I straightened when Jenks tentatively touched my arm. “I’m okay,” I whispered, though I was far from it. I’d deal with it later. “We have to go,” I said, turning away.

“Wait,” Jax exclaimed, dropping down to the floor and peering under the cupboard. “Here kitty, kitty, kitty …”

“Jax!” Jenks shouted in horror, scooping his son up.

“Dad!” Jax protested, easily slipping the loose prison of his father’s fingers. “Let go!”

My eyes widened at the ball of orange fluff squeezing out from under the counter, blinking and stretching. I looked again, not believing. “It’s a cat,” I said, winning the Pulitzer prize for incredible intellect. Well, actually it was a kitten, so points off for that.

Jenks’s mouth was moving but nothing came out. He backed up with what looked like terror in his wide eyes.

“It’s a cat!” I said again. Then added a frantic, “Jax! No!” when the pixy dropped down. I reached for him, drawing away when the fluffy orange kitten arched its back and spat at me.

“Her name is Rex,” Jax said proudly, his wings still as he stood on the dirty floor beside the incubator and scratched vigorously under her chin. The kitten relaxed, forgetting me and stretching its neck so Jax could get just the right spot.

I took a slow breath. As in Tyrannosaurus rex? Great. Just freaking great.

“I want to keep her,” Jax said, and the kitten sank down and began to purr, tiny sharp claws kneading in and out and eyes closed.

It’s a cat. Boy, you couldn’t slip anything past me tonight. “Jax,” I said persuasively, and the small pixy bristled.

“I’m not leaving her!” he said. “I would have frozen my first night if it wasn’t for her. She’s been keeping me warm, and if I leave, that mean old witch who owns the place will find her again and call the pound. I heard her say so!”

I glanced from the kitten to Jenks. He looked like he was hyperventilating, and I took his arm in case he was going to pass out. “Jax, you can’t keep her.”

“She’s mine!” Jax protested. “I’ve been feeding her butterfly pupa, and she’s been keeping me warm. She won’t hurt me. Look!”

Jenks almost had a coronary when his son flitted back and forth before the kitten, enticing her to take a shot at him. The kitten’s white tip of a tail twitched and her hindquarters quivered.

“Jax!” Jenks shouted, scooping him up out of danger as Rex’s paw came out.

My heart jumped into my throat, and it was all I could do to not reach for him too.

“Dad, let me go!” Jax exclaimed, and he was free, flitting over our heads, the kitten watching with a nerve-racking intensity.