Evil Agreement

by Richard L Hatin

  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.

  “And what truth are you referring to, good Reverend?”

  Opening his hands he said, “That Lucifer wants Samuel to lead the coven during this time of fulfillment.”

  Smiling he responded “Why Reverend Mitchell, is it possible that you are envious of young Samuel?”

  “Look, this isn’t about envy, or jealousy. Our church members have been loyal for over one hundred and sixty years, to the tenets of our Malum Pactum, our Agreement. This could be the time that we finally triumph. I can surely feel it and I know you feel it, too. We are poised to be the coven that delivers Lucifer. But if we fail, how much longer must the faithful wait? Could failure strengthen the hand of the other side and lead to extinction for Lucifer, for all of us?’

  The Reverend inched a bit forward.

  “What if Moloch, not Lucifer, picked Samuel?”

  “To what end?”

  “Maybe, he is using this opportunity to depose Lucifer.” He let this point sink in for a moment.

  “Why would he risk his place in the dark side?” said the Judge, as he placed his half finished juice glass back on the tray.

  “Think about it,” said the Reverend.

  “My spirit partner harbors no such fear. Does yours?”

  Without hesitating, the Reverend said, “Yes.”

  “So you believe Moloch is deceiving all of us in a plot to depose Lucifer, and this plot will fail because he has chosen a child to lead, and that somehow Lucifer doesn’t know about all of this? Incredible, Reverend, that’s quite a tangled web.”

  “Look I am taking a big risk even talking about this. I...needed to get this off my chest. Maybe you’re right. Perhaps it’s my own paranoia.”


  “Perhaps it is,” said the Judge. His keen mind was now running in overdrive.

  The Judge sent out a mental message to his spirit partner, Pontris, who had been listening in on the entire conversation.

  “Pontris, was an evil spirit who catered to nurturing the evil tendencies of powerful people from throughout history. He had instigated people to poison, torture, stab, and shoot lovers, spouses, family members, opponents and enemies. His very handiwork had inspired several of Shakespeare’s plays.

  Kings were murdered, lovers vanquished, rivals destroyed as kingdoms and empires rose and crumbled throughout history.

  Can it be? thought the Judge.

  Pontris’ response was revealing and to the point.

  “In my world we never speak directly to Lucifer or him to us. All of our conversations with Lucifer flow through but one demon, Moloch.”

  So Moloch is in a position to deceive not only your world, but ours as well, thought the Judge.

  Pontris’ answer was swift. “If it can happen in your world it can happen in mine.”

  “Reverend, let’s suppose, for the sake of discussion, you are correct. How do you propose to prove your theory, without alerting Moloch and incurring his wrath?”

  “That’s where I’m stumped, Judge. I can’t figure out how. I was hoping, that with your counsel, I could come up with a possible way to test my theory.”

  The Reverend was a clever man. His appeal for advice would allow the Judge to help, without becoming directly involved, at least, not yet.

  The Judge stood up and walked over to a wicker stand of ivy that sat in the corner of the patio. He picked up a spray bottle and began to spray the plants.

  “Perhaps a test isn’t necessary. It is written in the Book of Covenants that Lucifer’s predecessor, in this instance, Moloch and his faithful coven, shall destroy anyone that threatens the fulfillment of Lucifer’s triumphant return. Am I not correct, Reverend?”

  “Yes, that is correct,” said the Reverend as he stood up from his seat and approached the Judge’s side.

  “Then, how is it that Samuel is allowing his sister to live? How is it, that Moloch is allowing Samuel this exemption from the covenant? How is keeping her, as a prospective concubine, fulfilling our Book of Final Covenants? What are we to make of this Reverend?”

  Reverend Mitchell was inwardly smiling. He knew he now had an ally.

  Just then the phone in the kitchen rang.

  “Excuse me,” said the Judge as he put the spray bottle down and headed into the kitchen.

  He was gone for only a couple of minutes.

  “Samuel is calling for a meeting. We are to meet at Phyllis’ offices in one hour.”

  “Then I’d better be going. I’ll see you at the meeting,” said the Reverend.

  The Judge, who is a least a foot and a half taller than the Reverend, put his hand on the Reverend’s shoulder.

  “What you came to me about shall remain between us. I believe you may be quite right about Samuel and Moloch. We are bound by our hearts and soul to uphold the Book of Covenants. For now let us see what is being planned. We will speak again, Reverend.”

  “Thank you, Judge. All I want is to do is what is right.”

  “I understand.”

  The judge showed the Reverend to the front door.

  ***

  Miss Beacon pulled her Land Rover out of the garage. It looked terrible. It had dents and dings everywhere and the color was no longer uniform due to fading, scrapes and some rust. The tires were new, the engine sounded good and the windshield had a crack on the left side that traveled from top to bottom.

  Aaron and Korie climbed into the back of the vehicle, and pulled a blanket over themselves as Miss Beacon had instructed them to do. They also slid as low in the seat as they could.

  Miss Beacon put the Rover in gear and turned around in her back driveway. She pulled the vehicle out onto the road and headed south. A car passed her heading in the opposite direction, it was Shirley Carter. She was a beautician and a coven member. Miss Beacon and Mrs. Carter exchanged a brief wave with one another.

  It was getting hot under the blanket.

  “How much longer must we stay under the blanket?” asked Aaron.

  “Not much. We’ll be turning off this road in a couple of miles. You can come out then.”

  In a few minutes, Aaron and Korie were suddenly jolted by the bouncing of the Land Rover, as it pulled off the paved road onto a path through high grass. Miss Beacon’s Rover drove straight over a piece of split-rail fence that long ago had been knocked over. She didn’t slow down one bit. Still traveling about thirty miles per hour she reached over the seat and pulled back the blanket cover.

  “You can come out now.”

  “Thanks,” said Aaron as he tossed the rest of the blanket off him and Korie.

  “Why don’t you slow down a bit?” asked Korie as she and Aaron bounced around in the back seat.

  “Not until I get to the tree line.”

  Miss Beacon was a small woman, and the steering wheel was oversized on the Land Rover. She could barely see over the steering wheel as it was.

  Korie and Aaron looked out the windshield and saw the trees rapidly approaching. Neither could discern a road or even a path. They both looked at each other, while the same question popped into their heads.

  She is going crash this thing! they thought.

  “I am not going to do any such thing,” said Miss Beacon.

  Neither was surprised at her telepathic power.

  “Climb into the front seat, Aaron,” said Miss Beacon.

  Aaron started to when the car suddenly veered sharply to the left. He fell back into the rear knocking Korie back at the same time.

  Miss Beacon deftly pulled the Land Rover to the left, barely threading it between two large pine trees. She spun the steering wheel to the left and right with ease. Suddenly she stopped the Rover.

  “Sorry about that little turn. You can get into the front now. Oh, and Korie, would you be a dear, and hand me that small pistol from the satchel under the tarp in the back? Take the other two pistols for you and Aaron and leave the shotgun alone. I don’t think we’ll be needing it today.”

  “Pistols?” asked Aaron.

  “Yes. You may have powers but you sure can’t stop a bullet, at least not yet anyway. We’re dealing with some powerful and motivated people, Aaron. We can’t take any chances. Too much is at stake.”

  “She’s right, Aaron,” said Korie as she turned around from having retrieved the weapons. She handed a small pistol to Miss Beacon, who slipped it into her dress pocket. Korie handed Aaron a pistol. It was larger and held a clip that loaded the bullets from the bottom. Korie’s pistol was the same.

  “Do either of you know how to use one of these?” asked Miss Beacon.

  Aaron shook his head no. Korie, on the other hand, said, “Sure, I’ve had some experience with guns.”

  For the next several minutes Miss Beacon explained the features of the weapon to Aaron. She showed him the safety, how to choose single shot and how to select semi-automatic. She also showed him how to load the gun and the rudiments of aiming the weapon. Satisfied he understood the basics, she had Korie locate the extra clips of bullets, making sure they each had two extra clips. With the safeties now engaged, she put the Rover into gear and once again began to weave her way through the dense woods.

  The Rover began to climb upward through the woods. The windows remained rolled halfway down. The scent of the forest drifted through the half open windows. The air was filled with the blended aromas of pine, hemlock, beech, birch, maple and sumac. Underneath this was another fragrance. It was the odor of decay. What lives in the forest also dies there! The dead or dying parts of the forest contributed their own smells.

  It was dark and cooler here in the woods. The Land Rover bounced up and down and even sideways, as Miss Beacon followed an unrecognizable trail.

  “Do you know where we’re going? I don’t see a
ny signs of a road or trail,” said Aaron.

  “Yes, I do. We could just drive up the front walk and announce our arrival, but I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

  Korie wasn’t speaking. She didn’t dare. She was sure the bouncing of the Rover would loosen her teeth, which kept clinking with each bounce. Korie could also feel her ears begin to pop from the change in elevation.

  Miss Beacon slowed the Rover down as she maneuvered it in a tight turn so it was pointing downhill in the direction they had come from. She turned the vehicle off, opened her door and climbed out of the Rover, stepping on the step bar beneath the door before she set foot on the pine needle covered forest floor.

  Aaron and Korie climbed out of the Rover as well. They joined her next to the drivers’ door.

  “We’ll walk from here. We must be careful. Now take it real slow. We don’t want to meet up with anyone. If we do, we’ll have to be ready to eliminate them. No one must know we were here. Can you handle that?”

  “You make it sound like we’re a SWAT Team,” said Aaron jokingly.

  “This is life or death, Aaron, deal with it,” said Miss Beacon in a stern tone of voice.

  Aaron looked at Miss Beacon and then at Korie.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “Can you tell us more about what we’re here to see? You were kind of vague back at the Inn,” said Korie.

  “Of course. About three hundred yards from here, further up the mountain, is an old barn. It holds some terrible secrets. I want Aaron to see it for himself. After that, further up the mountain is a clearing, with an altar where the coven comes to worship. It was built on the ground where the Powell family home once stood. Next to this clearing is the Powell family cemetery. We’ve come in, sort of the back way. We’ve climbed the mountain on its southeast side. The barn, clearing, altar and cemetery are all on the northwest side.”

  “Well, I’m ready. Let’s go,” said Aaron. The three of them began to head through the woods, up the mountain’s steep slope.

  They moved slowly and as quietly as possible. The woods were filled with the sounds of life. Birds chirped and squirrels scampered from branch to branch in the tall trees overhead. A steady breeze pushed against the taller trees causing them to sway and twist about. The breeze added a sort of “swooshing,” sound to the noise of the forest. At ground level there was barely any air movement.