Kicking futilely, it cries, “Let me free, let me free! And I will answer your questions three.”
Satisfying as it might be to spend the next five minutes watching the pooka squirm, finding out what it’s doing here would be better. I squat, up close and personal. But not so close it could kick me in the neck.
“All right.” I catch my breath. “I’ll let you go if you answer my questions and leave this wedding alone. Why are you here?”
