Once inside, Dacian and Cinn followed Sparkle into the meeting room attached to the restaurant. Asima perched on her own chair. She looked elegant and unflustered.

Ganymede didn’t bother with a chair. He’d plunked his ample bottom on the table next to Sparkle’s chair. Holgarth sat at the head of the table, probably his self-appointed spot. He was that kind of guy.

“Now that everyone is here.” His glance at Cinn and Dacian suggested that they’d kept everyone waiting for hours. “We’ll begin the investigation into how the plant, Vince, ended up in the trash can.”

Asima turned calm eyes on Holgarth. “You are such a blowhard, wizard. There doesn’t have to be an investigation. I threw the plant into the trash can.“

Humans might have gasped. Nonhumans just stared. Well, Cinn was a human, and she gasped loud enough to cause everyone to glance her way.

“I materialized in Cinn’s room while she was sleeping. Bain was asleep on her couch. He sleeps very soundly for a demon.“

“You slept on my couch without my permission?” Cinn couldn’t keep the horror out of her voice. A demon had slept with her.

Everyone stared at Bain. He shrugged. “I don’t do floors.”

As one, everyone’s gaze swung back to Asima.

“I took the plant. I was supposed to destroy it, but I felt bad about that. It’s such a pretty plant. So instead of throwing it into the Gulf, I threw it in the trash can. I thought someone might pass by and find it.“

“And why did you do this dastardly deed?” Holgarth was at his pretentious best.

“The goddess Airmid told me to.”

Chapter Seven

Silence filled the room. Even Cinn didn’t gasp this time. Dacian figured she’d used up all her air on her first gasp. He knew Holgarth was supposed to be asking the questions, but he couldn’t wait for the wizard to spit the next one out. “Why would you do what Airmid told you to do?”

Holgarth’s gaze was cold enough to freeze Dacian’s eyeballs. “I believe that I’m in charge of asking questions, vampire.”

Dacian wasn’t intimidated. “Yeah, well, then ask them faster.”

Holgarth turned to Asima. “Exactly why would you do what Airmid told you to do?”

Asima settled in. She looked like she was primed for a long explanation. “I work for Bast, greatest of all goddesses, protector of cats everywhere, queen of—”

“Yes, yes, we know. Get on with it.” Holgarth tapped his finger impatiently on the table.

Asima speared him with an enigmatic cat stare that could mean anything from, “I think you’re an amazing person,” to “You’re a wizened old fart.”

Dacian suspected the latter.