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.
