It was so strange that there was so little of anything like Olivia had on the internet. It was like everything I found was either for a video game, a role-playing game, or bits and pieces of stories and nonsense.

***

When I fell asleep that night, she visited me. It was strange. I was sure I was asleep, but I was still kind of awake. I could feel that I was lying in bed. I could feel my breath, but I was also not in my bed at all. I was simply resting in darkness. A cool, empty darkness.

I heard her voice.

She was laughing. She was happy.

I could feel her presence, but I couldn’t see anything in the darkness.

I laid back and spread my legs. I would give her what she wanted. What she desired. What seemed to bind us.

I spread my legs wide reached between my thighs. “Is that what you want?” I spread my pussy lips and ran my fingertip across my clitoris. I could feel her approval.

The satisfaction washed across me and I began to dip my finger into myself, pull it free, play with my clit and then slide back inside.

The warmth tingled through me. I thought of the dildo. Was this part of the afterglow? I remembered how it had felt alive inside me. How I had felt her presence inside the circle.

But this wasn’t there. This was a dream.

But she was here, I could feel it.

I added another digit and quivered. My insides tightened.

My breasts needed to be touched.

I wanted her hands. I wanted her to touch them. I wanted to touch her. Needed to.

My orgasm began to crescendo.

My back arched as I rolled my hips against my fingers.

“Yes,” I heard her voice.

The orgasm came in a wave. I welcomed it, arching upward, begging for her to touch me.

I wanted to feel her.

“Yes,” her voice echoed through my thoughts.

It was so strange, it was like I was imagining her, but I still couldn’t really see who or what she was. It was like I was blind, like I was assigning my own values to the information I had. She was female, her voice was sultry and seductive. And she was close. I could feel her presence.

And then I was awake. In my bed. I opened my eyes and saw the familiar ceiling.

I sat up.

The sheets were on the floor. There was a cool wet spot on the sheets between my legs.

I was breathing hard.

The dream had left me a state of heightened bliss. That’s the only way I know how to describe it. She had given me something, some kind of energy. I felt so alive, so strong. And now I had the answer to one of my questions — she, whoever she was, was real.

I got up and looked in the mirror. I looked at my chest, my smallish breasts with pointy nipples, my smooth belly and hairless mound — red and swollen from my frantic attentions.

The memory of her voice sent a shiver of pleasure through me.

The afterglow still radiated through me.

Now I had to find her.

xxxxx

I went about the rest of the morning the way I did every morning. I got up, got a shower, and wandered downstairs for coffee.

Dad was still asleep. I thought about what it was like for him. Him and my mom had been divorced for almost a year. Mom seems to have adjusted, and maybe it was because she had wanted the divorce, but she already had gone through a couple of boyfriends.

But dad seemed lonely. I thought of him in the shower, alone, and masturbating. He hadn’t said a word about another woman since the divorce. He didn’t seem sad anymore, that part had passed. But he also didn’t seem real ready to move on.

I thought about what I had done the night before. It was so strange. What had I been thinking? I had never even thought of anything like that before.

It was the magic. Had to be, right? I was hooked on the sexual energy Olivia and I had tasted. The way the magic had enhanced it, left both of us yearning for more. Yes, I convinced myself, I was giving into the addiction. It could have been anyone in the bathroom.

I heard dad’s footsteps on the counter. When he came in, I turned around and handed him a steaming cup of coffee. “Morning.” I smiled.

Suddenly, I stood at a crossroads.

I looked at my father in front of me. I thought of his cock, his fingers wrapped around the thick flesh, the sound of his moan as he ejaculated.

My heart started to race.

“Morning,” he took the coffee and smiled. His hair was still a wreck and he was wearing a pair of sweatpants and old t-shirt.

He looked good for his age. I had always hated mom for leaving him. He deserved better, but he had loved her.

I looked away a little embarrassed with myself. I couldn’t seem to get control of my feelings. The only thing I wanted was more sex, more orgasms, more magic.

But I had to stop. It didn’t make sense. I scolded myself and turned back to the coffee maker.

He took a long sip of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table. “What do you have planned for the day?”

I thought about the bookstore. “I’m taking the train out to the suburbs. There’s a cool, old bookstore out there, Olivia told me about.”

Dad looked a little surprised.

Normally, if I was at his house we did stuff together, but not today. I didn’t leave any question about what was happening. I needed to get to the bookstore.

But dad was cool. “Oh, good idea. I didn’t want to tell you, but I’ve got a work thing. They called this morning.”

“Awesome,” I said. “Dinner tonight?”

Dad smiled. “In or out?”

“Out,” I laughed.

“It’s a date.”

My inside’s tingled with the taboo thought, but I kept a poker face. “Cool. I’ll pick a place.” I got up and walked around the edge of the table to give him a hug.

I wrapped him in my arms. He was warm and still smelled like warm blankets and sleep.

I’m so much better than my mom. I squeezed him. “Love you, daddy.”

“I love you too, kitten.” He squeezed me close. “What so special about the bookstore,” he asked when I let go.

I looked at him and my mind went blank. “It’s an occult bookstore.” I said, flatly.

Dad’s eyebrows went up and his forehead wrinkled like he was a little confused. “Really?”

“Supposed to be like super spooky.” I decided to ham it up.

“Interesting,” he took a sip of coffee and picked up his phone. “Take some pictures.”

“Oh, I will,” I said and headed upstairs. “Have a good day.”

“You too, baby.”

Upstairs, I closed the bedroom door and sat down on the edge of the bed. I ran my hands through my hair and then rubbed my eyes. It was so strange, physically, I felt amazing, like I could have run a marathon if I wanted. It was like the magic had given me energy.

But mentally, I felt exhausted. I couldn’t believe the way my brain was working. I was all over the place. Fantasizing about my own dad? Somehow communing with some being somewhere?

Is this what going crazy felt like?

I got a long text from Olivia about Katie and how wonderful she was. It was three or four paragraphs. They had just gotten back from breakfast, fucked again, and showered. Now they were headed back to Katie’s place to pick up a few things.

I texted back how happy I was.

And then walked up to the train stop.

I put some music on in my headphones and continued the search for answers on my phone.

But now, the search terms had changed.

Sexual spirits.

Suddenly, everything changed. There were a million hits. Succubus and incubus kept recurring. Ancient Egyptian spirits and devils. Even Kokopelli was considered a sexual spirit.

I read a few entries trying to make sense of it. You know, I wanted to put it all together, solve the mystery of what I was caught up in.

What if she, the woman in the dream, was a spirit like one of these mythical creatures? Could that be? Were things like demons and angels, real? It was so weird to change ideas you had formed opinions on years before.

As the train moved along the tracks, I kept searching. Different sites moved across the history of spirits, devils, and demi-gods. They mentioned other worlds, places like The Nether World or Hell or someplace beyond the veil of our reality. 

I kept reading, devouring every website I found. Things like grimoire were mentioned, and tomes, and dark magic.

The reading was far more interesting than the previous night’s long search through sex magic and casting love spells. No, this stuff at least had something I understood — legends and stories I had grown up.

The train stopped forty minutes after I had climbed on and I was standing outside of the bookstore Olivia had visited. The windows were covered in a reflective, mirror like material. So, I could only see myself, tiny in the reflection of me standing on the sidewalk.

I won’t say that I was scared. I was anxious. I didn’t know what was going to happen when I stepped through the doors, but I knew something was going to. I took a deep breath and steadied myself. It felt like I was in the front seat of a rollercoaster at the top of the first hill.

The door was heavy, and it squeaked when I pushed it open. The smell of rose petals and spices washed over me. I closed my eyes and inhaled the air.

From the door, the place was nothing but shelves under fluorescent lights. There were stacks of books on the floor next to the door as well as a number of other spots around the room. It looked like the place didn’t know what organization was.

“Abi, hello!” a woman’s voice called from the far side of the room. “My name is Delilah.”

“Hello?” I said and took a few steps forward.

The place was so strange, so, not what you expected to ever see.

It’s difficult to really describe the state of the place. It was so packed with long rows of shelves so high they almost touched the ceiling. There were so many, packed so tightly together, that the light from the ceiling lamps was dim.

I took a few steps past a couple rows of bookshelves, but I couldn’t see anyone.

I felt small in front of the shelves. They were huge. All eight or nine feet tall, made of wood, and stained a deep brown. And every shelf held something, a row of books, or a stack of books, or a pile of manuscripts that looked like scrolls.

There were candles and boxes and goblets and all sorts of weirdness. The place smelled like history or a like a massive flea market type place.

I walked back the opposite direction, still looking for the woman. How did she know my name?

“She said you were coming today.” The voice was kind and warm. I stepped into one row and started to walk toward the back of the place, to where I thought it was coming from.

Just then a woman stepped into the aisle from the left.

Delilah, a tall black woman with beautiful, braided hair and a warm smile stepped up to me and took my hands in hers. She looked into my eyes like she wanted to make sure I was who she thought I was.

I froze. I didn’t know what to do. I just kind of stood there, waiting to see what would happen next. She was so warm. I don’t know how else to describe it.

Being near her was warmer, like the warmth of a campfire, but I couldn’t feel it on the outside, I could feel only feel it on the inside.

“Welcome,” she said.

I just stood there staring at her. I couldn’t believe she knew my name. I couldn’t believe I was there. Something felt right, like my search had led me to the right place. Besides, it had led Olivia here too.

“How did you…” I stammered, still in a state of shock. I couldn’t stop wondering about the feeling, the warmth, it was so strange and wonderful. It felt like the magic, but not in a sexual way, in a way that just felt good, somehow.

Delilah smiled. “Oh, child, I know all kinds of things.” She let go of my hands and turned toward the back of the store. “Follow me and I will show you where to get started.”

We walked down the aisle and I looked at the piles and stacks of books. The newest books looked hundreds of years old. And I had no idea how old some of the parchment scrolls were.

My heart was racing. I had found it. It was real. The voice I had heard was real and this was how I was going to find her. It was all real. A mystery that was unfolding.

We walked down the aisle until Delilah stopped, turned right. We crossed four aisles. Then she walked back toward the front and took a left, until we crossed two more aisles.

I realized it was like we were walking a specific pattern. I looked down the aisles we passed and crossed. The place seemed impossibly large.

Then she stopped.

“It’s here,” she stood in front of a stack of antique books, all assorted sizes. Some were bound traditionally while others were obviously large sketch books of paper with leather and buckles to hold them together and still there were others that looked like just scraps of paper with intricate writing or diagrams.

I looked at the pile and then at the woman beside me.

I studied her. She looked like she was in her forties, maybe my mother’s age. She was pretty. She had a medium build, not fat or skinny but healthy. She reminded me of my doctor’s nurse. There was something innately nurturing about her presence.

She looked at me and smiled. “She said this is where your journey begins.” She pointed to the pile.

“What journey?” I asked.

Delilah chuckled. “Only you know, child.”

I looked back at the stack of books. I reached out and picked up the top two and looked around. I needed a table and a chair. “Is there somewhere…”

“Here” Delilah touched my arm and we were suddenly standing in front of a long, wooden table. We were still inside just somewhere else inside. I couldn’t tell how it had happened. I hadn’t noticed anything. We simply took a step and then we were in front of the table.

I looked around shocked. How had she done that? How had we disappeared and reappeared? I looked behind us, the shelves were just behind us.

Everything was antique. The chairs at the table were like the chairs you would expect in an executive boardroom, leather with high backs and silver upholstery tacks. The feet on the chairs and table were all carved with talons, like an eagle claw wrapped around a sphere of crystal. The workmanship was amazing.

I stood up and looked down at my feet. I couldn’t believe what had just happened.

More magic.

It was all real.

I felt like I was in a movie. It was unbelievable.

My goals became clearer.

“Sit down, child” Delilah smiled. “This is where you will start to learn and understand.”

“Learn and understand what?” I looked at the woman. I had never felt anything like what I was feeling, it was heady mix of excitement, wonder, fascination, and curiosity, all mixed with a good amount of pure fear.

I mean, how could I not be a little afraid? If someone can move two people from one place to another without so much as word, what’s to say they can’t or won’t make you disappear? And I was alone.

Reality suddenly became very real. Magic was all around us. At least, it was all around Delilah, I could feel it. It was like the warmth of a campfire, like heat that comes in waves, only better. Instead of warmth, this was like a feeling of power and energy. It woke something inside of me.

My heart was racing.

Delilah stood and pushed her chair in. The sound echoed around the space.

She waved her hand and a pitcher of water and a glass with ice cubes appeared on the table. “In case you get thirsty,” she chuckled. “We close at midnight, but you will need to catch the 4 o’clock home before your father starts to worry.”

She started to walk away.

I was completely dumbfounded. I had so many questions I didn’t know where to start.

Then she turned. “You will need to be very careful if you want to accomplish the first part of what your goal.” She looked into my eyes and where there had been softness before, now there was determination. “Do not learn cause and effect the hard way.” She waved a finger in my direction. “Every decision has a ripple effect on the future. Even this one.” She turned and disappeared around another aisle.

I listened for footsteps, but I heard none.

I stared at the little stack of books in front of me.

It felt like my brain was struggling to catch up with everything that was happening. It had all been too much, too fast. I could barely seem to focus on a single thought or question.

And questions were all I had.

Who was she? Who was she talking about? How did she know my name? What was this place? I reached for the glass of water and drank about half of it without thinking.

My heart still raced. I couldn’t seem to calm down. It was like I was high on some drug.

I spread the books out in front of me. No point in ignoring a chance at a few answers, right?

The top book had a strange symbol burned into the cover. I picked it up and ran my fingers along the markings made in the leather. It reminded me of the symbols Olivia and drawn across our skin. It looked like it was in the same language, but maybe a little different, like there were more parts to these.

I couldn’t tell. I turned the cover and saw the first page. There were maybe twenty symbols, strange shapes in similar diagrams. Across the top, written in a long-hand script was the word Imbue.

I ran my fingers along the word. I wondered what the symbols meant, how they worked, who had done them? Was it a spell? Was it a focus design, symbol, rune thing like Olivia had used? Or was this for a completely different purpose?

The next page was similar, a page of symbols connected in another strange pattern, but there was no word on top of that page, or the next or any of the rest for that matter.

I set that book down and picked up the next. It was thicker, but smaller and across the cover in heavy, squared-off lettering were the words: The Journal of Abigail Bennington.

I stopped on the word Abi. That was my name.

But my last name of not Bennington.

I turned the page.

The book started like a work of fiction or a journal-style account. There was a preface by an O. Pierce that stated the journal had been discovered in the corner of the house that Abigail disappeared from. The author chose to begin the account on what appears to be the first day of Miss Bennington’s long experiment.

Ominous. I turned the page and began to read.

The piece Dr. Hafford brought me from the caves outside of Mongolia is not like anything I have ever seen. Of the many ornamental and ceremonial vessels coming out of the region, none appear to be as smooth or featureless as this one. I am vexed.

The book then launched into a lengthy description of what sounded like a thin, narrow rectangle made of stone and bearing a seam along the horizontal axis, like a box with a lid that fit perfectly.

But I didn’t care about the scientific measurements of the box. I ran across the dimensions and descriptions until Abigail began to describe the details.

The symbols, I have discovered drawn along the top and bottom of the box seem to have been painted on with some form of ash or charcoal, but it does not smudge or rub. 

There are few curves to the symbols. They are individual but connected, it seems some symbols may overlap with others at various degrees, like pointing the hands of a clock.

I looked at the book with the symbols beside me. Was this the connection? I thumbed a few pages ahead.

The journal changed about twenty pages in.

I can feel it. There is power, energy. Something that affects me. I have noticed it often. 

At first, I thought nothing of it, but while I sat and filled the pages of my notebooks with my observations on the thing, something was pulling at me. I left for the privy and noticed that the feeling faded, somewhat. I could still feel it, like an ache, like I missed someone or was longing for someone. 

I took a long sip of water. I was hooked but too excited to not skip a little further ahead.