Evil Agreement (18 page)

20

Aaron and
Korie
had spent the
better part of the day reading the Powell family diary, or “Chronicles,” as
Korie
had nicknamed it.

“Shit, look at the time, it’s nearly
six o’clock
,” said Aaron.

Korie
stood up from the edge of the
bed and raised her arms over her head. She stretched herself for a moment.

“Well, we’re nearly done. There are only about twenty more
pages.”

“I know,” said Aaron. He put the diary down on the bed.

“I’m really hungry,” said
Korie
.

“Me, too,” said Aaron. “What sort of cuisine would you like
for dinner?”

 
“Oh, I don’t know.
Look, here’s one of those magazines that tell you all about the restaurants in
the area,” said
Korie
, as she picked up the glossy
magazine from the small desk.

“Good idea. Let’s see what there is to choose from,” said
Aaron.

They were both surprised to see the extensive listings of
restaurants for such a small city. The cuisine selections ranged from Southeast
Asian, Korean, and Indian, to Vegetarian and Greek. It seemed that there was as
complete a dining range as one could normally find in America’s
largest cities. There were also a wide range of clubs offering comedy, rock and
roll, DJ’s, hypnotists, jazz and of course Aaron’s favorite, blues.

“What about this place?” said
Korie
pointing to a particular advertisement for a blues bar and restaurant.

“We don’t have to always go to blues bars just because of me,
you know,” protested Aaron.

“I know. But I enjoyed myself at the House of Blues. C’mon,
let’s check it out.”

Aaron took the visitor’s guide magazine from
Korie
and read the club’s ad.

“Burlington’s
Choice for the Finest Blues Music in the Tradition of the Masters. Suds, and
Other Spirits, Fine Food Delta and Chicago Cuisine at
Mojo’s
,

“Okay, let’s go for it,” said Aaron as he tore the page with
the ad out of the magazine.

“Don’t you think that you ought to hide the diary?” asked
Korie
.

“Yeah, you’re right, but where?”

They both surveyed their surroundings for a suitable hiding
place.

“I’ve got it,” said
Korie
. “Follow
me, and take your key.”

“What?”

She picked up the diary and headed out the door. Aaron
followed right behind.
Korie
headed towards the end
of the hall, and turned to the right down another hallway. Halfway down the
hall, she turned to her right, into a small alcove where there were three
vending machines, one for candy and sundries, another for soft drinks and
another for ice. She looked behind the narrow space behind the ice machine and
then slipped the diary behind the machine.

“There, snug as a bug.”

“Are you sure it won’t slip down, or get snagged by the ice
machine’s motor?”

“Sure, it’s in there solid. See for yourself.”

Aaron checked it out for himself. It seemed quite secure.

“I guess, we’re all set then,” said Aaron.

Korie
and Aaron returned to their
room. They freshened up and then headed down to the hotel lobby. Aaron checked
with the front desk to obtain directions on how to get to
Mojo’s
.

“According to the desk clerk it’s just a three blocks from
here, maybe a ten minute walk,” said Aaron.

With that they headed out the front door of the hotel. They
took a left down the street, and after a short distance they turned left again,
onto College Street. Soon they were standing outside of
Mojo’s
.
The pulsating sound of a Junior Parker tune was rolling out the front door of
the club.

They stepped inside and were greeted by a smiling face. The
man had a smile that spread, it seemed, from ear to ear. He walked with a
slight limp. He took a step towards Aaron and
Korie
.

“C’mon in folks. How many?”

“Two,” said Aaron, “Oh, and we have this ad coupon.”

“Keep the coupon. Let me fix you up with a table. Follow me!”
said the man as he limped away.

They followed him to a table, along the wall, on the right
side, past the bar. The man set a couple of menus down on the small table, and
then stood back to let Aaron and
Korie
get to their
seats. The place was nearly full. There was a small stage to the back of the
club and the bar was located to the rear of the right side.

“First time here at
Mojo’s
?” asked
the man.

“Yes,” said Aaron.

“You like the blues?” he said with a raised eyebrow.

“Like it, he plays in a blues band back home,” bragged
Korie
.

The man chuckled at that remark.

“Damn, I just knew it. I can tell a fellow blues man.”

Wiping his right hand on his apron he extended his hand to
Aaron.

“Ron’s the name. I own the place. Play a little blues, too. A
man’s got to, you know,” he said with a nod to Aaron.

“Yeah, I hear you,” said Aaron.

“What do you play, if I might ask?” said Ron.

“I play a Bass!”

“No shit! Me, I play the guitar and some harp, too. I’ve got
a 57 Fender Stratocaster and a Blues Master Tube amp.

“That’s great.”

“Say, tonight’s amateur night you know. Feel free to jump on
in.”

“I don’t have my gear.”

“No problem, I’ve got enough gear back stage to outfit three
bands. Take your pick. Anyway, I talk too much, ask anybody,” he said waving
his hand in a sweeping gesture.

“It sure was nice chatting with you,” said
Korie
.

“Me, too, I’ve got to go and play hostess. Your waitress will
be along in a minute.” He turned and walked away.

 
“He sure is nice,”
said
Korie
.

“Yeah, I like him.”

They then took a moment to look around the club. The place
was once some kind of old factory. Overhead there were wide, rough, hewn beams.
The floor was smooth, with well-worn, wide, wooden, darkly stained planks. The
walls were covered with newspapers from Chicago, Memphis, New Orleans, Kansas
City and Austin.

The tables were covered in some kind of plastic, which serve
to seal onto the table tops assorted album covers of old time blues albums.
Their table had covers from John Lee Hooker, Sonny Boy Williamson and Albert
King.

A young woman approached their table with a large plate in
hand. She placed it on their table. She had also brought a couple of smaller
empty plates.

“What’s this?” asked Aaron.

“Ron sent it over. Its chicken wings cooked with a special
sauce, compliments of
Mojo’s
.”

“That’s really nice. Tell him thanks.”

“What’s in this special sauce?” asked Aaron.

“Ron won’t tell us, except to say, it’s a secret recipe that
he picked up from B.B. King.”

“He knows B.B. King personally?” asked Aaron.

“Yup. He’s played in several bands. A lot of these guys come
here when they are in the area for the City’s Blues Fest. They all know Ron.
He’s a good shit. Oops, sorry!”

“No, no, that’s okay,” said Aaron.

“By the way, I’d order a beer or something before you get too
far into those chicken wings. They can be a bit much,” said the young waitress.

“Okay, let’s get a pitcher of beer,” said
Korie
.

“Sure,” echoed Aaron.

“Well, we’ve got...”

“Surprise us,” said Aaron.

“You sure?”

“Yup.”

“Okay.”

They each took a wing and took a bite.
Korie
chewed slowly. Aaron finished off his first, and licked his fingers.

“Damn, these are good!”

“Uh um,” said
Korie
.

The pitcher of beer was delivered to their table along with
two chilled glasses. Aaron poured the beer for the two of them. He was enjoying
himself and so was
Korie
.

The music of Junior Parker pounded throughout the place. The
club was now filled up. Several people were seated at the bar sipping their
drinks.

Later Aaron and
Korie
ordered their
dinner. They decided to split a deep-dish pizza pie, Chicago
style. It exceeded their expectations. They ordered a second pitcher of beer.

From the stage a small overhead light came on. It lit up a
singular microphone. Stepping up to the microphone was the owner Ron.

“Evening folks. Welcome to
Mojo’s
,”
he said.

A couple of young men moved about behind him setting up more
microphones. One of them pulled the curtain back which revealed the rest of the
stage. It was already equipped with a set of drums, a keyboard and several
amplifiers.

“While the boys are setting things up, I just want to thank
you all for your support. Tonight’s our ninth anniversary, and we’re damn proud
of your helping to make
Mojo’s
a success.”

The entire place burst into applause.

Ron waved the applause down and continued while his staff set
up some monitors in the front of the stage.

“Thanks, thanks. Now let’s have some of you blues men and
women
wannabees
down front. C’mon Slick, get your ass
down here.”

That elicited a loud laugh from the crowd.

“You, too, Randy and you, Boss Man, C’mon. And where’s the
brass police. Are you a Parker-man?”

“Hold your ass,” shouted a voice from the back of the place.

This brought another round of laughter. Slowly several people
moved to the stage. They carried guitars, basses, trumpets, and trombones. A
guy moved to the set of drums and another to the keyboard. The keyboard player
hit a few notes before he flicked a couple of switches, and found the sound he
was looking for, a Leslie Organ.

Moments later the assembled began to selectively strike a
note or a chord as they each warmed up. Three women joined the people on the
stage.

Ron stood at the center of the stage. Someone handed him a
guitar. He slipped the guitar’s strap over his shoulder. He picked out a string
and gave it a lick. The guitar was plugged in.

Ron stepped to the microphone, looked over his shoulders and
said, “Are we ready?”

Several people nodded in the affirmative.

“Ladies and gentleman, this is a song Elmore James song
called,
Dust My Blues
.

With that, he launched into a mean gritty blues riff that
brought the crowd to their feet in applause.

Aaron and
Korie
joined in the
applause with enthusiasm.

Soon the place was rolling with music, as the so-called
amateurs played one standard after another. The owner, Ron joined in on the
first few, and then he stepped off the stage. He received high five’s from the
tables as he passed by. He gestured with his thumb to Aaron to head up to the
stage.

Aaron waved him off.

***

Meanwhile, back at their hotel room, a shadowy figure stood
at their door. He took a plastic card from his suit coat and slipped it into
the magnetic door lock. There was a single click and the door was unlocked. The
intruder stepped inside. He turned on the wall light switch. He had an
accomplice in the desk clerk who was slipped fifty dollars to keep a look out
for Aaron and
Korie
, and to call their room if they
should return while this man was searching their room. The clerk said he was
sure that they had gone to
Mojo’s
. They had left only
an hour before so there should be plenty of time.

Ed Townsend had received excellent cooperation from his
friend at the Burlington Police Department. The Police had located their car at
Randy’s
Dandeezs
. There they had learned that the
woman and man had taken a cab into the City, presumably to a hotel. An officer
had stopped by this hotel to check the guest list. He found what he was looking
for. A woman with the first name of
Korie
had rented
a room. She was traveling with a male companion. A short time later, Ed was
given the same information. He quickly drove to Burlington.

Once inside their room, Ed turned on the light switch which
turned on the floor lamp next to the credenza. Ed began a systematic search of
their room looking for anything he could find that would help him to know these
people better. With such knowledge, he was sure he could find a weakness he
could exploit. The coven couldn’t just snatch Aaron Powell and force him to
join in their evil plan. That could backfire, just as it did for the first coven,
back in 1843. This time they needed to willingly draw him into joining their
coven. Failing this approach, Ed wanted to have a backup plan. One such plan he
had already begun formulating. He was prepared to kidnap
Korie
and use her as bait.

Ed looked in the drawers and carefully examined their
clothes. He opened their empty suitcases and searched them for false
compartments. He lifted the mattresses, to see if there was anything hidden
under them. He examined the bathroom. He looked through their assorted
toiletries. He even stood on the toilet seat and pushed up the ceiling panels
searching for anything they may have hidden.

Returning to the bedroom area, he stood in the center of the
room. He could sense these two had access to information of some kind. This
morning, they knew they were being followed and yet, they hadn’t run away. They
had chosen to come to Vermont. That indicated Aaron Powell was interested in
the Powell property. When they ran from the other hotel this morning, they had
to have picked up on the fact they were being watched.