Chapter Forty: Unholy Burn

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I sat alone in a room with Greta

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I sat alone in a room with Greta. In the corner a fire crackled and fought off the cold of the falling night, and in the distant rooms in the house, I could hear voices and thudding. Despite the warmth I didn't dare remove any of my layers. I didn't dare expose any more of my skin. It felt like too much of a risk.

There was a bowl of water on the floor beside the bed where Greta was laying. I pulled a wet rag from it and pressed it against her forehead. Through the cold fabric, I could still feel the heat coming off of her skin, but the heat of her body was even evident in the red flush of her cheeks and nose.

"You still have a fever." I said. "But I think it's going down. Imanthi said you were going to be okay, and you would feel better if you got some rest."

"You didn't need to make her come look at me." She said, "I'm fine. There are people who actually got hurt and need her much more than me."

"I care about you." I said. "It's probably not right, but you are the most important person to me."

"Judith—"

She grabbed my free hand and pressed it to her cheek. Where our skin met I heard hers begin to sizzle and I quickly pulled my hand away. On her cheek I could see the red imprint of my fingers on her pale skin. Tears pricked at my eyes, but I tried to swallow down the pain.

"Careful." I said. "You don't need anything else to recover from."

She largely ignored my words, instead staring up at me with a wistful smile and a distant sort of look in her eyes.

"Look at you Judith. So holy that trash like me can't even touch you."

I shook my head as my throat started to sting even more.

"Don't say things like that. You know it's not true."

She smiled up at me.

"Judith— let me kiss you please. Just once more tonight."

"You're just delirious from the poison." I said to her, "Please try and get some rest, Greta."

"I'm not— I know what I'm doing Judith. Please."

"Greta-"

"Judith, I love you. Please remember that." She said. She wrapped her fingers around my wrist, her skin this time protected by the thick fabric I wore. "No matter what happens from here on out, I love you."

I pulled away from her and sat the rag back down into the bowl. Something about the way she spoke sent a pang of sadness through my chest.

"Greta, why does it feel like you're trying to tell me goodbye?"

"I'm not." She said, "I would never. You should know as much."

"I'm worried about you, Greta." I said. "You're acting... I don't know... irrational and excited."

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