Ezra blushes but rolls his eyes. “The spirits are at work, Bubs. You know I don’t like it when you antagonize them. They’re abuzz with chatter behind me.”
I scrunch my brows together. “Are they talking about me?”
Ezra closes his eyes and tilts his head like he’s listening intently. “Your grandmother is here.”
“Granny Jenkins lives in Georgia.”
“No, not Evangeline—”
“Elenore.”
“Whatever. I’m talking about the other one. Granny ... Nelda?”
My eyes bulge. “How the fuck did you know that?”
“You posted about her on Facebook last week,” Johnny reminds me.
“That’s not where I got it from!” Ezra growls. “My sources may be invisible, but they are factual forces, and if you ever downplay their ability to guide me through the psychic void—”
“Psychotic void, more like,” Johnny mutters, but there’s no disdain in his voice. He’s smirking. Johnny’s just fuckin’ with him, and it warms my heart to see him finally opening himself up, showing the playful side he usually reserves for our Core Four.
“I heard that,” Ezra huffs, pouting. “As I was saying, if you ever try to discredit them again, I’ll hunt you down, and skin you alive.” Sighing, he shakes his head. “No. We will not fall into a cycle of self-sabotage.” He looks up at Johnny. “I still don’t understand how I pulled the same cards for you as I did with Daddy McSnack, but the spirits say there’s Tom Foolery at play.” Ezra leans back and continues staring Johnny down. There’s something going on in that head of Ezra’s, because it looks like he’s putting together mental puzzle pieces.
“Ezzy?” I say, but he shakes his head, his eyes never leaving Johnny.
“It’s curious,” Ezra says, and Johnny’s eyes snap back over to him, wider than before.
“What?” Johnny asks, his voice shaking for some reason.
“Things.”
“What kind of things?”
Ezra shrugs. “Just things. About your reading.” He picks up his phone and stares at the screen “They were the exact same card I—” He abruptly ends his sentence, and he’s got the same shocked expression he gets every time a spirit allegedly speaks to him. “Yes, I’m aware of that, Barbara. I’m not a complete moron.”
“Ah, hell. Not Barbara again. Ezzy, baby, we ain’t got time for her bullshit today.”
“Shut up, Bubs. I’m handling this.” He cranes his neck and stares at the emptiness behind him. “Now you listen to me, you celestial sadist; I don’t care what his intentions were, the fact of the matter is he—Oh, for God’s sake. Yes. Yes, I’m well aware of your thoughts on our current situation, but I will not condone whatever the hell this is.” Ezra pauses, listening to his spirit guide, probably. “Right, I’ve had enough of your silly little game of matchmaker. Off you go, Barbara. Fuck off back to the spirit world.” He waits a moment before a smile settles on his face. “Thank God. I was worried she’d never leave. As I was saying, your grandmother is here, Bubs.”
Nanna Nelda. She was a good woman. A troubled woman, but still a good one. “You would’ve loved her, Ezzy. She trained dachshunds to swim the Bering Strait.”
“I don’t like anything that has to do with being straight, no matter what load that heterosexual is bearing.”
“Not that kind of strait. It’s a lake.”
“A strait ain’t a lake, bro,” Johnny says, eyes still closed, probably picturing his meadow still. “It’s a narrow passage of water.”
“How the fuck did you know that?” Ezra asks.
“Naked & Afraid.”
“I’m neither naked nor afraid, but I am annoyed, and you’re not helping matters. Anyway, Bubs, Nanna Nelda says she left you a golden ring taped underneath your nightstand.”
I blink at him. “I got this nightstand two weeks ago at Harbor Freight. You were in the truck when I got it.”
“And somehow, be it through mysticism or thaumaturgy—”
“What the the fuck is thermaltory?” Johnny asks as a smile spreads across his face. His eyes are still closed, and he’s pointing directly ahead of himself. “Hey, it’s a bunny!”
