Page 53 of Signs and Wonders

“Aren’t you a ray of sunshine.”

Evan shrugged. “I suspect the resemblance between the structure of the seminar and church camp is intentional. It’s a proven way to manipulate people’s emotions and get them to do what you want, whether it’s signing up for heaven or a seminar.”

Both Evan and Brent wore their deflection and auris amulets, and Evan wondered whether Wellington himself had magic or if Swain’s power provided the nudges to sway the audience. So far, he hadn’t seen pictures, paintings, or plaques mentioning Fletcher Swain, which was odd if he was the top mentor-in-residence.

Maybe he’s keeping a low profile so it’s harder to compare how he looks now to the recent past. It might not be time for him to “disappear” yet, but he probably has been around under this name long enough he should be aging—and isn’t.

I wonder if that’s why Swain’s stepped up the murders lately. He might be “filling his tank” before a dry spell while he reinvents himself.

Making Summit less dependent on his presence made sense in a modern world, Evan thought. The lodge’s programs and the revenue from the Hub brought in money without Swain needing to be hands-on, which would be helpful while he went into seclusion.

“And now we’d like to present our teacher extraordinaire, Paul Wellington!” Jennifer said. Recorded music swelled to quiet the crowd and focus all eyes on the stage.

Wellington bounded up onto the platform, looking tanned and vibrant. “How is everyone doing today?”

The attendees shouted back, a cacophony of positive words. Wellington beamed.

“You haven’t even tasted what’s for dinner yet—and I can promise you it will be a real treat,” he teased.

“Now that you’ve had a chance to see the compound, meet some of our guides, and try some of the programs, I hope you’re getting a better idea of how Summit and Renou-Vous can improve your life.” Wellington slid seamlessly from cheerleader to salesman.

“In our introductory programs, we teach you how to relax. Isn’t it funny that we need to learn that? We get so wound up with everyday living that we forget what it even feels like,” Wellington went on, and the crowd nodded with sympathetic murmurs.

“Once you’ve made relaxation part of your life, it’s time to move to the second stage in your journey—filling the places that were full of noise with something meaningful. Our intermediate-level programs let you explore the possibilities with the insight of our senior guides so you can find the path that’s right for you.”

The audience watched him in rapt attention.

Evan squirmed in his seat. Wellington came across as likable, a casual professor-type who might be pleasant to share a beer with at the pub. Yet nothing he said seemed particularly insightful, more like the bland generalizations popular with internet influencers. Considering the price tag of Summit’s programs—and the risk of catching Swain’s attention and vanishing—Evan struggled to see the appeal. Yet from the enraptured looks on the faces of the guests around him, Evan knew he and Brent were clearly in the minority.

A glance toward his seatmate confirmed that Brent seemed equally unaffected, maybe a little puzzled at the reactions of the others.

It’s got to be some kind of spell. If it were something in the food, we’d be right there with everyone else. The only difference is that we have the amulets.

So we’re going to have to fake enthusiasm, or someone will notice and get suspicious.

Wellington went on to describe the advanced programs and residency studies, but Evan tuned him out, studying the people nearby. Although Wellington lacked the fiery delivery of a tent revival preacher—and seemed bland for a motivational speaker—Evan recognized the expressions on the faces of the audience from his days in church.

They’re hungry for something—attention, absolution, hope, a fresh start—and desperate to find someone to follow. Wellington and Summit provide that.

If people weren’t disappearing and dying, I’d say it was none of our business. There are probably hundreds of programs like this, minus the homicidal warlock part. These folks can find what they’re looking for elsewhere.

He knew those other seminars still carried the risk of narcissistic leaders who abused their power over the flock. But that danger, while significant, paled compared to bleeding someone dry on a stone altar to open a rip in time and space and summon an imprisoned immortal spirit.

Brent elbowed Evan, jostling him out of his thoughts as Wellington brought his presentation to a close.

“Welcome to the Summit family! We hope this is the first of many visits for you and the first step on a journey that will transform your life.” Wellington looked pleased and humble as the audience clapped and rose to their feet.

Wellington exited the stage as the clapping continued. Josh stepped up to the microphone, letting the ovation die down. “Just think—that’s not even a full lesson, just an overview,” Josh told the happy crowd. “Imagine spending a full weekend, week, or longer, with time to dig into the program.”

An appreciative murmur swept through the group. Evan almost expected people to wave their credit cards in the air.

Seeing how easy it was for a speaker to hold sway over a group made Evan shiver. Wellington himself might mean no harm—and perhaps did not realize Swain’s darker purpose. Evan doubted that most of the guides or workers at Summit had any idea that the lodge was a killing ground.

But it was difficult not to take advantage of hero worship or blind trust. Evan knew that even those with honorable intentions often ended up falling prey to ego. As comforting as some people might find such a community—religious or secular—Evan was glad for his own found family.

“Next is dinner! Paul wasn’t kidding about how good the food is!” Josh said, getting a round of applause. “Don’t forget—you have time to explore afterward before the concert, so take advantage of a chance to have a look around and find your favorite spaces. Now head for the dining room and eat hearty!”

Evan and Brent hung back, letting the others file out of the room ahead of them. Knowing what they intended to do after the meal fueled the butterflies in Evan’s stomach. He hoped tension and not a sixth sense of foreboding was to blame.

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