The meet-and-greet begins in a few minutes. Good. I can just keep my head down, pop over to Natalia’s line, and then pop out again long before anyone notices that I might look slightly too similar to the girl who plays the new Princess Amara.

No one has recognized me yet, at least. People have taken a second look, but I think my disguise is well behind the shield of Jessica Stone Wouldn’t Be Here. Which I am grateful for, but also…

It wouldn’t be so bad, you know.

If Jessica Stone was the kind of person you’d see here. I mean, at a nerd convention, not being in two places at once. That would still be awkward no matter what universe I’m in.

Natalia Ford is gathering her purse to leave, her meet-and-greet over, when Harper and I find her.

A security guard stops us before we can get in—her private security, I might add. Tall, burly guy. Very mustached.

“I, um, I think you lost something,” I shout to Natalia.

She stops and turns around, her eyes narrowing. I hold up the pillowcase. As if on cue, Stubbles lets out a low growl of discontent. Natalia gasps and rushes to me, pushing past security, to plunge her arms into the pillowcase and gather up the cat. The creature begins to purr the second she clutches the furless nightmare to her chest.

I don’t understand this animal at all.

“I know, I know. I’ve missed you, too,” Natalia coos to the rumbling demon cat, and then she says to Harper, “Thank you for bringing her back.” She doesn’t even look at me, even though I’m the one who delivered the cat. “Amon was supposed to be looking after her, but all he ever looks at is his phone, apparently. I don’t know what I’d do without her, so thank you.”

Then she finally gives me a glance—strange, almost like she can see right through my disguise—and turns away, disappearing underneath the black curtain in the back and out of sight. Her assistant, a harrowed-looking college girl with large pink glasses and pink-tipped blond hair, quickly thanks us and follows her boss.

Harper and I stand there for a long moment.

I look at the claw marks on my arms.

Stubbles is a demon cat, there are no two ways around it.

And then Harper starts to laugh. A loud, echoing guffaw that makes her clutch her sides. “We actually chased a cat! That has to be the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever done at ExcelsiCon,” she says, wiping the corners of her eyes so her mascara doesn’t start to run. “Well, now that that drama’s taken care of, what do you say to a party?”

I start. “A what?”