Chapter Twenty-Four
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Tripp’s body was on fire, and he wanted his misery to end—until he heard Elara speak.
“Can we create a box or bubble to contain his power?” she asked. “The quakes are getting worse.”
“He’s coming round,” his mother said. “All will be well as soon as he wakes.”
“How do you?—”
He groaned and arched his back, connecting with someone’s hand. A deluge of water soaked him and the mattress beneath him.
“Oh!” Elara flushed. “Damn it! I was doing so well.”
“You did an excellent job, my dear. The skin has healed, and the rest is up to him,” Brelenia assured her. “He’s able to manage any residual pain.”
The rustle of movement woke him fully, and Tripp shoved back the curtain of hair obstructing his view in time to witness his mother hug Elara. Their affection was visible in the yellow cloud of their merging magic.
While he slept, the two had bonded as friends.
It didn’t bode well for him.
Elara placed a palm on his forehead, pronouncing him cooler.
“What happened?” He rolled to a sitting position and rested his hands on her hips to keep her from running away.
“Please stay, flitter-mouse,” he urged in a low voice, sensing her intent to bolt.
“A beast, posing as Archer Roche, scratched you,” his mother stated.
“Posing as… It wasn’t Archer? Are you positive?” The gargoyle had been identical to him, except for the rage-filled energy. Roche wasn’t prone to get overly excited. Neither was Bohdan, for that matter.
Large booted feet entered his periphery, and Archer answered for himself. “A rogue gargoyle, glamoured to look like me, and another to impersonate Bohdan.” He held up the severed heads, missing half their faces. Luckily, there was no blood or brains to leak out.
Elara leaned in and whispered, “Isn’t it weird the insides are solidified, too?”
Although not quite rock-like, what should’ve been liquid or jellied was solidified. “Yes.”
“It opens the door to so many questions,” she said with a glance at Archer’s crotch.
Fighting the urge to laugh, Tripp buried his face against her abdomen to hide his amusement. When Elara meeped her surprise, he chuckled. Her hands, gripping his head, tightened, but then she recalled others were present. Ever proper, she tugged his hair until they separated.
“Spoilsport,” he murmured.
“Behave, Enguerrand. Not all women wish to be mauled in the presence of others.” Brelenia sighed as if his bad behavior was the bane of her existence.
Elara’s fingers dug into his scalp, and he felt her urge to pull him close. “Oh! No! I don’t mind.”
The chorus of laughter caused her cheeks to flush in that adorable fashion, making him want to sweep her up and steal her away for eternity.
“Oh!” she chirped her distress.
Tripp gave her hips a light squeeze to gain her attention. “Ignore them, flitter-mouse. Concentrate on me.”
Her blush deepened, and through their physical touch, the images in her mind were transferred to his.
It was highly inappropriate considering the company of others, as was his sudden arousal.
“Everybody out!” he ordered, pulling her onto his lap to hide the evidence of his desire. “We’ll meet you in two hours at Wily Witches .”
Elara hissed his name. “They’re going to think we’re?—”
“Doing what I’ve wanted to do since I first laid eyes on you?”
He kissed away her objections. The action was like nothing they’d ever shared, and he was immediately lost in the pleasure.
“Enguerrand.”
Reprimanded like a schoolboy, Tripp broke away from Elara and sighed heavily. He rested his forehead against hers, and her fevered skin felt too hot against his.
“Damn it, Mother, I thought you’d left. Will you please go away so I can tell the woman I love how I feel?”
“I don’t take orders from randy youngsters. You’re barely out of the sickbed, darling. So, my intervention was for your own good,” she countered.
Elara’s lips twitched, and she hid her face against his neck. He had to curb an urge to laugh and groan simultaneously.
“Consider yourself the cold shower for my wayward lust,” he replied dryly. “Now, please , for the love of Messia, leave so I can speak with Elara.”
“Show your mother more respect, Tripp,” his father said, capturing his attention.
Tripp had been so preoccupied with Elara that he’d failed to register the number of visitors. His responding curse would’ve been savage, but luckily, she sensed the explosion and clamped a hand over his mouth.
“It’s okay,” she assured him, exchanging her lips for her palm. The kiss was tender and held promise, but it was tentative, too, as if she didn’t quite believe his declaration was legitimate.
“It’s not okay. There’s much to discuss.”
“Yes, but it can wait.” Her eyes shone with emotions to match his, but they held excitement, too. “I know how to neutralize the boots, Tripp. It’s like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, and I’ve had the power all along.”
“Then, let’s do it!” He nearly dumped her off his lap in his urgency to rid himself of her fucking footwear.
“It’s not that easy. I think it might be a drawn-out process.”
She killed his boner and his decent mood with two sentences. “Fuck.”
“Watch,” she said, sitting beside him on the soaked bed. It dried instantly.
He gaped, and she grinned.
“That’s my new party trick, but it isn’t what I intended to show you. Watch.” The jewels embedded in the leather lit up as she began listing people. With each name, a different stone flared brighter and then dimmed. All but two. “I haven’t been able to figure out those. That’s what Payton and I were confronting Florence about.”
Turning over what he knew about her, he shot a considering glance at his watchful mother. If she knew anything, she wasn’t saying, and he’d never get it out of her anyway. If one thumbed through the dictionary’s pages until they found “tight-lipped,” the first thing they would likely see was Brelenia of Messia’s picture.
Tripp looked at his father, who had yet to uncross his arms from the earlier scolding.
Movement in the corner caught his father’s eye, and Enguerrand the Second’s expression darkened. Following his sightline, Tripp’s gaze encountered Hermes. It seemed dear old Dad had yet to forgive the Divine Trickster for his part in setting off Vesuvius. Helpful info, that. Tripp’s father might be swayed to his side in the coming skirmish for supremacy between mother and son.
Careful to keep his expression neutral, he buried his deepest thoughts. Since Hermes revealed the mind-reading parlor trick, Tripp had understood why his mother was always five steps ahead of him.
“What’s next?” he asked them. “Do we have a resolution marathon planned for Elara?”
“Not a bad idea,” she said, leaning into his shoulder and providing a united front against his parents and Hermes. “Who is in charge of the stopwatch?”
“That would be those cursed boots and the volcano,” his father told her, but his stern visage had softened enough to give her a kind smile. “I suggest making a list and handling the easiest affairs first. Work up to the difficult ones, and you may find they won’t be as severe when you get to them.”
“Then that’s what I’ll do, Mr. Nightshade.” Her grin rivaled the sun in brilliance. “Thank you,” she said prettily. “Every little bit of advice helps.”
His father’s heart melted. Elara had no way of knowing, but Enguerrand the Second was once a scholar who loved dispensing advice and molding young minds. Her willingness to listen endeared her to him, just as it had Tripp, his mother, Hermes, or anyone who had ever encountered her. No one could hold out against her beautiful soul for long.
“You mentioned things and people from a previous timeline, my dear. How do you plan to tackle those issues?” his mother asked Elara.
“I’m not sure. But I suspect it’s not the people so much as the lesson behind the incident.” Five stones turned on and radiated a steady light. She looked to Hermes for answers. “Does this mean I’ve guessed correctly?”
“It does. I’d say your previous lifetime lessons were learned.” He winked. “Only six more items to go.”
“The ones concerning Tripp and I should be resolved. He said he loved me.”
“His deepest feelings weren’t in question. The only person he was hiding from was himself.” Hermes shot a pointed look at Tripp. “It’s the actions associated with the love that matters.”
“The commitment,” Tripp concluded, wanting to smack himself on the forehead. The duh moment almost laid him low. “But we’re determined to save this town. How much more committed can I be?”
His mother angrily threw her hands up and exited the room with her husband on her heels.
He scrubbed his hands over his face. “I’m too tired to figure out what I said wrong. A little help here, please.”
Elara took pity on him. “You had the first part correct, but the second isn’t about commitment to the town. It’s the commitment to your happiness and maybe someone else’s.”
“That feels more like selfishness to me.”
“Your mom wants to see you settled, Tripp. You avoid it for several reasons.” She ticked items off using her fingers. “Your past traumas. A rebellious nature. Fear of losing the next great love of your life?—”
“ You are that love, and yes, I fear losing you.”
Her insides turned gooey. “I fear losing you, too.”
Another stone put on a spectacular light show.
“We’re making progress!” Hermes was as giddy as a small child opening presents. “Keep going, kids! I—” He mimed a lip-zip when Tripp shot him a death glare.
“Talk to Harrison,” Elara urged. “Maybe bring Brelenia and your dad with you. Resolve a few issues. I need to find mine and do the same.”
“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with you wandering off on some quest alone,” Tripp admitted. His underlying worry was evident in the tightness around his mouth and dark, worried eyes.
“I’ll admit I do better with you as a mediator, but if I promise to take Hermes with me and keep my cool, would it put your mind at ease?”
“My mind will never be at ease with Hermes around,” he replied dryly.
“Ouch! I’m offended, cousin. Oops. My bad.” Halting his snarky dialogue, Hermes mimed a second lip-zip.
Elara lost it. Hearing an ancient deity use the modern term “my bad” was too much for her, and laughter bubbled up and out. Both men stared with wonderous smiles on their faces. The instant she sobered, they snapped out of the enchantment. Hermes frowned, and Tripp scowled. He must’ve realized what she had: their reaction wasn’t normal.
“What was that?” she asked curiously. “Why were you in a trance? The boots?”
“Actually, it may be the Titan-water nymph duo,” Hermes said, scratching his chest. “You cast an enchantment with your laughter, like you did earlier with your anger.”
“She did?”
“I did?”
Elara shared a worried look with Tripp. They were on the same page. “What does it mean? I can’t allow emotion to show, or I risk influencing people against their will?”
“Something like that,” Hermes replied grimly. “We need to speak with Brelenia and my father.”
“That’s a huge nope on your dad.” She shook her head and held up a hand. “Didn’t Zeus hate the Titans? Weren’t they a risk or something?”
“No, and yes. But that explanation is much too long to get into.”
“I’ll get my mother, Hermes. We’ll begin there.” Tripp rose and exited the room, leaving her alone with his cousin.
“I thought he hated the idea of you and me together,” she said, attempting to keep it light.
“With good reason.” Winking, he settled on the bed, tucked his arms behind his head, and closed his eyes. “I miss my life as Hex. Want to come pet my fur?”
“Oh, for the love of frog guts! What is wrong with you?”
“Too many things to list on those delicate fingers of yours,” he said with a laugh.
“Harrison Cobb would have a field day analyzing you. Maybe you and Tripp can get a family discount.”
One emerald eye popped open, and his lips curled with his amusement. “Don’t tell me there’s trouble in paradise now that you’ve proclaimed your love for Prince Charming.”
“Prince… Why did you call him that?” She settled next to him, with her back against the headboard. Staring morosely at her boots, she tapped the tips together.
“If you wish to go home, Dorothy, you need to tap the heels together,” he said dryly.
“Hush, you turd.”
“Turd? I’ve been downgraded from ‘Shitbag?’” His black brow shot up, and his resemblance to Tripp was more pronounced.
“A small downgrade. I’m still not happy you posed as Hex. Why did you?”
“I suspected Tripp would eventually find you. It’s the Fates’ design. And it was your last chance with my fabulous footwear.”
She snorted. “Tripp calls them ‘fatal footwear.’”
“He doesn’t understand the beauty of my design.”
“I don’t either. Why did you curse me?” she asked.
“They were never meant as a curse, love. They were to elevate your magic and give you the courage to act when needed.” He rolled onto his side and propped his head on his hand. Smiling, he touched the closest crystal-shaped amethyst dangling from a glittery purple lace. “I like your take on them.”
“What do you mean?”
“Every person who opens the box will see a different pair of shoes, depending on their mood. It’s a whimsy I built into the enchantment. As I did the sizing.” He grinned. “Don’t tell Brelenia I said this, but you have daintier feet. Her big boats are her vanity.”
“Shut up,” she laughed and shoved him. “They are not. She’s not vain in that sense.”
“Isn’t she, though?”
Because he sounded thoughtful, Elara considered it. “I don’t think so, but why don’t you explain it to me.”
“Her greatest vanity is the perfect image she always needs to create. The perfect family, marrying Enguerrand the Dull and producing a passel of children. The perfect oasis, Messia—where the weather is ideal all year, and the people never stop smiling. The perfect son, Tripp.” Hermes flicked her knee. “The perfect daughter-in-law.”
Unease settled in Elara’s breast. “Stop it. You’re stirring up your special brand of dog doo. You’ve been upgraded from Sir Turd to Sir Shit-stirrer.”
“I speak the truth. Always.”
“With a suggestive tone, as if you have a secret no one else knows.” She cast him a sour look. “And I suppose you do. You like to keep things close to your chest.”
“I’d like to keep you close to my chest. And other body parts.”
“See!” She poked his nose. “That right there. You’re a flipping troublemaker, Hermes.”
“What has you fired up?” His too-charming grin flashed.
“Maybe the fact that you posed as Hex, and I loved him. But now, I have nothing, and it sucks.”
Another jewel flared, and she gaped at him.
“You did that on purpose,” she breathed.
His impossibly green eyes turned somber. “I’m invested in the outcome, love. You’re Stormy’s sister, and she deserves a living connection with you.”
“She’ll always have it if she wants it.” Elara smiled, happy to see another issue crossed off her list. “If the results weren’t deadly, I’d recommend everyone get a pair of these gorgeous boots.”
He chuckled. “Maybe I’ll create a new prototype.”
“You’ll make millions.”