Page 91 of Wicked Witchmas: Elara & Tripp

“Stay there, flitter-mouse. The fumes are toxic, and with your body fresh from a transition, we don’t know how it will react.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, and ignoring his suggestion to stop, she joined him on the summit. As she peered over the edge, she gripped his forearm, digging her nails in when she saw the bubbling lava. “Holy shitballs! Hermes said you intended to jump into the crater! Are you fucking insane?”

He almost laughed. Almost. Had the situation not been so dire, he might’ve. Fired-up Elara was his favorite, ranking right up there with Flustered Elara. With her cheeks flushed, eyes flashing, and fists clenched, she was prepared for battle, and it gave him a charge.

“I may be, yes,” he said.

“There will be no jumping into the volcano. Do I make myself clear?”

“Elara—”

“No! I mean it, Tripp. We have two hours left. We can figure this out.”

He gripped her shoulders. “Listen to me?—”

“No!” Her sudden onslaught of tears nearly took him out at the knees. “No, Tripp. Two hours. There’s still time. And look”—she pointed at the boots—“no light, so whatever you’re doing isn’t right.”

“It won’t light up until I go in.” He hauled her close, confident he was correct. “Hermes all but said it.”

“He’s a fucking Trickster! He probably wants you boiled like a lobster before telling you you’re wrong.”

Tripp laughed, surprised he could.

Elara smiled, and it was the sweetest he’d ever seen. “Besides, when I offered to go in, he told me a sacrifice wasn’t needed. He said, “It wasn’t as simple as that.’”

Tripp studied her earnest face. “Those were his exact words?”

“Yes.”

What the hell was he missing? Hermes was a master at using innuendoes for clues, and he’d told Elara about Tripp’s location for a reason. But what? The sulfuric fumes were getting to him, making it difficult to think.

Maybe the Trickster meant it wasn’t as simple as Elara going in, but Tripp was the sacrifice? Hermes had confirmed it when Tripp asked about personal sacrifice.

“What is personal to me?” he asked her.

“What?”

“If I said I had to offer a personal sacrifice, what would you think I meant by it?”

“You would give up something or someone you love.”

Her reply hit like a sledgehammer to the head. “Hermes is mad if he thinks I’d sacrifice you,” he said savagely.

Elara paled.

In the next instant, her chin came up. “Do it.”

“What?”

“Tripp, you have to do it. Toss me in.”

“Fuck no! You’re as crazy as he is if you think I will.”

Lava arched up, splashing over the side of the crater, and Tripp barely managed to shift Elara in time to avoid her getting burned. He held her in a fierce embrace, unwilling to do what was necessary to save them and the town below.

She struggled against his hold, freeing herself enough to touch his face and gain his attention. “We have to try this. I’m dead either way.”

Gazing up at him as she was, with her endearing face and wide blue eyes, Tripp recalled a popular Christmas cartoon. Without fail, he watched it every year, weirdly captivated by it since the day it aired. Now, he understood why. He couldn’t prevent his grin.

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