Trifecta (89 page)

V
incent 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 left 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.