Page 12 of Beneath the Desert Bloom (Of Beasts and Bloom #1)

THE MORNING SUN crept through the blinds, falling across two women tangled in blankets on the pullout sofa, and one very awake dog, agitatedly prancing in circles like he was reliving a smaller, fluffier version of last night’s horror movie.

They hadn’t made it through the whole VHS. Just long enough for the mutant cannibals to make a strong impression. Whatever sleep they got was shallow, full of half-starts and twitchy dreams.

Nora groaned as she sat up. Her mouth was dry, her limbs heavy, her thoughts dulled by the lingering haze of booze and weed. She hadn’t dreamt of him, or at least not that she remembered. She was grateful for that, or tried to be. The quiet in her chest felt like both relief and withdrawal.

She tiptoed around the bed, careful not to disturb Lauren, who was starfished on her back, snoring softly, one arm flung over her face. Miso trotted behind Nora into the kitchen, tail wagging expectantly.

“Alright, alright,” she mumbled, digging out his food. “One scoop for you, one pot for me.”

As the coffee brewed, Nora crouched to fill Miso’s bowl and scratched behind his ears. “You little narc,” she whispered. “Might’ve been my only shot at a hot tub makeout, and you went full Cujo.”

Behind her, a loud snort echoed from the living room. Lauren flopped over on the sofa bed, a tangled mess of curls and blankets, blinking blearily toward the kitchen. “Tell me that smell is coffee and not some kind of desert hallucination.”

Nora smirked. “Only the finest drip. You want first pour?”

“I want to die,” Lauren groaned, dragging herself upright. “But yeah, I’ll take a cup while I do it.”

Nora handed her a steaming mug. “It’s probably not strong enough to exorcise whatever the hell was in that tequila, but it’ll keep you vertical.”

Lauren took a sip, then winced. “Jesus. This could wake the dead.”

Nora raised an eyebrow. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Lauren laughed. Miso hopped up beside her, tail still twitching, and she absently reached down to scratch his head.

After a beat, she glanced toward the sliding door. “So… we locking the doors from now on, or pretending that didn’t happen?”

Nora hesitated. “Both?”

“Fair.” Lauren took another sip. “Honestly, I was probably just high. That weed hit like a damn freight train. And this place… it messes with your head.”

Nora nodded slowly. “Yeah. It does.”

Lauren looked at her for a long moment. “You okay, Vale?”

Nora thought about lying. Instead, she said, “I think I’m figuring some things out. But I’m not crazy. Just… tuned in.”

Lauren sighed. “I’m still gonna worry. But okay. You’re the weirdest person I know, anyway. Wouldn’t expect your desert sabbatical to be normal.”

Nora cracked a smile. “Thanks, I think.”

The coffee was strong enough to peel paint. But Nora was already halfway through her second cup by the time Lauren managed to dress, brush her teeth, and get her sunglasses on straight.

“I’m just saying,” Lauren muttered as she climbed into the passenger seat, “if I end up in a newspaper article with the phrase ‘mysterious desert disappearance,’ you better make sure they use my good headshot.”

Nora snorted. “The one with the rose quartz and the raccoon tail?”

“Obviously.”

The drive into town felt almost normal. The sun was already blazing, not a cloud in the sky. Lauren queued up playlists with titles like Witchy Desert Vibes and Hot Girl Summoning Energy , and Miso barked whenever the bass dropped.

At the diner, the old bell jingled overhead as they stepped into the cooled interior. Nora felt the change like a pressure drop. The air-conditioned air, the sizzle of bacon, the low murmur of cowboy gossip. Safe. Or at least, daylight safe.

Gloria didn’t even glance up from the coffee pot. “Well, well. The prodigal witch returns. And brought a familiar.”

Lauren waved. “Hi! I’m the familiar. I bite.”

Miso sneezed like he agreed.

Gloria poured them each a mug and set down two menus without asking. “You both look like you saw a ghost.”

“Well, we did watch The Hills Have Eyes on VHS…” Lauren said.

“Oh honey,” Gloria said, pulling up a stool. “That’s not horror. That’s a cautionary tale.”

They ordered huevos rancheros and sat in the corner booth, sunlight cutting slanted lines across the cracked vinyl. Miso curled up under the table, tail twitching.

Lauren leaned over her coffee, voice low but pointed. “So, Gloria. You’ve known Nora since the late Jurassic. Has she always been like this?”

Nora narrowed her eyes. “Careful.”

Gloria smiled. “She came out frowning, if that’s what you’re asking. Stubborn as bedrock. Always acted like she didn’t need looking after.”

“Yeah, well,” Lauren said, “she definitely says she doesn’t. But she also lives alone in a possibly haunted desert house and responds to texts like a Victorian widow.”

Nora sipped her coffee. “One day without cell service and everyone assumes I’ve joined a death cult.”

“Maybe not a cult,” Gloria said. “But the desert’s paying attention to you.”

Lauren raised an eyebrow. “Which is why I’d feel better if someone was... keeping an eye.”

Gloria nodded. “Don’t worry. I’ve got her.”

Nora leaned back in her chair. “You’re both talking about me like I’m not here.”

“Oh, we know you’re here,” Lauren said. “We’re just not convinced you’ll stay that way.”

Nora rolled her eyes.

Gloria’s voice softened. “Just tell me one thing, baby. Are you in over your head?”

Nora didn’t answer right away. She looked out the window at the wavering horizon. The heat radiated. The sky was too wide.

“I don’t know,” she said finally. “But I think… I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

Gloria stepped away to drop their order, and for a few blessed seconds, Lauren was too busy buttering a tortilla to interrogate her further.

Nora sipped her coffee and stared out the window. The desert didn’t feel empty today. It felt poised.

Last night hadn’t been a fluke. He had been there. Not just in the dream, but real. Towering. Watching. Waiting.

And she had wanted him to.

The thought made her throat tighten, but not with fear. With desire.

Lauren’s voice broke the silence. “You’re thinking really loud.”

Nora blinked. “Sorry.”

“You get like this when you’ve already made a decision and you’re pretending you haven’t.”

Nora raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. You go quiet and weirdly poetic. Like you’re narrating your own breakup album.”

Nora laughed softly. “Maybe I am.”

Lauren studied her for a moment. Then, quieter, more sincere, said, “Whatever it is you’re chasing out here… just make sure you’re doing it for you. Not because of whatever this place is stirring up.”

Nora hesitated. Then nodded. “I will.”

It wasn’t a lie. She just couldn’t explain that he was what the place had stirred up. Or that maybe it had all been waiting for her.

Gloria returned with their plates, and the moment broke like an egg on a hot skillet. They tucked into the food without further interrogation…mostly. Lauren still eyed Nora over her coffee like she was trying to solve a puzzle with half the pieces missing.

They didn’t talk more about the night before. Instead, they made fun of the toddler in the next booth doing violent things to a pancake, and debated whether Miso could be trained as a familiar or was just born chaotic.

By the time they stepped out of the diner, the heat had sharpened. Nora squinted against it as they walked to the car. Miso refused to touch the asphalt and had to be carried like royalty.

As they drove back toward the house, the late-morning heat had taken on a syrupy thickness, slowing everything down. Lauren rolled down the window halfway, elbow resting on the frame, sunglasses tilted just enough to let her side-eye Nora between sentences of a story about her last art show.

Nora only half-listened. The desert flickered outside, boulders like bones, brush like brittle lace. It felt like they were moving through a painting of the world, not the world itself. Unreal. Thin around the edges.

“You’re doing that thing again,” Lauren said, voice mild.

“What thing?”

“Smiling like you’ve got a secret. It’s unsettling.”

Nora just smiled and turned up the radio.

Back at the house, the energy had shifted. Lauren packed slowly, her expression softening as she moved through the space like she didn’t want to leave something unfinished. Miso paced near the door, sniffing at every corner.

When it was time to go, Nora stood barefoot on the porch, watching her friend hoist her bag into the backseat. The desert wind lifted Lauren’s curls, made her hat flap once before she stuffed it into the car.

“I’m gonna worry about you,” Lauren said, leaning in for a hug. “That’s my job.”

Nora hugged her back, tight. “I know.”

They pulled apart. Lauren gave her a last once-over. “If you decide to go full desert shaman or whatever, at least send me cool rocks in the mail.”

“I’ll write cryptic poems on them. In goat’s blood.”

“Perfect.” She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Just take care, okay?”

Nora nodded. “I will.”

Miso barked once from the passenger seat, then curled into a dramatic ball as Lauren started the car and pulled away, dust curling up in her wake.

Later, after Lauren left, the silence folded in again. It didn’t feel oppressive. It felt anticipatory. Like the house itself knew what came next.

Nora stood at the window as the sky began its slow lean into evening. The horizon trembled with heat. Somewhere beyond it, she could almost feel his breath stir the air.

The obsidian stone on the sill caught the light, just for a second, flashing like a signal.

She reached for it.

He was still out there. She could feel it. Like a string taut between her ribs, pulling just slightly toward the dark curve of the hills.

She didn’t want to wait anymore.

Not for signs. Not for dreams.

Tomorrow, she’d go.