Chapter 13: The Bath
The hug lasted until the grotto’s rhythm changed, the dripping water finding a new, slower tempo. Harley was the first to pull away, the raw vulnerability on her face smoothing over into her usual sharp-edged grin as if she’d just remembered who she was supposed to be. She cleared her throat, a rough, unconvincing sound.
“Alright, enough of the mushy crap. We reek.”
As if summoned by the observation, Ivy emerged from the curtain of weeping vines, her expression unreadable. “The understatement of the century.” Her gaze swept over them, taking in their disheveled hair, sweat-sheened skin, and the darkening bruises from their earlier… activities. “You’re both filthy with sweat and… other things.”
Harmony felt a flush creep up her neck. The ‘other things’ felt like a brand.
“Follow,” Ivy commanded, turning without waiting for a reply.
Harley shot Harmony a look that was part apology, part challenge, and scrambled to her feet, pulling Harmony up with her. They followed Ivy deeper into the grotto, where the air grew warmer and carried a new scent—minerals and something ancient, like heated stone.
The path opened into a smaller cavern, dominated by a pool of water that steamed gently. The water itself glowed with a soft, milky blue light, illuminated from within by clusters of submerged fungi. The edges of the spring were smooth, dark rock, worn down by centuries of water.
Ivy stood at the pool’s edge, her back to them. She didn’t turn around. She simply raised a hand, and the vines went to work.
It wasn’t aggressive. It was efficient. Tendrils, cool and surprisingly soft, slithered up Harmony’s legs, coiling around the waistband of her shorts and the hem of her tank top. She stiffened, a gasp catching in her throat. She saw similar vines doing the same to Harley, who just stood there, arms slightly raised, a weird, resigned look on her face.
“Relax, bunny. It’s just the five-star service,” Harley said, her voice tight.
The vines pulled. The fabric tore with a series of soft, ripping sounds. Harmony’s clothes fell away in damp strips onto the moss. Harley’s followed, her fishnets shredding like cobwebs. In moments, they were both standing there, completely exposed in the eerie blue light. The air was warm, but Harmony shivered, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Get in,” Ivy said, still not looking at them. “The water has… restorative properties.”
Harley didn’t hesitate. She walked to the edge and slid into the pool with a soft splash, sinking up to her neck with a groan of pure pleasure. “Oh, hell yeah. That’s the stuff.”
Hesitantly, Harmony followed, lowering herself into the water. It was perfect—hot, but not scalding, and impossibly silky against her skin. The ache in her muscles, the soreness between her legs, the throbbing in her ankles from where the vines had gripped her—it all began to leach away into the mineral-rich warmth. She sighed, letting her head fall back against the smooth rock edge.
For a few minutes, there was only the sound of water lapping and their breathing. Harmony closed her eyes, the tension of the last day—the confrontation, the fear, the confusing rush of desire—finally beginning to unknot.
Then she felt a presence beside her.
Ivy was in the water, gliding toward her, silent as a shark. Water beaded on her green-tinged skin like dew on a leaf. Her eyes, in the aquatic light, looked like deep, still ponds.
“You’re marked up,” Ivy murmured, her voice a low hum that vibrated through the water.
Her cool fingers brushed against a purpling bruise on Harmony’s shoulder, a souvenir from being pinned to the ground. The touch was clinical, yet it sent a jolt through Harmony’s system. Ivy’s thumb traced the edge of the bruise, her gaze intense, analytical.
“Healing nicely,” she concluded, her hand drifting lower, over the curve of Harmony’s ribcage, where another darker mark stood out. “This one is deeper.”
Harmony’s breath hitched. She was hyper-aware of Harley watching them from a few feet away, her expression unreadable, her chin resting on the water’s surface.
“You don’t have to—” Harmony started.
“I know,” Ivy interrupted, her fingers splaying across Harmony’s stomach, just above the waterline. Her touch was possessive, a gardener assessing her prize bloom. “I want to.”
Her other hand came up and cupped Harmony’s jaw, tilting her face. Ivy’s thumb stroked the line of her cheekbone, a gesture that was somehow more intimate than anything that had happened before. It wasn’t about pleasure or power-play, not exactly. It was about ownership.
“The soil is accepting the seed,” Ivy said, her words meant for Harley as much as for Harmony. “See how she doesn’t flinch away?”
“I see,” Harley said, her voice flat.
Ivy leaned in closer, her lips nearly brushing Harmony’s ear. “You like the attention, don’t you? From both of us. It confuses you. It excites you.” She pulled back, her emerald eyes locking with Harmony’s. “That’s the most dangerous addiction of all.”
She released Harmony’s face, her hand sliding down her neck, over her collarbone, before finally sinking beneath the water’s surface. Harmony stiffened, expecting… she didn’t know what. But Ivy’s hand just rested on her hip, a cool, steady weight.
Then Ivy turned her head, finally looking directly at Harley. A slow, knowing smile spread across her face.
“Your turn.”
A thick vine, darker than the others, broke the surface of the water near Harley. It moved toward her, not with the efficient snap of before, but with a slow, deliberate caress. It coiled around Harley’s bicep, where a old, silvery scar—a familiar, wide smile—was carved into her skin.
Harley went utterly still. Her eyes, wide and suddenly young, were fixed on the vine touching the Joker’s brand.
Ivy’s voice was a whisper, but it cut through the steam like a knife.
“Let’s see if we can grow something new over this old rot.”
Harley flinched.
It was a tiny, almost imperceptible movement, but in the stillness of the spring, it was as violent as a gunshot. Her breath hitched, the easy comfort she’d found in the water vanishing. Her eyes, wide and dark, remained locked on the dark vine coiled around the pale, rippled skin of her bicep.
“Don’t,” she whispered. The word was stripped of all its usual bravado, thin and brittle.
Ivy’s expression didn’t change. She didn’t remove the vine. “It’s just a memory, Harley. Cellulose and chlorophyll are stronger.”
“It’s not a memory, it’s a billboard,” Harley shot back, her voice regaining some of its edge. She tried to pull her arm away, but the vine held fast, not painfully, but with an unyielding firmness. “And I don’t need your botanical therapy.”
From her spot in the water, Harmony watched, frozen. She saw the raw panic in the tight line of Harley’s shoulders, a vulnerability so stark it felt like a secret she wasn’t meant to know. This was the real wound, the one hidden under all the noise and violence.
“Then what do you need?” Ivy’s question was soft, a genuine curiosity cutting through her usual cool demeanor.
Harley’s gaze flickered from the vine on her arm to Harmony, then back to Ivy. The fight seemed to drain out of her, leaving behind a weary confusion. “I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice barely a murmur over the water. “Just… not that.”
For a long moment, no one moved. The vine remained. The steam rose. The glowing water pulsed around them.
Then, with a subtle rustle, the vine uncoiled. It slid back into the water, leaving a faint, damp imprint on Harley’s skin. The silence it left behind was heavier than its touch.
Ivy shifted her weight, the water sloshing gently. She looked from one woman to the other, her sharp features softened by the milky light. “The water will grow cold,” she stated, her tone practical, closing the subject. She leaned back against the rocky edge, closing her eyes as if the entire confrontation had been a minor distraction.
Harley slowly lowered her arm beneath the surface, her fingers going to the scar as if to check it was still there. She didn’t look at Harmony. She just stared at the shimmering ceiling, her jaw tight.
Harmony finally let out the breath she’d been holding. The warmth of the spring suddenly felt claustrophobic, charged with everything left unsaid. She sank deeper until the water touched her chin, the world outside reduced to a blur of blue light and shifting shadows.
“So,” Harley said abruptly, her voice forcibly bright. “Who’s hungry? I could go for a greasy spoon burger. Extra pickles. Hold the psychoanalysis.”
A faint, genuine smile touched Ivy’s lips without her opening her eyes. “You’ll have to make do with bioluminescent fungi and rainwater, I’m afraid.”
“Ugh, you and your health food kick,” Harley grumbled, but the tension in her shoulders had eased just a fraction.
They lapsed into a quieter silence, the initial intensity ebbing away. The hot water continued its work, soaking into tired muscles, washing away the grime and the lingering fear. Harmony watched the light play on the surface, the reflection of the glowing fungi dancing like scattered stars. She felt Harley’s foot brush against her leg under the water, a brief, accidental contact, but neither of them moved away.