Evil Unearthed: Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Stephen placed yet another collated sheaf of papers into yet another manila folder and sighed. It had been three days since his talk with the Conjure Woman and he was finally doing what Barrett had requested on the day he arrived: organizing a vast collection of notes and correspondences related to his studies of Maljardin. It was getting on toward sunset, Barrett would be emerging soon from his usual afternoon nap, and Stephen had finally resolved that he would confide in his former mentor all that Evangeline Abbott had told him. He half-suspected that Barrett knew most of it already, but it was time for him to find out for sure. Barrett was the one piece of the puzzle that was missing for him, and it was time now to fix that. Besides, since he had heard nothing from Kathleen ever since her return to Julia Desmond's island, he felt his mind being clouded with worries and fears that he could not control.

"Work going well I see?" Barrett came out of his bedroom looking relaxed, and Stephen felt a pang of resentment which made his tone sharp.

"Well, since there's nothing else for me to do down here, I thought I'd give it my all."

"Come now, my boy," said Barrett, pouring two glasses of whisky. "Time to put the books away now."

"I'm sorry," Stephen said. "I'm just so worried about Kathleen!"

"I know you are. You seem to be able to talk of nothing else."

"The fact is," said Stephen, taking the offered drink, "I'm beginning to feel that you got me down here on somewhat false pretenses."

"I think that deserves an explanation, Mr. Dawson," said Barrett, adopting his professorial voice. "I had nothing but honest intentions in contacting you."

"Maybe you did," said Stephen, "but what about her? What about your Conjure Woman? You'll agree that she can be mysterious and secretive at times?"

"It comes with the territory. You should know that." Barrett sat down across from Stephen at the folder-laden dining-room table and looked straight into his eyes. "She must be a little circumspect in order to keep the curiosity-seekers away from her people. I'll tell you that they have drugs and ceremonies that can do things that we scientifically-advanced westerners think are impossible."

"Oh," said Stephen, "I know one of those stories. This young and attractive priestess is supposed to be three-hundred years old!"

"So this is why you've been on edge," said Barrett. "She told you about herself and about your uncle?"

"But surely you know that already! Surely you've been in on everything since I came down here! Why else did you ask me to start coming here the very day after I had that meeting with your esteemed colleague?"

"You think she put me up to it? You know I wanted your help, Stephen. I asked you for it when you first arrived, but then I was indisposed and you became ill, and nothing could happen till now. That's all it is."

"Well, I feel like I'm being controlled somehow. The bottom line is that she ran away from her responsibilities forty years ago, and now that they've come back to bite her in the ass, she wants more help! She at least told you to tell me to bring my priest stuff, right? That has to be true."

"No," said Barrett. "Remember? I didn't tell her you were a priest. If you want to know why I asked you to come prepared for active duty, I will. It's because I'm dying, Stephen. I'm dying, and I want you to attend me."

"What? You're anything but a devout Catholic!"

"True," said Barrett, "but I was born into a Catholic family and was duly baptized in that faith. Actually, I wish both you and Evangeline Abbott to attend me in your respective capacities. I think you are more alike than you realize."

"I am nothing like her!" Stephen exploded. "I would not have left people to die! I would not have left a man to confront some strange evil and be destroyed by it!"

"Alright," said Barrett quietly. "Let's begin at the beginning. What did Vangie tell you about the way your uncle died?"

"She told me that he was trying to exorcise Erica Desmond who had returned from the dead as a woman of demonic cunning. I read the journal entry he wrote before meeting with her. He was never more clear about his calling or his faith, and despite all that, she was able to throw him off the tower of that house over there and then to smear his name by telling everyone that he had killed himself in a fit of depression."

"How do you know that?"

"There's an entry at the end of the journal written by Vangie herself. In it, she states that she knows that the story told by Erica about his death was not true. Quito, Jean Paul's mute servant, told her so. She ended by saying that she would avenge Uncle Matt's memory and the memories of all those who were killed by the evil on that island."

"Well," said Barrett, pouring Stephen another drink but not taking one for himself, "that's something positive at least. So, what's the matter?"

"She tricked them all," said Stephen, slamming his glass down onto the table. "She made everyone think that she was dead, even made them mourn for her, and she ran away and hid!"

"And she admitted this to you?"

"Yes! She even went so far as to ask me for forgiveness!"

"Perhaps," said Barrett slowly, "she thought that you of all people would be in a position to forgive."

"Oh, here we go again," said Stephen. "I'm a priest, so I should forgive. I'm so tired, Barrett! I'm just so damned tired of it all!"

"And what do you want to do now?" Barrett's calmness was really getting on Stephen's nerves.

"I want to get the hell out of here!"

"Right," said Barrett. "You're overwhelmed. You've been ill! Of course you want to leave. Now, doesn't that sound familiar?"

Stephen looked into his glass in order to avoid Barrett's gaze. He knew deep inside himself that Barrett was absolutely right. He had no right to sit in judgment of a woman who had wrestled with the evil which had as yet only barely touched him. She had done what she felt was right, and she now regretted it. Who was he to condemn her?

"I suppose I've been casting stones out of turn," he said now.

"You're upset," said Barrett. "What you need is to do what she asked. You need to forgive her. I think it's true that you're being controlled, but I think that it's by a power higher than myself or the Conjure Woman. Why else have you been obsessed with this place for so many years?"

"It is strange," said Stephen. "It's not everyone who would define their whole lives in the light of a piece of family history that happened before they were born. I guess you're right. I've been acting stupid."

"Happy the fool who knows what he is," said Barrett absently, but Stephen shuddered.

"What did you say?"

"I didn't mean to offend, old boy!"

"No," said Stephen. "You mentioned the word 'fool'. It reminded me of Uncle Matt again. Vangie said that he was represented in the Tarot pack as The Fool, the balance-wheel, the presence that could tip the scale and shift the balance of power on Maljardin."

"That's very interesting," said Barrett. "The Fool often represents pure consciousness, potential as yet untapped. It is the beginning and it is the end. It is whatever comes between the night and the morning. It is everything and also nothing. It is the perfected spirit and the spirit seeking perfection."

"Ah. One of those paradoxical things," said Stephen. "Great!"

"Well," said Barrett, "there is one who can enlighten you further. As it happens, I was going to visit her tonight. Care to come with me?"

"I suppose I'd better," said Stephen. "I've been such an ass about all this!"

"She'll understand," said Barrett. "Don't worry!"

Stephen finished his drink and Barrett got them some dinner. When they were finished, Barrett drove to the hotel and together they walked into the vine-curtained shelter of the processional way. The guardian Michel was not present this time, but Stephen felt that he must be somewhere watching what was happening. When they got to the barely-discernible path that led to the cabin, Stephen paused for a moment.

"There's no smoke," he said. "Maybe she's not at home."

"She's there," was all Barrett's answer, but Stephen thought he caught a peculiar note of fear in his voice.

Barrett knocked rather loudly on the door, but as there was no response from within, he quickly opened it and stepped inside. Uncertain of what he should do, Stephen followed quietly behind him, so his view of the room was blocked by Barrett's imposing form. He could not help hearing, however, a deep silence around him, so deep that it was actually deafening. It was soon broken by Barrett's frightened gasp as he apparently saw something strange, and when Stephen moved beside him to get a better look, he noticed the woman they had come to see lying on her back on the floor. She looked pale and her eyes were extremely unfocused. For a moment, Stephen thought she was dead, but Barrett seemed not to think so, so he let him take the lead.

"Vangie!" Barrett called in a sure, strong voice. "Vangie Abbott! Wake up!"

"What's happened to her?" Stephen was totally unprepared for something like this.

"I think she's in a kind of trance," said Barrett. "I'm not sure."

Stephen stood and regarded the priestess on the floor, and suddenly he felt that strange spiritual chill which seemed to betoken the evil of this place, and all at once, taking a rosary from his pocket, he began to pray.

"Good," said Barrett. "Every little bit helps!"

Stephen heard him laying and lighting the fire as he continued praying, and while he was in the middle of what felt like his hundredth 'Hail Mary,' he was surprised to find another voice saying the words with him. When the prayer was finished, he turned and saw Vangie sitting up and regarding him with an inscrutable expression on her face. It seemed to be a mixture of fear, awe and deep compassion.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Your voice," she said. "I never realized how much it resembles his--your uncle's. You called me back! Thank you, Stephen."

"May I help you up?" Barrett was still busy brewing tea. Stephen wondered why he was not more concerned about his priestess, but he suspected that he did not want to intrude on what he himself had to say to her.

"Thank you," she said, "and thank you, Robert! Tea would be lovely!"

"He," Stephen began, "he was here."

"Yes," said Vangie. "I have been worried about your friend Kathleen, and was trying to probe Maljardin with my mind. I can sometimes see things far off if I concentrate hard, but it isn't one of my primary gifts. As it turns out, I was not very wise to try it unaided."

"No," said Barrett. "Why on earth did you do it?" Stephen was slightly amused to hear him using that tone of voice. He sounded for all the world as though he were scolding a wayward child. It seemed as though Vangie had picked up on this as well, for she too began to smile.

"I was foolish and impatient," she said. "Will that do for an answer? Right now, all I want is my tea, thank you, Robert."

"Here you are, my lady," said Barrett, presenting the unremarkable cup to her as though it were a ceremonial vessel. Stephen was surprised to see her take it in that same reverent way.

"Thank you," she said, "and I'm sorry I frightened you, and Stephen, I'm glad to see you."

"I just wanted to tell you this in person," he said, taking his cup as well. "I wanted to say that I do not forgive you."

"Dawson!" Barrett was indignant.

"No, Robert," said Vangie. "Let him finish!"

"I don't forgive you," said Stephen, "because there's nothing to forgive. It's done, and you can't change it. You did what you thought you needed to do. What I will do is let go of my anger about it. As it is, I think I'm more angry at the way my uncle died, and I'm feeling trapped, controlled. I thought you were doing the controlling, but now, I'm not so sure."

"I think you've seen evidence of the fact," she said, "that I am most definitely not in control of this situation. I do need help, and I do not think that mere chance brought you and I, a priest of Christ and a priestess of The Great Serpent, together."

"I'm beginning to think that way too," said Stephen, "though I'm at a loss as to how I can help you."

"Well," said Barrett, "it seems to me that very little can be done from here."

"That's true," said Vangie, "but Maljardin is off-limits to us, and I hardly think that Julia Desmond will invite us over for dinner any time soon."

"Kathleen hasn't spoken to me since she left," said Stephen. "She said that she would, and I'm very worried."

"Unfortunately," said Vangie gravely, "I was not able to penetrate the shroud of evil engulfing the island. It drained me before I could pull away, and that is why I fell into the trance. I think I was there for about three hours when I suddenly heard your voice asking for help from your Queen of Heaven. You did remind me of your uncle then. It was uncanny!"

"I thought nothing was uncanny to people in your line," said Stephen wryly.

"If I really believed that," said Vangie, "then I would indeed be unworthy of the mantle I bear. We must always stay open to the possibility that inexplicable things exist in this world."

"I'm afraid you're preaching to deaf ears," said Barrett. "Stephen is not only an anthropologist, but also a Jesuit. They question things almost as a form of prayer!"

"He's right," said Stephen, "about the kind of mind that I have, but I'm not deaf to your words, Conjure Woman. Not anymore. There is too much going on here for me to ignore. We've got to find a way to get over there!"

"Be assured, Stephen, that we will," said Vangie. "Unfortunately, there is a timing to all of this which is not subject to our interference."

"I just want to know how Kathleen is doing and whether she's safe! I've tried emailing her and calling her, and there's been absolutely no response!"

"I saw her safe on Maljardin the night she left here," said Vangie, "but more than that I have not been able to see."

"Well," said Stephen, hardly knowing what he expected, "what about the cards? Can't you do a reading or something? You were always doing them for my uncle and telling him all kinds of things about what was happening on Maljardin. Can't you do that now?"

"Even the cards are silent tonight," said Vangie, picking them up and shuffling them in a listless manner. "No, Stephen, something is definitely interfering with my abilities, and that has to stop."

"Can we not call the gods to fight on our behalf?" Barrett had not spoken for some time, but now that he did, Stephen was surprised to find himself mentally agreeing with this suggestion.

"We have the priest and the priestess," said Vangie. "Both you and I are present, but we have no drummer."

"From what I've heard, you have some excellent drummers hereabouts," said Stephen. "What about Michel, for instance?"

"I don't want my people exposed to this evil if I can shield them from it," said Vangie. "However, I think Robert is right. Will you act as our drummer? Robert can show you the rhythms."

"Do you know what you're asking me to do?"

"She's asking you to drum, Stephen. That's all."

"Yes," Stephen said, "and martyrs have died for refusing to do even less than that."

"Do you really believe what you're saying?" Barrett rounded on him savagely. "Are you a priest of Christ only when it's convenient for you?"

"You're right," Stephen said, taken aback. "It's not my own conscience I'm afraid of. It's what others might think if they found out."

"Well, they wouldn't learn it from me," said Barrett, "and they certainly would never learn it from the Conjure Woman."

"In fact," said Vangie solemnly, "it is highly irregular for a non-believer to be invited into a ritual such as this. I do this in peril of the loss of my authority in the eyes of my people, but I deem that danger to be worth facing when I compare it with that of the evil which now walks among us."

"Alright," said Stephen. "I'll do it."

"Good," said Vangie. "I must prepare. Robert, please show Stephen the rhythms." She went to the altar that stood in the room and from underneath it she drew a large drum fashioned of wood and goat-skin and in the shape of a goblet. Stephen looked at the diamond pattern of the ropes which bound the skin to the body and traced the intricate carvings around the wooden base.

"This is like what the West Africans use," he said finally. "I've learned some of their rhythms."

"Then you'll have no problem learning ours," said Barrett. "They are similar, and all we need for this ritual is a continual rhythm kept up. It will lend energy to the Conjure Woman for what the gods will ask of her."

As Vangie retired to her bedroom to prepare herself, Barrett taught Stephen the rhythms on the drum, showing him how to strike the head so as to get the best sound. Stephen had played a similar instrument before, and he had always felt a primal kind of thrill when he did. It was as though he was melting into the past, becoming one with all the humans who had come before him, and using the drum to beat off the darkness and silence of death. Now, as he tapped out the rhythms at Barrett's instruction, he realized that a long-cherished dream was at last coming true, for he was preparing to enter a world which he had never known: a world of ancient ritual and magic. He was, in fact, finally following in Barrett's footsteps for the first time in his life.

"Well, Stephen," said Barrett finally, "you're no Buddy Rich, but you'll be a great help to us."

"Barrett, is something wrong?" Stephen saw a strange expression on his old friend's face which he could not interpret.

"It is always Vangie who takes the risks," said Barrett bitterly. "I don't want her destroyed by all of this. She's too--too--"

"Barrett," said Stephen in astonishment. "I can't believe it! You don't just admire her spiritually. You're in love with her!"

"Is it that surprising? She's made me feel alive, Stephen, in a way no other woman could. She has what I could never find in anyone else. She is a true companion to me, no mere acquaintance but a true spiritual partner, and now, she has to put her life on the line for this mysterious and evil presence over there on that island, and all she says is that it is her duty."

"And I still maintain that," said Vangie, emerging with a robe similar to the one she was wearing in her hands. "Here you are, Robert."

As Barrett ducked into the bedroom to dawn his ceremonial garb, Vangie took the seat he had been using and looked directly at Stephen across the head of the drum.

"Please believe me," she began, "when I tell you that I did not ask you to participate in this ritual lightly. I understand your conflict."

"I only wish it were the conflict it should be," he said. "If I had enough faith in my own God, I would know where I stand in all this and would categorically deny participating in this rite, but all that makes me hesitate is the fact that others in my faith might find out about it. I am indeed the Pharisee in the parable."

"We've all had those moments of pride and self-justification," said Vangie, "but let me try to set your mind at ease. You will have to be within the circle, but that is for your protection. There will be no nudity or anything. In fact, all we will be doing is meditating, making a connection with the gods and letting them speak. You may call it self-hypnosis if you like. What you call it does not matter. All we need from you is for you to drum and to provide a grounding influence."

"I'll do my best," said Stephen, and he watched as she moved silently around the room and made things ready for the ritual.

The candles were lit and the smoke of incense drifted up from the brazier when Robert emerged, serpent staff in hand, and moved slowly to face Vangie across the altar. The two began to chant and to move around the room, sprinkling water and salt in a wide circle which encompassed the altar, the drum, Stephen and the chair in which he sat. Then Vangie moved to the alter again and stood facing the east, and Barrett took the brazier and wafted the incense around the circle. As he did this, into Stephen's mind came several lines of academic prose which detailed the various ways in which faiths such as this one defined and consecrated their sacred space, but then, all such thoughts were driven from his mind by Vangie's whispered command:

"Stephen, drum!"

At that word, he knew that things were really beginning now, and as Barrett and Vangie moved slowly around the altar, he began a slow rhythm like the beating of a heart. Soon, Barrett and Vangie stood beside each other and faced the east again, and Barrett began the invocation.

"Oh Great Serpent, Creator of things dark and light! Ancient benefactor of the people! Come to us now as we have need of your aid and council! Come at the bidding of those who serve you and speak to us, we beg!"

"I am she, hater of evil!" said Vangie in a clear, strong voice.

"I am he whose mouth spews flame!" replied Barrett, and they began to dance, bare feet tapping on the floor-boards, around the altar as the candle-flames stretched tall in the wind of their movements.

Now, Stephen found himself using a faster rhythm, and he was surprised to find himself using the drum by touch alone, for his eyes were riveted on the dancing pair, but especially on the form of the Conjure Woman, who, though she was dancing frantically, still wore her habitual expression of calm dignity. Soon, they slowed down again, but Stephen instinctively felt that the dancing was just a preamble to the central activity of the ritual, and he knew that the quick rhythms that Barrett had shown him were still necessary.

"Come now!" Barrett said. "Come, Regent of the Realm Beyond Time! Speak to us, Princess of Light, for the Prince of Darkness opposes our endeavours, and he must be challenged if there is to be peace in our days! Speak to us, Beautiful One!"

At this, he laid his hands on Vangie's shoulders, and she suddenly stood tall and rigid, her form framed in the candle light, and she began to speak in a slow, strange voice. At her first words, Stephen suddenly ceased to drum, knowing instinctively that silence was demanded at this moment.

"Stay the course and be true to what is right! Evil will thrive as long as it is given ground! It must be pulled out by the root if it is truly to be conquered! It must, it must--" Vangie's voice trailed off and she suddenly crumpled to her knees.

"Drum, Stephen," she said now through clenched teeth. "I am being called. I must make a journey in the spirit! Drum!"

Stephen had a million questions, but he held them back, catching Barrett's strained expression out of the corner of his eye, and began to drum once more in the fast dancing rhythm that he had used before. Meanwhile, Barrett had knelt behind the Conjure Woman and was now sitting cross-legged and cradling her head in his lap. So this, Stephen thought, was what happened to her body when she made one of these strange spiritual journeys? He had been unprepared for it, and he found himself appalled and mystified. However, he did know one thing. Kathleen must have called her, and that meant that she needed help. So now her spirit was on Maljardin, prey to evil and utterly alone. He continued to drum, and as his hands drummed, his mind and heart sent up a prayer that this night would not end in tragedy for Kathleen or for the Conjure Woman.