Hannah sighs. "Anyway, um… thanks for letting me vent all that. You don't have to agree with it. I think I'd like to move on to happier stuff, so…" She looks to Mero. "Ma'am, can I see your true form?"

"It would be my greatest pleasure, liebchen," Mero says. She steps back, spreads her arms, and becomes a black silhouette in the howling green storm of her own fire. Her shadow-self reshapes, growing horns and wings and tail, and with a snap of her fingers she banishes the fire to reveal her true form--with her favorite red gown in place of the black one.

"Holy shit," Hannah says, shaking, tearing up. "Holy shit, you're so fucking beautiful."

"Y-you really think so?" Merovingia asks, brushing her hair back.

"Of course I do!" Hannah says. "I…" She clutches her helmet against her. "All I've ever wanted is to be a succubus."

I seize up inside. I'm so scared I'm about to see Hannah's secret dream, the one so precious she didn't trust me enough to give me a single sign of it that summer night, smashed to pieces.

"Then you will be!" Mero says, darting closer and putting her hands on Hannah's. "I… dear girl, it's been such a long time since I got to help a mortal sister find her change!"

"It's not wrong if I didn't always know, if I didn't become a succubus just because I really want to be a succubus?" Hannah asks. "It's not wrong if I… if I needed to know succubi were real before I could say I wanted it?"

"Not at all!" Mero says, shaking her head. "Do you feel that you're a succubus already?"

"No," Hannah says, looking away--shy, but smiling. "But I think maybe that's just how I want it to be. I want to go on a journey. I want to have a story to go with my change."

"Then you will," Mero says, cupping Hannah's cheeks. Then, rubbing her head, she says, "for now, just start doing little rituals to keep me and Carrie in your thoughts, okay? That'll make it easier us to find each other in the dream realm. And by 'rituals' I mean anything--draw doodles of us or of your succubus self, seek out stories showing the kind of succubi you want… which is… probably mostly going to be hentai and Japanese visual novels, we haven't been treated very nicely in the western canon… anything that makes that little demon-girl in your head happy."

"It's that easy?" Hannah asks.

"It's always meant to be," Mero answers.

"Okay!" Hannah says, now quite literally vibrating with excitement. Wow, that's trippy. I know this is a collective lucid dream, but trippy is still trippy. It's also the cutest fucking thing I've ever seen in my life, though, so that balances out!

"Now, I absolutely hate to rush," Mero says, "but this trip is for Carrie. We need to get going for now so we'll have plenty of time to reach her father in his own dreams."

"Oh," Hannah says, frowning. "Yeah. That's a good idea. He, uh," she puts her helmet back on. "He's still alive. We actually got in touch and started texting, you see, after all the shit went down. But he's, um…" She picks up her rifle. Starts preparing it for action again. "He's not doing great, Carrie."

"That doesn't surprise me," I say quietly. "Daddy's made a lot of mistakes, but I never doubted that he loved his little girl." I clear my throat. "Well, thank you, Hannah. For catching us dream-sluts up on what's happening in the waking world."

"No problem," she says. "So, um… Tomas and I did talk about polyamory. He says he's happy as long as I do whatever makes me happy, and I know he means it, so…" She motions between the three of us. "Are we… are w-we girlfriends now?"

As the distant parts of Hannah's front-line fantasia begin to fade away, Mero and I exchange another glance, a knowing one, and step up to either side of Hannah.

"We are," I say from Hannah's right.

"Which means we must say goodbye the right way," Mero says from Hannah's left.

"So here's one for the witch," I say, and kiss Hannah's right cheek.

"And here's one for the devil," Mero says, and kisses her left.

As we blur away from each other in painterly swirls, Mero and I are treated to the sight of Hannah blushing beet red under her helmet while she stammers, "G-g-girlllllsssss…"

We drift together, Mero and I, in the blissful warmth of that remembered moment.

We drift for a long time until the sound of lapping waters heralds another lucid dream. We bump up on the shore of something huge and marble. Nearby, there's the sound of a chisel echoing over the waves. We stand up. My foot knocks into something that tinkles, clatters, and shatters: an empty whiskey bottle. Evan Williams. Daddy's favorite.

"And the dreamworld will be nothing but Carrie busts," I predict.

Mero, who's back in her human form, doesn't even try to go for the obvious joke. That'd be pretty fucked up to joke about, since within a few steps we can already see that I'm right: it's one failed attempt after another at marble statues of me. There's always something missing or messed-up: one eye not like the other, an ear knocked off, chips missing from the end of my nose. Sometimes, whole parts of my face are gouged away.

"So, this is your father recognizing that his daughter is dead, and he never even knew who she was," Merovingia says. "Therefore, his dreamscape becomes a tortured exercise in apology to a woman who cannot hear him--forcing himself to guess endlessly at the true shape of her now that she is no longer here to show it to him."

I stare for a few seconds. "Oh, yeahhhh! That makes total sense! God, you and Hannah are so good at this dream interpretation stuff."

Mero shoots finger guns at me. "Practice and loving your craft, my dear Carrie."

We find Daddy working on a fully-body statue of me where one side is uncomfortably skinny, almost childlike, and the other… okay. I'm proud of my bust size, and I'm not going to knock anyone for liking hyper stuff, but double Ds are more than enough to handle. I don't even want to know what cup size that is.

"Struggling to reconcile his feelings about you as his child," Mero explains, "an innocent and sprightly young girl he failed to protect, with the underlying knowledge that you had long since grown out of that childhood and become a woman who was, well… quite sexually ambitious, and proud of the body which helped her in it."

"Yeah," I say quietly. "That sounds like him."

Daddy's hands are bruised and he has blood vessels popping out in his grey eyes. His brown beard has gotten pretty shaggy and his mustache is frayed like, well… crazy. I don't think I've ever seen him wear a tartan sweater in his life, but he sure is now. And jeans. Daddy always liked cargo pants because they were practical. He doesn't fit into the jeans, and I guess that's probably part of his dream-deal too. His skin is all red around his waist and belly, where they're biting into him with pure tightness.

I don't know if we make a sound or Daddy just intuitively senses that there's something in his dream-space with him, but he whirls around. His eyes don’t pop. He's mostly looking through me. Hanging limp. God, he looks so tired.

"Carrie, please," Daddy says, holding out a hand to me. "Please don't do this to me again. I've… I'm trying so hard, Carebear." He rubs his eyes. "I'm trying so, so hard."

I take a second. Get my bearings. Look to Mero. She smiles at me and squeezes my hand, and that's worth at least five or six rehearsals worth of reassurance. I've trained for this, right? I've had lots and lots of practice to prepare me for this moment. It should be easy.

"Well," I say, "this sucks. I kind of need this to be about what's new with me and what I want, but I'm pretty sure that's what you want me to give you, and if I do that you're going to assume I'm only doing it because I'm not really here, I'm just another me that you're dreaming to punish yourself, because the real me would never actually give you what you want… which isn't true, and also isn't because you're a terrible dad and you hate me, although I bet that's what you're thinking right now, but the real reason is that the last time we really talked it was back when I was in high school and I was really rebellious, so the times I was most genuine with you were the times we had all our fights, but that was just because we were too afraid to trust that each of us wanted the best for the other…"

"W-what?" Daddy says, stumbling.

"Shut up, Daddy, I'm thinking," I say, knuckling my chin and walking back and forth. "I'm a witch and you're just a man. I'm better at this stuff than you." I frown. "Hm. No. That's worse, isn't it? That totally sounds like something I would say if I was just part of your dream. I… god fucking damn it, it's just going to keep coming back to the same problem."

I whirl around and face him. "Daddy. I am doing this to you for the first time. If you don't believe that, if you believe I’m only as real as the dream-mes, there's nothing I can ever say that will force you to believe otherwise. I mean…" I gesture. "We're in a dream. Technically everything here is dream stuff, including you. You're either going to have to want to believe in me, to believe what I'm here to tell you is true, or…"

I flop my arms helplessly. "Or you just won't. I can't change that, I'm pretty sure. I can do lots with magic, but I'm pretty sure just changing people's minds is really, really bad for them."

Daddy starts crying. He falls back against the big, freaky statue of the Duality of Carrie and slumps down, sitting and sobbing. I want so badly to just run up and hug him, but I don't feel like it's time for that yet. I think, if I do that, try to make him feel comforted when his dream-self is showing me he's not ready for comfort, it's just going to stop him from getting where he needs to go. "I…" Daddy says, "I don't understand. Please, Carrie… if it's really you, then just… just tell me something that will make me understand."

"Okay," I say, and take a deep breath. "Daddy… you're one man. You did some things wrong. You did some things right. But you can't change the world. You can't fight the world. You can't stop the world from turning, not just you by yourself." I look at the weird, ugly-pretty creepy-tragic statue of me. "And I think you already know that. I think you've known all your life I was never going to be happy in the world you know."

"Carebear, I..." Daddy puts his hands over his face. "Please just tell me what I could've done."

"But there isn't anything," I say. "Daddy, I meant what I said. I'm a witch. I trained for it. I studied. All those times I told you I was in my room reading the Bible, I…" No. Not yet. This is not the time to tell him I'm one of those witches. The ones who dance with the Devil. "I was practicing my spells," I say. "Learning to hear the name of the wind. I spent my whole Earth life doing that, and you know how much magic I actually had to show for it?"

I pull a chair out of nowhere and kick back into it.

"None," I say. "I'm meant to be powerful, Daddy. I've always felt it. I worked for it. You?" look at my hands, and the black lace hanging from them. "You're a mortal man, Daddy. 9-5 jobs aren't a death sentence for you because that's the world you belong in. But I think you know as well as me that I never did. And if I couldn't make that world a better place for me to be in, with all my magic, then what chance did you ever have? You were right, you know."

My own tears start to trickle. "You were right that, in your world, I shouldn't have been as… you know… open… with men as I was. It wasn't safe there. But that's who I am. As long as I lived in your world, it was going to try to destroy me. Either by making me use the little power it let me have, the power of my body and my energy and my mind, to work out other people's plans, live as a piece of someone else's system… or it was going to make other people use their power to punish me for thinking I could live free when they didn't."

"You're, uh…" Daddy says. "You're not talking like the others do. They usually just say the same thing over and over. But… God, Carrie… this…" He gestures at me. "This stuff doesn't happen. Ghosts don't actually visit us in our dreams, no matter how much we want it."

"Yeah, I know," I say. Mero steps up behind me and starts rubbing my shoulders. "Thank you," I whisper up at her.

She leans down and whispers in my ears, "You're doing wonderfully, my love."

"That's kind of the whole problem, isn't it?" I ask Daddy. "You're right. This stuff doesn't happen on Earth. It doesn't even happen to people who live on Earth… until it does. And when the whole reality you thought you knew changes, changes so much you can't trust your own eyes and ears or heart and soul to tell you what's real anymore… there's nothing that can teach you that trust again if you're not willing to let it. So, um…"

I try to give him a big, bright smile. It falls apart. Because this is really it. It sucks, but this is the best I've got. And it's either going to work, or I might just lose my Daddy forever.

"So," I say, sniffling, "you either have to decide that you really want to believe it's me, that I didn't die and I'm meeting you in your dreams because I want you to know it's okay, that everything turned out okay, or…" I fold my hands in my lap. "Or you just don't have it in you to trust like that again. Your hope's been broken too many times. I hope you'll choose to believe in me, Daddy, I really do, I want you to, but I can't make it safer than that."

A low wind stirs the sea between all the Carrie busts. Empty whiskey-bottles migrate under the cloudless, sunless navy-blue abyss of the dreamscape sky: like demasted fleets lost in the doldrums of sailless sailing. Drifting, whether they want or not, to the inevitable ends of the Earth.

"… what really happened, Carebear?" Daddy asks. I sag with relief. Oh, thank fuck. He wants to believe. Even if he doesn't right away, once we've had a few more dream-meetings, once he's had more time to think about the things I say and feel their truth for himself, he will.

We're going to make it. We're actually all going to make it!

"A portal opened up while I was lying in the shrine alone," I say, no longer holding back my tears and the hoarse, snotty sobs that always come with them, "and… and I knew I had to go through. I'm so sorry, Daddy. You did the very best you could, it just… sooner or later you were going to die, you know, and… and what was I going to do then? I have too much baggage and I want too much actual love to be a good trophy wife. I needed magic and mystery and mischief in the night, and I needed to believe it was real without having to defend my belief every step I took. How was I ever going to get that on Earth?"

"I, uh," Daddy rubs his eyes again. Pulls his glasses out of his pocket. Puts them on. "I guess you weren't, honey. I guess that was never going to happen." He runs his fingers through his hair. "Are you…" He looks up at me. Eyes pleading. "Are you happy?"

"Yeah, Daddy," I say. "I'm really happy. There are still worries and concerns and problems to deal with, but they're witch problems. I like dealing with witch problems. It feels good, since, you know, I am one. Merovingia and I--oh, Daddy, I guess now's the time to tell you. This is my girlfriend Merovingia. She's kind of my guardian spirit. I mean, she is a spirit, and she watches over me, so, yeah. I met her first thing when I went to the other world… our world, I guess. The one I belong in, if I have to choose between it and Earth."

"Hi!" Merovingia says, waving.

"Hi," Daddy says, waving back with a tired laugh. "I, uh… always wondered about that," he adds, shaking his head. "Those stories your mother loves so much… it always seemed strange to me how these men would go to Faerie, or some magical world, and they were so happy there, and nothing here on Earth ever pleased them before, but then out of nowhere they'd decide to leave these beautiful eternally-young fey wives and all this magic and guaranteed perfect joy to… what? Look at the same old planet they'd already given up on?"

"The kinds of people who stay on Earth don't want their stories to remind them that they keep making Earth a shitty place to live," I say. "Simple as that."

"So, then… all the other girls gone missing," Daddy says, eyes hopeful. "Maybe they're okay too. Just other places, like you are."

"I'm afraid most of them are probably dead, Daddy," I say, hugging him. "And that's another reason you can't tell people about this. It's too cruel. Folks already use the names of real dead girls to tell fictional stories. Make their families relive losing them over and over. But, on a happier note, Hannah's really sweet. Mero and I really like her. Look after her for us. If it seems like you're not as torn up over me being gone as you should be, well," I shrug, "you can always say it feels like, as long as Hannah's around, you still have a little piece of me."

"But in different words," Mero advises. "The words Carrie used will sound much creepier from a man than they do from a doll-eyed bimbo."

"Oh, yeah, of course!" Daddy laughs. "That goes without saying."

"Hey," I whine. "You're not supposed to just agree with Mero that I'm a bimbo."

"Do you not want to think of yourself as a bimbo?" Mero asks.

"I'm totally a bimbo, I just--" I trail off. "Fuck!"

They both laugh at me, but… that's okay. It's good laughter. I don't mind looking silly to let them have their fun.

After he stops, Daddy scrubs his head. Stands up. "Carebear, I, uh… I know we've been distant since you went to college, and I don't blame you. Your mother and I put you in this awful place. We kept telling you it was time to grow up, but the first thing a grown-up has to do is learn to trust your own instincts. Meanwhile, every time you made a decision we didn't like, we told you your instincts were totally wrong."

He puts his hands in his pockets--he's wearing cargo pants, now, and a blue fleece jacket. Nice, practical clothes. "I was going to ask if your Daddy can get a hug," Daddy says, "but I think I should just say that I'm sorry, and not try to pressure you just because I'm touch-starved, so--"

I knock the rest of the wind out of him, and any words he was going to say with it, when I launch myself into him and give him a big, tight hug. I actually have to dial it back a bit because I've gotten used to using my witch-strength to wrestle Mero, and even in the dream world that's a little bit much for an ordinary guy like my Daddy.

"I love you, Daddy, I love you so much!" I cry as he hugs me back. "I'm tired of fights and I'm tired of judging people and I'm tired of having to be sad and alone to be free. This is all I ever wanted, and you helped me so much more than you hurt me, so thank you, Daddy!" I smile up at him. "Thank you thank you thank you thank you!"

Daddy's not very resistant to positive reinforcement. He breaks down and squeezes me tight and just sobs. This is good. This how I really wanted this part of my life to close.

"So," he finally says. "My little girl's all grown-up, and… and a witch." He grins. "Like in Harry Potter."

I exchange a look with Mero that says, "Daddy hasn't read Harry Potter and he's too kind to read into all the bigoted subtext if he had." What Daddy means is to say "you're a witch who uses her magic to help people, who's kind and good and fights for what's right," because those are probably the kinds of takes on Harry Potter Daddy is thinking of if he's comparing the witches in those books to me.

I don't know about the fighting part, but at least I know Daddy is giving me a compliment--the words may be a little fucky, but they're earnest. So, that's how I answer them.

"In some ways," I say. "We can talk through the rest later. We'll have time!"

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Rider," Merovingia says, stepping forward and extending her hand. "Carrie has--pardon the cliché--told me so, so much about you!"

"Likewise, young lady, likewise," Daddy says, still hugging me with one arm while he shakes Mero's hand with the other. "Now, I know I shouldn't try to guess from accents, but are you, by any chance, some kind of German fairy?"

"I am the spirit who was associated with the shrine at Wildestur," Mero says, smiling, "so yes, I would say that is a very fair comparison to make. As with Carrie's unique brand of witchcraft, we will have plenty of time to talk you through the particulars."

Jeez, yeah. I don't know where we're even going to start on warming my Lutheran dad up to the whole reveal of, "Surprise! I'm dating a literal demon! We have sex in her private dimension above a giant chasm full of actual hellfire!"

For now, we just talk for a while. Catching up. Comparing notes. Each of us reassuring the other that it's real, this time, that our family ties are here to stay.

"Alright," I say finally, stretching, "being lucid is work, so I think it's time Mero and I started to head out."

"Okay, Carebear," Daddy says, hugging me one more time and shaking Merovingia's hand again. "Before you go, is there anything I can do for you? Earthside, I mean?"

"Hm," I frown. "You know what? Take some of the stuff I had written on my laptop about witchcraft, plus my angsty poems about being a sl--" I stop myself. "A sexually-liberated woman, and publish those. My password is "Carmilla", like the old vampire story. Just, if you root around in my pictures or videos, don't click on the ones that say 'porn.'"

I have to look away before I say this next bit. Even I'm not that shameless. This is my dad. It's weird to talk about. "Mostly because I'm, uh… I'm in some of those." I hurry on before things can get any more awkward, babbling, "Anyway, yeah, as far as publishing stuff, it's because a little pixie told me that apparently the Republican Party was exploiting my death, and uh… I'm kind of a socialist. I don't approve of them trashing my good name."

I point. "Don't say it's because I appeared to you in a dream, or even because you thought I would want it. Say it's because you're a grieving father and maybe it's not the right thing to do, but you can't stand seeing people inventing a version of me who didn't exist."

"I, uh," Daddy says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head, "I have to admit, that sounds like it's what my actual reason would've been, anyway." He smiles. "Okay, Carrie. I can do that. I'm sure there'll be some stink in the news, but hey… when is there ever not?"

"And Hannah!" I say. "Just going to repeat that to make double-sure you don't forget when you wake up. You have to look out for Hannah! Mero and I can't, you know," I nod from side to side, "actually do things, on Earth, so we need you to do what you can to take care of her. We really like her, and by 'really like' I mean 'we're her girlfriends too', so," I clap Daddy on the shoulder while he blinks his well-meaning way through the revelation of polyamory, "you better take care of her. I think her own parents are doing okay, but she deserves double love, so you have to give her the full princess treatment whenever you can."

"Will do, ma'am," he says, with a sloppy joke salute. Hey, no worries--Hannah can teach him how to do a properly good one!

One by one, the statutes and busts of other Carries begin to fracture, fall, or crumble into pale dust. Seems like Daddy's falling further into sleep.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Daddy says, yawning as the gentle darkness seeps in. "That girl, the one who was supposed to be looking after you as coven leader, whatsit… Amanda? She's been having nightmares, I heard. Really messed-up ones. She tried publishing them on her blog, but folks online said she was just profiteering off your death, gave her an earful until she stopped doing it… guess there is… justice in the world…"

And then he's gone--back to dreamless slumber, and to Earth. Just me and Mero here in the endless unseen: the liminal-space labyrinths of the darkness between all dreams.

"I guess we'll see, Daddy," I whisper to the quiet dark. "I guess we'll just have to see."

Long silence.

"Hey, Carrie," Merovingia says, with a sly look. "If your last name is Rider, and you're the witch who got past the Wall… does that make you the Walrider?"

It takes me a second. When I get it, I snort-laugh through my nose and fall over against her, rocking us around. "Oh my fuck, Mero, that was so bad," I giggle.

"Only the best-worst puns for my best-ever witch," Mero says, and kisses me. She clears her throat. "So, there's no rush, of course, but… have you ever thought of taking a witch-name? It seems to me like all this has given you the right to one."

I rest my head against her. Merovingia. My succubus. The demon of my heart--in time there will be two. Her and me and Hannah, together. It's going to be a hell of a good time! Just have to wait for the seeds to grow… oh! Hey! I think that gives me an idea!

"I am Harvest," I say softly, smiling because I know it's the right name. "For I am the reaping of whatever seeds others sow within me."

"Great gods of the old forest," Merovingia breathes. "Carrie, that's so strong."

"Hehe," I giggle, "thank you. And Mero," I add, taking her hands, "it was really sweet of you, but you didn't have to haunt Moonsilver's dreams for me. If she deserves it, she's beneath my notice. And if she doesn't, or it's just plain not helpful in the grand scheme of things, then I'd rather we use our power to teach her better instead of rubbing her face into her sins over and over until she gives up on trying to redeem herself of them."

"Oh, I'm not haunting her," Mero laughs. "Most likely she's just experiencing some well-deserved guilt." Her eyes glitter. She shifts back to her true form. "Look, you and Hannah may have forgiven her already, but I'm not convinced it's not because you're just such kind and loving girls. Still, I have not been torturing little miss Moonsilver in her sleep. The only witch whose dreams I'm interested in seizing hold of are yours."

She grows thoughtful. "That said… it could be some other succubus."

I shake my head. "Hey, I guess we'll find out if it ever becomes our business." I pull her in close. Kiss her luscious lips. "C'mon, Mero. Let's go home."

A quick dreamworld jaunt and I'm curled up in bed with the most beautiful woman in the universe.

I guess, every now and then, a witch gets her happily ever after, too.

~And the mythos forever unfolds~