Witchy Woman - Book 2 - The Necromancer

by Pamela M. Richter

  As Heather was having gruesome thoughts about Michelle’s fate if they didn’t get to her in time, she watched Mike reach under his seat where he had placed a briefcase. Inside was his computer. He opened it up and was typing rapidly.

  “I think I found it,” Mike murmured, studying the screen. “Looks like there’s only one fertility clinic in Guadalajara.”

  Vincent looked at Mike with interest. “Are you good with that computer?”

  Mike nodded, “I’ll try to hack into their ‘admissions.’ See if she’s there.”

  Heather leaned over and watched Mike. She wondered if she’d ever get used to being impressed with his abilities. Now he seemed to jump rapid-fire from one screen to another, his fingers flying over the keyboard.

  He was muttering, “She would have arrived this morning. I’m in admissions now. Checking...”

  He paused for a second and turned to Heather. “Michelle Satinov. They have her checked in this morning at 11:00 A.M.”

  “Shit.” Heather said. “That creep! Giving Michelle his own last name. Maybe she was forced into a shot-gun wedding in Vegas on the way to Mexico.”

  Rod went over and looked down at the computer screen, then he started pacing angrily around the seating arrangement. “She’d never marry Omar.” He was scrubbing his red hair into a messy mop.

  “Not willingly,” Heather agreed. She watched Rod. He could hardly contain his fury, moving around the enclosed space, with Lucifer trotting closely behind him. He was so perfect for Michelle, and obviously cared for her deeply.

  Michelle had met Rod when he’d come to Hawaii from Japan to oversee the properties she managed. He was controller of the whole Heroshi Corporation, which had subsidiaries in many countries. At the time, Michelle was experiencing panic attacks whenever she was alone with a man. It was a psychological thing that she couldn’t control after having been violently raped several years previously by Omar’s scary minion and bodyguard, Samson. She was so badly hurt she’d lost an ovary. The doctors thought her chance of ever having a child were minuscule.

  After the rape, alone with a man, Michelle would start trembling violently. It was like the fight-or-flight adrenalin rush response that couldn’t be controlled. She couldn’t stand to be touched, never dated, and lived a solitary, lonely life.

  Heather remembered being absolutely shocked when Michelle told her she was going to try to have an affair with Omar. He’d just moved into their building. She said she had to practice on someone, and quoted a therapy called ‘progressive desensitization.’ She didn’t have amorous feelings for Omar, so he would be a good practice partner, she told Heather; like it was some super-logical decision she’d made.

  Heather was upset and thought Michelle was jumping in unwisely with both feet, trying to cure herself. Sure, Omar was extraordinarily handsome, and he liked Michelle, obviously, but Heather didn’t trust anyone that strikingly attractive and had a sure feeling he would break her heart.

  In the end, Michelle tried to have that affair, but when it came right down to it, she told Heather, she just couldn’t do it. They got to the point of removing clothing and Michelle had stopped dead. Something about Omar was wrong, or scary. She felt like a failure after that aborted experience and told Heather she knew she’d never be a normal woman again.

  Then Heather had watched, moved and thrilled for her best friend, as Michelle and Rod became friends, and she could observe Michelle gradually losing her fear. Eventually they become lovers. Rod was the first male person that Michelle found she could trust.

  Just when Michelle found happiness with a wonderful partner like Rod, trust Omar to ruin everything for her once again, Heather thought angrily.

  “I don’t think they were married,” Vincent commented. “If Michelle was transported in a big box on the plane, like was described to you, Heather, I don’t think she was conscious. She was probably drugged. They’d have to revive her so she’d at least appeared coherent, dress her up, and then get her to walk down a wedding aisle, even at those fast-food, no-questions-asked, chapels in Vegas. Omar probably just used his last name for convenience when he scheduled her for the procedures they do at the clinic.”

  “Michelle’s going to be so pissed,” Heather said. “The nerve of that man!”

  “The big deal, though,” Mike said as he studied his computer, “is that they have an announcement on every page of this website that the medical services provided are private and confidential. Maybe they won’t even let us see her. They might tell us she’s not there, if Omar gave them orders that she’s not to be disturbed.”

  Rod finally sat down and Lucifer jumped back in his lap. He stroked the cat absent-mindedly.

  Vincent had been observing Mike work on his computer. He leaned over to Heather and whispered, “Your friend, Mike, he’s very smart?”

  Heather nodded back and muttered, ‘genius,’ under her breath. She wondered why Vincent asked. Maybe he had a plan. It seems Rod was thinking along the same lines.

  “We need to get organized,” Rod said. “I already booked us rooms at a hotel near the airport. But what if they really won’t let us visit Michelle? She might need to stay in the hospital a few days to recuperate. And if Omar’s there, he’ll try to prevent us from taking her back to Hawaii.”

  Vincent said, “We’ll have to overwhelm the hospital administration so we can get access to Michelle. I’m going in as her father. Omar couldn’t prevent her own father from visiting her. And Mike, I want you to study as much as you can on that computer of yours, because you’re going to be her doctor.”

  Mike’s swallowed visibly with such a look of such bewildered surprise Heather had to stifle a giggle. He was totally astonished by the idea.

  “You can do it. You’re already a doctor,” Heather said, smiling at Mike.

  “Of meteorology and geology. Not a physician,” Mike said seriously.

  Vincent said, “Concentrate on fertility problems, and try learning a little about how human ovum are stored; the temperature, how long they can remain viable, that sort of thing, so you can converse with the doctors at the clinic.”

  “I don’t speak Spanish very well, but it says here the staff is fluent in English,” Mike commented as he went back to the fertility clinic website. Then he started looking up medical information on his computer in another overlapping window.

  Mike added, “There’s a page for communication with the clinic, emailing the individual doctors. Maybe I can track down Michelle’s doctor. Say I’m coming to check on her prognosis. Doctors usually show courtesy to other doctors. Perhaps they’ll give me a tour and we can figure out the best way to sneak Michelle out of there.”

  “Excellent idea,” Vincent said. “Because sneak Michelle out is exactly what we’re going to have to do.”

  It won’t be easy, Heather thought. Especially with Omar around. Then she had another thought. “Michelle won’t leave without her eggs.”

  Rod said, “Mike, see if there are places, anywhere in the world, where we could have the eggs transferred and stored safely.”

  Mike nodded. He took a little time, then said, “I checked Hawaii first. There’s a fertility clinic on Oahu. The problem would be safely transferring the eggs from Mexico. They’d be frozen and stored in nitrogen. A constant temperature is essential.”

  Heather had an awful thought, “What if all of Michelle’s eggs have already been implanted with Omar’s sperm?”

  “Let’s just concentrate on finding Michelle and getting her home,” Vincent said. “Mike, you’ll have to find out if you can arrange a meeting with her doctor.”

  “I just emailed a Dr. Julian Franz. He’s the onsite surgeon and head of the clinic. I said I was Michelle’s GP and I was coming to see how she’s doing.”

  Heather was thinking that their alternative would be to go to the police. But they would be in a foreign country and had to make sure that Michelle really was abducted and forced into surgical procedures she didn’t agree to. Then they could contac
t the Mexican Police and the American Embassy.

  Chapter 11

  Omar had watched earlier as two nurses came into the bedroom of their suite to prepare Michelle for surgery. They’d covered her hair with what looked like a transparent shower cap. They were quick and efficient, handling Michelle like a giant pliable doll, removing her clothing for the operation and putting a paper gown on her. He could tell they were concerned that she didn’t wake up. One nurse kept tapping her cheek, saying something in Spanish.

  They were even more upset about the prominent red scar that went from Michelle’s lower abdomen and straight up between her breasts, ending at her clavicle. It had happened when Samson, Omar’s former bodyguard and all-round flunky, had become a little too enthusiastic with the knife when he raped Michelle. Accidents happen, Omar thought indifferently.

  Omar couldn’t understand what they were saying because the nurses were talking in Spanish, but the scar didn’t detract from the attractiveness of her form, as far as he was concerned. Michelle was even more beautiful than when he’d first seen her. After the rape she’d begun serious martial arts training, and she was now in superb shape.

  He concluded, as he watched the nurses, that they were disturbed because the scar was obviously caused by a severe knife wound that had healed over, but would remain noticeable forever.

  There was a knock on the door and a woman in a lab coat came in and asked him for his specimen jar, which he had filled to capacity. She took it and Omar tried to get a glimpse of her face, to see if she was impressed, but she had her head down, like she might be embarrassed.

  She wrapped it in a towel and said, “Must keep warm,” in very accented English and hurried out of the suite. Probably to take it to the fertility clinic laboratory.

  The collection procedure had been a bit demeaning. Omar hadn’t done the alone, hand-jobby thing, since he was an adolescent. He found himself inordinately proud of the copious amount he produced. Especially since he wasn’t as young a man as he appeared to be. He’d had several surgical procedures. The first had been to remove the epicanthic folds over his eyes which proclaimed his Asian ancestry. The others had just been to tighten the jowls and some extra facial skin to keep a firm chin line.

  He watched as the nurses adeptly moved Michelle to a gurney with legs and wheels and trundled her out of the room.

  “You come?” one of the nurses asked, turning to him as they went out the door.

  Omar didn’t want to, but he followed them into the hallway, down a long corridor, and up in an elevator to the surgical suite.

  They went through the swinging double doors and Omar could see a doctor in the glaringly bright surgical room with several other people wearing sterile gowns standing around, waiting to begin the operation.

  “You stay here,” the nurse told him as they pushed the gurney through the door into the harshly lighted room.

  Omar had no intention of watching. All he cared about was the result, and he turned around to go back to his luxury suite and wait until the procedure was done. As he walked down the hallway he remembered his phone buzzing several times earlier in the day. He took it out of his pocket. There were several emails. The little paper-clip icons indicated that pictures were attached.

  Humm—unknown sender. His thumb pressed the first email and he smiled. He was gratified to see that his pet witches had done as he asked. There was no message to go with the image, but it was totally unnecessary, considering the graphic nature. Omar was pleased. His pets were doing as he had commanded.

  There are many ways to manipulate people. With Feng, the man impersonating Omar at his Honolulu apartment, there was a definite problem. Omar wanted him to stay and work for him, but Feng already had a job and he didn’t want to leave his family in Beijing. The man didn’t drink or take drugs. Omar didn’t want to waste his time on spells. They could be unreliable and tricky. He was in a rush to get Feng to comply with his wishes, since his long time henchman, Samson, was currently in prison.

  Then he’d seen how Feng reacted when he’d been introduced to the coven of witches Omar had accumulated in Hawaii. Gotch-ya! The guy was practically salivating, his tongue hanging out of his mouth at his first glimpse of the beautiful women.

  The rest was a piece of cake. Some people need booze, some drugs. However, sex is very potent and addictive as well. It can also be used to manipulate people because most want to keep their little peccadillos private.

  Omar knew he had Feng as his slave now. First, because Feng would easily become addicted to his witches sexual wiles, and secondly, because Feng had a traditional Chinese family who would be shocked if they saw the pictures. Omar could apply the threat of exposure to Feng’s conservative family. Especially since these women were definitely Caucasian.

  Wait!

  Omar stopped dead in the hallway, staring. Something was wrong with the picture. He thumbed through the rest of them. All depicted Feng’s escapades involving naked women. Sometimes more than one was entwined with him, but Omar noticed the camera angle was impossible. The perspective was all wrong.

  The hallway was crowded and a woman behind him bumped into his back. “Perdoneme” she said, scurrying around him.

  Omar almost batted her out of the way he was so incensed as he blindly moved on. Someone was taking pictures from outside his apartment. Someone from one of the buildings behind his own place had the audacity to snoop. He wondered who it was and how the person got his own personal cell phone number.

  This could be extremely damaging if the photos were shared, say to newspapers, gabby websites, porn sites. Or even the police. The most trouble would be if they went to the HPD. Feng looked a lot like Omar when viewed from a distance, but the differences were apparent in the pictures. It wouldn’t take much for the police to conclude that Omar had fled their jurisdiction.

  Considering the serious charges against him there would be a real man-hunt begun if the police went to his condo to check and see if he was in residence.

  Omar realized suddenly that he shouldn’t use his cell phone now at all because someone might be monitoring it. He shut it off and hurried to the lobby of the clinic. He needed a pay phone. Luckily, there was one right by the desk with the beautiful receptionist that had been there when he and Michelle checked in. Pretending to be practically blind, he asked the receptionist for the location of a pay phone. He took the time to dazzle her, staring deeply into her eyes, to mesmerize her. Too bad he didn’t have the time to seduce her into one of his covens. She was quite lovely and happily gestured him to the lobby phone beside her desk.

  Omar dialed the number for his Honolulu condo and waited impatiently, through several rings, before Feng answered the phone.

  “It’s me,” Omar said.

  Feng didn’t reply, knowing enough not to use Omar’s name in case the phone had been bugged by HPD.

  “Someone in a building behind mine took some interesting and graphic pictures. Pictures of you and a couple of women there in the apartment. They were quite explicit. It would be wise to use the blackout feature. Do it now.”

  There was a long pause, and Feng whispered, “What kind?”

  Omar put steel in his voice. “Incriminating. Now use blackout on all the windows.”

  “Yes, yes, immediately. I’ll...”

  Omar quietly placed the phone on the receiver as Feng was speaking. He’d wanted to slam it down forcefully, but was aware that the beautiful blond receptionist was sending him sideways glances. Too bad she thought he was married.

  Omar didn’t use the black-out film that made the windows on his condominium opaque, often, but it came in handy when he was doing a ritual, with lighted candles, or the initiation of a new witch into the coven. That always required sex as part of the ceremony. During those times, he didn’t want anyone looking into his place.

  He had used Samson in the past to initiate new witches because he didn’t always want to have sex himself with every woman introduced into his covens. Now he knew that Feng
would take over that part of the ritual. He might even be better than Samson. Samson had scared some of the potential witches because he was so large, and because he was a mute and could only make garbled noises.

  When he got to his suite, Omar peeked in on the room where Leilanie was staying. She was lying on the bed, watching a video on a large screen TV.

  Good, he thought as he quietly backed away. She was being entertained so he didn’t have to talk to her. It might be a few hours before they came for her procedure; to implant the fertilized eggs.

  Omar had no idea how long it took to introduce his sperm to Michelle’s eggs. He hoped the little wigglers were quick and would fertilize the eggs fast in the laboratory. Omar wanted lots of eggs ready for his other witches. He would have a stunning legacy of psychically gifted children in the future.

  He lay down on the bed to nap for a while. He roused when the nurses came to get Leilanie and looked at his watch. Two hours had gone by in a wink. He must have potent sperm, he thought. The little buggers had already implanted themselves into Michelle’s eggs.

  Leilanie hadn’t complained too much when Omar told her that she’d be implanted with Michelle’s embryo. She was an obedient witch. Now she looked terrified as a nurse handed her a sterile gown. Omar smiled and nodded at Leilanie and then withdrew from the room as she reluctantly started taking off her clothing, even though she was gazing at him with frightened, needy eyes. He didn’t want another long discussion about why she should do this. The time was past for Leilanie to back out.

  He held Leilanie’s hand as she was whisked down the hallway on a stretcher by some orderlies. Right before she was to be pushed into the surgery theatre, she crooked her finger at Omar.

  He bent down to hear her say, “You’ll still love me when I’m fat as a sow?”

  She thinks I love her? “Of course, Leilanie. Even more.”