by Pam Richter
Mark glanced at Sabrina and saw her laughing.
"That's where the lunacy began. I went into her shop and started buying things. Stupid enough, right? I know nothing about women's fashions, but I could not stay away. Even when she kept rejecting my pleas to go out with her. Talk about dumb. I bought all the clothes and all the accessories she recommended. Already, I would do anything she wanted. I was way beyond help by then. And then, one day, I gave all the stuff back to her...."
Sabrina listened and smiled as Mark continued his story of terminal madness. And she believed him. Without the fear that had always kept her from feeling, she looked at him in an entirely new way.
Sabrina understood that this was really the gift; the legacy Eve had left for her. She now was free to feel love as strong, bright and new as one of Eve's 'Sabrina Emotions.' She trusted Mark. She already loved their baby and their new life together.
Mark and Sabrina turned and followed their footprints back up the beach.
THE END
Book Discription: The Necromancer
Michelle was brutally attacked in her locked hotel room. The police didn't believe her and thought she had invited a man to her room for a little sexual encounter, which went dangerously out of control. She decides an affair with the wickedly handsome man who moved into her building might cure her of the panic attacks. How can she know she picked the wrong man. A man known as The Necromancer.
PROLOGUE
It was just past twilight, almost time for the Crystal Prophesies. Omar leaned his elbows on the penthouse balcony, enjoying the moment. This was a magical time of day and he was a magician. He preferred calling himself a Necromancer to the common titles: warlock, conjuror, magus, seer or wizard. There were subtle variations, but he fancied 'romancer' in his title. Necromancer. It described him. He romanced his way into hearts and minds. With the help of a little magic.
As he gazed at the panorama spread out below, the Pacific slowly changed from light blue to a misty topaz. Lush clouds floated on the horizon, and stars began to glow. To his left was the tinsel-tourist Waikiki, and to his right the city of Honolulu was lighting up. Below him, in this very building, he could sense the presence of a remarkable woman.
He turned, gazing through plate glass windows into his new penthouse. Ginger and Samson were inside. Ginger noticed his look and, with a flourish, she uncovered an enormous crystal ball from its leather shroud. She winked at him. Ginger was a disciple, a beautiful tall woman, with long curly red hair. She wore a flowing blue gown for the ceremony.
It was a tradition for the three of them to gaze into the crystal ball to divine their future when they expanded to a new location. They had arrived in Oahu a week ago. Tonight was perfect, the time of the full moon.
Omar went inside and sat down in front of the crystal. The sphere was almost two feet in diameter and sparkled on a base of black onyx. The three were seated in the main living room, beneath a skylight. White rafters crossed the cathedral ceiling. The room was dark except for a cold silvery glow from the candles Ginger had placed around the room.
Omar passed his hands over the crystal ball several times for theatrical effect, principally for Samson, who was watching with curious eyes. Omar's acolyte, Samson was a gigantic man who would never age mentally. He did remember this ritual. His mouth was open in anticipation.
Omar frowned and leaned closer, gazing into the depths of the crystal. Indeed, the omens were not auspicious. Red forms floated amorphously inside, constantly changing shape. This denoted the substance that controlled all magical rites. Blood was a fluid like the tide; it flowed like the ocean, was coaxed by the moon to move subtly in bodies, causing emotional changes called lunacy. Sometimes it spilled.
The black he observed, swirling around the red forms like a night wind, could be taken as a symbol of his own influence. It was the bright white light clashing there which forced Omar's dark eyebrows to slide together. White, an opposing force, seemed capable of exerting great influence in these Hawaiian islands. Omar couldn't tell if it indicated an old curse peculiar to these islands, with their ancient polytheist beliefs, or if it referred to a threatening individual.
The white was glowing, taking over. There was busy movement inside the crystal. It might have been a reflection from the stark white walls, but Omar was not taking chances.
"Who will sacrifice?" he asked, frowning at Ginger and Samson in turn. He took a dagger from the leather sheath that Ginger had placed beside the crystal ball.
The colossal young man cowered away.
Omar shook his head. Samson let out a tiny moan, but Omar swiftly reached across the crystal and pointed the tip of the dagger at Ginger.
"I need heart blood," Omar said.
Ginger closed her eyes and nodded. He made a small slashing cut above her left breast, above her heart. The cut was superficial, but blood immediately started flowing.
Ginger leaned forward and red dripped on the round crystal ball, and slowly, like wine with good legs, inched down its sides.
Omar recited incantations and waved his long expressive hands. Both Ginger and Samson saw silver sparks extend from his fingertips and enter into the crystal. Ginger thought the effect might have been starlight drifting down from the skylight above. Samson was sure it was magic.
Omar peered into the depths of the crystal and was satisfied. The white light was winking out. The sacrifice had been potent.
His mind again sought the lovely feminine presence he had felt below him in this building. When he found it he smiled. His final aspiration would be fulfilled. The Crystal Prophesy said so.
CHAPTER 1
She was alone in her apartment, so she almost discounted the movement in her peripheral vision. An anomaly of tired eyes. A tiny blip, an eye mote. It had been a long day. But her gaze slid sideways, away from the book she was reading.
Michelle was suddenly afraid she was going through delirium tremens again when she actually focused on the hideous thing moving on the wall. But her eyes were open. The terrifying hallucinations that accompanied alcohol withdrawal had only happened when she closed her eyes to sleep.
This wasn't an illusion, but she blinked a few times to make sure. It was a large beast, probably a lizard because it was long and thick. It had a tail. Lizards were ordinary in Hawaii.
On closer inspection she noted the thing was coal black. It had numerous ugly, hairy legs sticking out of its sides, which were moving it rapidly and in a disturbingly awkward manner sideways down the wall toward her bed. Toward her. The tail swished in opposition to myriad legs.
Michelle threw off the covers, and her book landed somewhere on the opposite side of the bed, as she made a panicked rush to the kitchen for insect spray.
She ran back to the bedroom doorway, holding the can in front of her for protection, skidded to a stop, and peeked around the corner into the bedroom. There it was. Creepy, ugly thing. Still climbing. The head was detached from the body on a stick-like neck and she shuddered.
Her heart was racing and she held her breath as she slowly tiptoed toward the wall where it was adhered on sticky toes. Finally, she raised the can and blasted it.
The black monster stopped with a jerk. The head swivelled toward her. It hissed, a definite zzzt sound. Then it seemed to hunch, and started a panicked scuttle across the wall, hopped around the corner and ran behind her bookcase. She followed it all the way, using the can like a machine gun. The bug fell on the floor and contorted a few times. She peered at it from between the book shelves, suddenly motionless.
She sat on the bed panting, glad it was out of sight for a minute. Never had she wanted a drink so badly.
The thing had actually made a sound. A threatening low buzzy sound. She would swear it looked directly at her with those creepy eyes. It was unbelievable.
When she finally got her heart and breathing calmed down she laughed shakily. Delirium tremens my ass. That thing was an arachnophobic's nightmare. She couldn't remember ever having seen such a large insect. Even in Hawa
ii, where giant bugs thrived in the tropical weather. Now she had to see the body again. Make sure it was really, permanently, dead.
She got a flashlight and beamed it on the floor behind the books. She searched tentatively at first and then obsessively, moving books and then rolling the whole bookcase away from the wall, but it was gone.
Picking up her cell from the bedside table, Michelle tapped the automatic dial.
It rang four times and Michelle almost hung up, then: "Shelly?"
"Did I wake you?"
"Ah, no, no."
She definitely sounded sleepy, Michelle thought. Damn. "Something weird just happened. But if you're asleep..."
"What?"
"Do bugs make noises?"
"What!"
"I think I just killed this enormous insect. But before that, he hissed at me. And I swear, he looked me right in the eyes. Like he had some kind of strange intelligence."
"Have you been..."
"No, no. Not for more than a year."
"Well, I know you haven't. Sorry. It's just that...I mean the bug's dead? If not, I'll get rid of it for you."
"That's the odd thing. I saw it dead on the floor. And now it's disappeared. It was so big, I just can't figure out how that happened."
"How big."
"About four inches, including the tail."
Michelle heard Heather laughing. "It had a tail?"
Through the phone there was whispering. Male, sleepy whispering. Damn. Heather had someone over. Maybe she had interrupted something.
"Listen," Michelle said, "We'll talk in the morning. Go back to sleep."
"I can come over," Heather insisted. She lived right down the hallway in the same condominium. "I just finished peeing on a stick. So I'm awake."
"How'd it go?"
"Another month and another definite No."
"Like clockwork, every month."
"Well, it's a definite relief, if you know what I mean."
"Sometimes I wish I did. But you do this every month. And you use birth control."
"I don't trust birth control."
"Obsessive compulsive."
"Yeah, but I'm not scared of bugs."
"This was one hell of a bug. I'll see you in the morning."
Michelle clicked off.
She retrieved her book and took a quilt and pillow into the living room to lie down on the couch. No way would she sleep in the bedroom with the black spider, or whatever it had been. She tried to recall types of exotic insects with tails and could only come up with scorpions. But they were brown. A horrible thought took hold; insects with tails usually had stingers. Like bees and wasps. Maybe it was a new species of deadly poisonous insect. Or a type of lethal amphibian.
She found herself getting angry that she could never drink anything alcoholic again. It didn't seem fair that she could never again have the common calming effect of the colorless liquid. Vodka had been her 'drug of choice.' But she reminded herself that she couldn't drink in a common way. No, she had to swig the stuff till she was blasted comatose.
One would never be enough for her. When it came to the juice she didn't care about anything except the lovely feeling that sent her to blessed oblivion. Where she wished she were now.
One small sip and she could forget the ghastly bug and relax and go to sleep. Oh well, honestly, to forget that thing would take a whole bottle.
Michelle knew she was irrationally phobic and foolish to be repulsed by tiny and mostly innocuous insects, but the creepy, awkward, jerky way they moved and their alien multi-lensed eyes sent shivers down her spine. It was silly. She was almost six feet tall and she shouldn't be scared of bugs. But it was a convenient reason to drink. Scared me to death. Couldn't help it. Had to calm down somehow.
Michelle tried to think of the thing as pathetic. The way it had scuttled away from her. It was probably more scared than she was. After all, she had killed it. Hadn't she? Or was it searching for her right now, to bite or sting? Creeping sneakily under the closed bedroom door, slithering down the hallway into the living room to get her. Growing more and more angry that she had almost asphyxiated it. A vengeful bug with murderous intent.
She giggled at her own morbid imagination. It was alive and ticking. Hopefully, the bug was dead.
She nestled her shoulders against the back of the couch and reached back, pulling off the tie that held her hair back. She needed its warmth around her neck tonight.
As she was drifting to sleep the blackness of the beast brought memories of the most handsome man she had ever seen. His eyes had been black.
There he was again. Michelle noticed him immediately the next morning as she walked out the front door of her condominium. It was man she had been thinking about as she fell asleep.
Michelle motioned to the valet stationed in front of her condominium that she needed her car. She glanced at the man again as she waited. He was across the street, standing in the light rain beside a small black car. She felt her heart do a little flop, then a lurch, like there was a fast extra beat. Even with the rain plastering his wavy black hair and dripping down his face, he was extraordinary. She tried to glance at him quickly, sideways, so he wouldn't notice, and wondered what it would be like to be so gorgeous and a male. He must be used to being watched. Still, it would be disconcerting.
Beautiful is not a word commonly associated with men, but he had a vivid artistic face. One could imagine him a ballet dancer, a painter, or maybe a poet or musician with the wide forehead, thin nose and high cheekbones. His eyes were long and slanted, almost Oriental in his Occidental face, which made it unforgettable. The eyes were so large and dark they appeared luminous, and a little frightening.
The man turned away from his car and his eyes seemed to reach right through her, as if he were looking at her and beyond at the same time. She felt like moving forward, almost as if she were hypnotized. It was the rain making her shiver, she told herself harshly, not the sultry black eyes, which she tore her own away from. The notion was a little absurd that his attraction was pulling her toward him, against her own volition and even her own consciousness. She noticed she had moved forward a few minuscule steps.
Even more absurd was the fact that she thought he had been following her yesterday. She had been walking downtown, on her way to lunch, when she spotted him ahead of her, looking in the window of a clothing store. The man had such presence she stopped dead. There was a strange feeling that she knew him. Before she could search her memory, he was looking directly at her.
She had turned abruptly away, feeling foolish, afraid he had noticed her staring, but there was still that odd feeling that she remembered him. It was irrational, she told herself, because he really was unforgettable.
Later that same day she had seen him again, driving his car, a Porsche, right next to her in downtown Honolulu. Then later that evening he had suddenly been beside her as she went into the front door of her own condominium.
That's what made her think he was following her. He was politely holding the heavy glass door and smiling. The ironical smile made her believe he had noticed her earlier that day on the street, gawking like a lovesick adolescent.
When she had glanced up into his eyes, she saw absolutely no color, only blackness. Or maybe his eyes were comprised entirely of pupils. She had felt the hairs on her arms rise suddenly. It was like looking into an empty abyss, or the night sky without stars. She thought she might sink into those eyes and cease to exist, as if he were some strange hypnotist who could compel her into unknown realms. It was a little terrifying and quite thrilling.
She put it down to the fact that she hadn't had a relationship in years. She had smiled briefly at the attractive face looking down at her and murmured thanks for his help with the door. She thought fleetingly that maybe he was part Japanese or Chinese with those long slanted eyes, there were lots of racial mixes in Hawaii, but he was so tall one would not think so.
The security guard poised in front of the building didn't stop him, so she ha
d to believe that the gorgeous dark man was living in the same building.
And here he was again this morning. Looking at something beyond her.
The valet beeped to get her attention. Michelle felt like she was coming out of a trance as she tipped the valet and got in her car. She decided to forget the dark man. He must be hopelessly obnoxious and haughtily arrogant because he had inherited the DNA that makes male gorgeousness. He was probably self obsessive, narcissistic and a snooty jerk to boot. Probably held women in contempt when they fell all over him, slavering for attention.
Or possibly he was gay. Which would explain why he had seemed to look through her rather than at her. Absolute zero interest in the opposite gender. It made sense. Every man she had ever known who was totally gorgeous had also been gay.
She passed several of her office buildings on the way to work. There was a euphoric, proprietary feeling of pure luck that she had happened upon such a splendid job, Property Manager for Heroshi Corporation.
The feeling of happy serendipity about her wonderful position dissolved when she got to the office.
Susan, the office receptionist, handed her a bundle of yellow messages torn from her pad and said, "telephone book." Their code for lots of complaints. She winked in sympathy.
"Good grief," Michelle muttered as she took them and started sorting through the thick pile.
"Crying wolf?" Susan asked.
"No. These actually look pretty serious. Am I late or something?"
Susan shook her head. "They all came in in the last fifteen minutes."
"Can you take my calls for a few minutes. I have to get started on these..." Michelle said, frowning down at the pile of messages.
"Shall I tell them you're in a meeting?"
Michelle shook her head and smiled. "No. They'll just think I'm trying to avoid them. Tell them I'm on the phone and I'll get back as fast as I can."
Michelle hurried to her office and began making calls.
The air-conditioning had mysteriously quit in the Lanai office building (an outrage in a tropical climate where all buildings were aggressively cooled to almost freezing) and she had ten furious messages from the tenants about their suffocating environment. Michelle sat at her desk and cursed the inanimate mechanical systems that went down for no apparent reason.