Inkubus

"Sure you don't want me to park?"

Harper hated the way Evie was looking at her. With pity.

She'd been determined to salvage the weekend, but so far, she wasn't on the right track. She grumbled. Gripped the steering wheel. "It's a tight spot," she acknowledged, "but I've got it."

Evie nodded from the passenger seat, eyes wide like she was kind of afraid of her best friend.

After a couple of deep breaths, Harper re-aligned her car against the one in front of the spot, then managed to parallel park with only a couple of small adjustments. "See?" she said, though it almost came out as a snap. "Easy. Let's go."

Retail therapy. That was what she needed. It always helped. Whenever she had a bad day, she treated herself. A new blouse, shoes, even a purse if things were particularly bad, like the time she got rear ended. Today might be another new purse day, actually. Like a Coach purse day. It felt that shitty.

She checked her phone screen out of habit. "Stop it," Evie said. "It's not going to do you any good."

"I'm not expecting--" She stopped herself, shaking her head. She didn't even want to say his name.

She'd thought today would be her first full day as an engaged woman, not her first full day single in three years.

Fuck.

They'd gone to a different town, twenty miles out of the way, because Harper was nervous they'd run into her ex if they went to their usual haunts. But this downtown was smaller, and more crowded on a Saturday. They'd had to park a couple of blocks from the main strip, clip-clopping in their heeled shoes up a hilly street.

"You're better off," Evie said. "Seriously, I never liked him."

"I don't want to talk about him," Harper said. And the truth was, it stung to hear that, after all the years she'd spent with him. But maybe Evie was just trying to make her feel better. She'd invited Evie to come out with her today without even thinking about it, since they did pretty much everything together. But now she wondered if it had been a bad idea. She turned away from Evie's gaze, towards the shop they were walking by.

She stopped in her tracks, almost tripped in her shoes at what she saw in the window. "What the fuck?"

Evie stopped behind her. "What's up?"

Harper could have sworn she saw her ex in the window of the bookshop. Tall, dark-haired, wearing a button-down shirt and slacks. A second later, he went behind a bookshelf and disappeared.

"What's he doing there?" she said out loud.

"No shit, is he in there?"

Harper didn't answer, didn't even think of an answer, before she pulled open the door and went inside.

An old man, the picture of doddering grandfatherliness, stood at the counter. "Hello ladies--"

Harper ignored him and went to check the shelf she'd seen her ex disappear behind while Evie tried to make awkward small talk with the proprietor. "Sorry," Harper heard her stage whisper. "She's having a bad day."

He wasn't anywhere. There hadn't been enough time for him to disappear completely.

Great. So now she wasn't just single; she was also going crazy.

"Was there a guy in here?" she asked the old man. "Just now."

"In this room?" He shook his head. "No one in here but me, until you two came in. We have a few folks scattered in some of the other rooms."

"Other rooms?" Evie asked. "How big is this place?"

He chuckled. "Guess you ladies didn't find us on Instagram, huh? We went viral there recently. We're built out of the basements of a couple of different old businesses, including a bank. More books than I can inventory too." He absently scratched the head of a black cat that was curled up on the counter.

"Woah," said Evie.

Harper looked around. Even this one room had hundreds of books lining the shelves. She wasn't much of a reader, so she would never have thought to come in here, even if she had seen the Instagram post. She'd never realized how comforting the smell of books was, how well their pages absorbed sound and created a sense of calm that seemed to melt away all the tension she'd had before she walked in.

"All the new ones are in here," the man explained. "The rest of the rooms are all our used books, arranged as well as I can. We have so many it can get a little unruly sometimes. I've got rooms with children's books, fantasy and sci-fi, cookbooks..."

"Great." Evie gave her patented fake smile that only a few people knew was fake, including Harper. "Well, I think we gotta get going, so--"

"No," Harper said. "This is it. Retail therapy." A new Coach purse was suddenly the furthest thing from her mind. "I'll find something here."

"Here?" Evie seemed to be holding back a laugh. "Just 'cause you thought you saw..." She stopped herself. "Alright, girl. Whatever. It's your day."

Yeah. It was her day. Damn right. She bit her lip and looked around again. She had no idea what kind of book she was looking for, but she knew that she'd know it when she saw it.

Deeper.

She scratched behind her ear. Yeah, the old man had said this place was huge. Of course she wouldn't find what she was looking for in this first room.

"Come on." She grabbed Evie's hand and dragged her down a narrow hallway.

The first room, right on their left around the corner, was lined with chapter books for children. At first, she thought this might be the place. Her breakup had left her feeling frustrated and vulnerable. Maybe instead of new accessories, she needed something to help her tap into her childhood memories, a book her parents had read to her, or something like that.

She ran her fingers along the worn cardboard spines, reading the titles, trying to see if anything stood out.

"Check it out!" Evie eagerly pulled a book off the shelf. "Pippi Longstocking. I loved this book when I was a kid." She looked down. "Oh!" The black cat had followed them into the room and was rubbing its head on Evie's ankle. "He's super cute. She? Whatever." She bent down and petted the cat's back. "I thought this would be lame at first, but this place is actually pretty neat."

"Yeah," Harper agreed distantly.

Your future isn't in the children's section, a voice inside her seemed to say. It didn't sound like her at all, if she was being honest. It almost sounded like a man's voice, even followed by a deep chuckle.

When she'd gotten home from the restaurant the night before, she'd sworn off men forever. At least for a month. But now she was hearing a sensual male voice from out of nowhere that honestly, tickled something in her. So maybe she'd spoken too soon.

She could imagine the voice right next to her ear, even forming an invisible hand that pulled on hers. It was made of something gauzy, like smoke if it could be touched. The voice was smoky too. Go deeper, Harper. There's so much you've yet to explore.

Yes. Deeper. She took in a sharp, shuddering breath.

"Harper?" Evie finally noticed her best friend was staring into nothing. "You good?"

"Yeah. I think I want to check out the next room." Her tongue felt heavy, like it suddenly wasn't meant for speech.

"Okay. Call me if you get lost."

"You're not coming?"

Evie was already sinking to the floor, eagerly cracking open the copy of Pippi. "Girl, Mark would never stop teasing me if I came home with this book, so this is my only chance to re-read it. Plus, this kitty wants me to keep petting him, and I don't know about you, but I don't turn down a cat that wants to be scritched."

Harper thought about telling Evie that she was being ridiculous, that this was supposed to be a day for Harper to do what she wanted. But whatever. They weren't going to stay long, anyway. She'd check out a couple more rooms, see what she could find, and then they'd go. If Evie still wanted Pippi, she'd buy the damn book for her and keep it at her place. "Cool. See you." She turned and went back into the hallway.

Is she always like this? the voice said, and she swore that now, the invisible hands were on her shoulders, wrapping along her collarbone. It was so soothing that she felt warmth and a bit of wetness growing in her sex. So easily distracted? So quick to abandon you?

"She's my best friend," Harper found herself saying, without even thinking about it. She paused, waiting to see if Evie had heard her.

The voice chuckled. Sound doesn't carry well here. Too many books. Besides, she's very well distracted.

Yeah, that made sense, Harper thought. She had no idea why she was thinking things in a man's deep voice, but everything it said made perfect sense.

Every square inch of the walls was covered in books. It almost seemed to warp space and make it hard to figure out where the hallway walls ended and curved into the corner of another room. That combined with the horribly sexy voice echoing in her head were probably the main reasons why, a moment later, she blinked and realized she didn't know where she was.

No, obviously, she knew where she was. In the bookstore. But when she took a few steps back, there was no sign of the room she'd left Evie in. "Evie?" she called. The books might inhibit sound, but surely Evie could hear her name being called loudly. Or maybe an employee or another customer would come out and point her in the right direction.

Hadn't the shop owner in the front room mentioned something about other customers? She hadn't seen anyone else in here except for her and Evie. And of course, the cat.

Evie didn't come, nor did anyone else. "Hello?" she called again.

She turned in one direction, then another, trying to get her bearings. She pulled out her phone. It was kind of pathetic to resort to calling Evie when she couldn't be more than a hundred feet away from her, but her panicking lizard brain was starting to take over, and it was making her feel pathetic anyway.

Didn't matter. No signal. Seriously?

Harper had never had a panic attack before, and she wondered if that was what was happening to her now, as her breathing got shallower behind clenched teeth and a dry mouth. The walls seemed to be moving closer together. She swore there were more and more books every time she blinked. "Get it together, Harper," she muttered to herself. "Get it the fuck together."

Another dark chuckle again. This time it sounded far away, but rolling closer to her as it went on, like an unstoppable freight train. She pressed her back against a shelf as she felt the hands, holding her in place.

Relax, Harper, the voice urged, more soothingly than she'd ever heard from any man, including her ex. She felt hot breath on her neck. Her hackles fell, melted away like dripping wax.

For the first time since the breakup, she had the thought that maybe she really was better off without him.

So many awful intrusive thoughts in your head. The words seemed to be both spoken and written in black ink before her eyes. She could see the flourish, smell the ink, even hear it being etched as if from a fountain pen onto ribbons of paper around her. Don't you want to find a story to lose yourself in? Isn't that why you're here?

Was it? "I..." Her head was foggy. The mustiness of the old books was making it so hard to think. But at least the walls had stopped moving.

Right now this room feels like your mind, doesn't it? She felt invisible lips against her neck, trailing up to her cheek as the voice spoke, hands holding her wrists and keeping her arms prone against the shelf behind her. Cluttered, overwhelming. That's not how books are supposed to be, are they?

"No," she agreed with a distant whisper, a word that came out without thought or consideration. Her eyes were heavy, and it felt so good to listen, to feel.

What are they supposed to be, Harper? the voice urged.

"I...I don't know." It was absurd, but she didn't want to admit to the voice that she didn't read much.

Do you need me to tell you? Do you need me to do the thinking for you right now?

She wanted to tell the voice that no, she didn't need anyone to do any of her thinking for her, ever. She wanted to tell it that what she needed was to be let out of this doorless room, out of this shop entirely. She wanted fresh air. She wanted to smell the perfume of the clothing store, hear the chiming of the cash register as people bought overpriced blouses and skirts they didn't need. Hear trendy music and the clicking of heels on a tiled floor. But like Evie's discovery of her favorite childhood book, something about this shop was swallowing her, making her feel like she could be happy and comfortable in a place she'd never even imagined stepping into before a few minutes ago. Made her feel like it wouldn't be so bad to forget about everything else except this place, this voice, this touch.

Her eyes shut on their own, and she felt her body react. Her hips bent forward, her clit twitching. It felt so right to let the shadow do what it wanted, say what it wanted. She could be happy here, with this voice...

With him...

She felt wetness on her arms, thick and murky. His lips brushed against hers, and a tongue that tasted like ink tried to slip into her mouth.

Harper's eyes shot open and she gasped. Wrenched her arms free from the invisible man's grasp and shoved forward as hard as she could. "No!" she yelled.

"You okay?"

As the room came back into focus, another patron stood a few feet away. A boy, no older than thirteen, paperback open in his hands, stared at her, slack-jawed and tentative. But she knew whoever he was, he was real, and he was just as confused as her.

The room was just a room. To her left, there was a threshold leading back out into the hallway. "Sorry," she muttered. "Do you know where the children's books are?"

The kid scratched his head. "Dunno, sorry."

She looked at the doorway, and a soft sound drew her attention to the floor. The cat had found her.

"Never mind," she said to the kid. She felt so much better already, now that the bizarre daydream had passed, no doubt brought on by the trauma of her longest relationship ending so abruptly. Now that she'd seen another real person, and now that the store felt like just another store, albeit one with obviously no sense of inventory and only a passing nod to organization, but definitely one that existed in the real world.

Of course it did. God.

The cat turned and went down the hall. She remembered seeing a post or something on social media about bookstore cats. How they were almost their own unique species. She didn't know what that meant, but she had the sense that this cat could take her where she needed to be. Back to Evie, and then, ultimately, out of this place forever.

At least she wasn't hearing that voice anymore, or feeling a phantom hand on her, a phantom tongue pressing through her yielding lips. Or seeing phantom words or feeling them being written on her skin.

Her stomach clenched. Was she actually disappointed about that?

She must have wandered farther than she thought during her undoubtedly self-induced trance, because the cat led her down a number of twisting and turning hallways. After a minute or so of walking, she started to feel stupid again. Following a cat? What was she thinking? "Great plan, Harper," she said to herself. "Once again, you've proven your intellectual prowess. No wonder you're single now. Maybe you do need to read more."

As if in response, the cat turned past an open barred door that must have been from the old bank, and she thought they'd be going down another hallway, but it was a room. The books in here looked ancient, strewn about on shelves, on a large counter in the center of the room, and even on the floor. In addition to books, she saw old magazines with illustrated covers and dates over a hundred years back. This definitely wasn't the children's book room.

"No, no," she said to the cat. "I need the children's room. Children's room."

The cat blinked at her, then darted off.

She moved to follow it again, knowing it was dumb but figuring she didn't have any better options at this point.

Schick.

There was a sound from behind her that startled her and made her turn just in time to see a book slip out of a shelf on the other side of the room and fall to the floor.

If there was a sure sign that she should nope the fuck out of this room, that was it. She turned, intending to do just that, and ran smack into the closed door.

"Ow. Fuck me, ow." She nursed the spot on her forehead that had hit the metal, hoping she wouldn't have a bruise.

Poor choice of words.

Nope. No. Uh-uh. She grabbed the bars of the door, jiggled them. The door wouldn't open. How had it closed in the first place? "Hello? Anyone there? This isn't funny. I really need to get out of this room." She shook them harder. "Come on!" Her voice was hoarse and desperate. Sweat was forming at her forehead and under her breasts, staining her bra and her silk camisole. Her hair was fraying and coming out of her ponytail elastic. She usually cared about things like that, about anything that would make her look less than polished and perfectly put-together. Now she didn't give a fuck. She just wanted to be free.

What are books supposed to be, Harper? The voice spoke with authority, a hint of impatience, a warning that she was supposed to answer or face unknown consequences.

No. No, no, no. Fuck this. Fuck this store. Fuck this room. Fuck this door. Fuck her ex for breaking up with her. Fuck Evie for leaving her alone. Fuck the cat for leading her the wrong way. Fuck herself for thinking that coming into this God-forsaken place in the first place was a good idea.

You know what they're for. For holding knowledge. Holding important things. Keeping them safe, printed in ink. To help you escape from the real world. All of those are things you need. You need books. You need to be here.

The sound of pen scratching on paper was back, in time with the voice. So soft. Almost hypnotic, and unquestionably both soothing and disturbing. For a moment, she writhed to the sound of it, but then she managed to snap herself out of it with a quick slap across her own face. "Evie!" she screamed. "Evie, put down that fucking kid's book and come get me!"

The hand again, on her bare shoulder, flicking aside the strap of her camisole. It slithered by her ear, seemed to burrow into her skin. What was today going to give you? Some fleeting amusement, an overpriced trinket you'd stuff into a closet and forget about. She shivered, tried so hard to keep hold of the bars, but her palms were sweaty and useless and her whole body was shaking with a betraying arousal, a pressure within that was only growing. I can offer you so much more.

"No," she said, practically trying to climb the bars, hoping there was a way to hoist herself over the door. "No, I need to go, I need to--"

Something pushed her from the front, sending her tumbling backwards, onto a pile of yellowed old newspapers that smelled musky, masculine.

She tried to get up. Her legs felt like jelly. She shuddered.

I've seen into your mind, Harper. I've seen your memories. The smoke formed into a humanoid shape, towering over her. That man you wanted to marry was barely worthy to glance at you in the street, let alone to be your lover. And you deserve so much more than a trinket to cure your heartache. She could feel the hand sliding up her leg, up her skirt, between her thighs. A moan escaped her lips, wetness growing in her cunt. She'd never felt anything like this before, stroking and teasing her in a way human hands couldn't. If she moved the wrong way, she might cum.

She tried to push herself up by her elbows, but felt her strength fading fast. Instead, she focused on scooting herself backwards, trying to get away from the entity while she still had the sense to do so. She had to fight. Maybe if she did, it would get bored, or realize she didn't want this and back off.