Chapter Seventeen
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Tripp Nightshade.
Seeing him spearhead the discussion to save Witchmere was eye-opening for Elara. Previously, she’d viewed him as something of a player, but if she’d bothered to consider anything other than those glorious shoulders, she’d be forced to admit there was much to admire about him. His many kindnesses to the townspeople of Witchmere were primary. Tripp never failed to wish someone a good morning or flash a genuine smile at the elderly residents as they passed. He held open doors and carried packages, too. Never once had he failed to resolve conflict if he stumbled across one.
Tripp Nightshade was a born peacemaker and leader.
“And he’d make a helluva lot better mayor than that cow, Mary-Alice Cobb,” Elara muttered.
“What was that, dear?” Brelenia asked, leaning forward. “Did you say something about a cow?”
Casting a panicked glance at the Mayor, Elara shook her head. “I’m sure you misheard, ma’am.”
“Hmm. Possible, but doubtful,” she said.
They’d been formally introduced thirty minutes ago, and Elara couldn’t help but like the woman. Although Tripp’s mother was a goddess, she was down to earth and kind, like him. Granted, the salty feelings hadn’t disappeared, and Elara didn’t love another person determining her fate. Yet a fifteen-minute explanation from Brelenia told her all she needed to know. Beside her was a caring mother, regardless of the fact she was a deity, and she only wanted the best for her son. Indeed, all her children.
How could Elara fault her for interfering? Especially now, the Goddess was involving herself in rectifying the situation and mitigating the damage caused by the boots.
But would their efforts be in vain?
She glanced at Hermes, surprised to find him watching her. The standard mischievous gleam in his eyes was missing, and there was a disturbing seriousness in its place.
“What?” she mouthed.
Humor caused the outer corners of his eyes to crinkle and his mouth to twitch as he fought a smile.
“Do you two have something to share with the rest of the class?” Payton asked with an arched brow.
Elara elbowed her into silence and sent an apologetic grimace Tripp’s way when he paused.
His wink allowed her to relax.
Never had she feared him in the past, but he was a demigod, and the Gods were fickle creatures. Sitting straighter, she realized she’d just put her finger on why she found it difficult to commit—and possibly why it was impossible for him to. She didn’t trust him to treasure her heart for the long run. But were his reasons reversed? Did he fear outliving her and suffering a broken heart due to his immortality? How awful to live longer than everyone else and continuously suffer loss.
Tingling started in her toes, spreading along the soles of her feet and sending warmth up her legs. Her breathing ratcheted up, becoming erratic as the heat within turned unbearable.
“Elara!”
Tripp practically demolished the coffeehouse’s private room as he shoved tables and chairs out of his way to get to her. Anyone with an ounce of self-preservation jumped up and cleared the path. The room turned into a kaleidoscope of color and sound, with all the shapes spinning out of control and conversations running together.
“I don’t feel well,” she confessed as he reached her. Raising a shaky hand to her forehead, she gasped when she touched her scalding skin. “Tripp?”
“Stay calm, flitter-mouse,” he urged, but the panicked look he sent his mother was at direct odds with his calm tone.
“Tell her, Florence,” Brelenia said. “Your granddaughters need to understand who and what they are.”
“What are we?” Elara gasped, not truly caring, as she searched for a water pitcher or anything cold to cool her burning body. Light flared inside an empty glass, and within the blink of an eye, the vessel was filled to the brim with ice water.
“Did I do that?” she croaked.
“Yes.” Florence circled the table, her expression troubled. “I thought I had more time, but listen to me, gel. The Hawthorne line?—”
“No!” Mayor Cobb leaped up and slapped her palm on the table. “They’re not prepared for the knowledge—or the gift.”
“Well, it’s happening either way, isn’t it?” her grandmother snapped. “True power comes from embracing her vulnerabilities and strengths, which is clearly what she just did if her body’s transitioning.”
“Transitioning?” Elara squeaked. “What am I transitioning to?”
“A Titan.”
Payton fumbled the glass she was offering Elara. After righting it, she glared at Florence. “A what ?”
“Titan,” Brelenia supplied with a sympathetic glance at Tripp. “I’m sorry, darling.”
Frowning darkly, he shook his head. “Don’t be. She needed to know.”
“Wait, what?” Feeling as if the meat of her body was cooking and peeling off the bone, Elara gasped and guzzled the water Payton had given her. With a pant, she gestured for the pitcher. “Tripp? You knew and withheld this information?”
Rainier rumbled.
“Elara, stay calm and listen carefully,” he urged.
“This is as calm as I get,” she snapped. “Somebody better start talking before I spontaneously combust and take that fucking mountain top with me..”
“You are the three-time great-grandaughter of Helios,” Florence explained, waving and refilling Elara’s glass. “Our line is ancient, as old as Brelenia’s, and just as powerful.”
“Who the hell is Helios?” Groaning, Elara emptied her third glass. “And why the hell didn’t I pay attention in school?”
“I’m not sure they taught things like Greek mythology where we ended up,” Payton replied.
“How would you know? You quit your sophomore year.”
“Elara!” Florence scolded, appearing disappointed in her retort.
Yet, along with the burning cells came a snarky attitude Elara couldn’t suppress. As her body flooded with magic, her mind twisted, and her heart hardened. Only a tiny part of her regretted her comeback, but she felt as if her compassion were being snuffed out.
“Why now? Why is this taking over my body, and how do I stop it?” she demanded, downing another glass.
“You don’t,” Brelenia said. “And the influx of emotions, good and bad, are normal. Don’t try to fight the transformation.”
Payton, ever Elara’s staunch supporter, grew enraged. “You knew about this and sent those fucking boots anyway? We’ll all be lucky if the mountain doesn’t take out half of the States in my sister’s condition.”
“That’s why it’s imperative she remain calm,” Tripp said, refilling Elara’s water as soon as she finished it. “And hydrated.”
“Why am I craving this much water? The heat?” she asked.
“Partially. I believe the other reason is your water nymph heritage.”
“What? As in mermaid ?”
Elara looked at Tripp in disbelief, and he didn’t blame her one bit. To find out one was descended from the Sun God, Helios, and was technically a mashup of Titan and water nymph would be a lot for anyone to process.
“Yes, as in mermaid, but without the tail.”
“This is a joke, right?” Payton pushed him out of the way and placed a palm against Elara’s flushed forehead. As soon as her sister winced and hissed, she dropped her arm and wrung her hands together. “She’s burning up. Let’s get her to the hospital. This fever can’t be normal.”
Tripp snorted. “Nothing about this situation is normal. But a hospital will do her no good. She’s mid-transformation.”
“Yeah, but what am I transforming into?” Elara asked. “You said no tail, but will I grow into a seven-foot monster with horns and cloven feet? Because it feels like the fires of Hell inside my skin.”
“Mother? Florence? Care to field this one?”
Neither of them had an answer and merely shrugged.
“Way to put her mind at ease,” Payton snapped.
Rainier rumbled, and he poured Elara another glass of water. “Careful, flitter-mouse. Yes, you’re flushed, but your physical appearance hasn’t changed, and it’s doubtful it will. This transformation is internal, which is why it feels like your insides are on fire.”
“When will it be over?” she asked.
“I’ve never seen another go through this, so I can’t say.” He glanced at Florence, who was suspiciously tight-lipped about her granddaughter’s dilemma. The longer it went on, the angrier at her he became. The Hawthorne girls should’ve been informed of their heritage when they were old enough to decide if they wanted their powers bound or risk turning.
Elara’s back arched, and her head dropped backward. A column of pure white light flew skyward from her gaping mouth, and her blue eyes iced over.
Panicked, Tripp turned to the one person likely to give him answers.
“Hermes? Is this normal?” Elara’s spontaneous combustion worry seemed more probable by the minute. And the damnable part of it was not his fear for others so much as he feared for her. Bearing witness to her pain but being helpless to ease her discomfort was killing him. “Please tell me what you know.”
“Not much more than you do,” Hermes admitted with a distasteful twist of his lips. “I’m sorry, Tripp. I wish I did.”
“Is everyone here saying they’ve never encountered a descendent of the Titans? What about you, Florence? This is your fucking granddaughter!”
“She’s never cared about anyone but herself.” Payton’s look was sullen, bordering sad. Her neglect by parents and grandparents alike was written on every line of her unhappy face.
“Will your father help, Hermes?” Tripp asked, willing to sacrifice whatever he had to if it assured Elara’s wellbeing.
“You don’t need my brother,” Brelenia said, shifting him out of the way to approach her. “Trust the process, Enguerrand. If she’s worthy, she’ll survive.”
“What?” His incredulous tone matched Payton’s as they hollered the word together.
“If the Gods deem her worthy, she’ll survive the transition,” his mother repeated calmly. Yet there was a tightness in the lines around her mouth and eyes.
“And if they don’t, everyone in Witchmere is doomed,” Mayor Cobb stated grimly. In fairness, she was always grim, but her comment was especially dire.
Dailey and Payton exchanged a look, and Tripp experienced a sympathetic pang for them.
Archer Roche rose to his feet. “I’ve witnessed the transition. Elara will come out stronger on the other side of it.”
“How long does this go on?” he asked. “What can we do to ease her suffering?”
“Not much longer. A day at the most. And nothing. It’s a test of the Gods, and she must endure to be worthy.”
Unable to bear another second of watching her convulse, Tripp gathered Elara close, careful to avoid the searing light. He’d offer her any comfort he could while she was withstanding the pain.
“I’m here, flitter-mouse. I’m here,” he whispered. “I’ll not let you go.”
With one last buck of her body, the light snuffed out, and she sagged within the circle of his arms. The boots fired up, and colorful beams exploded from the jewels. Beneath them, the ground woke, no doubt sending Richter-scale alerts across the country with the quake’s magnitude. Those attending the meeting looked wary.
“Is she causing this?” Payton asked. Fear caused her voice to tremble, but she lifted her chin as if she would take on the fire gods to save her sister.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “It may very well be me.”
What he felt couldn’t be called love, but Tripp cared a whole helluva lot. And he certainly didn’t want to live in a world without Elara to brighten his days. If it came down to it and his destiny was to do so, he’d place himself directly on Rainier’s lip when she blew.