Page 90 of Wicked Witchmas: Elara & Tripp

“You should be excited, Tripp. There’s only one stone left.”

“Rupert Hawthorne suggested it might be my issue, not Elara’s, and it got me thinking.”

“Yes, I thought I smelled smoke. Silly me, I thought it was the ash,” Hermes replied. Why not, when Tripp had set himself up for the dig?

“Do youwanta broken nose?”

Tripp’s visage lacked humor, and it wasn’t hard to tell his patience was at an end.

Tired of the game and worried about how close they were to complete annihilation, Hermes sighed and said, “Yes, Tripp. The final one is for you. Happy?”

“I’d be happy to drop those fucking boots in the volcano.”

“It’s highly probable something—or someone—else should go in,” he said lightly, providing the last clue.

Tripp inhaled sharply and failed to exhale.

“Breathe, man. You’re already mush-minded. We can’t have you lightheaded, too.”

The enraged reaction was expected, but the strength behind his cousin’s rage was a surprise. Hermes’s head snapped back with the first blow to his jaw.

Wrapping his meaty fist in Hermes’s sweater, Tripp shook him like a mangy mutt with a bone. “If anything happens to Elara, I’ll kill you.

“For the love of the Olympus! Get ahold of yourself, you animal! This is a two-thousand-dollar cashmere,” he scolded, slapping Tripp’s wrist. “And what do you take me for, anyway? I adore that adorable little sea urchin. Of course, nothing is going to happen to her. Not if you get your head out of your ass.”

After releasing him, Tripp sank onto the nearest chair and dropped his head in his hand. “How much time do I have?”

“Three hours.”

“Gods, I hate you. Why did you do this to her?”

“Her? Not you?” Hermes asked.

“Of course not me. I’ve been around longer than anyone has a right to be, but Elara, she’s never made it past thirty-five. How is that fair? Why shouldn’t she be allowed to grow old and have a full, beautiful life?”

“Why, indeed.” He wanted to tell Tripp he was close, but Trickster magic transformed over time. The last three hundred and fifty-plus years had made it unstoppable, giving the boots life. “You can sit here feeling sorry for yourself, or you can get your ass up to the summit. You know what to do.”

“You said commitment. But what you meant was a personal sacrifice, wasn’t it?” Tripp asked roughly.

“Yes.”

“Fucking fantastic. I’ll leave it for you to explain to Mother why her firstborn son dove into a crater of lava.”

Hermes rolled his eyes. “Do you always have to be so dramatic?”

“Too bad I won’t be around to see her strip the skin from your bones. I might enjoy that,” Tripp taunted.

“Better get going. It’s a long hike. I’ll give Elara your love.”

“You never quit, do you?” Tripp snarled.

“No, and neither should you.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

“Tripp Nightshade!”

He whipped around to see Elara charging toward him.

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