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“I am certain.”

Jimmy’s wings fluttered, then he knelt, and with a sharp claw began to carve into the wooden tabletop.

Zee sighed. “I don’t think we’re gonna get much sense out of him, Kitten.”

But as I watched, the scratches Jimmy made turned into the letter H. Then he scratched out an A followed by an L.

I leaned in closer. “He’s writing something. Look.”

Zee approached the table as Jimmy scratched and chipped two words into the wood. When he was done, he sat back on his haunches and pointed.

HALP MI

“He can spell better than Seb,” Zee remarked.

“Help me?” Victor suggested.

Jimmy started scratching out more words, leaving wood shavings behind.

HALP OO

“Help you?” Zee tilted his head. “I don’t get it.”

“Help me, help you,” I translated. “He’ll help us if we help him. Is that it, Jimmy? You’ll help us get rid of the gremlins if we help you with something?” He blinked blankly. “I think that’s it.” But Victor and Zee both wore skeptical expressions.

“A deal would be reasonable,” Victor said. “But what does a pixie want?”

Jimmy growled at Victor.

“Right now, I think he wants your balls on a plate. You don’t need ’em. You should give them up. Take a hit for the team.”

“Does every single thought fall from your mouth, demon?”

“Maybe Big Jimmy—Junk Jim—knows what he wants?” I asked, distracting them from what would probably end up being another argument. “He had Little Jimmy in a tin for a reason. Maybe Jim knows more?”

Again, Victor and Zee frowned. “It’s a stretch, Adam.”

I shrugged. “What else are we going to do? Watch the remaining guests up and leave while the gremlins eat the hotel around us?”

“I highly recommend an evening of alcoholic entertainment at the hotel bar,” Tom piped up.

“Not at eighteen bucks a cocktail, Tom,” I called back.

“Nineteen. If you don’t like it, take it up with management.”

“I am management.”

“Then start acting like it.”

My head hurt, and after everything, I still didn’t have the napkin I’d originally asked for. “I’ll buy my own napkins, Tom.”

“You go do that. In the meantime, the cake will go st⁠—”

What happened next none of us could have predicted, or stopped. At the mention of cake, Jimmy’s little ears pricked, and he shot like a tiny firework from the table top toward the cake.

Zee lunged, trying to catch him. And missed.

Jimmy plunged into the cake. Icing and sponge flew. Cake carnage ensued.