Chapter Fifteen
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Tripp was tangled up in knots after Hermes imparted his knowledge and left. “Fucking Hermes. And fucking Trickster bullshit.”
“It’s a lot to process,” Elara replied.
“Your reincarnation and my idiocy?” Tripp rested his head against the back of the sofa as he stared morosely at the ceiling. How the hell had it come to this?
“Hermes said we must get it right because it’s our last of seven chances. But what is considered it ? Our relationship? We don’t have one.”
The ground rumbled, and Tripp recognized it as a reaction to his building irritation. Yet if he were honest with himself, he couldn’t say she was wrong. They’d never taken the time to form anything resembling a connection. “We’ve had them in the past and seem to be dancing around one in the present. I think that counts.”
“It’s not like any I’ve experienced,” she muttered, causing his annoyance to flare again.
“Now’s not the time to bring in your past losers,” he said, barely keeping his ire in check.
“Lovers.”
“Whatever.”
“Forget all that. What if we fuck it up?”
He snorted a laugh. Rarely did she swear, but her usage of the word “fuck” amused him.
“I don’t think the problem is you, Elara.”
“No, it’s us . Together,” she said. “And these stupid boots.”
“I did try to warn you,” he replied dryly.
“Oh, shut up.”
Her grouchiness was funnier than her swearing, and Tripp bit the inside of his cheek to hold back his laughter. He rolled his head to the side and watched her animated visage as she worked through best-case scenarios.
“Do I go as far away from here as possible? Would that save Witchmere?” she asked.
“Wherever we go, disaster will follow.” And the truth was depressing as hell.
“Not we. Me. With the boots.” She shifted to face him, expression bordering on desperation. “I don’t want you to get hurt any more than I want Payton and the rest of our town to suffer.”
Giving into his desire, Tripp stroked her petal-soft cheek. “I don’t know the answer, flitter-mouse. But I suspect running will only make it worse at this juncture. The mountain will blow unless we find a way to combine our powers and those of a few others.”
“These boots amplify my magic. That’s a good thing, right?”
She appeared so hopeful Tripp hated to crush her optimism, but he had no choice. “They do, but it’s amplified in a bad way. Nothing good ever comes from Trickster enchantments.”
“The question is, what will satisfy the spell?” She rose and poured them wine after offering him a drink. Returning, she handed off a glass and curled on the sofa beside him. “Lust, love, friendship?”
Sipping his wine, he considered the problem.
“I’ve offered all three over the years,” he said. “Individually and together.”
“Okay, so it needs something more. What haven’t you ever given of yourself?”
Commitment .
The word burned into his brain as if branded by another. He opened his mouth to reply, then snapped it shut. There was no point in speaking up and rehashing the fact about gods and mortals mixing. Elara had heard it before and wasn’t expecting anything from him.
He frowned.
She never had. Not in any lifetime before. Was her issue the lack of assumption? Did the Trickster want her to depend on Tripp? And how had her lack of faith in him altered his perception of what she wanted or needed in the past?
“What haven’t you given of yourself in return?” he asked softly.
She appeared startled, as he had when she’d mentioned it. Shaking her head, she said, “How should I know? I don’t remember any previous lifetimes. You’re the one who finds me, according to Hermes.”
Tripp sat straighter and shuffled through his memories.
“You’re right. You moved to Witchmere first, and I gravitated toward this area. The same happened with Elaina, élise, and the others.”
“Okay, that’s a clue, right?” Once again, her optimism surfaced. “There has to be a reason you find each incarnation of me.”
“Maybe.” But why? And more importantly, how? Was his attachment to her similar to a tracking device? “It makes me sound like a stalker,” he muttered.
Elara grinned.
“I want to kiss you so badly,” he confessed. “I’m going to lose man points by saying it, but I’m afraid if I do, it will cause a natural disaster.”
Cupping his face, she brushed his nose with hers. “I get it. No kissing until we resolve the problem of the boots.”
“Hermes sure knows how to torture a guy.”
She laughed and released him to gather their glasses, but Tripp caught her wrist and drew her back down, settling her on his lap.
“I’m sorry you’re caught up in this mess, Elara. If I could spare you and Witchmere, I would.”
“It seems I’m a sucker for pretty shoes in every lifetime,” she replied with a sigh. “It’s not your fault, Tripp.”
“No, it’s not. I’m blaming Hermes and my mother for their inability to consider another’s feelings or the lives of mortals.”
“Don’t. There’s no point. We’ll call a town meeting, tell everyone what’s happening, and arrange for them to leave Witchmere.”
“You heard my cousin. This half of the continent could be affected. We can’t evacuate that many people in so short a time. Where would they go?” Tripp was sickened by the thought so many would lose their lives. “I read a recent article about the bodies uncovered from the archeological dig around Mount Vesuvius. The pain and terror those poor fools must’ve suffered.” He shook his head. “All due to those boots.”
A shudder wracked Elara’s body. “I’ll admit, I’m terrified of fire and burning. I assumed I’d been burned as a witch in a previous life.”
“I imagine those emotions are leftover from the London fire.” He stroked her back. “I was beside myself with worry, but deep inside, I knew you’d perished.”
“Do you think the trauma and pain caused you to hold back in our future relationships?”
Tripp paused the light caress. Had it? If so, it seemed reasonable enough. Why fully invest his heart only to have it broken again?
“You may be on to something, flitter-mouse.”
“Why don’t you speak with Harrison Cobb? He may have insight for you.”
“He’s likely to curse me than cure me after the Rowen incident.”
Elara drew back. “‘The Rowan incident?’ Were you lovers?”
“No! You witnessed the hug.”
“Oh.” She rested her cheek against his chest. “Yes, well, the entire thing was fairly innocent, according to you. I’m sure Harrison will understand.”
One look at Harrison Cobb’s red face told Tripp the man didn’t understand a damned thing. His new therapist was still enraged all these days later.
Tripp held up his hands. “She hugged me, Cobb. I’ve got a strong suspicion it was to make you jealous, seeing as it was right outside your window.”
“And you happened to be there at that moment? The first available man she stumbled across and decided to use?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Tripp sighed. “It’s true. I was stalking Elara.”
Harrison’s blond brows clashed.
“Not like that!” Tripp added hastily. “She knows.”
Those expressive brows shot up.
“This, right here, is why I keep my own blasted counsel,” he snapped.
“Then why are you here today?”
“It was Elara’s idea. She seemed to think you could offer insight into my lack of commitment.”
Harrison frowned. “Lack of commitment to her?”
“Yes.”
“I’m afraid I’m confused. When she was here last week, she made it clear she avoided you at all costs. Not the other way around.”
Tripp grinned. “Yes. She’s a master at avoidance.”
“I need context.”
“Within thirty minutes of her departure, an earthquake shook Witchmere. Our kiss caused it.”
“The earthquake?”
“Yes.”
“I see.” Harrison nodded thoughtfully as he watched him with considering eyes. “How often do you experience these delusions?”
“Excuse me?” Tripp stopped just shy of clearing out his ear with his finger. Surely, he’d misheard.
“This belief you’re capable of producing earthquakes by kissing a woman. How often do you?—”
The earth rumbled as he jumped to his feet. “This is ridiculous!”
“Sit down, Mr. Nightshade,” Harrison ordered. “I’m having a laugh at your expense.”
“Not funny in the least, Cobb. Nor professional.”
“True, but it was a little funny,” the doctor replied with a smirk.
“Look, are you willing to help me or not? I have about forty-eight hours to figure this out.”
“If you’re causing the earthquakes, I suggest you stop kissing Elara.” Harrison shrugged. “Problem averted.”
“Except it’s not just kissing that causes it,” Tripp retorted.
“Well, don’t do that either.”
“I’m not… we’re not… it’s not…”
Again, the doctor smirked.
“More fucking shrink humor?” Tripp asked through gritted teeth.
“Yes.”
“I’m done here.” He rose, prepared to leave or level the building.
“I don’t know why you’re afraid to commit to her, Mr. Nightshade, but I suggest you examine your feelings about her and commitment.” Harrison stood and set aside his notepad. “I’m serious on this point. You and I can discuss this at length, and if it saves Witchmere, I’m happy to devote all my time to finding the root cause. But you need to do the work, too.”
“Where do I start?”
“How about the beginning?” Dr. Cobb was all business as he gestured to the sofa. “Have a seat and tell me about the first time you met her.”
Tripp tried to recall the day, but Elara’s visage was superimposed over Elaina’s.
“Nightshade?”
“Yeah, sorry. I was thinking about Elara of today.”
“How do the women differ?”
“She’s stronger now, although less sure of herself around me. Then, she was vivacious and outgoing. About ten years younger and full of possibilities.” Tripp closed his eyes as he envisioned Elaina. “But she was also less mature. She believed women were put on this earth for men to save them.”
“Perhaps they were at that time.”
“No. From the beginning, women have been the ones with the true strength. They birth babies, keep their family fed, and provide the love a man needs, all effortlessly.” He grinned. “Women let men believe they’re in charge, but a soft-spoken word and gentle touch make us putty in their hands.”
“And you’re putty in Elara’s hands?”
Was he?
“I don’t know. We haven’t reached the soft-spoken word or gentle-touch stage. We’ve been at odds over those cursed boots.”
“Cursed boots?”
“I should explain.”
Ten minutes later, Harrison looked shell-shocked by the information Tripp imparted. “And she can’t simply remove them? How does she sleep?”
“They come off at night but form a protective bubble so no one can touch them but her. Every morning, she’s compelled to put them back on.”
The doctor’s expression turned outraged. “Trickster magic is taking away her agency?”
“Yes and no. Yes, in that she’s forced to see this enchantment through. No, because she’s ultimately in charge of her fate. And all of ours.” Tripp rested his elbows on his knees as he considered how to explain. “Your brother was unkind to Payton, and Elara sent him running away with his tail between his legs. She’s powerful. More than anyone in this town while she’s wearing those things.”
“But if they are compelling her to be mean?—”
“They aren’t. Her life experiences are bubbling up, and she’s not taking any prisoners.”
Harrison appeared concerned. “Tripp, I can’t betray her confidence, but she has a lot of issues from this lifetime alone. Add in her experiences from the previous ones, and you may have a ticking time bomb on your hands.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. We have about forty-eight hours to resolve this mess. What am I missing?”
“What haven’t you given to her?”
The question caused Tripp to jerk upright. “She asked the same thing.”
“She’s clever. I’d be surprised if she hadn’t.” Harrison tilted his head. “What did you say?”
“Nothing. I turned the question on her.”
“What did she say?”
“She said she doesn’t remember and that I was the one who always found her,” Tripp said.
“And is she correct?”
“Yes. I’m a fucking moth to her flame, but I’m not sure why. What power does she hold that no other woman does?”
Harrison laughed. “If you figure that one out, I want to be the first to know.”