Chapter Five
“There must be a way to remove them, Pay,” Dailey was saying.
But Payton had tried. She’d sweated through ten precious minutes this morning trying to snip the laces, cut the leather, and yank the boots off. The damned things were impenetrable.
“Anyway, that’s why I was late, Dailey. I’d put them on, cussed Hermes out the instant the magic activated, then took everything short of a blowtorch to these shoes, before finally teleporting here.”
“Considering the circumstances, I’ll let your tardiness slide.”
She snorted. “You’re so generous.”
He frowned as if her sarcasm bothered him, when in fact, she knew he was as impervious as the damned boots.
“What is this grand punishment you have planned for me?” she asked tiredly, feeling a hundred years old.
“If they are enchanted, what is it they do?” he asked in return, ignoring her question.
“I don’t know,” she said, crossing to the visitor chair.
“From what Elara told me last year, they were designed to help her and Tripp connect, feeding their love for one another.” Payton avoided eye contact as she said, “I’m not sure what they are meant to do for me, though, and I didn’t have time to wait for an explanation from that asshole. ”
“Then let’s go find him and see what he’ll reveal.” Dailey circled the desk, shrugged into his coat, and drew a beanie on over his thick blond hair. He held out his hand. “Ready?”
“You should’ve been a detective instead of a chief,” she blurted.
His dark-blond brows shot up as if waiting for her to elaborate.
So she did. “You come to life when there’s a mystery to solve, Lee.”
The left side of his mouth kicked up. “You said I know you better than anyone, but the reverse is true, Wildfire. There’s always been a part of you I could never reach.
Despite that, I’d opened up to you in ways I never had with anyone else.
” He sobered. “You picked up on my love of mystery and saw through me. Always.”
“I loved every aspect of our lives together,” she said with a catch in her voice. “Just not your mother steering our future.”
“We could’ve worked that out if you’d just stayed.”
“No, Dailey. Because you wouldn’t listen. My staying was never going to solve a problem you couldn’t see.”
He approached her and tilted up her chin to meet his searching gaze. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe we were always destined to fail.”
Her blood ran cold.
Yeah, it wasn’t what she’d expected him to say, nor was the dismissive shrug one she’d have believed him capable of.
“Let’s find Hermes before his games can cause any more damage,” he said.
He opened the door, and there, on the other side, was the God himself. Sprawled sideways in a wooden visitor’s chair, with one long leg draped over the arm, he examined his perfectly buffed nails, as if bored at being made to wait.
When he glanced up, the impact of his sparkling eyes, so filled with humor, wrecked the careless image he portrayed.
“Ah! Just the couple I was looking for,” he said, springing to his feet. “I thought I’d give you the ground rules before things get out of hand, like with Elara and Enguerrand’s little dance.”
Nerves got the better of Payton, and her belly churned.
“What do you mean, ground rules? And what dance are we talking about here, asshole? Because I didn’t sign up for this shit,” she demanded.
Hermes’s mouth dipped in an exaggerated grimace, but the laughter never left his eyes. “Is she always so… salty in the mornings? I’ll admit it’s a little off-putting. Why, just today, as she was dressing, she—”
Dailey’s low, furious growl raised the hair on her neck, and the next moment, he had Hermes by the throat pinned to the wall.
“Oh, leave off, Cowboy,” the Trickster drawled, as if he were strangled every other day and wasn’t worried about bodily harm. “It was all quite innocent enough.”
“He wasn’t there while I was dressing, Dailey,” she said, hoping to prevent bloodshed. “He arrived after I’d put the boots on.”
“Meh—” Hermes’s taunt turned into a gurgle.
Payton leapt on Dailey’s back and beat on his forearm attached to the hand gripping Hermes’s neck. “Will you knock this shit off?”
Her mind grew fuzzy, and her toes became uncomfortably warm as a pink glow illuminated the hallway. Although fearful of what she’d see, she glanced down at her feet. Sure enough, the crystals were all alight.
The room spun. Panicked, she released him and backed away. “What’s happening? Why do I feel lightheaded?”
Black dots started in her peripheral vision before her whole world went tits up.
With supernatural speed, Dailey dropped Hermes, caught Payton, and swept her into his embrace. His heart lodged in his throat.
She was so pale! He couldn’t remember a time when she’d been sick.
“What’s wrong with her?” he demanded, giving the Trickster a glare. “If those fucking boots did something to her, I will rip you apart and send you to Hell in pieces.”
Hermes appeared perplexed as he stared at her face. “Does she have low blood sugar? She skipped breakfast to get here before you blew your load.”
“Before I…” He huffed out a breath. “I left her coffee and—”
“Doesn’t matter. She was frantic.” There was no accusation in the God’s tone, merely a gentle reminder for Dailey to consider that perhaps his deadline had produced these results. “From not taking the proper time to consume a meal, she may simply be weak.”
With a shake of his head, he said. “I doubt it. She’s skipped meals before, and this has never happened.” He glared at Hermes. “As soon as I get her checked out, I’ll be back to discuss what exactly these fucking shoes can do. You’d better make yourself available.”
From nowhere, Tripp loomed large. “Making demands of my cousin will assure he fucks off to parts unknown. You’ll never find him again.” With a droll glance at Hermes, he added, “He’s a rebellious child at best.”
“You’re one to talk!” Hermes scoffed. “How many centuries did you run from your fated mate?”
Ignoring him, the demigod held out his arms. “Give Payton to me. I’ll take her to Elara and Florence.”
Dailey’s grip tightened involuntarily.
“Fuck off,” he growled. “Send a doctor here.”
Both gods smirked.
Dailey charged into his office, slammed the door with his heel, and laid Payton on the walnut leather couch she’d picked out for him when they’d first begun dating.
As angry as he’d gotten, he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of the damn thing.
It had been one of the first gifts she’d bought for him, and the day they’d spent searching for the perfect furniture piece still ranked as one of his favorites.
It was second only to the night he proposed and she accepted.
He grabbed the throw blanket, wadded it up, and stuffed it under her head.
Perched on the sofa’s edge, he brushed her hair back from her long, graceful neck and felt for a pulse.
Calm but strong, with no indication she was in peril.
Still, he didn’t love that she’d collapsed as she had. Payton wasn’t the fainting sort.
Most women weren’t, with the exception of pregnancy.
His stomach tightened, and he grew clammy.
Christ alive! He hadn’t thought to ask if she was seeing anyone. Maybe she had a new lover wherever she resided now, one she was serious about. Three years was a long stretch to go without companionship.
He would know.
He’d been lonely from the moment she crawled out that window.
Yes, he’d begun dating before the Hawthorne sisters’ spell ruined his chances at finding love again, and he was thoroughly pissed his life had been derailed a second time.
Yet those dates, while fun, hadn’t sparked the joy he’d once known, and he’d been left feeling empty.
Now, he had to ask himself, how angry did he have the right to be?
“No one has ever made me laugh like you, Pay,” he confessed in a whisper, unsure why he did. Perhaps speaking to her unconscious state was the only way he could reveal his true feelings these days.
“You, Payton Hawthorne, are like the wildfire I nicknamed you for, burning bright, consuming everything in your path, and leaving destruction in your wake.” Dailey stroked her cheek, marveling at its silky smoothness. “But Goddess, I miss you,” he added achingly.
Her lids twitched, as if she’d heard him, and he experienced another “oh shit” moment. It belatedly occurred to him that he was beginning to feel again: worry for her, anxiety on his behalf, longing for what once was.
But when did the happiness come? Hell, he’d settle for being content. Anything but this relentless fury. Was he never to have peace again without her in his life? Why couldn’t the Gods send him someone to love who would love him wholeheartedly, regardless of his pain-in-the-ass mother?
On many occasions since Payton had hightailed it out of town, Dailey ruminated on things he might’ve done differently. Rowan had been correct. His arrogance had been the wrecking ball to his perfect world. He’d just been too stupid to see it.
Self-reflection was a bitch. In the wee hours of the seemingly endless nights, he dwelled on all the “what ifs.” And when morning dawned, he was more tired and soul-weary than when he’d gone to bed.
Payton’s eyes opened just as Elara burst through the door, with Witchmere’s newest doctor, Hope Weatherspoon.
“What happened?” Elara demanded, shoving him as she tried to reach her sister.
He refused to budge, earning a disbelieving glare from her, a quizzical frown from Hope, and a soft smile from Payton.
“Dailey?” Hope prodded when he didn’t answer.
“She fainted after trying to pull me off of Hermes,” he stated gruffly.
“Hermes!” Elara’s gaze zeroed in on Payton. “What in the—”
“His fucking boots are back,” Payton said, as she shoved the hair out of her eyes and sat up. “He felt the need to taunt Lee—er, Dailey, and our police chief, who’s in a permanent bad mood, was triggered.”
“Do you mind if I examine you, Ms. Hawthorne?” Hope asked, setting her black bag on the desk.
“That’s not necessary,” Payton demurred with an apologetic grimace. “I’m fine. Really.”
Hope watched her for a moment, then addressed him. “How long was she out, Lee?”
Before respond, color surged up Payton’s neck and into her cheeks.
Hurt—dare he say betrayal?—flashed in they eyes she cast his way.
He answered her stare with a raised brow.
What had she expected? That he would remain a monk?
For the first time in all their acquaintance, her eyes dulled, darkening from her bright aquamarine to deep-sea green.
A witch’s tell.
Why did it bother him so badly? Shouldn’t he be feeling nothing?
“Miss Haw—” Hope began.
“Please call me Payton.” She offered a fake smile bearing no resemblance to her usual engaging grin. “But if you don’t mind, I have to go.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Dailey snapped.
His irritation with her stubbornness was rising, but he didn’t credit it to her so much as his curse.
However, he’d be damned if she was setting one foot out of this room without getting checked out first. “Let Hope examine you so we can discuss your charges from last night.”
“Charges?” Elara’s indignation electrified the air. “Are you talking about the trumped-up popcockery from last night, Dailey Knob?”
“Cobb,” he ground out.
“Really? Because Pay said you were acting like a total—”
Payton clapped a hand over her sister’s mouth, squeezing her eyes shut. “For the love of the Goddess, El, shut up.”
Elara knocked her hand away. “No. He’s not going to use his badge for nefarious means, all because you ditched him.”
“Oh!” Hope squeaked. Their previous dinner conversation must’ve finally clicked. “Ohhhh. She’s the one.”
“Okay, I’m taking control of this little runaway train,” Payton said as brightly as she could, considering. “Doc, other than a raging headache, I’m fan-fucking-tastic.” She turned to her sister. “El, I’ll handle my own messes this time, thanks.”
“What about bail?” Elara asked with a concerned frown. “Who’s going to get you out of the pokey?”
And suddenly it was all too much. The need to escape was upon him, to get away from the accusing eyes of all three women.
Dailey dragged on his beanie, shrugged into his coat, and sailed out the door.
He didn’t stop until he reached the festively decorated sidewalk sign outside Wily Witches Brew-Ha-Ha.
Yes, he could’ve conjured coffee and a bagel for Payton, but her underlying pain struck a matching chord in him. With him out of the room, maybe she’d let Hope do her job and figure out why she’d fainted. And perhaps Elara wouldn’t hex him with another year-long spell.