The Library

The library. I laughed at how cliché and unimaginative the idea was, but I didn’t really have any other choice. The only people I knew in this city were other students, and all of them were more the types to be found throwing up in nightclub toilets or binge watching Netflix in bed rather than diving through strange, dusty, esoteric tomes.

Standing in front of the library, I chuckled thinking how my parents might be proud their son was off to get studying so early in the semester. Still, looking at the building now, a part of me was surprised I hadn’t spent more time here already, just for how cool an area it was.

In stark contrast to the modern science buildings I’d been to as Lisa a few days earlier, the library sat in the old part of campus, which had it’s own fair share of amazing sights. My college was actually one of the oldest in the whole country, a prestigious institution that I’d only been able to get in through a combination of crazy luck on the final exams in school, and the standing of the place being diminished in recent years due to a string of sex scandals with students and staff engaging in “extra-curricular activities”. Even with the lustre of its reputation being dimmed though, many of the resources available were world class, and this library may have been the crown jewel in this universities crown.

Constructed in gorgeous Gothic style architecture, the library had originally intended to be a cathedral, before a series of shifting political decisions at the time had seen a university be built here instead. The library still retained many of the original features intended to make it a cathedral though, with high stain glass windows and elaborately decorated buttresses.

Walking inside though, impressive modifications had been made to the interior, and while it still was recognizably a Church from overall structure, the labyrinthine network of tall book-shelves and other levels to it gave the place a mysterious and imperceptible air. Most of the sections also lacked any kind of ceiling, meaning they were open topped walls and study sections giving a clear view of the high majesty of the original church ceiling. For whatever reason, the place still seemed quiet, for whether it was some kind of peculiar effect of the modifications made or some fluke of the original design, sound didn’t travel very far at all here.

Sitting at the front desk was one of the librarians, a woman in her early 30s who, whether intentionally or not, oozed mature sexuality. She had hair that sat in between dark blonde and light, tempered brunette, tied up in a bun with enough volume to it to add real charm to the style. Her face had only the slightest traces of wear, and it was clear she took good care of herself, with the only blemish being a small mole a little off center of her upper lip, that added character to a beautiful face.

She was idly flicking through a book to pass the time, long fingernails painted a classy cream color lifting the pages with elegance, the motion of her arm drawing the eyes up to her silken blouse and then down to the tight tweed pencil skirt that showed off her enticing hips.

I started walking towards her before catching myself. What was I going to say, “Hi, I’ve recently been turned into a skinwalker, so I want to learn more about them, haha”? That was stupid, but the more I thought about it, the more I thought about how I could actually ask about that, if I just phrased it differently.

Clearing my throat, I began;

“Hi, I was wondering if you could help me find some books?”

She looked up, big hazel eyes focusing on me with a raised eyebrow.

“So, basically I’m a social anthropology student putting together a paper on a specific set of myths and their various historical impacts on global cultures, but I wasn’t sure where to start. I’m a first year, so…”

I was a little disturbed at how slickly I’d presented that lie, but I figured in this case the ends justified the means.

“Hmm, oh? That sounds interesting.”

Although she really did sound interested, something about her voice had a low, sultry, playful sexuality to it, a little like she was relishing playing with me. The stirrings of a semi started in my pants, making me grateful I was wearing an oversized t-shirt today that hung down enough to not see the signs.

“Was there a specific legend you wanted to start with? I ask because you’re in luck, this library is one of the best equipped to deal with humanities, histories and cultural studies, so I’m sure we can accommodate you.”

I figured at this point I should just go for it, rather than hiding it. I needed this information.

“I wanted to maybe start with the Navajo culture, and focus on their legends about magic, and the creatures that came from it, like wendigos and skinwalkers.”

A pressure had started on my heart saying that out loud, as even under the ruse of academic research there was an undeniable tension to saying the word “skinwalker”, the meaning being so visceral to me now. I was just thankful that my earlier online research had clued me into the Navajo legend, I worried that without that cultural connection there was no way I could have brought up such a dark, supposed fantasy concept and not be met with suspicion.

“I know exactly where to start.”

She stood, a smile on her lips as she turned and walked out from behind the desk, calling into the back;

“Claude, I’m escorting this gentleman to find some research books, can you watch the front desk please?”

“Hmm? Oh, certainly.”

Claude came through from the back, another surprisingly attractive staff member, with dark brown hair shaved at the sides and long on top, in a style from the first world war, wearing a tweed waistcoat over a white shirt and taking position on the front desk.

“Are you coming?”

The female librarian ahead looked on with an eyebrow lightly quirked, as I moved to catch up to her.

Following her through the network of bookshelves, I noticed a number of things. Firstly, her ass was incredible, and that tight tweed shirt wasn’t hiding much of its shape at all. The way she walked exuded a practiced grace as well, infusing her motions both with an element of classy sophistication, and a sensuality that was hard to overlook.

Secondly, the way these bookshelves were organized really was labyrinthine. There seemed to be no real order to it, and as I read the naming scheme of each bookshelf, that didn’t seem to correlate to anything either. Another inconsistency came in the form of the lighting, with some areas being well lit and others being almost completely in shadow, and the strange noise dampening that infused the place added to this surreal element, with one busy, wide open study area buzzing with the gentle hum of conversation from students working on group projects, being completely forgotten about two bookshelves over, seemingly without sound and barely any light to indicate that it had existed at all.

After walking for what felt like more than five minutes and traversing much of the library, so we were by the wall furthest from the entrance, we came to a clearing of books with tables and chairs at the center, and a striking metal door starkly impressed into the wall and sunken down some steps, seemingly leading to a lower level of the library. The light in this whole area was just dim enough to read by, although thankfully there were small reading lamps on the tables to give a more comfortable reading experience to the visitor.

“This section should have the books you’re looking for, and this specifically will help you.”

She plucked a binder from one of the bookshelves, inside which was meticulously organized lists of authors and books, a glossary for the section we found ourselves in. Before she left, I blurted out the curiosity on my mind though;

“What’s that door?”

Even though it was completely hidden to those outside of this section, it seemed now that we’d entered it the door had an almost irresistible pull. Its metallic frame seemed to glint silver in the light, and it had ornate patterns of scales, and snakes moving around carved garland leaves and a shield at the center on it. Even with the unorthodox glory that filled this strange building, this in particular stood out to me as an extra elaborate detail.

“Oh that? Don’t worry too much about it.”

She responded, absently, but seeing the curiosity in my eyes continued;

“This library is particularly grand, and with it’s long history, of course we take care of older books. That room is simply one of several scattered throughout here which contains those older books. Although, they aren’t open to regular students I’m afraid. Only some of our doctorate students and professors have dispensation, and even then many have to fill out paperwork. You understand, of course?”

I nodded, the desire to know what lay beyond nonetheless taking a hold of my heart.

“Anyway, if you’ll excuse me, I have to do some sorting in the next section over. I’d been putting it off, but now that I’ve walked all the way over here, I suppose I’ll have to do it.”

She gave a warm smile as she recounted her inconvenient plight, before disappearing once more into the bookshelves.