Summer Bliss: Book 1

Chapter Twenty Four

Parasita.

The constant presence that's been with her the last two weeks felt thick. Unlike previously, where she caught fleeting glimpses of her beast, Khalia found herself reaching out now. Fully expecting to glide her fingers between the coarse fur and awe at the heat that radiated beneath. To experience the rise and fall of Parasita's chest as she dragged her hands across her being. While the latter explored her with identical curiosity.

Realizing it isn't a dream, delicate touches turned deliberate. Their exploration became fervent desperation. When fur covered hands accosted her cheeks, Khalia sharply inhaled. Feeling more connected than they've ever been.

"I.... I failed. I didn't kill him. I didn't get to make him suffer like I have. Like they did. She gave him mercy he didn't deserve."

"We failed. Don't shoulder the guilt alone. We failed and we'll fail again. Worse than this, ten times worse than this perhaps. But eventually one failure will become a win."

Pulling, Parasita hugged the fragile version of herself. Who greedily accepted it while sniffling into her fur.

"Theo is dead. You're still alive. That's something you should celebrate. With or without me, celebrate your victories."

"When did you get so rational?"

A startling knock echoed in the cerebral abyss around them, flipping a switch. Khalia soon found herself in a brightly lit room with Parasita nowhere to be seen. Around her the room bore a boring beige, sprinkled with little furniture. A small square glass table with a chair tucked in the corner under a large window. Another chair sat oddly close to her bed. A black gym bag rests on top the table, clothes spilling out of it. She recognized the sky-blue tank top peeking out. Three bookcases took up the remaining walls.

Peering at the books she logged the strange titles, and their damaged bindings. Some were made of leather, and some looked oddly like scales. One had an eye etched into the binding and she swore it was watching her.

Fidgeting on the plush hospital mattress she squinted at the IV pole that stood bedside and at the strange iridescent blue liquid it held. The bag resembled a slow beating heart, making it more unsettling that it was flowing into her bloodstream.

Another rapid succession of knocks then the door flew open, clattering against one of the bookcases. Khalia didn't know who to expect, but it sure wasn't Mavi. Strutting inside the click of her heels danced off the walls. Her face was glowing, and hints of apricot wafted off her and her water wave styled hair. Smiling, Khalia tried not to swoon.

"Ah! You're awake! I believe that makes my prediction the closest. Pay up."

Face dotted with confusion she watched Mavi beckon to someone in the hall. A deep rumble replied, one that made Khalia straighten up. Walking into the room Diem slapped a few crumpled-up bills into Mavi's hand, grumbling about witches and greed.

"You insisted on this bet. Don't be upset my streak is better. Now you dear. Did you rest up well? Have any dreams involving me? Do tell."

She smiled coyly at Khalia, who returned it bashfully.

"Thank you Mavi. I'm feeling okay, I can't say I recall my dreams at the moment."

"Ah good answer. Wouldn't want to upset the only man here. "

Diem's gaze narrowed before it softened once finding Khalia. The knot that had tangled in his chest loosened. Muddled thoughts grew concise as he watched her chat with the witch. For days he paced the room waiting, hoping.

Shuffling over to the opposite side Diem sat down in the metal chair that he placed there the first day. The two quietly mused while they stared each other over. His disheveled hair and tired eyes, her bandaged ear and grateful expression. When he leaned closer, she caught glimpses of a bright red scar peeking out his shirt collar.