Drained: The Lucid by E.L. Blaisdell, Nica Curt Page A

table. She’d thought she’d been absent long enough that the conversation at the table would have changed, but Madison’s attention was still on the waitress with an apparent crush. Out of everyone at the table, she didn’t know why their waitress would be pining over her. Her companions were just as attractive, if not more. Cubare were generally confident in their appearance, but Riley wasn’t narcissistic enough to believe that her beauty was universal; if that were the case, picking marks wouldn’t have been a skill to be honed.
    Madison stared forlornly at the dismissed waitress. “It’s like looking at a sad puppy. Poor thing. Such a puppy,” she murmured. “I want one now.”
    “A sad waitress girl?” James interjected.
    “No. A puppy,” Madison corrected.
    Heather shook her head. “You’re not getting a puppy, Maddie. Remember what happened last time?”
    Madison pouted. “That was like decades ago when I was brand new. I can do it now.”
    “You lost it the first day,” James said, amusement in his words.
    “Mr. Blimpie didn’t want to stay inside.” Madison huffed. “He was claustrophobic.”
    “He was a puppy that wanted to play outside,” Heather deadpanned.
    • • •
    Riley stood in the backyard of the ranch-style home. The sky was overcast and rain fell down in a fine mist, dusting the hair and outfit that had taken her some time to perfect. Just beyond the kitchen window, she watched Morgan seated at the table, unaware of her presence outside. The woman’s thin shoulders rose and fell with a deep sigh. The ceramic mug cupped between her hands seemed to provide comfort, but not enough to consider abandoning the long cardigan she wore in these dreams. It was as if Morgan believed that no harm would come to her as long as she wore the sweater, her subconscious version of a security blanket.
    Riley observed the woman for a moment longer even though she was getting damp from the gloomy weather. She needed to know more about this mark. She needed to know how and why she was lucid. Why did Morgan’s dream default to the same dreary settings and why could she never phase directly into the home?
    The succubus walked around to the front of the house and entered through the door there using the spare key under the welcome mat. Not wanting to startle the lucid dreamer, she made no attempt to sneak inside and closed the door solidly behind her. The sound of Riley’s heels on hardwood clicked down the hallway as she made her way to the kitchen. Besides the rhythmic ticking of a grandfather clock, the house was silent.  
    “Why do you use the door?” Morgan asked, not turning her eyes from the back window. “I know it’s not necessary.”
    “I don’t want to be rude.”
    Morgan made an amused sound. “That’s funny, coming from one of you.”
    Riley stood close to Morgan, nearly hovering over the seated woman. She placed her palm against the cool glass. “Why is it always so dreary here?” she asked, staring out at the same scene. The outside gardens were cluttered with bright, vibrant flowers and lush green grass, but the constant rain made the view anything but inviting.
    Morgan turned her head and looked up at Riley. “You tell me,” she said. Tired, hazel eyes inspected the succubus.
    Riley quirked an eyebrow. “Is there extra water?” she asked, choosing to ignore the way Morgan continually deflected her questions and attempts to dig below her surface.
    Morgan nodded and turned her attention back to the window. “Help yourself,” she said, her voice quiet. “You know where everything is.”
    Riley walked to the stovetop and lifted the stainless steel teapot. Her lips pulled into a soft smile when she realized there was enough water left for one more cup. She opened a side cabinet and pulled out a mug before pouring the rest of the hot water into the container. She rummaged around the top cabinets for a moment in search of the tea bags. As she moved around the kitchen like