Chapter 6

The shadows welcomed me as always, bending to my will as I slipped through the veil between our worlds. I was becoming too familiar with this place—her place. There was something about Daphne that drew me in, an oddity I couldn’t ignore. Humans were predictable creatures, driven by fear, desires, or sheer stupidity. But she was… different.

I had to know why.

I slipped into her room, the dim glow of moonlight illuminating her grey-blonde hair splayed across her pillow. She was still, her breathing steady. Whatever dream she was having, it seemed peaceful—too peaceful for someone who had practically bound herself to a demon without even realizing it.

I reached out, brushing against her subconscious, expecting the usual: nightmares, dark thoughts, maybe even some twisted desires. Instead…

I blinked.

Was that… Mothman?

I watched, frozen in disbelief, as Daphne—my Daphne—was currently in a passionate embrace with Mothman. Not just any kiss, either. We’re talking full-on, tongue-deep make-out session with the cryptid himself, his wings fluttering behind him in what could only be described as blissful contentment.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose. This was not what I had signed up for.

Daphne’s fingers tangled in Mothman’s hair (or was it fur?), and she sighed dreamily, her voice breathy and filled with awe. “I always knew you were real, babe.”

Babe?

Mothman let out a strange, gravelly purr, his eyes glowing with what I assumed was affection. Or hunger. Honestly, I couldn’t tell with cryptids.

“You’re everything I ever wanted,” she murmured between kisses, pulling him closer. “Big, dark, mysterious…”

I stood there, baffled, as she made out with her wall poster come to life. This wasn’t a dream—it was a goddamn circus. I couldn’t decide if I was impressed or horrified.

A part of me wanted to snap her out of it, but another part of me—the smarter part—was morbidly curious. I mean, it wasn’t every day you saw a human locking lips with a cryptid. What kind of mind could conjure this up?

“Gods, you’re perfect,” Daphne moaned, running her hands along Mothman’s furry chest. “All those people said you were just a myth, but look at you. They were so wrong.”

Babe? I repeated to myself, incredulous. Of all the ridiculous, absurd fantasies she could have, this was what her subconscious came up with? Mothman?

Before I could wrap my head around this scene, the dream shifted. One minute, they were making out in the middle of a foggy field, and the next, they were sitting at a candlelit dinner table… at IHOP.

Because, of course.

She twirled a forkful of pancakes, giggling like a schoolgirl. Mothman watched her with his glowing red eyes, apparently content to sit in silence while she devoured her stack of flapjacks.

“Have you ever tried syrup before?” she asked earnestly, holding up the bottle as if offering a rare delicacy. “It’s life-changing.”

Mothman didn’t respond. He simply fluttered his wings again, which Daphne took as a sign of approval.

I stared, utterly dumbfounded. What the actual fuck am I watching? Is this seriously what goes on in her head?

I was debating whether to leave or stay when the dream world wavered and shifted again, growing darker. Mothman, pancakes, and syrup all vanished, leaving only shadows. And then… she turned.

Her dream-self faced me, blinking in confusion. “Wait. Who are you?”

Shit.

She shouldn’t have been able to see me. This was her dream, after all, and I was supposed to be invisible. But there she was, staring at me with wide eyes and a puzzled expression.

“Oh god,” she muttered, rubbing her temples. “I really need to stop drinking before bed. First Mothman, and now… this?” She looked me up and down, squinting. “Wait, are you… are you the hot dude from my sleep paralysis, or am I just hallucinating now?”

I stifled a laugh, more amused than anything. “Not quite.”

“Hmm,” she tilted her head, frowning. “I didn’t think my subconscious had enough creativity left in it to make you up. Damn, I must be tired.”

I stared at her, both impressed and confused. No mortal had ever reacted this way to me before, especially not in their dreams. “You’re… something else, aren’t you?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Hey! Don’t act like you know me, buddy.”

I couldn’t help it. I grinned. This woman was fascinating. “Well, you brought me here.”

She blinked, tilting her head in confusion. “Wait… what?”

The dream started to ripple, her subconscious finally catching up to what was happening. She took a step toward me, her brow furrowing. “Hold on… did I… make you?”

I chuckled darkly. “You wish, doll.”

“Stop calling me ‘doll,’” she muttered, scrunching up her nose. “I’m not your Barbie or some shit.”

The dream was beginning to dissolve around us, fading into fragments. But as I stepped back into the shadows, I couldn’t resist one final jab. “You’ll figure it out soon enough.”

She blinked, her confusion turning into annoyance. “Hey, wait—what the hell does that even—”

But before she could finish her sentence, the dream shattered, leaving her on the cusp of waking, and me standing over her, watching her stir in bed.

She’ll figure it out, I thought, smirking to myself. Eventually.

As I gazed around the room, the oddities I had sensed earlier began to make sense. Her cryptid posters—Mothman, Bigfoot, the Jersey Devil—lined the walls. Her bed was a nest of dark blankets, and candles were scattered everywhere. Her life wasn’t just filled with darkness; it was a deliberate homage to it.

Even her collection of antique books on the occult piqued my interest. Was this fascination simply a human quirk, or was there more?

I leaned over her sleeping form, the bond between us humming in the back of my mind. It was still strange, this connection. She shouldn’t have been able to bond with me—no mortal could do that without first exchanging energy. And yet… here we were.