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“Oh wait, before you go! I have some info for your friend. About their shared dreams.”
I’d honestly been so caught up in Mona that the dreams we’d shared before we had sex in real life slipped my mind. “Oh?”
“I found some stuff about witches who have visions or portents through dreams. They’re called somnari. Though that doesn’t quite match what you described, since there’s no information about them having the power to pull others into their dreams.”
“Huh, okay. Thanks for looking into that.”
“Some succubi can move through dreams,” Mom adds, her matter-of-fact tone making me feel like an idiot for not knowing that.
“They can?”
“Don’t you remember when Maggie got grounded for entering her ex’s dreams in high school so that he couldn’t stop thinking about her? The poor kid ended up trying to break down our front door to get back with her.”
A thick lump rises in my throat. “That’swhy Brad did that?”
“Oh, I guess we didn’t tell you because you were too young at the time.”
I want to reach through the phone and strangle my parents for not teaching me about this possibility. I told Mona multiple times I wasn’t the source of our dreams. Was that a lie?
“Still, I’ve never heard of a succubus being drawn into someone else’s dream involuntarily. I suppose it’s possible that if a somnari got tangled up with a dream-walking succubus, that could explain your friend’s situation. Fascinating…” Dad trails off, getting lost in the possibilities and no doubt eager to dive into more research.
My mind reels at the revelation. That doesn’t explain what happened between me and Mona, does it? Unless she’s not fully human. No, that’s not possible. I would’ve sensed it if she’s paranormal.
Mom pulls my thoughts back to our conversation. “See you this weekend, sweetie. Can’t wait to meet Mona!”
* * *
It only takesan hour before the news about Mona spreads to my sisters, who flood my phone with texts from our sibling group chat. I groan as I check the latest influx of messages.
Maggie: I found her!
Samantha: Yesssss, send a pic.
A second later, a picture of Mona from her work profile pops up in the chat.
Claire: Aww, she’s so pretty!
Claire: What’s wrong with her?
Samantha: Yeah, there’s gotta be something up with her if she’s going out with a loser like you.
Max: There’s nothing wrong with her! Stop looking her up, it’s weird.
Maggie: Like that’s ever stopped me.
I almost choke when Maggie sends another photo to the chat. I’ve never seen it before. And yes, I know I’m a creep for checking out all of Mona’s social media profiles as soon as I learned her name. In the photo, Mona lies on a lounge chair by a pool, a wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses shielding her from the sun and her gorgeous tits barely contained in a tiny pink bikini top. She has an arm wrapped around her soft stomach and holds her other hand out toward the camera like she’s trying to stop the person behind it from snapping a picture. I wonder who that was? Hopefully, one of her friends and not one of her shitty exes. They don’t deserve to have a photo like this of her.
Samantha: Oh damn! She’s hot.
Samantha: You sure she’s set on you? Because Georgia and I broke up…
Maggie: You did? That sucks. She was sweet.
Samantha: Yeah, but now I’m available for Mona.
Claire: She’s a freak, too.
Max: What the hell, Claire? You can’t just say that about my girlfriend.
