Page 53 of Wicked Witchmas: Elara & Tripp

“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 physicalappearance 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.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“Should we continue without them?” Brelenia asked, her eyes following her son’s departure. In his arms, he cradled Elara, and his worried expression spoke well for the resolution of their magical boots experience.

“What’s the point?” Mayor Cobb gathered her pad, pen, and purse. “Without the two primary instigators of this catastrophe, we’re dead in the water.”

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