by Pam Richter
Michelle had always been intensely ambitious about her career and now she wondered why. She could stay here with her friends instead of traveling half way around the world into the competitive and exhaustively busy city of Tokyo, where she knew she would be treated with polite arrogance and never totally accepted.
Michelle looked down the beach and noticed there seemed to be another party that night. She could see a fire in the distance, about a mile away. Nora came over and took the sleeping child from Michelle to put him to bed. When Michelle asked her about the other party Nora frowned and said that it was some kind of pagan religious gathering. She had heard rumors of witch ceremonies.
Henry's surprise later that evening was a troop of professional dancers and a real Hawaiian band. The guests sat down and watched the beautiful island girls do the hula. Then the music got louder and drums thrummed the air. Several native men jumped into the firelight and started dancing athletically. Finally they were juggling and throwing flaming torches while they jumped around, some leaping across the wide roasting pit where the embers were still burning, holding the crowd breathlessly enthralled.
Nakamura was sitting between Michelle and Heather. When the music became more quiet and everyone was sitting on the grass, singing and swaying to the soft sounds, he put an arm around each of their shoulders. Michelle couldn't help but flinch at his touch. He probably thought it was because of her sunburn and murmured he was sorry, his breath touching her cheek he was so close. He put his arm around her waist instead. She glanced at his side view, his eyelashes looked golden in the firelight. She was surprised when she realized he was very attractive, with his high cheekbones and slightly slanted blue eyes.
Tom Mitsuto was sitting on the other side of Michelle and also had an arm around her as they sang and swayed. After a while she felt her breathing slow down and she became comfortable at the proximity of the two men. Really, Michelle thought, surprised, she felt wonderful at the closeness. She was so content here with her friends, listening to beautiful music, feeling the gentle breeze of the island and watching the hypnotic waves crash into the beach, she felt like crying. She thought she had never been so happy.
CHAPTER 21
Vincent Conway was nearsighted, so when he thought he saw his student, Suzanne, whom he knew with absolute certainty was now back at Stanford University, he blamed his poor eyesight. But he crept closer to the magic circle just the same, dragging his towel with him, and took out his binoculars.
He had wanted to get a good viewing sight that would be well hidden when he went to Three Tables Beach, so he had driven over early, but all he found there were several policemen patrolling the area and about thirty snoops who had heard about the religious ceremony on the news. Evidently there would be no witches here tonight. Then he had met up with the beautiful redhead.
She had walked, or rather hobbled, right up to him and asked if he was going to the ceremony conducted by Omar Satinov. He realized she looked familiar and finally remembered she had been at the House of Hermetic last night, when he had been asking the old woman about where to find Omar. Apparently the red-head had been posted here to direct devotees. When he said he was planning to attend, she gave him directions to the alternate site. Vincent felt sorry for her because she seemed to be in some pain, wincing with each step she took.
When Vincent left to go to another beach further down the windward side of the island, he was torn about whether to call the police. He felt he should, in case something horrible happened, like the night before, but he might not find the spot in time to hide in a safe place. He wanted to scout out the area first. He vowed he would sneak away if he thought things were going to get bloody, or if he felt he was in the least bit of personal danger. He would drive to a store or even someone's house if he had too.
Vincent slowly crept his car along the shore until he thought he was in the correct area and stopped when he saw a tent being erected on the beach. He recognized the white and red stripes. A large man was carrying enormous boulders down to the beach singlehandedly. Vincent had a very strange feeling about the man, but he couldn't place it. Like incomplete remembrance; deja`vu. He thought the guy could be the man Suzanne had described to him while under hypnosis. The man who had raped her. He was certainly gigantic enough to fit the description, with an absolutely gruesome face.
Vincent had no recollection of the night before after he had started carrying the dead girl up the beach, but he kept getting frightening flashbacks of that sad and pitiful incident as he watched the enormous man tirelessly working on preparations for the ceremony. He shivered and hoped he was far away enough not to be noticed. He was wearing his tourist camouflage but still felt uneasy, camped on the beach with a towel and binoculars in the middle of the night. There were some palm trees and foliage near where the sand began, but there was no real place to hide, as the beach was flat and about a half mile from the highway. Occasionally he could hear a car swish by in the distance. There were a few homes he could see to the west, right on the beach. He could always run that way and gain entrance to someone's home to telephone the police if he couldn't get back to his car. He didn't want to think about what would prevent him from getting to his car, but he felt he needed two escape routes after what had happened the night before.
Now Vincent was fumbling in the dark for his binocular case. The girl really did resemble Suzanne, but it couldn't be. She was just the same height and had the same hair style. Same face too, Vincent thought, as magnification brought her up close. It was Suzanne. He felt sick with apprehension. He remembered the old lady in the House of Hermetic occult store saying he had to get her out of the islands. He had thought the old woman was a fake.
Evidently Suzanne was caught up in something sinister and had not taken the flight back to California. He was momentarily shocked at her duplicity, but then reminded himself that Omar had used mind control, drugs and hypnosis.
Vincent was starting to get up to go confront Suzanne. He would insist that she leave the island. He would threaten to call her parents. He would physically pull her away, kicking and screaming, if he had to.
"I thought you were going to join us."
Vincent shrieked, almost jumping out of his skin, and looked behind him. It was the redhead who had directed him here, materializing out of the darkness in the trees behind him. She was wearing a flowing white robe, like the witches in the magic circle Omar was conducting.
"Don't be alarmed," she said. She was smiling at him, rather amused.
Vincent was embarrassed at the shrill little scream he let out. He must have jumped three feet straight up in the air. "Uh, you surprised me."
"I'm sure Omar would like to meet you, a college professor and all," she said. "My name is Ginger. He sent me over to fetch you."
"Looks like he's pretty busy right now," Vincent said. Omar had sealed the circle with pentacles and was chanting with his worshipers. There were only about twenty people tonight, most of them inside the circle. He wondered how Ginger knew he was a college professor, and indeed, how Omar had picked up on the fact that he was here at all, watching the proceedings.
"Oh, no. Don't let it fool you. He'll make time especially for you."
Vincent was not a little alarmed at the idea of confronting Omar on his own turf, so to speak. He started to protest, while he gathered up the towel. "I'll just leave now. I was curious, you see."
"Don't bother," Ginger said, motioning at his towel. "It's late. No one will take it. Come with me."
She took his arm and was curiously forceful as she led him over the rough sand. Really, she was pulling him along like a dog on a leash. And she moved rapidly, even though she was injured and limping deeply with each step. Vincent looked up at her beautiful profile, which towered over him, staring straight ahead. She was focused in an otherworldly way. Probably on drugs.
Vincent wished he could remember what had happened the night before. His head still throbbed dully from the blow he had received, but he knew Omar had l
eft the beach in his car before he was bashed in the head. Vincent realized he could have simply been mugged and had all of his possessions stolen. It happened to tourists sometimes, especially on this wilder, nearly unpopulated side of the island which was not so thoroughly policed as the popular tourist areas. Some of the native Hawaiians were still angry at the white men who had taken over their islands, ruining the natural beauty with shopping malls, gigantic hotels and curio shops. Who could blame them? But Vincent had the disturbing idea the assault had to do directly with his presence at the witch ritual last night. Also, of course, he had been trying to take the poor injured girl to the hospital, although he was sure she was dead by the time he started carrying her to his car.
As they got closer Vincent was breathing heavily. Walking in the sand was heavy duty. It was not like the smooth raked beaches in Waikiki. Here there were leaves and debris from the foliage of the palm trees hanging at an angle over the beach. He stumbled over branches, stubbed his toes when his sandals became mired in lumpy sand and almost took the thongs from his feet. He had to take large steps to keep up with Ginger, who was still holding his arm tightly. He kept his eyes focused on the ground, lit by the full moon, so he wouldn't stumble. Small crabs were crawling in the moonlight, swiftly disappearing into their holes or scurrying into the shadows when they approached. The air was muggy and smelled of salt water and dead and dying foliage by the side of the road. Vincent had to admit he was frightened.
He managed to look up several times as Ginger dragged him closer to Omar and the magic circle. Each time he remembered the old sayings about Satan. In the early teachings, Satan was an ugly devil; a personage with horns on his head, fire in his mouth, a tail in his breech, fangs like a dog, claws like a bear, a voice roaring like a lion. But as Vincent watched Omar he was mesmerized by the man's beauty and distinctive style. He could have been a studied actor with movements as precisely controlled as one on stage. Enthralling to watch. Indeed, it was hard to look away from the dark eyes. The newer version of Satan was that he was so beautiful he enticed people with his magnetic charm. Nowadays, less than one quarter of all Christians believed that there was a devil.
There were two circles delineated in any magic circle, and when they reached the outer one, Ginger pulled Vincent down into a sitting position and left him there. When she came back, moments, later she handed him a cup. He looked inside and saw a red liquid. He thought it was wine, and although he was very thirsty he had no intention of drinking. Who knew what might be inside? Suzanne and the others looked like they were high on more than merely alcoholic beverages.
He tried to catch Suzanne's eye as he watched her performing in the magic circle, but she seemed mesmerized by Omar and had eyes only for him as she brought the golden chalice up for him to drink. The cup was then passed around and everyone in the circle took a few sips.
Omar had cast the circle and consecrated it with salt and water. All of the witches had gone around the circle three times. He was now touching the water with a sword, saying "I summon, stir and call thee up, thou mighty ones of the east, south, west and north."
This was the summoning of demons to do his bidding. The inside circle was theoretically to prevent the devils brought forth from doing harm to those inside the circle. After the summoning they dare not leave it. Mischievous forces were supposed to be released. The witches then raised power from their own bodies to do magic, with the help of the spirits floating around. They could step in and out of the circle if they wished, but it involved some loss of power so they usually avoided doing so as much as possible, and never did so when the demons were aroused.
Suddenly Omar seemed to come out of the summoning trance. He looked around at the people outside the circle and stopped. He made another sign which was to open a door into the circle.
"For the protection of innocents, all come inside," Omar ordered.
Everyone went in the invisible doorway and stood around the outer rim of the circle, as he bade. Everyone except Vincent. No way was he going to join this madness. Stupid old superstitions. Demons abroad and all that shit. He sat stubbornly where he was, holding his cup.
Omar motioned to Vincent with his sword, inviting him in with a courtly gesture, but Vincent stubbornly shook his head. Omar might be able to induce the others who were gullible and ignorant. Not him.
Omar shook his head, as though suggesting he could not predict the outcome if Vincent would not come into the circle. It was great stagecraft, but the insiders would see for themselves when nothing happened to him, Vincent thought self-righteously. He would sit here till he rotted if need be, just to prove his point. There were no demons or mischievous spirits out here, or anywhere.
Suzanne had finally noticed him, Vincent thought, but it seemed like she was having trouble recognizing him. Her head was cocked to the side and she was frowning, as though trying to remember who he was. She must have been given very potent drugs. Vincent felt angry and vowed to get her out of Omar's clutches. He just had to sit here and wait until the nonsense was finished with inside the circle. Spirits indeed! Demons, yeah right. He would show them.
Omar was raising his arms and waving them around and Vincent mentally applauded. Great showmanship. It had started raining, almost from a clear sky, as though on cue. But it rained all the time in the islands. Just a little squall.
Really, Vincent looked around, surprised some moments later. It was an electrical storm, and they could be impressive indeed, here in the islands. Vincent saw splendid lightening flashes arching from the clouds above the ocean. Omar seemed oblivious to the rain falling down, still waving his arms around and chanting. It reminded Vincent of an Indian Rain Dance he had seen once in Arizona. Unfortunately for the Indians, it did not result in rain. Omar was just lucky tonight because the wind seemed to be rising too, it was starting to be a real storm, almost out of nowhere. But then, everyone knew it happened here all the time, these sudden tempests.
Vincent watched the people in the circle jump with profound glee, as though Omar had actually caused the barrage. They were acting crazy, bowing down to Omar. One little white haired priestess grabbed the hem of her robe and pulled it over her head, in one sweeping motion, almost defiantly. She wasn't wearing anything under the robe. The other women and men who had already been initiated as witches, taking her cue, all started disrobing.
Really, Vincent thought, repelled and disgusted, it was going to become an orgy. The 'innocents' standing inside around the outer rim, whom Omar had invited inside, were watching bug-eyed. The witches were dancing naked around Omar. The little white haired witch was trying to be suggestive, wiggling her hips at Omar, who seemed to be profoundly above it all, not even noticing. He was the only one clothed.
Lightening crackled right above Vincent's head and he ducked reflexively, surprised. He turned around and saw a bush not far away burning in the rain. That one had been close. The lightening and thunder were almost simultaneous. They were right at the apex of the storm.
Vincent turned back to watch those in the circle. The redhead named Ginger was naked and really had a beautiful body. All of the women were quite lovely, Vincent thought, shaking water out of his hair and wiping it from his face. Ginger was standing directly in front of him, inside the circle, facing him. Why she's trying to seduce me, Vincent thought after a while, surprised. Even with the bandaged knee her movements could not be misinterpreted, the swaying hips and breasts were there to entice him. She was doing a stripper's dance directly for him. Might as well enjoy it, Vincent thought to himself as the heavy rain beat down on his head, sometimes almost blinding him with its force.
To keep his professional detachment Vincent shifted his gaze to the man who had been working on the preparations. He was big as a bear and almost as hairy. At least he was wearing a sort of loincloth. In fact, now that he was used to the sight, Vincent noticed that the five men in the circle all had on some kind of undergarment. Evidently Omar had not picked them for physical beauty, as he seemed to
have done with the women. Vincent supposed it was harder to coax men into his religion. But if he used his beautiful witches to entice them he could be quite successful. Of course, maybe Omar did not want other men competing with his status and had only procured the more pitiful male specimens.
Ginger was motioning to him, inviting him into the circle. She turned around several times right in front of him and beckoned, smiling right into his eyes. Vincent shook his head and smiled back. She really was very graceful.
Ginger must have given up, Vincent thought, as the little white-haired witch took her place. Her dance was even more suggestive and Vincent tried not to watch. Getting aroused was a bad idea right now. The white-haired witch was replaced with one with long dark hair, flashing her limbs at him. Then another witch took her place.
When Vincent finally looked down at his cup he saw to his dismay that it was empty. He must have been drinking unconsciously and hadn't even noticed. Vincent felt a flash of fear. Omar had staged the witch dances to make him forget what he was doing. This was not paranoia. He was in danger. When Vincent tried to get up he found he could not move. All of his limbs were paralyzed.
The sudden electrical storm took everyone by surprise at Henry's party. Most ducked in out of the rain and went to sit on the lanai to watch the splendid electrical displays over the ocean. Many people left. Some used the storm as an excuse to go inside to get more liquid refreshment from the open bar Henry had provided for his guests. Tom Mitsuto had taken a little rest on the couch in the living room, peacefully snoring off the excess spirits he had imbibed. The guitarists moved into the living room and resumed playing.
