The Necromancer – Book 3
Magical Legacy
Pamela M. Richter
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Thank You
Chapter 1
Three little peas in a pod.
Three shining pairs of eyes looked up at Leilanie expectantly. Two of the pair were dark brown. The other pair was much lighter, a greenish yellow.
“Do you want a story?”
Vigorous happy nods, waving little arms, and giggles with great smiles answered her. Most of the smiles were pink and gummy because the three girls had just passed their babyhood and didn’t have many teeth. The few that were visible were like tiny, polished white pearls.
Leilanie smiled back at her daughters, who were squeaky clean from their nightly bath, lying under the covers. It was bedtime. Storytime. She lowered the lamplight and picked up their favorite, ‘Goodnight Moon.’
“Candle.”
“Ah, yes,” Leilanie answered the light eyed child, whose name was Shelly, after her biological mother, Michelle. “We can’t forget to light our candle.”
She did so, placed it on the table by the bed, and then started the story, “Once upon a time.” She always began each story that way, even if it wasn’t the first line of the book.
Leilanie was so used to reading this one that her mind wandered. She could almost feel Omar behind her, and knew he was slouched in the doorway of the bedroom, watching and listening.
Since Leilanie knew the words by heart after so many repetitions, she studied the girls’ pretty little faces. They had been born within minutes of each other, and looked alike, although they were not triplets.
The reality that she was not the biological mother didn’t bother Leilanie. They were her daughters forever, and she felt like the happiest woman on earth to have such healthy, bright children. They were fun, squeezable bundles of joy.
The fact that Leilanie had to move from her home on Oahu, Hawaii, and left her family behind, was the one dark blot in her life now. She couldn’t contact her mother or father because of Omar’s troubles. But it was well worth her sacrifice, to live in France, because she had the children, and Omar didn’t stray. At least that’s what he told her, and she elected to believe him, since she loved him unreservedly. After all, she was the mother of his children, even if he didn’t marry her.
She had understood the need for them to flee to another country, what with the legal problems he’d had. But now there was another shadow in her life that bothered her somewhat. Samson had come to France to live with them.
He was a colossal young man who’d been with Omar for twenty years, until he went to prison. Leilanie guessed Samson weighed in at about three-hundred pounds of pure muscle, and stood at least six and a half feet tall. As soon as he was granted parole for a few days in Hawaii, he’d skipped prison, the law, and found Omar.
Samson was a scary guy, with a face like granite, and a nose that was squashed in by being broken so many times. But he’d been with Omar since he was a child. Leilanie couldn’t object when he showed up on their doorstep. He’d been an integral part of Omar’s life. Samson was frightening to look at, and he couldn’t speak because he’d been abused as a child. He had no tongue.
Her little girls didn’t seem to think Samson was scary. They climbed up his strong legs to his shoulders and he ran around the house, jumping over the furniture, while they squealed with joy.
Samson had been Omar’s right hand man for years before he was convicted of a bank robbery and sent to prison. He helped Omar run his import business in Bogotá, Columbia, where Samson had been born. He was Omar’s henchman, enforcer, and all round maintenance guy. But still, sometimes he stared at Leilanie in a way that made her uncomfortable.
Omar still ran his legendary Wiccan covens all over the world, and Samson was the guy he used to initiate new witches into the covens. It always involved sexual intercourse, and many times Omar wasn’t interested in performing that part of the ceremony himself, particularly if the woman becoming a witch was not attractive. Omar could possess any gorgeous woman he wanted, with the help of a little magic. So Samson performed the witch initiation task instead.
Lately, Samson hadn’t been around much because he was traveling, picking up the supplies that Omar used in the witchy concoctions he sold to his congregations of followers; lotions, potions, oils, and trinkets, said to be imbued with magical spells that were purported to regrow your hair, make you strong, enhance your sex life, bring wealth, find the perfect love, or send you to a higher plane of enlightenment.
Of course, the stuff was addictive as hell, but it sure was a lucrative business.
Leilanie had anything and everything she could possibly want in the way of possessions. Diamonds, jewels, a priceless wardrobe. There were servants to cook gourmet meals and do all the cleaning. Omar and Leilanie had a chateau in Italy, where they would hang out in the summer. Their home in France was an enormous castle-like structure overlooking the south coast, decorated like a palace with marble floors and gilt trimmed furnishings.
Omar had suggested a nanny to look after the children, but that one time Leilanie put her foot down. The girls were bonded to her and she wanted to take care of them. She took joy in feeding them and changing their nappies.
The bedroom where she was now reading to the three little girls was high ceilinged, with ornate old carvings of cupids, flowers and fanciful animals embedded in the walls. The bed where the girls slept together had a white silk canopy above it, with a gold and white brocaded bedspread. A room fit for royal princesses.
The castle where they all lived was so big that Leilanie had placed bells on the girls so they wouldn’t get lost when they played games like hide and seek. Even though they were permitted on only one floor, they still sometimes managed to get lost. She also gave them whistles that they wore around their necks, so if they wandered and got disoriented they could just blow on the whistle and someone would come to find them.
Leilanie smiled as she watched the girls blinking, trying to stay awake. The story ended and she closed the book.
“Sing, sing, sing,” Shelly said. She was a precocious child, talking well before the age of two.
“Aloha ‘Oe,” always made Leilanie sad, but the children loved it. It was a traditional Hawaiian song of goodbye. Still, she sang it because she treasured the melody and especially the words of the chorus, which she always sang in her native Hawaiian: “Farewell to you, farewell to you. One fond embrace, 'Ere I depart. Until we meet again.”
Leilanie hoped this time of banishment from her home would not be permanent. The thought of Oahu, her birth place, was like an everlasting knife in her heart. She missed the beautiful island so much; the surrounding ocean views, green mountains, and coo
ling Hawaiian trade winds. Omar had promised that they would go back eventually.
The three pairs of eyes were now closed and Leilanie blew out the candle. She stood up, looking at her precious children with their black hair spread out on white pristine lace pillows. Then she lowered the lamp light until there was just a little glow in the room.
She turned around, went over to Omar, who was still standing in the doorway, linking her arm with his as they went down the hallway to the magnificent master bedroom.
He had changed his appearance remarkably since they fled Oahu. He was a fugitive. France was lax about deporting felons, and here in France Omar was well known, gave his wealth away philanthropically, so he was pretty safe in this small town.
Still, Leilanie thought as she gazed up at him as they went down the hallway, even with the changes, Omar was extraordinarily handsome, although he now shaved his head every morning. She saw him characteristically brush his hand over his bare head every once in a while, smoothing back his non-existent thick black hair. The blue contact lenses also gave him grief, but he wore them almost every day, hiding his distinct dark eyes.
She thought with Omar’s new look that changed his appearance so dramatically, they might even be able to go back to Hawaii. It had been such a long time.
As soon as Leilanie and Omar were out of the room, the light eyed child, Shelly, opened her eyes, turned her head and blinked at the lamp on the bedside table. The glow quickly became brighter. The whole room lit up like it was daytime.
She frowned and the lamp dimmed again, but now the candle wick burst into a wavering golden flame.
Shelly laughed and closed her eyes.
Chapter 2
Omar escorted Leilanie into the master bedroom. He knew she would go to sleep fast, weary after taking care of the children all day, leaving him free to take care of some necessary items.
He’d just received a text that Samson had arrived back from Bogotá. He tapped in his reply. “Back lower patio, now.”
Leilanie had slipped into a slinky, white, silk nightgown. She was still a good looking woman, with her long black hair and curvy Hawaiian figure. Omar gazed at her without emotion. She was an adequate partner, a good mother to his children. Her stomach still pooched out a little after having the three girls. He had no interest in her sexually, but performed his duty a couple of times a week to keep her happy and continue to have a free nanny for the girls. He got his rocks off with a beautiful eighteen year old French girl who lived nearby.
Leilanie was perfect for his needs because she hardly understood a word of French, which isolated her completely. She seemed to believe they would go back to Oahu since he had shaved his head and wore contacts.
As he watched Leilanie get into bed, it reminded him of that night at the hospital, when she’d finally gone into screaming, noisy labor.
Omar hadn’t wanted to see all the birthing blood and gore, so he was in the waiting room, waiting, for what seemed like hours.
Then her doctor, still in surgical dress, Omar noting blood spots on his white coat jacket, came to tell him the wonderful news. “Mr. Satinov, you are the father of three healthy girls!”
Omar was aghast. Girls? All girls? How could that happen? It was like flipping a coin and receiving three tails. The statistical odds were only one in eight.
He felt cheated. He had wanted boys to receive the special supernatural powers that he and Michelle had been gifted. Exceptional children who would be so ahead of their peers that they would excel in anything they did.
Omar envisioned himself as the head of a powerful dynasty. The kids would take care of him in his old age. He foresaw that with those unique superior abilities, his progeny might truly rule the planet.
Of course, that night in the hospital, Omar acted like he was thrilled with the doctor’s announcement. He was an expert at hiding his emotions.
Now his daughters were three years old, almost four. He hadn’t seen one iota of paranormal ability in any of them. Well, he still had some hope for the one named Shelly. She looked just like her biological mother, Michelle.
“Are you coming to bed?” Leilanie asked from across the room as she got settled under the covers.
“In a while. Don’t wait up. Samson just came back and I need to talk to him.”
Leilanie nodded and lay back on the pillows. “Something strange is going on that I need to tell you about, Omar.”
Now Omar was impatient. He didn’t want to have to get into a long drawn out conversation. For him, Leilanie was boring and predictable, but what she said next galvanized his attention.
“Every morning when I go into the girl’s room, the candle is burned down to a nub. I don’t know how it happens. I never leave it burning at night. And I’d never leave matches where the children could get them.”
Again, Omar was able to hide his true inner feelings, but inside he was celebrating. Creating fire! It was one of the first things that started primitive man’s slow march to civilization. For a witch, or one with paranormal ability, creating fire was one of the first magical things they learned to do.
“I’ll look into it,” he said. “Now I have to go…”
As Omar hurried along the long hallways of his Chateau, down to the lower level where Samson was waiting on the veranda outside, he thought over his search for another woman with the prerequisites he needed. In the last three years he’d initiated countless women into his covens. Not one had an ounce of the special paranormal abilities he sought. He knew for a fact because he could see the electromagnet halo that surrounds everyone. The few people who had supernatural abilities had distinct emanations of radiating energy fields around them.
The women initiated into his covens had the audacity to call themselves witches, or Wiccans, but not one had any real power. Michelle’s electric signature, her energy field, of which she was totally unaware, was so distinct and pronounced that when he first saw her, Omar knew she was the one he had been searching for. It was like a distinct, colorful, and fiery hologram emanating all around her physical form.
Michelle was the only woman he’d found with true psychic and paranormal capabilities. It was very rare. For the time being, she was beyond his reach. He was angry that she and her friends had stolen her eggs that he’d had harvested at great expense in Mexico for his own use. If he could just get his hands on them…
He had spies in his Wiccan coven in Hawaii. They kept tabs on Michelle and reported back to him. So far she’d never had any children of her own, and lived with that goddamned Rod Nakamura.
Omar believed the eggs he wanted were located at a fertility clinic on Oahu. He might have to go there himself to retrieve them. He’d been making subtle inquiries, but couldn’t get any information from the doctors and nurses at the clinic about the identity of the patients who had stored eggs there.
The chateau where he lived was so large that it took several minutes for Omar to go through the long marble hallways and down several flights of flagstone stairs to reach the outdoor veranda where Samson was waiting.
When Omar stepped outside he could see Samson’s shadowy form waiting for him. From about forty feet away, as he turned to face Omar, Samson looked like a human gargoyle with the dark shadows throwing his ugly face into that of a surreal beast, part human, part fiend. His ears stuck out prominently, and he was thick in all aspects; gigantic strong torso, long gorilla arms, and legs like tree trunks.
The night sky was flawless, stars winking down, only the moon was overcast with clouds. It was very dark. Perfect for this meeting.
Omar kept Samson hidden because he was remarkable and unforgettable in looks. Also, Samson had escaped prison in Hawaii. Omar didn’t know if he could keep Samson from being deported if anyone found out he was here in France. The solution, of course, was simple. Omar had changed his appearance. Now it was time for Samson to do so as well.
Samson couldn’t speak, so he handed a list of the drugs and medications he had obtained in South America when Oma
r walked over to him. Then he opened an old crinkled brown leather suitcase so that Omar could do a quick inventory of the contents.
Omar was pleased as he bent down and peered inside the case. Now he had enough ingredients to infuse his potions with powerful, addicting enhancements, insuring his followers, once they had a taste, would be coming back for more.
Omar patted the big man on the shoulder, “You did very well. This supply will last ‘till the end of the year.”
Samson let out a happy sounding grunt. He never made noises around other people because his articulations were strange. He was very adept at pantomime, though.
“Now I have a new assignment. But first, you will be going to a surgeon in Sweden. He will change your face.”
Samson shook his head no emphatically.
Omar walked to the edge of the veranda. His chateau was on a cliff overlooking the coast of France. He gazed at the spectacular ocean view. There were a few big ocean liners lit up, otherwise the sea was dark, with just a starlit glimmer twinkling on the vast expanse. Samson moved to stand beside Omar.
“We want to stay together forever, don’t we?” Omar asked persuasively.
Samson blinked and nodded reluctantly.
Omar looked deep into the giant man’s eyes. “The surgery will keep you safe. You won’t have to hide. You will be at my side always. And you’ll be so handsome you’ll attract women like a magnet.”
Samson’s look of anguish expressed his fear.
“I promise, it won’t hurt. I did it myself several years ago.”
Samson sighed deep and loud, but nodded his head in acceptance.
“Then, your next assignment: You will take out Rod Nakamura once and for all. Permanently.”
Samson nodded vigorously. Violence he understood.
Chapter 3
Michelle sighed as she looked at the pregnancy test strip. Another month gone by. Another negative test. She sighed, threw it in the toilet and flushed, blinking hard. She didn’t want to cry, but this barrenness was so sad. Her biological clock was ticking away.
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