Evil Agreement (24 page)

Korie
and Aaron slowly began to eat
the strawberry pancakes.

“Are you a guardian angel only for one person at a time?”
asked
Korie
.

“Oh, no dear, we can be guardian angels for several people at
a time. Right now, I am carrying a light load.”

“So, besides Aaron, who else are you a guardian angel for?”
asked
Korie
.

“I’m your guardian angel, too, dear. And I have one other
that I guard, a young girl from right here in Sutton.

“Incredible,” said
Korie
.

“Tell us about the young girl. Will we meet her?” said
Korie
.

“Indeed you will. We will be rescuing her tonight.”

“Rescuing her?” asked Aaron.

“Yes. I’m afraid she is being held in a terrible place, by
the leader of this evil coven. She is being punished for trying to run away.
She is expected to become a concubine for Lucifer when he takes human form.”

“But you’re her guardian angel, can’t you do something for
her now?” asked
Korie
.

“Not alone. But now that you’re here, together we can rescue
her and protect her from the coven. More coffee?”

Korie
and Aaron were amazed by this
old woman who had chameleon like abilities. They both felt safe around her.

Aaron still was wrestling with the burden of his future. His
mind kept returning to what Miss Beacon had said was his destiny, to wage a
battle against the forces of evil, to prevent Armageddon.

His mother, and all of his ancestors had spent their lives,
indeed had sacrificed their lives, so he would one day have the chance to wage
this battle. He didn’t want to let them down. He was a Powell and deep inside
of him there existed a strong sense of right and wrong. There also existed, a
strong sense of purpose. The two feelings were now merging into a new awareness
of who he was and what he was meant to do. Miss Beacon was to become his
teacher, his mentor. He would prove to be a fast and eager student.
 

Indeed, he would be as good a student as all the other
Powell’s that she had looked after, for the past one hundred and sixty plus
years.

23

It was nearly
seven o’clock
in the morning. The summer sun had topped the ridge of the mountains to the
east. Early morning light rays sliced through the opening in Samuel’s bedroom
window and painted a bright yellow swatch on the well
worn,wooden
floor.

In the middle of his bedroom floor, under the rug, was the
pentagram he had previously drawn on the wide planked, pine floor. The rug
began to slowly spin. Its rotation speeded up with each revolution. The center
of the rug began to lift off of the floor. It moved as if someone, or
something, was pushing against it from below. The rug was spinning without
touching the floor. It slowly rose in the air spinning like a top.

Underneath the rug was a swirling motion of lights of several
colors. It rose nearly to the ceiling when it suddenly flew across the room and
landed against the bedroom door. The mass of lights began to form into a shape.

Samuel was still sleeping. He rolled over in his bed. He
rolled from his back onto his stomach. One leg hung over the side of the bed.
The bed covers barely covered him.

From the outside of his bedroom window came the sounds of
chickadees chirping.

The shape continued to take on a more solid form. Scaly skin
began to show first. The shape stretched itself. Two powerful arms with equally
powerful hands extended upward and outward, a couple of times, as if the shape
was trying on its solid form for fit.

It was Moloch, paying a call to his new protégé. Samuel had
called to him from his sleep. Moloch didn’t need much of an invitation. He had
a need to confer with Samuel anyway. He was now nearly completely solid. His
burning red eyes looked down upon the sleeping Samuel.

Once his transformation was complete, he stepped to the foot
of Samuel’s bed. He extended his arms and hands over the bed, slowly raising
his hands. As he did so, Samuel’s body also rose up off of the bed. Samuel was
now suspended in the air, over his bed. Moloch turned his hands in a circle.
Samuel turned over in the air. Now Moloch brought his hands and arms up towards
his chest. Samuel’s still sleeping body moved, so that Samuel was now hovering
over his bed in a standing position facing Moloch. His feet were just a few
inches off the surface of the bed.

“Samuel, awaken,” commanded Moloch.

Samuel’s eyes fluttered a couple of times and then opened. A
smile filled Samuel’s face.

“Welcome, Moloch. This is quite a surprise!” said Samuel.

Samuel didn’t seem to notice or care that Moloch had control
of his body or that his body was suspended in the air over his bed.

“The Powell male is now in Sutton. I have spoken with
Townsend and it is confirmed by him.”

“That’s good news. I will immediately begin work to draw him
in,” said Samuel.

“There is more. This male Powell is a powerful spirit. We
know he is receiving help from others. He must be made to see the way.”

“We will destroy anyone who stands in our way, Moloch,
anyone! That is our promise.”

“We have given you powers over other humans. But his help is
coming not just from humans, but from powerful spirits.”

“Isn’t that your responsibility?” asked an emboldened Samuel.

“Yes. I have legions of devils available and willing to join
in this battle. However, these spirits are not just powerful, they are clever
and formidable. Their powers will be used to try and block ours. It may come
down to your powers and your own commitment to our Agreement. You cannot rely
on the other coven members to be the decisive factor. In the end, not all coven
members will fulfill their obligations. We picked you for this mission because
of your unique strengths.”

“Is there weakness in our coven? Tell me, and I will
personally destroy them!” said an obviously agitated Samuel.

“Not a weakness, but a traitor.”

“Tell me, I must know who it is.”

“No, this traitor must be allowed to carry out his treachery.
At the proper time you will deal with this weak and miserable human. We, in
turn, will deal with the human traitor’s devil mate.”

“I see.”

“I am also here to give you a special gift.
He
wants
you to have this new power.”

Moloch held his two hands together, as if he were cupping
them to hold water. Instead his hands held a flame that rose up and flickered
in the air. There was nothing visible inside of Moloch’s hands that were now
burning. The flame appeared to simply be.

Samuel held his own hands together in a similar fashion.
Moloch turned his hands over, as if to pour something from them.

His hands were now directly over Samuel’s hands.

The flame moved from Moloch’s hands into Samuel’s hands as if
it were some sort of liquid.

Samuel stared down at his hands, which now held the burning
flame. The flickering reflected in his eyes, which were now totally black, as
if they were two highly polished marbles.

“Hellfire?” asked Samuel.

“Yes,” answered Moloch.

Samuel pulled his hands to his chest. As he did so the flame
seemed to travel into his chest in one seamless motion.

At that moment, a small chickadee landed on the bedroom
windowsill outside the screened and open window. Samuel looked over at the tiny
bird. The bird seemed to be looking back at Samuel. It tilted its tiny head
back and forth a couple of times, then it froze.

Samuel slowly raised his left hand, palm side facing the
window. In a split second, a small ball of fire burst from out of Samuel’s hand
and exploded towards the bird. The bird turned its head as if to take flight
when the ball of flame enveloped it. The flame lasted for less than a second.
Suddenly, the bird was no longer there. In its place was a small pile of ash on
the windowsill. There was also a hole burned through the window screen about
the size of a baseball.

 
A gentle breeze arose
and the bird’s ashes were soon blown off the windowsill.

“Awesome,” said a pleased Samuel.

He turned to speak to Moloch, but the powerful devil spirit
had disappeared.

Samuel now felt his body slowly settle onto the bed. He
jumped off of the bed, and padded over to the window to get a closer look at
his handiwork.

“Hellfire!” he exclaimed.

His eyes were still solid black. He pulled the curtain closed
and crawled back into his bed. He laid there with his hands folded behind his
head, wearing a huge smile, and sporting a budding erection.
 

***

Ed Townsend and Walter
Yandow
had
breakfast together at Dee’s Diner on U.S. Route 2. Sitting in another booth,
two booths away, was Ed Foley and his daughter along with Phyllis Atkins.
Sitting alone at the counter was Bob
Senecal
. Sutton
was a small town, and this diner was a popular spot among local folks. It had a
reputation for quality home cooked meals and a simple, but welcoming
atmosphere. It also helped that the owner, Dinah Little, was a member of the
Church of Everlasting Faith.

Ed and Walter were exchanging small talk about one of their
past pursuits, the slaughter of interlopers.

Ed Foley, his daughter, and Phyllis were busily engaged in a
discussion about Ed’s daughter having a romantic interest in a fellow member of
the Church.

Bob
Senecal
was busying himself by
reading the day’s edition of the
Burlington Free Press
. His attention
was caught by a small story on page seven. The story was reporting on the
status of the search for two missing college hikers, Michael
Delvecchio
, and Julia Brodsky.

Search Called Off,
proclaimed the headline.

Members of the Vermont Chapter of the Appalachian Mountain
Club, along with close friends of the two missing hikers have decided to
suspend their search efforts. It has been three weeks since Michael
Delvecchio
, 24 of New Groton, Connecticut, and Julia
Brodsky, 22 of New Rochelle, New
York, disappeared while hiking along the central
stretch of Vermont’s Appalachian
Trail.

The two hikers, with reported limited hiking experience, were
last seen on the south trail leading to the summit of Camel’s Hump
Mountain, on July 2.

“Authorities have not ruled out foul play,”
said
Corporal Gilpin, of the Vermont State Police, Barracks 3.
“We just don’t
have much to go on. We haven’t yet turned up a piece of physical evidence which
would give us some idea of what happened to them.”

The story went on to note that authorities were hoping that
others hiking along the trail may yet turn up a lead.

Meanwhile Appalachian Mountain Club members and friends have
decided to suspend their search efforts.

“
The trail is pretty dense, and there are many valleys and
switches. They could be anywhere. For now, some of us will keep searching on
weekends,” said Dan
Britto
, friend of the missing
hikers.

Bob ordered a refill of his coffee.

***

The Reverend knocked on the door. There was no response. He
knocked again. This time someone answered the door. It was Judge Fairchild. He
had a small towel wrapped around his neck.

The Judge used a corner of the towel to wipe a bead of
perspiration off of his forehead.

“Morning, Reverend. C’mon in.”

“Thank you,” said the Reverend.

“Still exercising, eh Judge?”

“You bet your ass, Reverend. It’s the secret to a long life.”

The two men walked to the rear of the house through the
kitchen and out onto a screened patio. A tabletop radio was playing a classical
piece by Mozart. Fresh cut flowers were artfully placed inside a crystal vase
which sat in the center of the wicker coffee table. The patio floor was covered
in Vermont slate. Flowers of several varieties hung from baskets along the top
edge of the screen windows.

“Have a seat. Can I get you some coffee or juice?” asked the
Judge.
 

“Why thank you, coffee would be nice!”

“How do you take it?”

“Black, please. Just black.”

“Be right back.”

The judge headed off to the kitchen.

Meanwhile the Reverend settled into a wicker chair which was
padded with an overstuffed pillow, with a bright south sea print cover. Off in
the corner of the patio wind chimes made soft tinkling sounds as a gentle early
morning breeze passed through. The Reverend noticed a small tray on the
underside of the wicker coffee table. It was filled with several bottles of
herbal medicines. The tray also held a small dish which contained well over
twenty different pills of assorted shapes and colors.

On a wicker end table there were several gardening and
decorating magazines.

The Judge lived alone. He had never been married. He had
developed quite a reputation as a young defense attorney. For a while, he
practiced law in Connecticut. He returned to Vermont, over twenty years ago.
Shortly thereafter, he was put up for a state judgeship. His reputation
continued to grow on the strength of his brilliant legal mind, some would say.
Fellow coven members knew the real truth. Over the years, and with considerable
help, he had developed a dossier on nearly every public official in the State
of Vermont. For those with something to hide, the good Judge was there to lend
an ear and a hand. For the pure of heart, and the social do-gooders, Judge
Fairchild always had something on a close relative, or a friend or business
partner. It was no wonder he was appointed to the State Supreme Court in 1983.
He retired in 1996, but his influence continued as strong as ever.

Judge Fairchild returned from the kitchen with a small tray.
He put the tray on the coffee table. He handed the Reverend a cup of steaming
coffee. The cup and saucer were obviously very expensive china.

“Thanks,” said the Reverend. He put the cup and saucer on the
coffee table in front of him. He selected a linen napkin from the tray and
unfolded it onto his lap. He picked up the coffee cup and saucer and took a
careful sip of the coffee.

“It’s my own custom blend. I have it shipped here four times
a year from Hawaii.”

“It’s exquisite,” said the Reverend as he took a second sip.

The tray also had a small basket filled with dried fruit,
bread sticks and a pitcher of chilled fruit juice. The wind chimes tinkled
again.

“Would you care for a glass of juice? It’s fresh. I made it
just before you arrived. I always make fresh juice after my morning exercise.”

“No thanks, the coffee is enough.”

“Very well,” said the Judge as he poured himself a tall glass
of the sweet nectar.

“Mango, strawberries, banana and kiwi, it’s really quite
delicious.”

“It does look good, but I’ll pass.”

“So Reverend, what is on your mind that you should decide to
pay me a visit so early in the morning?” said the Judge, as he sat back in his
chair and crossed his legs.

The Judge was wearing a dark blue cotton blend running suit
with three white stripes down the sleeves of the jacket and the pants.

Reverend Mitchell put his coffee back on the table and slid
forward in his chair. He folded his fingers together in a prayerful clasp out
of habit.

“May I speak candidly?”

“Of course,” said the Judge as he took a sip of his custom
blended fruit juice.

“I am deeply concerned about the status of our coven.”

“Go on.”

The Reverend had to move slowly here. He was risking his life
and his place in the post Armageddon hierarchy.

Swallowing hard he continued, “How can we be sure that Moloch
is telling us the truth?”

Without taking his eyes off the Reverend, the Judge placed
his left arm across the back of his chair and then took a long swallow of
juice.