Trifecta

by Pam Richter

  "I need my witches. They're tools of my trade," Omar was thinking. He sounded like he was arguing, but Michelle had not said a word. "I need my giant."

  CHAPTER 33

  Vincent and Heather had walked Guy Thorner to the path at the back of the beach. Now they were heading back to the fire. Vincent was suddenly shocked into immobility. He stood still and stared.

  "Omar's loose! What the hell's going on?" Heather said when she saw Omar and Michelle in an embrace.

  "Ah. We're witnessing the real fight now," Vincent murmured with satisfaction, and no small amount of dread. He grabbed Heather's arm to restrain her, knowing she would try to break up the couple in close embrace.

  "Doesn't look like any fight to me," Heather said angrily. "How the hell did he get loose? And how can she behave like that in front of Rod? I'm really going to give her a piece of my mind."

  "It's the Judas Kiss," Vincent said in awe. "I didn't realize Michelle was a transmitter. Healer, yes, of course. But a transmitter too! No wonder Omar wants her. It's a dangerous game she's playing, though."

  "Looks like he got her," Heather said disgustedly.

  "Shh. We can't interrupt them," Vincent murmured. "Don't you trust your friend?"

  "Of course. I just consider some of the things Michelle does damn asinine."

  "Be very quiet," Vincent whispered. "She's trying to save our lives. Omar somehow got loose and she had to do something. It's amazing she's able to hold him at all. She's had absolutely no training, just natural raw talent."

  "I don't understand anything."

  "Omar probably tried to kill Rod Nakamura and she was forced to act. Of course, if Michelle can't control this, he'll probably kill us all and take her."

  "What can we do?" Heather whispered.

  "You run up the path. Try to stop Guy Thorner. Michelle may be able to stun Omar long enough for us to get out of here. We'll have to flee in the Jeep, even if some of us have to ride on the roof or hold on to the sides. Bring Guy back with you. He'll have to help us get Rod up the path. He can't make it on his own. Omar will kill him if he gets a chance. I'm going to try and subdue the witches."

  Nakamura was trying to sneakily scuttle backwards, to reach the tree branch that Vincent had used as a club, but it was almost twenty feet away and he wasn't making much progress. One of the witches shook her head at him, glancing back at the branch he was trying to get. The two disgruntled witches had settled down in the sand on one side of him, watching Michelle and Omar with angry eyes.

  Nakamura knew Michelle was trying to save him. The thought made him furious at his impotence. He tried to get up, to grab the club so he could give Omar another good bash on the head while Michelle had him occupied, but fell back into the sand, the pain shooting from his ankle up through his entire body. He lost consciousness for a few moments. Then the agony made him nauseous and he struggled to keep from throwing up.

  Nakamura noticed that Vincent had come back. He hadn't even heard him. Except for the crashing of the waves they could all have been in a church it was so silent. He could see thick silvery-grey clouds, lighter than the black night sky, slowly covering the moon. All the stars were winking out. It looked like rain was imminent. Michelle and Omar appeared like statues. They had not moved an inch in about five minutes. He thought of the calm before the storm and wondered where that image came from.

  He saw Vincent whispering to the two witches.

  "You don't like her much, do you?" Vincent asked softly, nodding at Michelle.

  "What's it to you?" the dark haired witch asked. She was a beautiful Hawaiian with dark wavy hair flowing down her back to her waist. Her arm was in a cast. Vincent thought she must be one of the women who had tried to kill Heather on the beach. This witch probably hated Michelle for breaking her arm. He figured he could use that hatred.

  "She's trying to take Omar away from you," Vincent said conversationally, smiling at the girl. "No, don't move," he cautioned as they both started rising. "Let's just slide back very quietly where we can talk this situation over."

  Vincent began pushing back in the sand until he was about fifteen yards away from Omar and Michelle, in back of the fire. He was relieved when the witches actually did as he asked.

  "I can help you," Vincent said, when they were settled beside him. "See, as soon as she's finished there with Omar, I promise to take her away. She'll never bother you or Omar again. She won't become his High Priestess."

  "High priestess!" spat the other woman. "She isn't even a witch."

  "Oh, there you're very wrong. You are observing one of the most powerful witches in the world. She's holding Omar with her will alone, restraining and possessing a powerful Necromancer. And she'll be much more than Omar's High Priestess," Vincent said, nodding with great authority. "Oh my, yes. She'll probably end up his wife. And he'll give up everything, all of his witches and acolytes for her, because she will demand it."

  "Omar, married? I can't believe it," the dark witch said, glancing at the blond beside her as though the idea was inconceivable.

  Vincent nodded. "You can see her power. Michelle can take him away forever."

  "I tell you," the beautiful blond witch was talking now, "I just don't understand Omar anymore. First, there's this new witch, Suzanne. And he makes her High Priestess. Gets rid of Ginger, who's been with him for years and years. Then Samson Stoker says Ginger is gone, permanently, and we all know what that means."

  The two women nodded ominously at each other. The blond continued, "Just tonight, we learn from Samson that Suzanne's dead too. It's almost too much, know what I mean? We don't know where we stand any more. And all these deaths are scary."

  Vincent sat immobilized. Luckily the two women continued gossiping about all the other witches because he couldn't talk. He couldn't think. Suzanne was dead. He felt his heart thump into a fast rhythm and darkness swam before his eyes. Suzanne was dead? His brilliant student? She was only a little girl, barely nineteen years old. His heart was beating funny and he thought it was probably broken.

  Vincent rubbed his face vigorously in case he had tears in his eyes. "If you two women will help me, I can guarantee that Michelle will leave Omar alone forever."

  The two witches scooted nearer to hear his plan.

  Michelle knew she was losing control. The tenebrous feeling, like thin strong cobwebs in her mind that had connected her to Omar were disappearing one by one as though blown away on a strong wind. She felt like she was being engulfed in thick syrupy blackness, almost as though she was swooning. She fought to keep her focus, to hold back unconsciousness.

  The promises to him had been false, but in her mind she had made them so firm and clear it seemed like she was actually living an entire, endless and wretchedly miserable lifetime with Omar.

  Michelle knew she had to keep him with her a little longer. She struggled against the horrible faintness, feeding Omar the idea that there could be more than one child to lead into the future. She could feel the link reattaching as Omar latched onto that concept. She hoped Vincent was getting Heather and Nakamura off the beach where they would be safe.

  Omar was gathering power and she felt painful electrical pulses racing throughout her body once again at the points of physical contact. She had held him, but she had also healed him, something she evidently could not control.

  As Omar gained mastery, Michelle felt herself growing insubstantial, as if he was sucking out all her vitality. A crackling intensity of electrical energy was racing through his strong body. He was actually expanding within her arms and the muscles suddenly felt hard as steel. She knew her arms around his neck were the only things holding her body up. If she let go she would fall. Everything would be lost.

  Staring into his eyes she saw red sparks shooting within. Omar's eyes changed dramatically, bleaching to a lighter color, as Michelle watched in terror. Staring eyes almost as yellow as her own, made the pupils shockingly black in contrast. The black pinpoints drilled into her.

  The color c
hange was dramatic enough, but suddenly unspeakable live entities were roiling behind the golden colored irises; serpents, insects, worms and parasitic creatures swarming. The nightmare shapes tumbled and twisted and jumped out at her with hideous, hungry open mouths. Michelle didn't know whether she was really seeing into Omar's black soul, or if the ghoulish images were psychic projections of the real Omar from her own mind. She felt she had her arms around the devil himself.

  She heard thunder roar and felt the first pat of fat heavy raindrops with foreboding. A storm was brewing and Omar used electrical energy like a conduit.

  She had diverted him with images of what she would give him. The beautiful child. But women had always been play-putty in Omar's hands. He expected gifts. She had to stir dreadful fear within him and she stared into his scary eyes without flinching. Expressing her horror could precipitate disaster.

  She sent Omar dire images of the appalling circumstances he would experience without her promises. Images of himself as an old man alone, no longer powerful, stripped of youth, vigor, and the ability impress women with the enormous charm of his face and body. There was no child with beautiful blue eyes and magical abilities. There were no nubile young witches pathetically eager to do his bidding. He was old, decrepit, isolated and bereft. As she did this she could actually feel him becoming weaker, his muscles softening under her fingers.

  When she felt he was weak enough, she made her demands, hoping to shock him. He must get rid of his horrible minion, Samson Stoker. He would stop the traffic in drugs. He would get rid of the witches. As she did this she dangled the prize before him. The child.

  Suddenly, she could feel him laughing.

  Omar sent his own demand: His price for the lives on the beach right now, for Heather, Nakamura and Vincent, was the child she would give him.

  Michelle had no choice. If she didn't agree, he would kill them all, load her with drugs and take all he wanted from her. She could feel his body filling with exaltation, read his thoughts. All Omar had wanted was one little egg, but he could have more. He would take all the eggs because he had sperm enough to make them all fertile; he had witches enough to give many children birth.

  He was cackling with glee. He could have ten children, or twenty, thirty, or more. All would be exactly like him and would inhabit and spread throughout the world. They would eventually master the world. He might even live to see it.

  Michelle had one last card to play, but she couldn't do it in her mind. He would never believe her. She had to turn him loose to show him, which was extremely dangerous. On top of that, she could smell ozone in the air. The storm that had been accumulating in the heavy clouds above promised an electrical storm. It made what she planned dangerous for her. It would be dangerous for Heather, Nakamura and Vincent as well, stranded in the vicinity without her, if Omar had electricity to manipulate. But she could never let him have a child. She was revolted by the thought of what he would do to an innocent baby.

  Michelle blanked her mind. She imagined her thoughts as black holes which could not be reached by any means. Omar had to be stranded from her intentions. Then she blasted him, shouting in her mind: "I am dead. And you are dead. You have lost your power, old man. You are weak in mind, decrepit in body. Decaying rotten meat. Blindness is in your eyes. You will fall to the ground and you will not be able to rise."

  She had definitely shocked him. Michelle felt his arms fall limply away from her. She abruptly let go and ran straight into the ocean. She turned around once and saw that the witches were gone and that Omar had collapsed down into the sand. Heather and Nakamura and Vincent were together, watching her with identically stunned expressions. She felt tears in her eyes and wished she could send them love. She tried, sending her warmest thoughts to each of them. Then she turned and rushed forward, diving under the first of the gigantic waves rolling toward her.

  Vincent stood there aghast for a moment. "She's committing suicide," he muttered to himself. "To save us." He felt grief stricken, having found out about Suzanne only a few minutes before. Then he was suffused with a comforting warmth like a halo of light. He knew he was right. Michelle was killing herself and had sent him a moment of serenity and light.

  "Oh, no. She can't," Nakamura said, shaking his head. But he felt it too. It was like a remembered song in his heart, so piercing and poignant it was like a beautiful remembrance of something that never really happened, but was there within his mind, a wonderful memory he could almost grasp. Nakamura tried to move, to get up and run into the water after Michelle, and only managed to send radiating pain throughout his body again as he collapsed down into the sand.

  To Heather, the feeling Michelle sent was concentrated happiness, bright for just a moment, and then it was gone, leaving her mournful. Tears were rolling down her cheeks.

  "Get Omar," she shouted. "Michelle can come back in if we restrain him."

  Heather tore her jacket off as she ran to the fallen man and started wrestling with his heavily muscled arms, trying to tie them up with the tiny sleeves. Vincent rushed to help her. Omar wouldn't be stunned for long. They had to take advantage of the situation immediately.

  Guy was just walking back to the group with his news that help was on the way. When he saw Omar loose and that Vincent and Heather were working frantically to restrain him, he ran to help, sacrificing his jacket and shirt. Omar began to struggle.

  Vincent was panting with the effort to contain Omar. "Quick, roll him up in the blanket."

  Omar was lying flat on his back, looking up angrily at the clouds above him. His arms and legs were tied up securely, but he could still use his eyes and he was raging. He jerked his head and lightening blasted out of the clouds, bolts landing randomly around the beach and crashing into the rocks enclosing the tiny bit of land. Large chunks of volcanic rock split off from the cliffs. They rained down on the beach in a deadly avalanche.

  The rain drenched everyone, coming down so heavily it hissed in the air before it struck the sand.

  After what had happened to her only the night before, Heather was terrified. Without even thinking she dropped to the sand and covered her head, whimpering in the violent thunder and lightening.

  Lucifer was loose and running around in circles, screaming his head off. He fussily did not want to get his paws wet and finally, daintily scampered to the very edge of the wet sand and continued to howl, prowling back and forth where Michelle had run into the sea.

  Nakamura sat in the sand and gazed out at the ocean. He knew if lightening struck the water it would kill Michelle. He glanced over at Omar and saw him jerking his head around. Suddenly he realized what was happening.

  "Cover his eyes!" Nakamura yelled. "He's using his eyes! Cover them. Hurry."

  Heather had slowly come out of her terrified fetal position. She was scared to move with all the thunder and lightening, but she tore off her shirt, in too much of a hurry to worry about buttons, ran skittishly over to Omar and threw it over his face.

  Nakamura felt totally useless sitting there, unable to move, so he pulled himself over to the hole that Omar had freed himself from and began enlarging it, as he watched Vincent and Guy attempt to roll Omar up in the blanket again.

  Omar was struggling like a madman. Vincent finally shook his head because they weren't making any progress. They had the blanket about halfway around him but he was contorting so violently they couldn't turn him over to roll him up.

  Vincent finally sat on Omar's legs and Heather plopped down on his stomach. She was heaved off several times. They would have to wait until he was exhausted to finish wrapping him up. Nakamura had almost completed the hole they would drop him into.

  Luckily, Vincent was thinking as he fought to restrain the struggling Omar, he had convinced the two witches to go back up the path and wait in the truck. They were both strong women. He and Guy would never have been able to fight Omar and the witches together. It was hard enough now, to try to contain the Necromancer.

  They all noticed that lighten
ing was not striking the beach or the rocks any longer. Omar was finally quieting down.

  After her intense and total involvement with Omar during the last few minutes, it was almost relaxing to be in the water again when Michelle finally made it to the relative calm outside the influence of the breakers. She was too tired to even look back and see what was happening on the beach.

  Michelle had reassured herself that she was not really committing suicide, but it had been in the back of her mind she would be doing exactly that with an electrical storm coming. She wanted Omar to believe that she was deliberately killing herself. She had no choice. She couldn't have held him much longer. If she had lost control he would have taken domination over her. Now, of course, he might just kill those on the beach out of spite, but she couldn't do anything about it.

  Realizing that she had some sort of healing power was an odd notion. She had seen Nakamura's face when she touched his ankle. She had witnessed and felt Omar recover from a severe concussion in her arms. She also knew that she could receive and transmit thoughts. It expanded her ideas of what was possible in the world and she didn't know if she could transmit from afar, but she tried to send Omar the belief that he was a pathetic, helpless slug.

  She flipped over on her back and let the salty sea water support her, not even feeling the chill anymore. The rain came down fiercely and she could hear the booming thunder. She started treading water, finally recovering a little energy, trying to see what was happening on shore, but the heavy rain just made the small bit of sand a grey blur. She thought she saw figures and movement and squinted her eyes. The lighting would send flashes and she waited for one to illuminate the beach.

  Finally Michelle saw a bright light and knew she was dead. The bolt of lightening was coming straight for her through the rain and she squinted her eyes. It would hit the water and, hopefully, shock her unconscious before she drowned. She didn't want to be cognizant when it happened, paralyzed from the electrical shock, struggling in a body that would not respond, aware that she couldn't help herself as she breathed in salt water for the last time. She was screaming and didn't know it until she figured it was her own voice she was hearing, wailing helplessly. The wait for oblivion seemed endless.