by Pam Richter
The guard was still in the hallway. She didn't mind that at all, even when he obviously watched her with lascivious attention as she walked down the hallway.
Michelle wasn't even surprised when she found an open vodka bottle with a glass next to it on her living room table. This was war. She took the bottle, emptied it into the sink and threw the empty in the trash can. The fumes burned her eyes and it smelled like gasoline. It didn't tempt her at all. She wondered how she had ever sat, night after night, drinking it straight out of the bottle while she watched television. Afraid to go to sleep without the sedative effect. Afraid of the terrible nightmares.
A sudden loud, supernatural yowling sent shivers down her spine and she bolted for the door. She stopped abruptly with the door open, finally recalling the noise, feeling silly at her nervousness. Lucifer was here somewhere. She tracked the unhappy screeches and found him under the bed. Michelle crawled underneath and got him, almost afraid he would scratch out her eyes, but he was behaving like a normal cat; too coy and dignified to be thrilled to see her. He had a collar on with a note wrapped around it. She unfolded the scrap of paper. "You ruined my cat. He's yours, Omar."
Well good, Michelle thought, I hope Lucifer is ruined. But it could be a ruse. Lucifer might very well turn on her, if that was what Omar intended.
She was really thrilled to have Lucifer and she hugged and petted him. The screeches meant he was hungry. It would be a good test. If he refused normal cat food she would have to distrust him. She poured a bowl of kibble and opened a can of Tender Morsels. He screamed. When she put the bowls down he made a great show of being finicky, tail switching and sniffing daintily for a long time, but he finally ate the food without prompting. He didn't bat dishes across the kitchen or wail indignantly. Lucifer was a normal cat and he was all hers. It was a small victory.
She picked him up and petted him for a while. He might still have some of his strange abilities. "Lucifer, you're mine now, and if someone tries to hurt me I want you to attack. Do you understand? You are to attack anyone who tries to harm me." The cat stared at her with owlish blue eyes, unblinking. He patted her face with a paw. She felt like a fool and put him on the floor.
Michelle went out into the hallway. She asked the guard if anyone had entered her apartment in the last twenty-four hours.
"Not on my shift." He was leafing through notes on a tablet. "Says here, Julio let your friend in because she had your cat and wanted to return it."
"When was that?"
"This morning. 9:00 a.m."
"Do you have the note?"
"No. Says here you signed it, too. Evidently Julio thought it was okay. He had a regular guard open the door. They have the keys."
"You aren't a regular guard?"
"No."
When she tried to get information about who hired the special security he said he couldn't give out that information. It was a private party. He didn't know the name of the women who had returned her cat.
Michelle went back to her apartment. Nothing magical about how they had entered. Just a little forgery. It was probably Ginger or Suzanne. She started investigating all the closets and cabinets, places where traps could be set or something lethal could be hidden. Some of her possessions had been slightly moved, she could tell, but she couldn't find anything harmful. As a precaution she threw away every opened container in her refrigerator. Poured the last of her milk down the drain. Lucifer followed her like a shadow, sometimes tripping her as she looked around.
When she went into her bedroom something flew directly at her face, buzzing horribly. It was so large she thought it was a bird that somehow got trapped in her apartment, but it was an enormous flying insect. She panicked and ran. It was following her as she bolted into the living room, making horrible whirring noises. It looked like some sort of black hornet with a long segmented body and a tail with a visible stinger. It buzzed around her head and she tried to swat it away. It was making dive bombing attacks directly in her face. It landed on her ear and she heard the buzzing close up. She could hear a whimpering sound too as she batted at it, then realized it was the sound of her own voice.
Lucifer went absolutely ballistic. She couldn't believe how fast he moved, streaking around the room and screeching, obviously having the thrill of his life with a new animated toy. Lucifer caught the big bug in a flying leap off the living room couch. Michelle had to leave the room when he began audibly crunching on the grisly thing. She hoped it wasn't poisonous.
Michelle was laying out her clothes for work, trying to plan the safest way to confront Omar. Should she simply go to his apartment or call first? Then the phone rang.
CHAPTER 25
Vincent Middleton, fortified by several aspirin laced with codeine, stood across the street from the building where Omar Satinov lived. He gazed up at the top floor, the penthouse suite that Suzanne had described to him. He had that prickly paranoid feeling he was being watched. He also felt dizzy and sick. Hangovers are a bitch.
Vincent took a deep breath and wished Omar really was the mythical Vampire of legend, and he, The Intrepid Vampire Hunter his students had christened him at the university. In that case he would be girded with a cross, holy water and draped with a garland of garlic cloves. He was utterly bewildered by a man he suspected might be an actual sorcerer.
As he watched from across the street, he saw a tall brunette woman hurry around the corner of the building and go inside. He started hastily forward, each step jolting pain through his head, because he recognized her from somewhere. He frowned and tried to concentrate. His head was on fire in the benighted tropical heat. Was she one of the witches he had seen in the circle? Or maybe one of the women from the occult store.
A security guard at the doorway barred the entrance, which was understandable with the murder that had occurred here. He would have to think of a way to enter the building without Omar's knowledge. He wanted to surprise Omar so he wouldn't have a chance to prepare a nasty surprise. Suzanne might be there and he wanted to induce her to leave without too much trouble.
Vincent ambled over and told the guard he was waiting for a friend. He glanced into the lobby, ostensibly searching for the fictional friend. The dark haired woman was heading to the mailboxes on the left side of the lobby. She extracted a few envelopes and magazines. Then she crossed to a side door off the lobby. When she opened the door he could see it led to a stairwell up into the building. She kept looking around, as though wary, and he got a good glimpse of her face as she checked behind her before the door closed. Then he remembered. She was the woman who had confronted Omar in the witch's circle last night.
He wondered if she was going up to see Omar, but she appeared frightened and he did not believe so. He couldn't imagine her climbing up twenty floors. She might actually live here. If so, he would like to talk to her. Find out what she knew.
Vincent paced and pointedly looked at his watch every few minutes. Finally, he told the guard that he wanted to use the public phone in the lobby, find out what was holding up his friend. The guard examined him up and down. Apparently he decided Vincent didn't look like a psychotic rapist/killer and let him in. The guard said he could wait in the lobby, that he looked a little off, maybe heat-sickness if he wasn't used to the weather in Hawaii. Vincent truthfully admitted to a blinding headache.
Vincent walked past the mailboxes. The dark girl's box was the fourth from the end, next to the bottom row. He surreptitiously glanced at it. Michelle Montgomery, 1707.
Even as he looked up Michelle's number in the directory on a stand by the telephones, he knew he was putting off the direct confrontation with Omar Satinov. But he was a little guy. Omar probably had the giant with him, too. This was not something he was looking forward to. The phone rang three times.
"Hello?"
"Ms. Montgomery?" Vincent asked.
"Yes." The voice was deep and low for a woman, Vincent thought. Someone with firm control. She must be terrified.
"My name is Vincent Mid
dleton. I'm a professor at Stanford University, in the psychology department. My specialty is the study of the paranormal. Witches in particular. I'm visiting Hawaii because there's a man here I've been investigating. I think you know him. Omar Satinov."
"Oh. Yes."
"I saw you last night at a ritual that Mr. Satinov was conducting. I was hoping to speak to you for a few minutes. I got the impression you were not one of his followers."
"No, I'm not. Where are you?"
"The lobby of your building. I came to see Mr. Satinov, and then I saw you..."
"I'll come down and get you."
"Thank you."
Vincent sat down on a sofa and looked around. The place was beautifully furnished and obviously catered to wealthy inhabitants. One side of the lobby was ornately mirrored and he caught a glimpse of Michelle's reflection after a few minutes, peeking out the door to the stairwell, before she stepped into the lobby itself.
Vincent was a little surprised by her height, but Omar was very tall and she had been next to him in the circle last night. She topped Vincent by almost a foot. He stood up and shook her hand, repeating his name. She gazed at him seriously, with very unusual yellow eyes. He could see why a warlock would be attracted to her.
Vincent had the impression that she was still nervous, not of him necessarily, but of being here in the open, in this particular building.
"I remember you," Michelle said. "I didn't see your face last night. Uh...you kind of keeled over."
"That's kindly put," Vincent said, smiling a bit ruefully. "I'm still feeling the effects of something that was given to me in a drink, by the red haired witch."
Michelle nodded, "Ginger. Why don't you come up and have a coke. I've found it the best quick hangover remedy." She was walking to the elevator with a little smile. "Tomato juice is good too, but I threw it all away. I have some potent B-complex vitamins, if you're really feeling awful."
"The police put me in the hospital for acute alcohol poisoning," Vincent said as the elevator rose. "But I believe there was something else in the drink. I declined to join the...festivities last night. Whatever the drink was, it totally paralyzed me for a time."
They had reached Michelle's apartment. She looked at him very directly. "I believe you. Now, you'll have to be careful of Lucifer. He used to be Omar's cat and he has a habit of attacking people." She opened the door.
Either Lucifer really was a normal cat or he found the small pudgy man inoffensive. He did not attack. He very studiously ignored. Vincent could tell Michelle was watching the cat warily as she took him into the kitchen.
"Don't drink it too fast," Michelle warned as she handed Vincent a large iced coke, "or it'll make the headache worse." She reached into a cabinet and took several bottles down, peering at the labels. She gave him three vitamins. One was as large as a small egg, but he managed to choke it down.
"I'm an alcoholic, but I wasn't entirely stupid." She was smiling, as though telling him that was funny. "I took good care of myself otherwise."
"How did it happen?" Vincent asked, surprised and really curious. She appeared intelligent, not the type to go off the deep end of addiction.
"It's part of the story that involves Omar," Michelle said, leading him into the living room. "He triggered it. You see, he had Samson Stoker rape me several years ago. But I didn't know it."
They sat down on the couch, and with Vincent's urging, Michelle told him the whole story, ending with last night when she had finally remembered what happened to her in Las Vegas.
"You realize that Omar is a very powerful and dangerous man?" Vincent asked.
"I understand his covens are spread around the world," Michelle said.
"Yes. He may want to consolidate his power with someone he feels has managerial skills, as well as a type of attractiveness that he covets in his witches. Also, his reputation is rather blighted. There are rumors of death and mutilation that follow him, which are starting to repel potential disciples. He's just starting out here in Hawaii and he usually leaves someone behind to carry on his work when he goes on to another location. That person personally sells his herbal potions and conducts the witch ceremonies. Omar is one of the best kept secrets in a religion filled with secrets."
"So you think when he said he wanted me for his ultimate Priestess, that he wants me to carry on his work here?"
"No. I think he'll want Suzanne for that." Vincent related his story and told her what had happened to Suzanne.
It was almost dark now and Michelle got up and turned on several lights, more for comfort than necessary illumination. What had happened to Suzanne was horrifying. And Suzanne couldn't remember it consciously either. She evidently still thought that Omar was a brilliant and handsome witch; not a psychotic killer/rapist/drug dealer.
Michelle sat down again. "I still don't understand what he wants."
"Omar has consolidated the dark powers. He uses what's called black magic, but the other side is closed to him. I really can't label him. He could be termed a Satanist because he's reputed to conjure up devils from...hell, even I don't believe that. But unlike Satanists, he doesn't hold black masses or sacrifice animals. He could be called a sorcerer. Or a warlock. A wizard. He personally calls himself a Necromancer. Many believe that he actually does conjure up evil dead spirits. Or he could be called a Black Witch. He's known by some as the Black Overlord. He has studied extensively in several different countries, taking a little from the witches, the Satanists and from those who know how to use deadly poisons and many different drugs. And of course, he has his own lethal minion in Samson Stoker."
Michelle nodded and shivered.
"In you, I think he found a total opposite. First of course, you're obviously the opposite sex. But more than that, I suspect you have qualities absent in him."
"He said that once. Yin and Yang. True opposites. It was his explanation for the shocks I got whenever he touched me."
"Really?" Vincent looked at her with interest. "Suzanne didn't say anything like that, but I don't know if he ever did touch her. Your description sounds like the opposing forces of magnets, repelling each other violently."
"Actually, I was attracted to him. Very powerfully," Michelle said smiling.
"He is a magnificent looking specimen," Vincent said smiling too. "It's one of his advantages, and he uses it to the hilt to lure women into his religion. First, they're mesmerized by his dashing looks. Then he hooks them on drugs until they become his personal slaves. Actually, from what I've managed to learn, he's in his sixties."
"You're kidding!"
Vincent shook his head. "Magic my dear."
"I thought maybe thirty-five. Even forty."
"No. He's had plastic surgery more than once. But something must have made you fearful of him?"
"I looked into his eyes, when I was close to him. I felt repulsed. I thought I saw swarms of insects. Or snakes, writhing in the depths."
Vincent nodded. "Can you give me a little of your history?"
Michelle recited a quick version of her life story. She thought he would find it dull.
Vincent was nodding again. "You had a happy childhood. Made friends easily. Enjoyed life, for the most part. From what little I have learned about Omar, his history is about as opposite to yours as one could find. He was an unwanted child after his mother died, when he was still quite young. I suspect he had no friends and that he killed his own father to possess his vast fortune."
Michelle was frowning, "That's sad. And scary."
"You have compassion. Something totally lacking in Omar, except for those objects he considers worthwhile possessions. Even people, like the giant, are possessions to him. His insects and animals are possessions too."
"He seemed courteous and kind," Michelle said. "At first."
"He's a game player, and may even seem fun at times, but it's all an act. He's totally lacking in some fundamental human attributes of feeling. Like a killer sociopath. Or the more dangerous psychopath. His obsessions are pow
er and wealth. And he truly believes in his magic."
"But when you get right down to it, I still don't understand what he wants. I'm not unique in any way."
Vincent smiled. He wanted to break it to her gently and knew she probably wouldn't believe him. "I think you told me yourself. You were attracted to him physically, but your subconscious mind, or body wisdom, knew the truth better than you could understand intellectually. You felt, and even saw, sparks fly when he touched you. I don't believe in witches or black magic, but there is documented truth in the scientific study of the paranormal, which is simply physical phenomena we don't understand yet. I believe you possess psychic powers of your own. Omar knows this too. He is able to see auras. Those with powerful psychic abilities project auras which are unmistakable. He suspects your abilities are strong enough that he wants to own them. He can only do so by possessing you, emotionally and physically."
Michelle smiled at the odd notion that she might have some supernatural powers. "I have a hard time believing this."
"He needs someone who is kind and compassionate to rule with him. Not that the person would have any real power. She would just appear to. That's why he set the giant upon you. To weaken you. He tried to kill your best friend to hurt you further. He put your job in jeopardy, even placed stolen cash in your office. Maybe he thought you would go away with him if the police were after you. He wants you weak and vulnerable. So you're in a dangerous position. Especially now that he knows you know all about him. He isn't making his attacks sneaky, any more. He placed the vodka on your table openly. He threw a lightning bolt instead of using an elaborate plan to kill Heather with sleeping pills, masking as suicide. He will overtly try to scare you into doing his bidding. Or he might try to take your will away with the forced use of drugs."
Michelle had been growing ever more alarmed as she listened. She didn't think she really had psychic ability, but from what this professor was telling her, she was in grave danger. "I have to admit, I believe he has strange powers. What should I do?"
