Evil Agreement

by Richard L Hatin

  He pushed his way through the growing crowd.

  Some tourists even snapped pictures of the dead woman’s shroud covered body.

  A souvenir is a souvenir, thought Ed as he put distance between himself and the death that he had orchestrated.

  He pulled his cell phone from his pocket, flipped it open and dialed a number.

  “Ed, here. Good news, it’s a Powell all right. I’ll bet anything he’s the one she raised as a nephew. Yeah, yeah, I know. Uh-huh. Sure. Yeah, I took care of that, too. Listen, there’s more. He’s coming to Vermont. Yes, you heard right. When? Now, I think. I know, I know. Okay. I’m heading back now. I should be there tonight. I’ll meet you at Samuel’s welcoming.”

  He powered off his cell phone and put it back in his pocket. He had much to do. He would abandon the rental cars along his return route. A simple call to the local police to report an abandoned or possibly stolen car would ensure the cars were returned to the rental companies. He needed to clean up all loose ends. After taking the “T” back to Cambridge, he checked out of the Comfort Inn and picked up Interstate 93 heading north back to Vermont. It was 3:40 in the afternoon. The traffic, while heavy, moved along without interruption. He pushed the accelerator down to get his speed up to seventy-five miles per hour. Even at that speed, he was passed quite frequently. He kept it at that speed. He didn’t need to draw any attention from the patrolling State Police. He could easily talk his way out of any ticket—after all he was a “brother” law enforcement officer, even though he was retired. The professional courtesy was good for life.

  This revelation of a male Powell and that he was heading to Vermont almost seemed too good to be true. His lifetime in law enforcement made him skeptical of most things.

  This is almost too easy, he thought.

  15

  Reverend Simon B. Mitchell hung up the phone. He was filled with emotion. He most certainly would share this good news with the entire Church membership, but first, the coven itself. He called Josephine Lawless.

  “Hello, this is Jo.”

  “Josephine, this is Simon.” He could never quite bring himself to call her Jo.

  “I’ve got some special news. We have located a male Powell. He’s a direct descendant.”

  The news was greeted with silence.

  “Josephine, did you hear what I said?”

  “Simon, don’t you play around like that.” She was the only one who could speak so boldly to him.

  “It’s the truth. I just took a call from Ed. He’s confirmed that Elizabeth Powell had a son. He’s located him. Our time could soon be at hand.”

  “Where is this Powell now?”

  Josephine was always one who could cut to the chase.

  “That’s the best part. He’s coming to Vermont. Ed’s tracking him even as we speak.”

  “Reverend, this is the most joyous news our faithful have yet heard.”

  “Yes, I agree. I expect to tell them tonight at Samuel’s welcoming ceremony. I do think the coven needs to meet this afternoon, the sooner the better.”

  “I agree completely. Is Samuel to join us at this meeting?”

  “Yes, of course. I was hoping you would call the others and set up the meeting for around four o’clock at the Judge’s house.”

  “I’ll do that. See you then.”

  The Reverend hung up the telephone. There was a soft knock at thedoor of his study. He opened it. Standing in the outer office were the parents of Brittany. It was Clement and Anne Coolidge. Mrs. Coolidge’s eyes were red and swollen from crying. Mr. Coolidge’s eyes were puffy as well.

  “Come in, please,” said the Reverend as he gestured to the two leather chairs set before his desk.

  They both headed to the chairs and sat down.

  The Reverend went around his desk and sat down as well.

  The father spoke up first, “Our daughter is a foolish girl, but she meant no harm. We’ve raised her the best that we can, and we just know she would never tell—she just wouldn’t.”

  “I’m sure you have done the best by her,” said the Reverend, “but you both know the law.”

  “Isn’t there anything we can do?” sobbed the mother.

  “No, I’m afraid not. If there is anything that binds us together, it is the law.”

  In an uncharacteristic effort to soften the blow, Reverend Mitchell decided to share the good news. “Listen, I shouldn’t tell you this now. It’s supposed to be a surprise. I guess it wouldn’t do any harm to tell the two of you, knowing how faithful you both are, that is.”

  “What?”

  “We have located a male Powell,” he said.

  He let the words sink in. The Coolidge’s sat forward in their chairs. The expressions on their faces rapidly shifted from deep sadness to soft smiles.

  “Can it be?” said Anne Coolidge, wiping away a tear.

  “Yes, I believe so. Now your daughter, Brittany, will serve Moloch and all of us in a very special way. You should both feel honored.”

  “Anne, just think, our Brittany and the finding of a male Powell. It’s an omen—a powerful omen,” said Clement Coolidge.

  “You must keep this a secret until tonight’s ceremony.”

  They both nodded their agreement.

  After a bit more conversation, Brittany’s parents left the Reverend’s office. They had come to him, hoping to plead for their daughter’s life. Now they were leaving rejoicing in the role their daughter would play on this historic day. They were beaming with new found pride. They hugged one another as they headed to their car.

  The Reverend watched them leave from the slender window next to the front door.

  He turned and headed to his office. He had much to prepare for and he couldn’t waste a moment.

  Josephine Lawless had wasted no time in contacting the others. The calls were brief and to the point. She did not mention the good news the Reverend had revealed to her. Her years as the Office Manager to the past five Governors had taught her the value of keeping executive secrets. The Reverend should be the one to reveal this news to the others. This is how it should be, of that, she was certain.

  Everyone was at the Judge’s house except for the Reverend. Samuel was driven to this meeting by his father, in their new truck. No one asked Josephine why a meeting had to be called. It was routine for everyone to obey whenever a call was put out for a meeting of the coven. Judy Perrillo went around the living room drawing all the drapes. Shirley Carter, the self employed beautician, was still wearing her work clothes as was Bob Senecal and Walter Yandow.

  “I hear the State Police have been contacted about a couple of hikers who failed to arrive at their destination!” said John Farnum, Sutton’s Volunteer Fire Chief.

  “The woods are a dangerous place sometimes, especially for a couple of flatlanders,” answered Walter with a smile.

  Before the conversation could continue, the Reverend walked in the door.

  He smiled at the fellow coven members and nodded an acknowledgement to a couple. It had been getting hot and humid the past couple of days and today was the worst. In the short distance from his air conditioned car to the Judge’s house, he had broken into a powerful sweat. He removed his handkerchief and wiped at his brow.

  The Judge poured him a glass of ice tea from a carafe sitting on the side table next to a bookcase filled with musty old law books.

  The Reverend turned around and spoke to the assembled members of the coven.

  “Let us join hands,” he said.

  With that, Ed Foley and John Farnum rolled back the antique rug in the center of the room uncovering a pentagram carved into the old wide pine floor. Everyone now stood in a circle around this symbol and held hands. The room was lit by a couple of small lamps sitting on end tables next to the sofa. A room size air conditioner hummed from the side window.

  As they clasped hands, each of them seem to fall into a trance like state. Their eyes now closed, they rolled their heads from side to side. In a few moments, they ea
ch opened their eyes and for each, their look was the same. Their eyes were now entirely a glistening black. Their faces became muscular and distorted and their bodies seem to swell to the point they seemed in danger of bursting out of their now tight fitting clothes. The Reverend spoke in a voice that was his, but slightly distorted.

  “Faithful servants of Moloch, I bring you THE ONE MESSAGE we have been waiting for, as our ancestors have, from long ago. We will share this news with Him. Now join me in calling to our Prince of Darkness.”

  The entire coven except for Samuel, who had not yet been taught all of the ways of the coven, now chanted in unison as they swayed to the chant.

  “We call to you all powerful Moloch, Certe Ne Diaza Orce Pru, Giasha Morte Lee Xintra Moloch,” they repeated three times.

  In the low light of the room, a shape began to take form in the center of the circle. The shape seemed to be struggling to untangle itself. This shape, shrouded in a haze of eerie spinning light, now stood erect before them. The shape was well over six feet tall. The shape was a human form was at the same time not human. The head was misshapen. There were two knobs on the top of its head just above each eye, protruding nearly three inches. The arms were unusually long. The hands had long fingernails that made the hands seem bigger than they already were. Its unclothed torso was dark, muscular and scaly. It stood upon two powerful legs, which had cloven hooves instead of feet. This shape also had a tail that seemed to have the characteristics of a snake. The eyes were dark, sunken and radiating red. They glowed as if they were on fire.

  “Welcome Great and Powerful Moloch,” spoke the Reverend.

  The shape was none other than Moloch himself. He had been summoned from the nether world. Hearing his name called, he turned silently and faced the Reverend. Moloch thrust his face directly in front of Simon.

  “Yes,” he hissed.

  “We have found a male Powell.”

  The words brought great pleasure to Moloch as he pulled back from Simon and raised his long arms up, fist clenched. The news also surprised everyone else except for Josephine who had heard earlier. They reacted with smiles and shouts for joy. Their tongues, now serpent like, darted from their mouths and licked across their lips.

  “Tell me more,” demanded Moloch.

  “One of our coven is tracking him now. It seems that this male is coming to Vermont. He may even be coming here to Sutton.”

  Without turning around, Moloch twisted his body and immediately placed his face within inches of Samuel.

  “And what can you tell me, Samuel?” said Moloch. He pronounced Samuel’s name almost one letter at a time.

  Samuel closed his eyes. His face grew contorted in an almost painful way. And then he spoke.

  “I can see Ed. He is driving back here. He has some papers that confirm what Reverend Mitchell has spoken. His heart is full of joy for you.”

  Moloch now spoke to everyone. As he did, he twisted his body so that he could place his face directly before each.

  “I renew my vow to each of you, your ancestors and your descendants, too. I will walk this earth. With your help I shall prepare the way for Lucifer to rule over all. You shall rule by our sides and shall share in the power, the glory and all the riches that earth promises and you shall have life everlasting for your loyalty. Now go and do what must be done. I return to Lucifer with your news.” His shape began to lose itself as it vaporized and blended with the swirling lights.

  When the last of his presence had faded away, the coven members returned to a trance-like state. Moments later they opened their eyes, now normal, and began to hug one another. Samuel got a few hearty slaps on his back. After a while they settled down and organized into action groups.

  ***

  It was a little past six o’clock when Aaron pulled into the parking lot of the Ethan Allen Inn. The motel was situated on a hillside in Berlin, Vermont just three quarters of a mile from Interstate 89. Berlin was less than three miles south of Montpelier. It was very humid. Aaron exited the car and stretched his legs which had become stiff from all the driving. Korie also got out of the car and stretched her legs. The two weary travelers walked into the motel’s lobby. It was small but well appointed with several Vermont type artifacts and photos. They approached the desk. A young man exited a side office and approached the desk.

  “Yes, may I help you?”

  “Why yes, I believe you can. I would like a room for three nights for the two of us.”

  Korie poked him in the ribs, which prompted him to poke her back.

  The desk clerk raised his eyebrow to their behavior as he placed a check-in register card and a motel labeled pen on the counter.

  “Very well, please fill this out while I check on room availability.”

  Korie spoke up, “Non-smoking please.”

  “All of our rooms are non-smoking. We were one of the first motels in Vermont to practice a non-smoking policy,” he said proudly, “I see we do have a room available. The rate for double occupancy is seventy-four dollars and sixty cents a night. That includes tax and a free continental breakfast. Now, let’s see,” said the clerk as he examined the register card.

  Korie and Aaron were both road weary.

  “Mr. Powell, I see here you’ll be paying by charge, may I have your card to take an impression?”

  Korie pulled Aaron on the arm.

  “Excuse us for a moment,” she said to the clerk.

  “We can’t use your real name, not here in Vermont, especially when we’re this close to that town.

  “You’re right. What do we do now?”

  “I’ve got an idea. I’ll pay for the room. I’ll put it on my charge card. You can pay me back later.”

  “Better yet, I’ll pay with cash when we check out. We’ll use your card just to hold the room.”

  They turned back to the clerk, who seemed mildly amused by their behavior.

  “Listen, we’re going to put the room on my card, okay?” said Korie.

  “It makes no difference to me, plastic is plastic.”

  In a moment, the clerk processed the charge card and then gave them room keys. The keys were plastic cards with a magnetic strip coded to unlock only their room.

  “Your room number is 245. It is located around to the left, fourth entrance down. It’s a poolside room. Please enjoy your stay with us and should you need any assistance please feel free to call the front desk. My name is Victor and I’ll do my best to make your stay is a pleasant one.”

  “Thanks, Victor. One question, if I may? How’s the motel restaurant?”

  “It’s not bad. We have a new chef. He’s developed some nice entrees. I think you’ll enjoy the food. Service is good, too.”

  “Thanks.”

  Korie and Aaron headed back to their car and pulled it around back. Before they entered the motel they both took a moment to notice that from the parking lot overlooking the valley below, they could see at least thirty miles to the east, the same to the north and west.

  “That mountain over there must be Camel’s Hump,” said Aaron pointing to a tall mountain to the west.

  “Yeah, and look at that huge storm cloud just to the west of the mountain,” said Korie.

  “Swimming pool,” said Aaron as he gave Korie a playful poke.

  “Sounds wonderful, let’s take a dip before dinner,” said Korie.

  “Perfect.”

  They raced for the entrance door.

  ***

  Ed Townsend’s butt hurt from all the driving he had done over the past couple of days. It was six thirty and he had just passed mile marker 10 on Interstate 89 in Vermont. He was heading north. The heat and humidity of this summer day was oppressive. His windshield was stained from the hundreds of bugs that had met their end against its streaked surface. The

  Interstate Highway in Vermont wound around hills and mountains just as often as it climbed up and then down again. Ed was tired, but also anxious to get back to Sutton. He looked in his rearview mirror and spotted a State Po
lice cruiser bearing down on him with its blue swag lights flashing.

  “Shit.”

  There was a sudden wail from the police siren. Ed pulled his car over to the right side breakdown lane. His car came to a stop. He waited for the officer to approach his car. The State Police cruiser had stopped behind Ed’s car. The officer positioned his car so the driver side was set slightly closer to the driving lane of the highway. Ed could see the officer using his radio to check out the description of his car, as well as the car’s license plate number.

  Standard procedure, thought Ed.

  The officer opened the door and slowly approached Ed’s car. He kept his eye on Ed for any sign of sudden or unusual movement. The early evening winds were picking up. As a car speed past the stopped cars, the rush of air caused the officer to hold on to his hat. Both of his armpits were heavily stained with perspiration. He wore dark aviator glasses.

  Ed had rolled down the driver’s side window when he first pulled over. The officer was now standing next to the driver’s door.

  He bent over slightly and asked, “Do you have any idea how fast you were traveling, sir?” His face bore no expression.

  “Yes, I do, officer, I was doing seventy.”

  “I followed you for a couple of miles and you were doing over eighty, sir. May I see your license and registration please?”

  Ed pulled his identification wallet from his back pocket. As he sat forward, he could feel the lump in the middle of his back from the gun he wore strapped to his belt. At the last rest stop he had removed his shoulder holster and laid it on the passenger car seat, over which he had placed his suit coat.

  Ed opened his wallet. His license was on the left side window and his U.S. Government F.B.I. identification and badge were on the right. He handed the I.D. wallet to the officer. According to official policy, he should have turned in his badge and Government I.D. when he retired. However, according to tradition in his unit, he took it with him. So far no one had asked for it back. If they had, he would have said that he had turned it in. The system does make mistakes.