Witchy Woman - Book 2 - The Necromancer

by Pamela M. Richter

  Vincent smiled, “The way he looks at Heather. You can tell he’d do anything for her.”

  “Reminds me of me,” Rod said, “when I first met Michelle.”

  “Tell me,” Vincent said as they went through the lab..

  “I’d flown to Hawaii from Heroshi headquarters in Japan to see how things were going in the property management department. And perhaps to hire Michelle, sight unseen, to come to work with me in Japan. She was that good at her job.”

  “Love at first sight?” Vincent asked, as he opened the door to the stairwell and they started down.

  Rod shook his head. “I didn’t believe in that. Now my mind is blown with all the new stuff I’m learning—the reality of the paranormal. Supernatural abilities. So maybe there really is such a thing as love-at-first-sight. It’s a lot more believable than the strange occult, mystical stuff.” Rod glanced at Vincent, “No insult intended.”

  “None taken,” Vincent said.

  “See, when I first saw Michelle she was in the process of faxing a report to me, thinking I was in Japan. When I walked in and introduced myself she turned white as a sheet. At the time I thought it was because she was late sending the property report. I didn’t know she was terrified to be alone with a man. But she had me immediately. I recognize that now.” Rod laughed. “Looks like Mike caught the love bug pretty fast, too.”

  They hurried down the stairs to the tenth floor. Rod stopped talking now, intent only on making sure Michelle was unharmed. Hopefully they could get her out of here without a nasty incident. Omar was probably deeply asleep on the third floor of the clinic, Rod told himself to stay calm.

  When they went through the tenth stairwell door and onto the patient floor, the nurse in the center booth glanced over at them.

  “Uh-oh,” Rod said. “She’ll make us leave.”

  “Do you speak any Spanish?” Vincent whispered as the nurse walked toward them.

  “Not a word. You?”

  Vincent shook his head. He smiled at the woman and gave a charming little bow, holding out his hand. “English?”

  The nurse was young and pretty, with dark hair crowned by an old-fashioned, winged, white nursing cap. But she looked forbidding, frowning, saying something in Spanish they couldn’t understand.

  She shook her head at Vincent, but took his hand to shake, “No English.”

  Vincent patted his chest. “Me. Papa. Michelle Satinov.”

  “Ah, Papa. Sorry, no visitors,” she said with a pronounced accent.

  Vincent put on a sad face. “Maybe see Michelle? Just look?” He circled his thumb and first finger on both hands, and held them over his eyes—like looking through eyeglasses.

  Then he patted his hand over his heart, to show love for his daughter and then put his palms together, like he was praying. Then he again circled his fingers around his eyes.

  The pantomime was appealing, but the nurse looked at him sternly for a few seconds. Then she laughed and put her first finger over her mouth, a sign not to tell anyone she was breaking the rules. She led them down the hallway to the last patient room.

  When they peeked inside the viewing window, the room was empty.

  Chapter 25

  Omar left Michelle’s hospital room after his fruitless search for the diamond. When he was gone, Lucifer jumped back on the bed. He meowed in Michelle’s ear, patted her face, seemingly waiting for her to react, staring into her face and touching his nose against hers. He then circled around to find a comfortable resting spot on the pillow next to her head.

  As he started to lie down, the cat screeched, leaped straight up, as though something stung him. He streaked across the room, backed up in the corner, tail swishing back and forth, the hairs on his back standing up.

  Lucifer stalked slowly, one paw at a time, stomach almost lowered to the floor, toward the bed, growling low in his throat. He gave a great thrust with his hind legs and leapt upon it. Then he put one paw inside the open side of the pillow case and scrabbled around.

  The big glittering diamond rolled out from under Lucifer’s paw, around Michelle’s shoulder, down her arm, and landed under her open palm lying on the sheet. Lucifer hissed all the while the giant diamond moved, but he didn’t stop or interfere with it.

  Michelle’s body jerked when the diamond made contact with her hand, her eyelids moving in a dream.

  The dream lasted only a few minutes in real time. In Michelle’s mind, though, she spent a lifetime as another person. A short lifetime, because the women, named Abigail, was sixteen when she died.

  It was a quick kaleidoscope, that dream. The young girl’s year of birth was 1676 in colonial Massachusetts. It was a time of extreme religious beliefs and holidays like Christmas and Easter were forbidden, as was music and dancing. Michelle, as Abigail, attended a school that emphasized strict piety and bible study to prevent eternal damnation.

  The first ninety-nine percent of Abigail’s life, in Michelle’s dream, moved rapidly, like a fast-motion movie. She saw her parents celebrating her birthday when she was three. The puppy she adored. The boredom of hours of daily school in a tiny classroom, and especially the boredom of seemingly eternal worship services she had to attend. Running and playing in the woods around the village. Getting in serious trouble when she questioned the elders and ministers about the rigid religious doctrine.

  As punishment for her imprudence they cut off her long brown hair, so it was only jagged wisps around her face. Looking in the mirror, seeing herself mutilated and humiliated for all the village to observe, Abigail ran away into the forest. Soon she was lost and alone, crying for hours. A young Indian boy she called Nate, because she couldn’t pronounce his real Indian name, led her back home to Salem Village after they hid in the woods for a few hours. He was a member of a friendly tribe and knew a little English, so they could communicate. Abigail was fascinated by his black eyes and hair, his beautiful golden skin.

  Abigail knew she shouldn’t keep sneaking out to meet Nate. Indians from other tribes had attacked their small village, but she was in love. She had a compulsion, an addiction to the Indian boy with the extreme emotions and raging hormones of a teen in puberty.

  Meeting Nate at night in the woods was a secret she held in her heart, until her father followed her one night, saw them together, and shot Nate dead.

  At this time, in Europe, there was a kind of mass hysteria that crossed the ocean and infected the new American colonies. It was the time of the Papule Bull, and the hunt for suspected witches.

  When Abigail’s parents went to the magistrates to ask for guidance with their daughter, the witch hunts were in full force.

  Ultimately, charges were brought against Abigail. She had dared to question sacred religious beliefs. Her beauty was abnormal, as was her height for a girl of that time. She was seen crossing paths the previous week with a woman who later gave birth to a deformed child with six fingers. But most damning of all, she lost her virginity to a heathen.

  The suspicion turned to certainty. Abigail was again lost and alone, almost starved in jail while she awaited her trial. In court the charges were damning. It was proclaimed that she had made a pact with the devil. She was indeed a witch. The explanation accounted for her unusual beauty, her strange gift for healing small animals, and her uncanny precognitive ability. She was hanged to death a few days later.

  Michelle’s eyes snapped open, shocked. She was awake and furious, experiencing the strong adolescent emotions of a teenager raging against her world’s prejudices, injustice and hypocrisy. Michelle knew she witnessed a life that actually happened long ago in the past.

  Omar is right, Michelle thought, surprised. Paranormal abilities do run in families. In Michelle’s dream, when Abigail had looked in the mirror to see her shorn hair, there was no doubt the young girl was a distant relative. Abigail may have had light brown hair and blue eyes, and Michelle’s hair was black, her eyes light green, but the facial resemblance was remarkable and striking. Michelle recognized her own bone
structure; the eyes were the same shape, as was the mouth and nose.

  Having experienced another person’s whole existence, it was like dueling personalities inhabited Michelle’s mind. The extraordinary anger she felt bottled inside needed an outlet. She wanted to scream when she remembered Abigail’s last thought, before she was hanged: I wish I’d slept with Nate.

  Michelle could look at what happened to Abigail with some objectivity, but it didn’t erase the anger. From her perspective, she knew Abigail had just been asking for religious clarification from the village minister. But being an arrogant ass, puffed up with pride and superiority, he used his authority to order her punished, which ultimately led to her death. Questioning religion was not tolerated during that puritanical era in America. Abigail was a victim of her time.

  What Michelle also abhorred about her dream, was that once Abigail was declared a witch, she became a living abomination, like someone with the plague. When she was in jail, not one member of her family or any of her friends came to give sustenance or comfort. She climbed the gallows to her death alone and frightened.

  Besides the dream, another war was erupting inside Michelle’s physical body. Into her right arm flowed chemicals, toxic drugs, sedatives, antibiotics, and pain medication. The drugs caused lethargy, drowsiness, and made her feel sick.

  Zipping up her left arm, power and energy, furious in its strength, flowed from the diamond beneath her hand.

  The choice was simple. Michelle removed the needle from her arm and curled her fingers around the big diamond. She was certain Abigail was the spirit inside. Young strength rocketed throughout Michelle’s body. The feeling was supreme. It was thrilling and energizing, as though each cell in her body was electrified with vitality. She felt like she could take on the whole world.

  Chapter 26

  Heather felt a hand stroking her face, then patting her cheek more forcefully.

  “Heather...Heather, wake up,” was the soft whisper in her ear. “Open your eyes, Heather. Please...”

  Heather obeyed, but forcing her lids open took supreme effort. She recognized Mike’s voice and knew he was there, insisting she wake up.

  She had been asleep, she thought, confused and dazed. Good grief, did we sleep together? Have sex? Damn, why can’t I remember? The bed was awfully hard, in fact it was rigid and uncomfortable, but when she tried to move, her limbs were numb and felt like they weighed a thousand pounds each.

  “We were zapped, or something,” Mike whispered.

  Then it came back. Omar! His snarling smile. His eyes turning bright yellow, like yellow headlights in the night.

  “Sucked me dry,” Heather agreed, shuddering. She was able to move her head and turned it sideways to look at Mike. He was on his back, lying near her, stroking her cheek with one hand.

  “We were lucky,” Mike said, turning on his stomach experimentally to see if he could actually get up on his hands and knees. Maybe he could crawl.

  “Why? He found us.”

  “You saw what he did to that stair rail. He could have killed us.”

  Breathing was a chore, but Heather took some deep ones, hoping to gather a little strength. “Too messy to dispose of our bodies.” She watched Mike crawl slowly toward the door, reach up and grab the doorknob, pulling himself to a wobbly standing position.

  “I feel like a gladiator,” Mike said.

  “Strong? Like fighting?”

  “No, like I’m wearing a hundred pounds of heavy metal armor...and just fell off the horse. But I think the spell he slugged us with is wearing off.”

  “Maybe for you...” Heather said. Trying to sit up required stomach muscles she couldn’t find. “Check out the window. See if Omar’s still around.”

  Mike held one hand on the wall for balance and taking tiny careful steps like an old decrepit person, made it to the viewing window, cautiously peeping out sideways before moving directly in front of it. “Nope. Seems like he’s really left, but I can’t see all the way down the hallway. Not enough angle. Michelle’s still in her room and it looks like she’s awake.”

  “She’s moving? Eyes open?”

  “Yes and yes,” Mike said, leaning down to grab Heather’s hand to help her stand.

  Heather smiled as Mike pulled her up. “That’s what I love about men. You all have these wonderful muscles.”

  “Mine aren’t obeying correctly right at the moment,” Mike said.

  “Well, mine are like soggy undercooked noodles. I feel like I’ve aged about a hundred years. Old and rickety.”

  They stood in silence in front of the window, watching as Michelle removed the IV needle from her arm. Her eyes were wide open and she looked totally awake. She was moving fast.

  “Something about her is different,” Heather said. “I can tell.”

  “She’s been through a lot,” Mike remarked. “We have to get over there. She’ll probably try to escape.”

  They just had to get across the hallway, but timing it was difficult with a vigilant nurse who would notice any strange movement in the hallway, and running was out of the question. They both were overcoming mind-numbing lethargy, as though all the vital oomph was sucked from their bodies.

  “Actually, we can just stand in the doorway. When she comes out she’ll see us,” Heather said. She tried to take a step toward the door, but her knees buckled.

  Mike grabbed hold of her before she fell, but lost his balance and they both went down.

  Heather started laughing. “You okay, Mike?” He was on the bottom.

  “Take it easy, Grandma. No fast moves for a while.”

  “Yeah, Gramps, I’m all tuckered out,” Heather said, trying to sound shrill and croaky, like an old lady.

  They froze when they heard an irritated voice from behind them, “Hey! What’s going on? Why are you two in my room? I’m trying to sleep.”

  She speaks English, Heather thought, as she looked at the woman lying on the bed. She was young and pretty and appeared extremely irritated to wake with intruders in her room.

  “Ah, we’re just checking things. Go on back to sleep. We’ll be leaving now,” Mike said. He looked at Heather and whispered. “If we don’t go right away she’ll call the nurse. Can you make it?”

  Heather nodded.

  Mike opened the door and glanced down the hall. The nurse appeared to be talking on her cell phone. “It’s safe. I’ll help you.”

  He put his arm around Heather’s waist and they staggered across the hall into Michelle’s room, where they both collapsed just inside the doorway, on the floor for a second time.

  Heather looked up and saw Michelle break into an enormous smile as she threw off covers and swiveled her legs off the side of the bed.

  “The good vibrations were right!” Michelle said as she ran over to them. She grabbed hold of Heather and pulled her up off the floor with ease. Then she gave her a big hug, so forceful Heather thought her ribs would break.

  “I’m so, so lucky. Friends like you.” Michelle was shaking her head, tears in her eyes. “How’d you find me? And Rod’s with you? And Mike. Thank you so much for coming! I was so scared.”

  “It’s a long story,” Heather said. “But first, we have to get you out of here. Omar found Mike and me and zapped us with some kind of energy drain. We can hardly move.”

  Heather and Mike tottered to the bed and sat down on it, exhausted.

  “I might have an antidote,” Michelle said. “It sure worked for me. Maybe it can work through me, and zap your energy back on.”

  “I was wondering about that,” Mike said. “We were here not long ago and we couldn’t get you to wake up. Heather kept talking to you and shaking your shoulder, but you didn’t even twitch. Then we hid across the hall when Omar came to the room, searching for something. You didn’t wake up then, either.”

  Michelle smiled, standing in front of them. She bent over, opened her palm, and held out the diamond for them to see. “This is Abigail.”

  Heather and Mike exchanged qui
ck worried glances.

  “I thought you gave the diamond back to Omar,” Heather said, trying to act natural. Maybe it was the drugs from Michelle’s IV that were making her nuts, talking about good vibrations, and naming an inanimate object Abigail. Or it might be too much stress, being abducted and forced into medical procedures. Or maybe, even worse, Omar had driven her friend crazy.

  “I can hardly wait to see Rod,” Michelle said enthusiastically. She seemed to have so much energy she was pacing in the small hospital room as she spoke, holding Lucifer and petting him. “And yeah, I did give the diamond back to Omar. He told me Abigail had chosen me, and now I know why. See, she was a distant relative, and also had paranormal abilities. I’ll tell you all about it. But first, we can try an experiment. When I squeeze Abigail, I get an energy rush. Hold my hand.”

  Heather reluctantly reached for the hand Michelle held out. She didn’t expect anything to happen. This was really sad. Michelle had gone bonkers.

  She waited and nothing happened. Then, suddenly, it felt like a buzz of electricity shot through her hand and up her arm. It was almost painful, like when you accidently put your finger in a light socket and get a shock. But man, did she ever feel energized.

  Heather’s eyes opened wide in shock. “Wow!” She stood up and walked around experimentally. Her legs felt powerful. “That’s amazing. I love it! I wonder if it ever runs out of juice. Better than a gallon of coffee.”

  “Let’s try it on Mike,” Michelle said, smiling. “Abigail will probably like him with his dark eyes and hair, like her Indian friend, Nate.”

  “Uh, I really like experiments,” Mike said. “But maybe I’ll just get my strength back naturally.”

  “Maybe eventually, but look,” Heather said. She jumped up and down in place a few times. Then she skipped around the room. “It’s not a placebo. You know Omar took our strength away. Now we need our good witch to help you.”