Chapter Twenty-Six
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
That night, as Elara slept, she dreamed of her future, and beside her was Tripp. The vision gave her hope, and when she woke, it was with a fresh perspective, determination to find her parents, and a solid plan.
Tripp once again came through for her and presented a container of fire-bellied toad turds along with a morning latte.
“Gods, I love you!” she sighed after the first sip.
“You should. I spent the entire night looking for those little turds.”
She giggled. The image of him hunting up the toads and waiting for them to poop was freaking hilarious.
“Laugh it up, buttercup, but you owe me.”
“And I’ll pay up,” she promised. “ After we’ve soothed the savage beast, or in this case, volcano.”
“Don’t think I won’t hold you to it,” he warned, but there was laughter in his incredible eyes, and she wished she could get lost there rather than do what she had to.
“We need a location large enough to cast a circle. I think it will have to be either the back room of Wily Witches or the bookstore’s attic,” he said.
If Elara had a choice, she’d go with the coffeehouse. “I’m not sure I should tell Flo. I don’t want to open old wounds.”
“I’ll call the owner and see what I can arrange.”
That had been two hours ago, and the scrying spell had been surprisingly easy. It had only required a pin-prick of her blood.
Now, here she was, standing with Tripp and accepting his comforting touch as she gazed at an impressive twenty-million-dollar beach house perched atop the three-story high natural dunes, with a single sandy path leading to the beach.
Her parent’s home.
They’d teleported twenty minutes ago, yet she was locked in place, unable to find the courage to confront them. The two individuals who should’ve been her staunchest supporters. Who should’ve fought to keep their small family together, whatever it took. But who didn’t care enough to.
The outside of their home was decorated with twinkling white LED lights and varying shades of teal Christmas decorations. Beach-themed ornaments lined the silver garland.
Elara wanted to rip the freaking legs off the fake, bleached-out starfish and crack open the plaster sand dollars. Payton would have.
“My parents are in there,” she said for what felt like the hundredth time. Her throat felt thick and scratchy. She’d dug into online records after she’d located them, searching for anything to indicate she had the correct couple. They’d lived here for the past seven years and, with their money, could’ve easily found Payton and her. It wasn’t as if she and her sister had cloaked themselves as their parents had.
“I’m sorry,” Tripp said.
“For what? That my parents are selfish pricks?”
He kissed her temple. “Let’s hear their side of the story, flitter-mouse. Then you can shishkabob them over the open flames of Rainier if you want.”
Despite her gut-churning dread, she laughed. “That had better not be your calming influence at play, mister!”
“Nope. It’s my common sense and level head.”
His sparkling, dark eyes glowed with love as he met her searching gaze. It had been this way since their shared experience with the orcas, and theirs was a bond never to be broken.
“We only have today to discover the last three things the boots require,” she said. “We know this is one, but I can’t figure out the other two.”
“How about we scratch this off our list and clear our minds for whatever’s left,” he suggested.
“Good plan.” Inhaling a steadying breath, she considered the best way to introduce herself to people who hadn’t seen her since childhood. “What if they don’t recognize me? What if they don’t care?”
“It’s doubtful your appearance has changed to the point they won’t, and if they don’t care, fuck them. You’ll ask questions, demand answers, and say what you need to. The rest is, as they say, a bow on top.”
“Fitting, considering Christmas is next week.”
“I thought so,” he quipped with a wink.
“Your resemblance to Hermes is pronounced when you do that.”
Tripp dropped her hand. “That’s it. I’m out.”
Laughing, she chased him as he dodged to and fro.
“I’m sorry, you beautiful demigod!” she called out, too out of breath to play anymore. “I didn’t mean it and won’t ever repeat it. You’re way hotter than Hermes.”
Tripp pretended to consider her apology, then shrugged. “You’re forgiven.”
He caught her around the waist with one of those steely bands he called arms, swung her in an arch, and deposited her in the sand facing the ocean before kissing her.
“Dip your toes in the water, flitter-mouse. Recharge.”
“Yesterday, I worried if we knew each other well enough. Now, I fear you know me too well.”
“I merely see you as you are.”
“A hot mess?”
He laughed. “A little of that, but mostly as a woman trying to save her hometown and the people who have come to mean a lot to her.”
“I love you so much,” she said, fierce and proud she’d come far enough to voice her feelings. “So damned much.”
His grin practically melted her clothes right off.
“Okay, new plan.” She gripped his hands in hers and placed them on her butt. “We go back to your apartment and play ‘Pass me the salami.’”
His unrestrained laughter warmed her heart.
And she opened her mouth to tell him when a voice from behind him said, “I hate to break up a poignant moment such as this, but?—”
Elara screamed, sending Tripp over the cliff to hilarity. He hugged his stomach and brayed like a jackass. Having enough of his laughter at her expense, she hooked a leg behind his and shoved him. His tumble onto the sand didn’t shut him up, and she shot the newcomer an exasperated glance.
“I’m sorry. He’s—” Shock closed her throat.
“Hello, Elara,” her father said with a broad, loving smile. Beside him was her mother, looking as serene and beautiful as ever.
A golden couple, with their stunning good looks and light, shining eyes.
For the briefest of moments, she hated them. Never had she allowed herself to feel such an ugly emotion, and she’d been the voice of reason during Payton’s fiery rants. But seeing them standing there, without a care in the world and gazing upon her like they had a right to be proud as punch, helped her to understand her sister’s constant rage.
She’d drown them in the ocean behind her if she didn’t have a town to save and cursed boots to get the hell off her feet.
“Water, love,” Tripp said, capturing her hand and tugging her away. “Recharge and center yourself, or this will end badly.”
“Why do you say that?”
“The acidic purple air swirling around you.”
She glanced up. “Remind me to kick Hermes in the balls before I take off these boots. Maybe the pointy end will hurt that shitbag.”
“Count on it. I’ll take pleasure in his pain.”
“This is why I adore you, Tripp Nightshade,” she said, stroking her fingers along his jaw. “Thank you for being my staunch supporter.”
“Always, flitter-mouse.”
“Tripp Nightshade?” Her father’s expression became wary. “As in Enguerrand Nightshade and Brelenia of Messia’s son?”
Elara snorted and addressed Tripp, “I think we gave them a reason to bolt again, don’t you?”
“Give them a chance,” he urged. To her parents, he said, “We’ll be back shortly. Elara needs to replenish her water supply.”
“You make me sound like a fish tank,” she complained as they trudged to the water’s edge.
“If the artificial coral fan fits…”
“I take it all back.” She smacked his arm. “Hermes is the hotter one.”
Tripp laughed, grabbed her by the waist, and ran with her into the crashing waves.
Twenty minutes later, they were dried off and sipping tea on her parent’s balcony overlooking the Pacific. Tripp admired the view. Oddly, it reminded him of Messia, though the climate was vastly different.
“You have a lovely home, Mrs. Hawthorne,” he said politely.
“Thank you.” Mae was equally polite, but her smile bordered on dismissive.
“You look well, Elara,” she said. She shot a curious glance at him. “I’m surprised to see you two together, though.”
“Why? I’m not loveable enough? Not attractive enough for a demigod?” Elara asked.
Yes, she was chockful of attitude, but she had to be damned tired of people dismissing her.
Tripp certainly was.
He had experienced something similar when he was her age. As the son of a wily Goddess, he was tested frequently. And as the years passed, he’d proved his mettle, but Elara would have to do double the work to prove her worth. Regardless of intelligence, a woman had to have twice the resilience and fortitude. Tripp hated it, but in society’s eyes, it was still a man’s world.
“That’s not what I meant.” Mae touched her wrist. “You seem like opposites. You’re bookish, and he’s?—”
“Bookish,” Tripp stated coolly. Why did everyone find it difficult to believe he could be attracted to Elara? She was intelligent, beautiful in her subdued way, and caring of everyone. “It’s one of many things we have in common. I have a weekly standing order at the Never Too Many bookstore.”
“My mother’s shop.” Mae’s eyes misted. “How is she?”
“You’d know if you ever visited,” Elara snapped.
Mae sucked in a sharp breath.
Rupert leaned in, his expression forbidding. “Don’t speak to her that way, young lady!”
“What’s this to be, then, Dad? A clash of the Titans?” Elara sneered. “I can tell by your surprise you didn’t think Payton or I would find out what we are.”
His aquamarine eyes narrowed on Tripp. “Was this your doing?”
“Partially, but it wasn’t intentional.” He covered her balled fist with his hand. “Your daughter’s magic was enhanced by a Trickster’s, and the result woke her sleeping Titan and nymph cells.”
Mae pressed her hand flat against her chest as if shocked. Perhaps she was. Or she was the best actress alive. If her distress was a performance, it was highly believable.
Rupert surged to his feet, rattling the china tea set and serving dishes.
“If this is true, and you’ve transitioned, you can’t be here, Elara,” he said. “It’s not safe if your power has been activated.” To Tripp, he said, “Find a secluded place for her—off grid—and cloak it. For her safety.”
“Why are you acting like what I am is a horrible thing? Are you afraid all your bastard children will find you?” Elara taunted.
“Oh, Elara,” her mother cried. “You have no idea.”
“Then explain it to me.”
“There’s no time. You did a bad thing coming here, Elara,” Rupert said, but his scolding tone was at odds with the longing in his expression. Here was a man who loved his daughter, but in her pain, she couldn’t see it.
“Quickly, sir. Tell us what you know.”
“No. Go back to where you came from. Back to…”
“Witchmere,” Elara supplied dully.
“Go back to Witchmere, Elara, and when it’s safe, I promise you I’ll be in touch,” Rupert said, placing a hand on Mae’s elbow.
She jumped up, flung her arms out, and gestured to the sprawling three-story mansion. “And this is safe? A luxurious house on the coast, where anyone can find you? Give me a fucking break.”
Her parents remained tight-lipped and silent.
She’d get no more from them. Her disillusionment was heavy, and Tripp sensed her pain. Secretly, she’d hoped for a reconciliation but was crushed when she didn’t get it. He’d find a way to make it up to her.
After he climbed to his feet, he wrapped her in a tight embrace. Over her head, he met Rupert’s haunted eyes. “Twenty-four hours is all we have left to stop a catastrophic event. If you wish to save your daughters”—he nodded to Mae—“and your mother, return there. Soon.”
The dead-eyed stare Elara cast her parents chilled Tripp to his core. “Hundreds of thousands are at risk. Including those people you know and profess to care about. I won’t say it’s your family because you have none. Family doesn’t do what the two of you did.”
“Elara!” Mae gripped her husband’s arm. “Rupert! Do something!”
“Rupert,” Elara scoffed. “It’s not even his real name.” To Tripp, she said, “I’m going home to evacuate Witchmere if I can. You should go back to Messia. Please, save yourself.”
“No, flitter-mouse. If you intend to be at ground zero for the blast, I’ll stand beside you, holding your hand and looking into those gorgeous eyes. Your face is the last I want to see.”
Her face contorted in an effort not to cry, and he offered his waiting arms as comfort.
“Let’s go home, Tripp.”