If what Cinn had seen so far at the castle was real and not a hallucination brought on by eating the castle restaurant‘s medieval meat pie—huge, and no, she hadn‘t needed a doggy bag afterward—then the cat was right. Reluctantly, she resigned herself to a less violent solution. “Who are you?” Amazing that she could ask that so calmly.

“I‘m Asima, messenger of the goddess Bast and the only devotee of the arts in this whole castle.” She sat and wrapped her tail around her elegant body. She stared at Cinn with deep blue eyes. “Dare I hope that you‘re interested in the theater or perhaps the opera?”

“I‘ve seen a few Broadway plays.” Why was Cinn standing here talking to another cat? She had to get her plants away from this freak show. Once she drove across the causeway to the mainland, she was never coming back. “What do you want from me?” Because she had a feeling everyone here wanted something.

Asima lifted her finely chiseled, aristocratic head so she could meet Cinn‘s gaze. “I‘d like to be your friend.” She glanced away. “And Sparkle told me to keep an eye on you.”

Aha! “You‘re a snitch.”

“I prefer intelligence agent.”

Cinn knew she should just get in her truck and leave now, but she couldn‘t abandon her babies to Sparkle. No way would anyone but Cinn know how to care for them. They‘d die. And that wasn‘t an option.

Besides, Cinn had signed a contract. Now that she was calmer, she realized if she drove away, not only would she owe Sparkle for the greenhouse, but she‘d also have to pay back the money Sparkle had advanced her to make the move to Galveston. She didn‘t have that kind of cash to lose.

With a sigh, she surrendered to the inevitable. She‘d give Sparkle her two weeks‘ notice. And if after that Sparkle didn‘t honor her agreement, Cinn would hire a lawyer. One who didn‘t have a pointed hat with celestial bodies on it.

“Well?” Asima sounded impatient.

“Okay, you can tell Sparkle she won. For two weeks. After that I‘m out of here.” Cinn resisted the urge to bend down and touch the cat, just to make sure she was real. No touching, no thinking, no reacting until she was safe in her room. Well, as safe as she could be in this hotbed of weirdness. Then she‘d try to wrap her mind around the whole bizarre night. She turned toward her truck.

Climbing in, Cinn reached for the ignition key.

“Personally, I prefer a luxury vehicle. During the few times a year I return to human form, I rent a Lexus.”

With a startled squeak, Cinn jerked her gaze to the passenger side. Asima sat there. Her aloof expression implied she was a queen riding on a hay wagon.