In The Library Ch. 03

Over the next few weeks I found myself wondering exactly who the exotic demon girl was and what it all meant. Was there only one girl or was the one girl somehow able to shape shift into different bodies, and what did the presence of the birds mean? I could not keep clear in my head what had happened - I could not separate my memory from my imagination, my vision from my madness, my dream from my nightmare.

I took the opportunity to read through the rest of the journals, half afraid she would return while I was in the library, and half hoping she would. I had no way of summoning her and there was nothing in common between the two visitations except the chair and the alcove. Several times I sat in the same place but nothing happened. So like before, I began to think that I was the crazy one, and the family in the old papers was nothing but a coincidence, and her voluptuous body and then her long slender body were just products of my fevered brain.

What the newspapers did reveal was that Grace, the eldest daughter, had died young and in mysterious circumstances. I read that she had disappeared when she had just turned 22, and her body had never been found. Items of her clothing and a string of precious pearls had been found near the university clock tower, but no evidence of any violence was found by investigators, despite a huge reward posted by her father. An extensive search was carried out, which continued for many years, until finally the family accepted that she was gone and conducted a private funeral as closure. It was one of the great tragedies of the city.

And now, of course, more than half a century had passed and even if by some miracle she was still alive, Grace would have been an old woman.

Over time I was able to concentrate on my studies and slowly the girl in the library (I had resolved that she must be just the one demon girl) became as a dream. About one month after those wonderful milk drenched breasts had spilled their honeyed warmth into my hungry dreaming mouth, I was sitting at a small cafe in the quadrangle outside the library. From where I sat I could see the window of my alcove and could just see the chair, empty now, where my succubus had entranced me. The coffee was hot and spicy, the small cake crumbling in my hand. The book I was reading was a favourite of mine, many times read, yet it still captured my imagination and held me there for many hours.

The sun was warm on my back and then, all of a sudden, I felt a chill and a shadow edged onto the table in front of me. I realised it was the shadow of the clock tower and the sun had moved in a small arc across the sky in the time that I had been sitting there. And then I saw a spiral of swifts above my head, lacing through the sky like smoke, weaving shadows across the sky like a cloak, a many winged cloud of separate creatures acting as if one. As they spun above my head I could see flashes of white on the bellies of some of the birds, small stains white as milk and as white as cum. And as the darkness of feathers flashed through the sky I could feel the base of my belly throb and my shaft tighten, and my nipples grew stiff against the cloth of my shirt. My hand shook on the handle of my cup and the saucer rattled - she was coming, but this time, how?

A small group of the tiny birds dived out of the bigger cloud and rushed down the air towards me. Their small black wings brushed my hair and I felt a swirl of feathered wind about my face. The birds, maybe six or seven of them, fluttered to a landing on the table in front of me, and squabbled over the crumbs of the biscuit on the plate. I could see their sharp little beaks peck at the biscuit, and their alert black eyes dart their vision over me. Their feathers were glossy and black, so black they shone almost a sheen of darkest darkest blue.

And then with a sudden gust of wings on the wind the flock spiralled away from the table, and darted into the sky. I followed their dark shape as they flew beside the wall of the library, casting multiple rippling shadows onto the wall of the building. And suddenly the tiny flock, half a dozen birds, no more, flitted around the corner of the building and were gone. And then l heard the patter of running feet, and around the same corner came a small group of girls, maybe six of them or seven, but running and weaving so fast it seemed as if they were many more. But the girls were nothing like the young women who had come to me in the library - these small fey creatures seemed younger, tiny and graceful, slim bodies with no curves but with limbs like colts or small deer, delicate and graceful.

And their laughter rippled around the open space, their high pitched voices chattering to each other as they ran around the quadrangle. The girls were like a flock of sisters, all very similar but with subtle differences - some with long hair, some with hair in a bob; but always glossy blue-black hair flitting and flowing with their movement. Their faces were pale, dark eyes bright, lips full and red. Their movement was constant, swirling and dancing, their shifts and skirts flowing with their turbulence.

They seemed young, innocent and free, and it was hard to see how there could be relationship between them and the young women in the library. Yet they had to be the same, some incredible incarnation of the erotic demons who had drained me of my sexual fluids and fed from my vitality. The presence of birds followed by a fantastic visitation of human kind could not be a coincidence, and this time the presence was so bizarre and so unexpected that it could not be my mind creating the visions. These girls were too maddening for them to be my madness.

I realised then that the girls were spiralling their circle inwards around my table, yet this time there was no sex or scent in the air - it was as if there was too much innocence and the pure joy of playing in an open space. Had the deadness that I had felt with the older girls somehow nurtured itself into a joy for life? God, had they sipped so much on my life force that they now had energy to spare, and if so, how long could they last before they needed to feed again? I shuddered at that thought but at the same time wondered what the next feeding would be like. And then one of the girls touched me, and this time warm and soft, fingers lightly tracing my arm. So there was now warmth in in their blood, heat in their veins, and oh so obviously joy in their hearts. Some innocence somehow, thriving in a multitude of souls and just living for the pure joy of it.

But then there was a sharp tug on my hand, and sharp nails wrapped around my wrist. I was pulled to my feet and then all of the girls were jostling my body away from the table and over towards the window. And in the window I could see shapes moving, a figure in the chair and another crouched in front of him. For I could clearly see that there was a man in the chair, just as I had been there, and just as the hauntings had been there, there was a black clad pale girl, voluptuous and cold, blue lips (I knew they had to be cold and blue) suckling deep on his hot living cock.

Entranced, I watched the back of her head gently sway over his lap (as she had swayed over mine) and her hands caressed his chest and throat. Long talons clawed his neck and I could see his head arch back in impossible ecstasy and pleasure, and at the same time in a rictus of pain. Stunned, because this was clearly the girl who had plunged her tongue into my body, but who the hell was this guy?

Because as I watched her take her nourishment and him make his loss, I began to notice his clothes were from another era, decades back in time. It was as if time had twisted, and was paralleling the 1950's with today. For the man was dressed in a conservative pair of suit pants and look, there on the back of the chair, there hung a jacket. Her dress was no different than when she had taken me, but I now knew that she would always be dressed as from the 1920's, so her impossible presence made sense. But the man - how was I ever seeing someone from fifty years ago? Was this how she was surviving down through the years, taking and feeding every decade?

And what happened to each of her food sources - for I was coming to the horrified conclusion that is all I was - some life force that she would suckle and feed upon, what was going to happen to me? My heart thumped with the horror of my thoughts - God no, don't let the girls surrounding me hear my heart beat, they too will want to feed... I had to force myself away from the window, I had to make myself look away, to break the spell. And somehow get away from the girls in the courtyard, as my life depended on it.

I heard a giggle at my side, and looking down, I saw their sweet evil faces gazing up at me with the smallest curve of a smile on their dark lips. Fuck, are they reading my thoughts now, how the hell am I going to hide what I am thinking? Ahhh, shit, there must be something I can do to distract their vampire minds, give myself time to think, to escape, to run.

And they began to run, once again these little evil innocents began to run, dance, run. Fucking running... they can read every thought! And they spun and swirled around me, laughing laughing laughing mocking flocking feathers flying swirling whirling hair flying around their faces, arms flickering in the shadows, feet pattering on the stone, black and and white flashes in the light, shadows against the wall, shadows under the sun, sun light on the stone sun light on the wall white light no black no blackness no shadows on the wall just the wall just the stones only the empty glass empty alcove gone. Sunlight but no moving shadows. No darkness. No black no white. Gone. They had gone. And on the air one final high bright song note, sung note, high pitched girl note, sighing song throat note: "waiting, we'll wait, wait, wait..."

And I trembled. She would wait for me. But could I wait for her, my delirium dancing in my head, thumping through my heart, blood beating, the base of my belly aching. And, astonished, I reached down and touched the front of my jeans, come wet, sticky wet come, marking my jeans just as my come had marked her belly. A decade ago and a decade before that, she kept on feeding from me. I realised now that the man in the alcove was me, me then, me now. Circling, time was circling, and she was at the centre of the spiral, circling her dance around me.

So who the fuck am I?