Laddin sat up. “Because I was worried about you. What did Wulfric want?”
“Medical attention. He’s got a fairy glamour that makes him look good even though he’s at death’s door.”
“He’s dying?” Laddin asked, alarm shooting through him. Wulfric was the cornerstone of Wulf, Inc. Sure, he rarely interfered with the day-to-day activities, but he was the one who guided the company, who said what was and wasn’t important, and who…. “Is that why everyone adores him? Because of the fairy glamour?”
“Probably. Because honestly, he’s kind of an ass.” Bruce dropped down on the edge of the bed. “He says I have to make a light bulb.”
“Incandescent, fluorescent, halogen, or LED?”
Bruce laughed and the tension in his shoulders eased with the sound. “Metaphorical. He says I’ve got fairy electricity inside me. I have to create a light bulb that uses it.”
“Oh. Got any ideas on how to do that?”
“Nope.”
Laddin sat up and faced Bruce. “Well, I’ve been thinking—”
“Of course you have—”
“Shut up and listen. You’ve been going nonstop. One of us has to process, and I’m the most organized thinker here.”
“You are?” Bruce challenged.
Laddin rolled his eyes. “Please. I’m the most organized person everywhere.”
Bruce tilted his head. “Really??”
“Let’s say unfolded socks make me insane.”
“Good to know.”
“So, listen. You’ve eaten the apple and the cherry, and everybody says you’ll find the demon.”
“By Thursday.”
“Two days from now. Awesome.” Not. “You’ve got this fairy electricity inside you, and you’ve got to figure out how to create a light bulb.”
“You’re repeating me.”
“Because I’m wired. I had a triple espresso while I waited for you.”
Bruce perked up. “They have an espresso machine here?”
“Focus. Why don’t you build your light bulb at the lake where everyone says the demon is? We’ve been running around behind the scenes here, but we need to be on the front lines. You have to use your juice to—”
“Shine a light on the demon. Got it.” He pushed to his feet. “So let’s get me some espresso, and then we can head out to Lake Wacka Wacka.”
“That’s not its name.”
“It’s what Nero calls it.”
“Nero can’t remember names for shit. It took him three weeks to call me anything but Mr. Happy.”
Bruce smiled. “You are chronically perky.”
“God bless caffeine. And before you go in search of that espresso, I have to tell you something. We can’t go to the lake right now.”
“Why not?”
