“You bet,” Ronan agreed. “I’ll just change.”
“You’re not going to bake in the chicken costume?” Wolf asked. “If I had one, I’d never take it off.”
“Don’t want to accidentally singe my feathers,” Ronan said, heading for the laundry room.
“Yeah, that would be just awful,” Ten said with a snort. “I have a feeling that you’re going to get plenty of people wanting to dunk you, with or without the chicken costume.”
“What does that mean?” Ronan asked, turning back to Ten and crossing his wings over his chest.
“Oh, nothing,” Ten said, sounding innocent, but looking guilty. “Go change so we can start baking.” He smiled brightly.
Ronan frowned at his husband, who was most definitely up to something. He wouldn’t be surprised if Ten had sent a message of some sort to Cisco Jackson or the rest of the parents to make sure they all took their turn at the dunk tank.Bring it on,Ronan thought. He was willing to do just about anything to raise money for the school.
12
Tennyson
Tennyson had a cookie hangover. Not only were his feet hurting from the hours he’d spent in the kitchen baking, but his stomach felt a bit off from all the samples he’d eaten. Jude had insisted, several times, that there was nothing more important than quality control. Between the two of them, Ten would guess he and Jude ate an entire dozen cookies themselves.
Thankfully, he had a quiet day scheduled at West Side Magick. There were only two readings on the books, both scheduled for after lunch. Ten had a feeling that once had some real food, like a salad or a turkey sandwich, he’d be back to feeling like his old self again.
“Hey, Ten!” Cope popped his head into his office. “I’ve got something for you.”
“Please tell me its not more cookies.” Just the thought of more sugar made his stomach turn.
“No, it’s not more cookies. It’s Spencer Stephens.” Cope’s face broke into a devious grin.
“What?” Ten studied his friend. It wasn’t like Cope to revel in anyone’s pain, but he seemed to be pretty pleased with the reason for Spencer darkening their doorstep yet again.
“I’ll let him explain, but I’m sitting in on this meeting with you. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” With an even brighter grin than before, Cope left the room.
Ten wanted nothing more than to do a quick read on the man, but decided against it, wanting to hear the entire story from the horse’s mouth. He didn’t have long to wait. A few seconds later Cope came back into the room followed by a downcast Spencer Stephens, who took a seat opposite from Ten, who took a minute to take his measure. The young man’s usually bright eyes were dull and lifeless. He was wearing the same shirt and jeans he’d had on the day before. When Cope shut the door behind him, Spencer yelped and jumped a mile. “Hey, Spencer. How are you?”
“Fucking awful, Tennyson. You’re the only one who can help me.” Instead of his usual cocky bearing, Spencer reeked of desperation.
“Help you with what?” Christ, had he misplaced Effy Lou for the second time? It was hard, but Ten refrained from using his gift to figure out what was going on with the man. He usually enjoyed having the upper hand in situations like this, but he wanted Spencer to clue him in on what was going on.
“Don’t you already know?” Spencer asked, with none of yesterday’s bravado.
Ten gave his head a little shake. “My gift isn’t all encompassing. You look like you’ve barely slept.”
“I didn’t sleep at all,” Spencer agreed. “I couldn’t, because every time I shut my eyes, Aunt Effy Lou started talking to me.”
“What?” Ten asked, his eyes widening in shock. He opened his gift to see if Effy Lou had come along with her nephew, but he didn’t sense her spirit.
Spencer turned to look behind himself, as if he expected his aunt to be standing there. Getting up from his seat, he opened the door to Ten’s office and peaked outside, looking both ways before shutting the door and taking his seat. “Aunt Effy Lou is haunting me.”
Ten didn’t need his gift to see the man was serious and dead scared. “Tell me what happened.”
“When I left here yesterday, I set Aunt Effy Lou on the passenger seat of my car.Hercar,” Spencer was quick to add. “I had my music cranking and thought I could hear someone saying my name. I turned down the volume and there was nothing. I grabbed nugs and fries at McDonalds and when I gave my order at the drive-thru I could have sworn I heard someone talking to me. I assumed I was hearing chatter from the employees inside the restaurant. When I got home, I sat in the living room and ate a mouthful of fries. I didn’t have a napkin, so I wiped my hand on the sofa and Aunt Effy Lou shouted at me.”
“What did she say?” Ten was absolutely fascinated with the story Spencer was telling. He knew sometimes people got their gifts later in life, like Carson and Cole, but he also wondered if EffyLou had figured out how to communicate with her nephew in a way that didn’t require mediumistic abilities.
“She told me to stop being a troglodyte and get a napkin. That she paid good money for the sofa and would be damned if she sat around and watched me destroy it.”
“Well, that definitely sounds like something your aunt would say. Are you sure your friends aren’t messing around with you? Using a speaker or something to taunt you?” Ten had a feeling Spencer didn’t have the kind of friends who’d be smart enough to pull a prank like that.
“It was her voice. I swear to God, Tennyson it was my aunt’s voice. She’s the only person I know who uses the word ‘troglodyte.’ You believe me, don’t you.” Spencer’s tone sounded worried.
