Striga Ch. 04

Authors Note:

This is the final chapter in the "Striga" series. The Italian you see Antony speaking towards the end of the story was looked up/translated from a free translation website. I checked and rechecked everything in Italian that is written in this story at least twice. If it turns out to be wrong, blame the translation site.

Also, I would like to say that your feedback, votes, and constructive criticism are more than welcome, and in fact, would be highly appreciated. I am open to suggestions. If you are new to reading the "Striga" stories, please check out the other three parts, as well as my other submissions on Literotica.

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Lizabeth sat chewing on the top of an abused ink pen while gazing out of the window next to her desk.

Just below her feet were two white plastic bags filled with books that she had acquired from the metaphysical store on 9th and Federal Street while on her lunch break. The woman at the counter had been helpful enough, suggesting new age reading and books on Wicca. The middle-aged woman seemed to be trying to sway Lizabeth from her selections on black magic and the Italian form of witchcraft that Rosalia had embraced as a girl. In the end, the woman's attempts were futile. She walked to the register with her blue gauze dress flowing behind her. The half smile she offered Lizabeth while handing her the credit card receipt showed obvious disappointment in the purchase choices. Before Lizabeth left the woman handed her a card and recommended that she come to some of the meditation and past life regression classes.

"I'll think about it." Lizabeth forced a smile and had humored the woman.

Lizabeth exhaled deeply and tapped the mauled pen obnoxiously on the desktop while thinking. Her coworker, Deborah, would have bit her head off for the annoying little action, had she been in the room.

"I suppose if she had a gorgeous man old enough to be her grandfather stuck in a mirror hanging on her wall, well, then maybe she would understand the urgency and persistence of my reading selections." She muttered sarcastically to herself while still thinking about the little dusty bookshop.

Absently she had fumbled through the books. Nothing even remotely resembling her situation jumped from the pages to catch her attention. She knew that any answers to be found would be uncovered either in Rosalia's journal, or by her own trial and effort.

The seven hours she had already sat at work were starting to take a toll on her. Things were not usually this slow at the office. She was a paralegal for a prestigious firm that, under normal circumstances in a metropolis the size of this one, the cases were stacked one on top of the other.

The uncomfortable laziness of the day had paved the way for Lizabeth to become nervous about her meeting with her new neighbor, Jarrod.

Coffee and a bite to eat was innocent enough, or so she kept trying to tell herself. There was no kidding herself when it came to her physical attraction to him. In a big way she felt guilty for accepting his offer considering that only hours later she was tangled with Antony between his bed sheets.

It's not like that was planned, she reminded herself. Jarrod's offer was accepted before she discovered how to get through the mirror.

Lizabeth slapped the desk top with her open palm followed by the frustrated woman rubbing her temples.

"I'm just going to politely tell him that I can't go tonight." Lizabeth reached the conclusion out loud.

Deborah rounded the corner and curled her upper lip at Lizabeth while glancing around the office.

"What are you talking about, Liz?" She asked while looking at her co worker as if she were either ignorant or insane.

"Oh...nothing. I was just reasoning with myself out loud. Don't tell me that you never do it." Lizabeth said curtly.

"No, I can't say I do. Not that often anyways." Deborah shrugged lightly. "Oh well. Don't let me interrupt or anything." She added while grabbing a file from the filing cabinet and walking back out of the office without offering Lizabeth a second glance.

Lizabeth mumbled under her breath, but in truth she was relieved to be in the confines of solitude once more. There was too much on her mind to share her attention with other people and situations that would only get in the way of her worrying.

The last forty-five minutes of the day were spent talking to a potential client over the phone and trying to convince them to come in for a consultation. After years of working here it amazed her that people still call at least twice a day thinking you can answer sensitive questions over the phone without meeting them and throughly discussing the legal matters at hand.

The cab ride home seemed shorter than usual as she fought with herself mentally, trying to come up with a good excuse to back out of her date with Jarrod.

"I'm really, really sorry Jarrod. I can't go out with you tonight because..." She sat in the backseat and practiced. "I can't go out with you because I'm seeing someone else." Pressing her lips together she imagined his response. "Oh...why didn't I tell you a few nights ago when you asked? Well...because we didn't officially get together until a few nights ago." Lizabeth shook her head and smiled weakly while still imagining the conversation. "Nah...I don't think you know him. You see, he used to fuck my grandmother when she was a teenager...but now that she's dead...he and I fuck. Oh wow! It's just one big fuckfest isn't it? Hope they fixed your phone. Buh bye for now!"

Lizabeth slapped her forehead as a flood of panic washed over her.

The cab driver furrowed his thick brow and shot her a disgusted look through the rear view mirror. He pulled up to her building and she handed him the money without waiting for change.

"Goddamned freak nasties." The wrinkled man said loudly enough for her to hear before driving off.

Lizabeth winced and her show white cheeks filled with the color of fresh rosebuds. Humiliated and utterly vexed, she entered her apartment building and got on the elevator.

When the elevator stopped, her quickened stride led her immediately to Jarrod's door. Impatiently she rang the doorbell. If Lizabeth was going to get this over with, it was going to happen right now before she had time to lose her nerve.

No answer.

"Dammit all to hell!" She growled before turning to walk down the hall to her own apartment in a flustering blur of black hair and fine tailored business suit.

Once inside, Lizabeth did not bother getting ready for the date. Instead she plopped down on the sofa and stretched out. Unintentionally her eyes found their way over to Rosalia's journal once more as it sat innocently on the coffee table. It seems the old book never had time to collect dust since it had arrived in Lizabeth's apartment.

The only new things that had been learned out of the book were that Rosalia, over the next couple of months after trapping Antony in the mirror, had actually tried to reverse the spell on her own without success. In the beginning, she explained being too ashamed to go back to Maria for help with the spell. When two months went by, Lizabeth did return to the elder striga's cottage to ask for guidance. Only to her dismay she found the little cottage was dark and barren. It appeared there was no one living there.

Rosalia had begun to trace her way back home when, in the small yard of Maria's cottage she noticed a mound of dirt with a small makeshift cross. Death had found her mentor before Rosalia could get the help she needed. Helpless and heartbroken, Rosalia was caught in her own wicked web of suffering.

Also stated in the journal, was that Rosalia was so ashamed that she only visited Antony once while he was in the mirror. She wrote that his anger caused her such great pain that she could never bear to look upon his face again.

Rosalia eventually met Lizabeth's grandfather and they married, though Rosalia secretly considered Antony the love of her life until her dying breath.

Lizabeth felt sorry for them both, yet she could not chose sides in the matter. They were two star crossed lovers that seemed destined for an ill fated outcome from the beginning.

While Lizabeth thumbed through the tattered pages, the phone rang, sending a jolt of shock through her.

"Dammit...stupid phone!" She growled while hearing her answering machine pick up.

"Hi...this is Lizabeth. I'm not available right now. Please leave a message and I'll return your call. Wait for the beep." She could hear the recording of her voice coming from the bedroom.

"God, I sound like a dork." Lizabeth muttered with a slight chuckle.

It occurred to her at that moment that if she could see her room on the other side of the mirror while with Antony, wasn't it possible that he could hear what went on in her apartment?

"Oh my god...that's how he knew my name." She sat with her mouth open for a moment.

A moment is all the woman had. The doorbell sounded it's little tune, sounding much like a small chorus of cathedral bells. Lizabeth jumped off of the sofa and sauntered over to the door.

"Hey..." Jarrod gave her a baffled look. "I see you're not ready yet. That's alright. I didn't get time to reserve us a table anyways, so you can take as long as you like to get ready." He flashed her that gorgeous smile of his while running a hand through his ebony hair.

"How in the hell am I going to do this? Better yet...how the hell can I refuse?" Lizabeth questioned mentally while offering him a weak smile.

"I'm sorry. I must have gotten caught up in the book I was reading and didn't realize the time."

"Oh great Einstein! You're doomed now!" Her consciousness yelled at her while threatening to flick her for being such an idiot.

"Are you alright?" He shot her an odd look.

"Yes. I'm sorry. I've had a long day. I stopped at your apartment after work and rang the bell but no one answered."

"I was out doing some shopping. Sorry I missed you." He said cooly.

"It's okay, Jarrod. I'm just going to go throw on some different clothes if you don't mind waiting a few minutes." She said with a sigh.

"No, not at all. Take your time, Liz." Jarrod nodded at her.

Lizabeth walked into her bedroom and began to fumble through her closet. It would have been nice if she had gotten her head out of her ass in the past few days and did the laundry. Everything she seemed to like was missing a top or a bottom.

She looked from the closet to the lovely antique mirror hanging adjacent to her bed. The little cherubs seemed to scowl at her as she stood there half dressed with a turtleneck sweater still covering the lower half of her face after pulling it overhead.

"You little buzzards." She growled while guilt stabbed it's little icy claws into the pit of her belly.

Lizabeth glanced at the oval looking glass once more and imagined Antony sitting on the edge of his bed watching her dress.

An image flashed in her mind of him sitting on the very edge of the little bed in his room, legs gaped open while watching her disrobe. His hands slowly pushing down the dark colored slacks that he was wearing the first night she encountered him. In her mind, his strong hand found the throbbing erection that had began to stand out proudly against the olive skin on his thigh. The other hand crept down his stomach to cup his scrotum as the other began to gain momentum. She imagined his mouth opening to emit a quiet gasp as little beads of his growing excitement leaked over it's swollen head. She could almost hear the sound of the moisture and friction with each imagined stroke. The delicious day dream ended with him stroking his thickness until he craned his head back, gasping sharply as milky streams shot in long spurts and trickled down the base of his manhood and onto his hand while the other squeezed his tightened jewels.

Lizabeth's eyes were glazed over as she reached behind her and locked the bedroom door. At this moment she didn't care how long the man in the next room had to wait. After all, he had said for her to take her time.

Lizabeth walked over to the mirror while pulling her arms out of the turtleneck and pulling it over her head once more, only to let it fall silently on the carpeted floor. It was not even dark outside at this hour, so there was no moonlight to open the portal between worlds. The heat that had collected between her thighs, unfortunately, could not tell time. Lizabeth ran her small hand over the surface of the glass while pressing her rounded breasts against it. The frigid glass made her draw back for only a few seconds as she regained her enthusiasm. Lizabeth's full lips brushed against the lips of her own reflection, her smooth pink tongue darting against her twin's in the mirror. She lifted one leg, propping her foot against the wall, beside where the ornate mirror was hanging. Her curious fingers felt through the soft black triangle of curls, which were now dripping with arousal. Lizabeth moaned softly as she traced her finger around the sensitive little area that begged to be touched. Another finger dipped into her opening as she began to push it in and out, still allowing everything to be in plain view for her lover to see in his prison. This was a promise to him. A promise of more wonderful things yet to come from their unions. Lizabeth slipped in another finger and the two became slick with her nectar. Whispering his name, she began to shove the two fingers in faster until her inner walls closed in around them, contracting as she felt her own flooding of pleasure.

Lizabeth let her foot come to rest against the floor again and leaned forward, pressing her cheek against the glass while her breathing became regulated.

"Bravo!" She heard a man's voice say suddenly from behind her.

Startled, Lizabeth spun around to see Jarrod standing in the doorway.

"Holy fucking shit! Oh my god...you asshole!" Lizabeth yelled at him. "I thought I locked that...I could have sworn I locked that." Her cheeks were on fire. She felt literally sick to her stomach with embarrassment as she stood there naked.

"It's alright. I have rather enjoyed the show." He walked towards her with a confident swagger.

"Jarrod...I believe it would be best if you leave. Right now would be good." Lizabeth continued to look at the floor. She had never been so humiliated in all of her life.

Jarrod ignored her request and walked up to Lizabeth, his hand reaching out in an attempt to touch the side of her cheek before she jerked her head in refusal.

"Now Lizabeth...you certainly should know that something that small isn't going to bother me. You think just because you were doing it for him that I'm offended or turned off?" He nodded towards the mirror.

This caught her totally off guard.

"What? What did you say?" Lizabeth blinked in disbelief.

"Oh come on. You think I don't know? All that powerful blood coursing through your veins and yet you are still not your grandmother's granddaughter, are you?" Jarrod smirked.

"Who...in the hell are you?" Her voice shook.

"I am someone very powerful, someone that can make things happen for you. You and I together with my knowledge and your natural untapped power...we could be unstoppable. We would have everything and anything we desire." He cupped her face forcefully between both hands and made her look at him while he spoke. "You really think that I just happened to stumble across you? Not likely. I don't even live in this building. It might explain why you couldn't find me this evening to back out of our date, love. I had been watching you for weeks. I felt the surge of power that the portal gave off when you crossed through it and it led me straight to you." His lips brushed against hers as he spoke. "Striga."

"Stop..." Lizabeth protested, but as she looked into the endless darkness of his eyes a feeling of utter calm washed over her. She seemed not to have a care in the world.

"That's right, beautiful. There's no need to fight." Jarrod reassured her as his thumb and forefinger firmly tweaked the nipple on her exposed breast. Kneeling slightly, he took one of her taut nipples into his mouth and caught it between his teeth, his smooth tongue flicking against it.

Lizabeth's arms remained paralyzed at her sides. In her mind she fought, though her body would not. Odd popping sounds echoed off the walls of her bedroom. It sounded like the resetting of bone and snapping of cartilage. The sickening sounds were extremely close and made a wave of nausea wash over her as she listened. As Jarrod released her nipple and slowly raised his head, Lizabeth tried to scream. He was something out of a nightmare. The dark eyes were the same, but the face was now twisted and horrifying.

"Oh...disappointed are we?" The demon smiled wickedly. "That whole image was something I borrowed from you. You should be careful what you wish for, Lizabeth." He hissed while his claw-like hands resumed exploring the contours of her subtle pale flesh once more.

From inside the mirror, Antony watched the man and woman in what would at first appear to be an intimate moment. Anger took a secure hold of his insides. This woman who looked so much like the woman that betrayed him now seemed to have been the apple that fell too close to the rotten roots of the family tree.

Antony turned his head momentarily, unable to watch as the man fondled her. She may as well have held a knife to his breast.

"Just to think, I was convinced that she was different. I finally could trust again and felt love." Antony thought while looking at the wall. Grabbing handfuls of his lengthy dark hair, he gritted his teeth and screamed with rage. Jumping to his feet, Antony rushed to the replica of the mirror that hung on his wall and stared at the two figures. Lizabeth stood there nude, as she had earlier when Antony had stood in his room and watched her. Only now she showed no evidence of trying to dissuade this other man from touching her body.

The enraged man stood only inches from the frame of the mirror while glaring at the couple. Clenching his jaw, the young man drew back his fist, and every ounce of bitterness he felt was released against the surface of the transparent glass.

"Tu cagna!" ("You bitch!") He screamed as he ferociously punched again.

Antony's fist bounced off of the mirror just as if he had struck rubber, this only adding to his ire.

The man stopped groping Lizabeth. Strangely she stood deathly still, not even batting an eyelash. The dark haired stranger glanced up at the mirror momentarily. It was almost as if he looked right at Antony. When Antony's gaze met the man's face he was immediately struck with terror.

"Don't far male Lizabeth! Tu mostro!" ("Don't hurt Lizabeth! You monster!") Antony screamed hysterically.

Antony began picking up anything and everything in his path and smashing it against the mirror. Even the oil painting of Rosalia was now only remnants of a portrait lying obliterated by his feet. Nothing was safe. He was determined to do whatever it took to rescue the woman he loved from the devil in her apartment. In one last ditch effort, Antony picked up a rickety old chair from the corner and shattered it against the mirror.

A hot, piercing pain shot through his forearm and winded him. He felt a rush of warmth trickle down his arm and fingers. A sharp fragment of wood from the chair protruded just below his elbow. Wincing, Antony took hold of the shard and gave it a quick jerk. The sensation jolted through his entire body almost making him vomit. Desperately he applied pressure to slow the bleeding from the gaping wound.

"Lizabeth..." He said helplessly as he looked at the two once more. The monster lowered himself onto his knees and buried his face between Lizabeth's legs while Antony watched from his prison.