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I sighed. Maybe we weren’t on the same side, after all. “Such as?” I asked politely.

My cat’s eyes locked on mine, trapping me within his gaze. “I was thinking a battle axe.”

“Are you kidding me?” I sputtered in disbelief. “There’s no way I’m getting you a battle axe. You’d chop my foot off the first time I forgot to feed you.”

“Maybe that’s a sign you shouldn’t forget to feed me.”

He let out a sinister laugh as phantom pain smarted in my ankle. There would definitely be no battle axe.

“I do my best. You know that. I’m not getting you a battle axe, though. So try again.”

He cleared his throat and tried again.“A sword.”

I shook my head.

“Mace.”

“Like pepper spray?” I asked. “I guess that’s not so bad. I can—”

“No, Angela. Not like pepper spray. Like a big spiky ball on the end of a chain.”

“Remind me again why you need all this heavy-duty medieval weaponry?” I managed to choke out. This wasn’t the first time I’d been afraid of my cat, but it was the worst. Talk about an unstable genius.

“To defend myself,” he answered as if this all made perfect sense to him.

“Against foam darts?”

Octo-Cat smiled and nodded.“Precisely.”

“I could get you a foam sword,” I offered with a sad shrug. “Or maybe a toy lightsaber. That would be fun. Um, wouldn’t it?”

He rose to his feet and paced the length of the coffee table.“Angela, really! Real problems require real solutions, not a cheap childproof standin.”

Rather than pointing out that Pringle’s weapon was also a toy, I remained quiet. It seemed every time I spoke, the rabbit hole I’d fallen down grew deeper and deeper.

The wheels in Octo-Cat’s brain, however, continued to crank. He started and stopped several times before finally saying something that made sense. “You seem to be biased against medieval weapons. How about we turn to the martial arts instead?”

Yes, martial arts. He’d only have as much power as he held within his own paws. That wasn’t so scary. It could actually work.

I nodded vigorously to show him how much I liked that idea.“I’m sure we could sneak you into a dojo so you can learn some self-defense moves.”

“That’s not what I meant, and I’m guessing you know that. I don’t want to dirty my paws on that feral beast. I need a weapon to do it for me, so how about nunchucks?”

“Nunchucks?” I squeaked.

“Yes, I can hold one end in my mouth and swing the other to hit Pringle with,” he explained matter-of-factly.

“Do you promise not to use them on me?”

He glanced toward Charles.

“Or Charles!” I added.

My cat shook his head as if his answer pained him.“Sadly, I can’t promise that, but I can promise I’ll cancel my plans to ransack your bedroom if you agree.”

Wonderful, another bribe.

“Okay, fine. I’ll get you nunchucks if it’s so important to you. Now, tell me, what do you know about Nan’s whereabouts?”

Octo-Cat gave me a Cheshire grin and hopped down from the coffee table.“I don’t know where she went, but I do know how you can find her. If you’ll just follow me please.”

I waved for Charles to come with us, too.

“Why were you and your cat just discussing all those weapons?” he wanted to know.

“Trust me, it’s not that unusual for us.” This was sad because it was true.

“Talking animals are weird.” Charles laughed, but I couldn’t bring myself to—the image of my crazy cat swinging a battle axe was still too fresh in my mind.

Chapter Fourteen

Octo-Cat led us to the backyard where Pringle sat holed up in one of his treehouses watchingSurvivor with the volume turned up to its max.

“Pringle. I brought you a client!” Octo-Cat shouted from the base of the tree.

“We are not clients,” I hissed at the tabby. “I’m more like his landlord.”

A few moments later, the TV clicked off and Pringle stuck his masked face out the window.“Have they brought payment?” he asked, ignoring me and Charles entirely.

“No, but they’re good for it.” Octo-Cat nudged me forward with his paw.

“Excellent,” the raccoon chittered and climbed down with surprising speed to join us on the lawn. He put on a phony grin and reached forward to offer his hand. “Pringle Whisperer, P.I., here. How can I help you today?”

I declined to shake it and instead nodded toward Octo-Cat.“I already paid him to help. I’m not paying you, too.”

“That was my finder’s fee,” the cat corrected. “Pringle Whisperer, P.I., requires his payments to be arranged separately.”

I threw my hands up in the air. How did we ever get anything done around here?“Can we stop wasting time, already? And can’t either of you ever do anything just to be nice for a change?”

Octo-Cat and Pringle laughed for a solid five minutes at that one.

“What’s going on?” Charles asked me, leaning close so I could hear him over the two guffawing animals.

“He wants another bribe, or he won’t help us.”

“Oh, no problem. I’ll take care of it.” Charles took out his wallet and began thumbing through a stack of folded dollar bills. “How much does he need?”