Page 71 of Wicked Witchmas: Elara & Tripp

“I believe you,” she found herself saying. “But if it wasn’t Archer, who was it?”

The Goddess sent Hermes a commanding glance. “Find out, please.”

“On it.”

Then, she was alone with Tripp’s mother, suddenly terrified.

“You don’t need to fear me, dear,” the Goddess assured her as she removed her overcoat and rolled her sleeves. It belatedly occurred to Elara that the outfit blended with those worn by the townsfolk. No one looking at Brelenia would see anyone other than a classy, well-dressed woman.

“How often do you visit the mortal world?” Elara asked with a gesture toward the clothes. “And what can I find you to treat Tripp’s back.”

“Often, and nothing but fresh water, please.”

She ran to fill the kettle but halted when Brelenia’s hands covered hers.

“Not like that, dear. Utilize your elemental magic to conjure what I need.”

“Won’t it be easier to turn on the faucet?” Elara asked.

“Yes, but then the liquid won’t possess the special healing power only you, a water nymph, can create.”

All the cupboard doors opened, and an invisible hand plucked two five-quart mixing bowls from the upper shelves. They settled on the counter, ready to be filled.

“Place a palm over the opening of each bowl,” Brelenia instructed.

“Like this?” Elara centered her hands two inches above the lip.

“Precisely like that.” The Goddess beamed like she was the brightest of pupils. “Now, concentrate on your power. At first, it will seem strange. However, you’ll find the nymph cells within you differ from those of your Titan.”

“How?”

“They’ll be thirsty.”

Initially, Elara didn’t understand, but the more she centered herself and looked inward, the more aware she became of her body’s workings. There were two distinct forces within her, and after a few minutes, she isolated her nymph.

“I found it!” she cried, excited to have someone teach her and hopeful she might help Tripp.

“Excellent.” Brelenia waved her hand, and the French doors swung wide. “A snowstorm is brewing. Draw the moisture from outside and add it to the bowls.”

“I don’t?—”

“Concentrate, dear. Feel the cooler air. Sense the droplets in the clouds overhead.”

As if hypnotized, Elara felt her entire demeanor calm, and she closed her eyes, doing as instructed. Her body wanted to drink in the dampness to hydrate itself, but she stopped short of giving in to the gluttonous urge. Lifting her lids, she was shocked to see the shimmering water balls hovering just beyond her reach. She fumbled and quickly dove to recover them. When she straightened, she felt like a talented Cirque de Soleil performer and beamed in delight.

“I’m doing it,” she crowed, awed she could.

“Yes, my dear girl, you are.” The deep satisfaction in Brelenia’s voice caught Elara’s notice, and she sent her a sharp glance. But the only emotion reflected back was a pride similar to hers. “Now, guide the liquid to the bowls.”

Visualizing was the key to all magic, and Elara imagined the water cradled by the ceramic. For once, her spellwork was successful, with no fumbling or screwing up on her part. The liquid went right where she directed it.

“Very good, darling girl. Next, you will remove the impurities.”

Her dismay must’ve shown because Brelenia patted her arm. “I’ll guide you.”

A clock ticked in the back of Elara’s mind, making her hyperaware of Tripp’s slumbering form in pain. But his mother refused to be rushed, taking precious time to teach her the proper way to perform each task. When they were done, the Goddess gave her one bowl, grabbed the other, and then led her to the bedroom.

“Follow my lead. Scoop a bit of water up and slowly disperse it over his back. Like this.” After demonstrating, she nodded to Elara. “Your turn, dear.” She smiled after Elara completed her task. “Excellent. Now, scoop more, but place it on his back this time and hold it there. The consistency should be gel-like, contacting his skin from shoulder to hips.”

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