Dark Winter: Last Rites

by Hennessy, John

  Anyway, as I was saying, since that demon, banshee, what did you call it? A Zeryth?’

  Yes. That’s what I called it. You would have thought it would have provoked a reaction from me, but my body was not willing. Unable to let her know that I could hear her, Beth continued.

  ‘That thing reached inside my chest, you knew that. My heart felt like it had been squeezed, I think you knew that too. What you might not know, is that she put something there. I’m slowly understanding what that thing is.

  You see, when I summoned the spirit of Dana, I thought it would attack the focus of my hatred – Curie. Whilst she did do that, I did not know she had gotten to him already. How I wished I had listened to you Romilly. I shouldn’t have pursued it, not without telling you what I had planned. It was wrong of me, and I apologise.’

  That’s okay Beth. We weren’t to know. A silly scare story, that’s all we thought it was.

  We know different now. Why does such knowledge have to come at a price?

  ‘Anyway, I feel I know her purpose now. Survival. You see, Romilly, we journeyed, Tori-Suzanne and I, deep into East Gorswood Forest, looking to destroy her last resting place. You and I never checked that other coffin when we had the chance. We really should have done, because back then, I am not sure Dana was as powerful as she is now.

  She’s letting me know it too. She visits me at night. Just when I have managed to put the nightmares aside, and maybe, just maybe, I am having a nice dream, she comes to me. First, I wake with a start. Second, I cannot feel my legs. It is like I am paralysed, and it is the scariest feeling in the world – that I will never walk again. The room is dark, cold, and claustrophobic. I cannot breathe.

  Then, I realise what it is. The presence of Dana can be felt on my chest. Her weight presses me down, squeezing the last bit of air from my lungs. As I gasp my final breaths, she looks into my eyes. Black eyes. Dead, cold and unfeeling. Then her mouth slowly opens, and blood pours from it onto my face. I cannot turn, cannot move. I am completely under her control.

  It is so scary, I want to die right there and then, Romilly. Then something happens. I think of you, of all you’ve gone through, and I am reminded of what Tori-Suzanne said. She thinks a lot of you, you know, and told me that you carried your cross far better than I ever did.

  You know something? She’s right too.

  I’ve tried to get the priests involved, but they keep away from me now. They won’t even help you, Romilly. It is making me question my faith.

  In the daylight, the nightmare works in reverse. Now it is my turn to cough blood from my mouth.

  After the last funerals we went to, I noticed things had gotten worse. My chest tightens, my heart feels like it will explode at any moment.

  Dana is biding her time.

  I don’t think she is looking to take over my body, more likely she wants to destroy it. Revenge for what I did to her body. I was going to give her a proper burial, but Tori-Suzanne disagreed, and told me her body had to be destroyed. We may yet pay for that decision.

  I’m so scared of her, Romilly. I don’t mind dying. I don’t fear death. But I hate the pain; I just want it to be over, one way or another.’

  Beth paused. All of this had been a relief to get off her chest. There was more to come of course. I understood that Beth needed to talk it out to someone, even if she thought that particular someone was incapable of hearing her words. But she would be wrong to think that, because I could hear every word. Her voice was a comfort to me, and a hell for the demon inside me. No matter what our set of circumstances, no matter how dire our situation, we had to look above and beyond ourselves and try and help someone else who was in a far worse situation.

  Another voice was trying to reach me. A kind voice. It was my Nan’s voice, clear, kind, but totally commanding.

  “Time to wake up, pretty girl.”

  The Bell Tolls:

  Chapter 7

  Toril had returned to the spot where her mother was, only to find that she was no longer there. Instead, a number of Zeryths approached her. She counted fifty, maybe seventy-five of them, and they stood between her and the hill up ahead.

  She had enhanced all her senses with her Wiccan powers. Her eyes could see far. She could see her mother, but could not sense her all that well.

  Tori-Suzanne was dying.

  As the creatures of the undead advanced, Toril lowered her wand to her side.

  “My quarrel is not with you,” she shouted. “I just want to get to my mother.”

  They remained true on their slow deliberate march towards Toril.

  “Kill her. Kill the witch,” one of them said. Another repeated the words, and soon, all of them were saying it. Toril fought to be heard over them.

  “I will be the one doing the killing if you don’t get out of my way.”

  She did not sound all that convincing, and the Zeryths knew it. One of them glided towards her so fast that Toril was slow to react. Spitting acidic blood from its mouth, it targeted Toril’s wand arm, but the oil of the dillfern protected her from serious harm. The blood felt hot, that was all. It did not penetrate her skin.

  “You should be burning,” one of them said. “Why are you not burning?”

  Toril pointed her wand at them.

  “I don’t have time for this. Move, or I’ll make you move.”

  These creatures had been human at one time, but Diabhal’s cruelty had extended far and deep. They could sometimes remember what it was like to be human. They could see Toril’s wand. They knew she was powerful. They could sense she had been in contact with the Mirror.

  They knew she could destroy them.

  Toril hoped they could not sense her thoughts. She could stop a good many of them, but not enough. If she flew into the air they could follow her. One of them walked ahead of the others towards her.

  “Our war is not with you. If we fight, many lives will be lost. He will send more to defeat your kind.”

  The Zerythra, offering a truce of sorts? What were they scared of? Toril had to know, but could not afford the time.

  “Do you know where my mother is?”

  The Zeryth looked confused.

  “Pretty much every human looks the same through our eyes. They are the Devil’s prey, so they become our prey.”

  “The witch,” stated Toril.

  “There is a hill up yonder. It’s where they execute your kind.”

  “If I go there now, will you try and stop me?”

  “We are what we are,” replied the Zeryth sadly. “But I know you have faced the very one who tormented us. Where we can, we will help you. But one day, we may turn on you. I can offer you no assurances on this.”

  “What will happen to you, if you don’t stop me now?”

  “We will feel His wrath.”

  Toril sensed no trickery from this demon, yet trickery, deception and evil was what they were all about.

  She took a step back and looked in the direction the Zeryth had pointed towards.

  “That hill?” asked Toril, looking for confirmation. “No tricks?”

  “That hill, yes. We will not trick you.”

  Anything logical about this situation would have to wait. Toril offered a thank you before ascending into the sky. When she landed, she hoped all would not have been lost.

  ***

  There must have been about fifty people surrounding Tori-Suzanne. Her body lay under a pile of rocks. Her ankles were blackened by the dirt on the ground. Her wrists and forearms had suffered many cuts and lacerations.

  The crowd were fascinated how long the witch could survive, and were taking bets on it.

  “She resists!” one of them said, “but in the end, there is no witch who can survive such treatment.”

  “Unless she is more powerful than Diabhal himself,” said Toril.

  A great hush came over the crowd. Understanding that they were all part of the elaborate set up, Toril let her energy come through the wand, and lay her own wrath upon them. Clothe
s burned, skin melted from their bones, eyeballs exploded in their heads. The screams rang out for miles around.

  When Toril had smote their ruin, the ground in front of her was a mix of ash and bone. She kicked some of it away with her boots. Although she wanted to hurry to her mother, she felt she was already too late.

  “Mum!”

  Almost all of her body was covered in rocks. Small, large, and collectively, all of them too heavy for one human.

  Toril could not dare to blast the rocks away with magic, and she was uncertain what state her mother’s body would be in after resisting the weight for so long. In the end, Toril decided to make the rocks rise into the air. With a swish of her wand, she sent them in the direction of the Zerythra, who had made good on their promise of no assurances.

  The stones cut through their corporeal bodies, leaving many of them destroyed. The few that remained wandered the plains, not understanding what had just hit them.

  A small voice spoke from the remaining planks of wood. Toril ran towards the voice and crouched down besides its owner.

  “For your next birthday Toril, I’m buying you a watch.”

  Toril smiled at her mother. She could not help the tears that fell from her face.

  “I was delayed, Mum. I’m so sorry.”

  “I waited as long as I could. I knew you would come for me.”

  “I didn’t know they would do this to you.”

  “Curie has more power now. He is Diabhal’s mouthpiece, Toril. If you had read that book of yours, it foretold these events. You knew this would come to pass.”

  “Stop talking now, Mum. Save your energy. We have to get you out of here.”

  Tori-Suzanne shook her head. “When all this is over, make your peace with Beth. Have a drink on me at the Dying Swan.”

  “What are you talking about?” Toril, not one to ever feel confusion, felt extremely confused. “Look, we’ve won. Curie couldn’t beat you. We’re going home.”

  Tori-Suzanne coughed violently. “I can see the stars, Toril. It’s not such a bad sight. I’m going home. But not with you. Not right now.”

  “Mum!”

  Toril’s tears fell without restrain.

  “A witch does not cry, Toril. You can never let your enemy know you are hurt. If they know your weakness, they will feed on it. I waited here, resisting that weight with all my might, because I knew you would return. I love you, Toril. Don’t ever forget that. No-one could be more proud of you than I am.”

  “No! You are coming home with me, now. I lost Jacinta, I’m not losing you.”

  Toril tried to pull her mother up, but she resisted. “Toril, pretty much every bone in my body is broken. You can’t fix me.”

  “I can go to East Gorswood Forest. I can get the dillfern. Mum, please.”

  “You can get the dillfern, but you won’t be able to extract the oil in time. Just stay with me, that’s all I ask.”

  Toril took off her cloak and wrapped it around her mother. Tori-Suzanne was in extreme pain, but did her best not to show it as she sat up. Toril hugged her mother close, resting her head on her shoulder.

  Toril’s cheeks puffed out as she tried to hold back her tears. She was too late, but maybe this was how things were meant to be.

  “It was Curie, wasn’t it? He did this to you.”

  “Him, or the devil working through him, yes. He had a part to play, and he played it well.”

  “I thought Lunabelle was working with them. I could not trust her, yet she’s got the Mirror now.”

  “Probably for the best.” Each word was more difficult to speak now. Toril wanted to believe it was an illusion. Logic dictated that this was all happening in real time.

  “If you cannot stop him, how can I?”

  “You have your friends. Whatever happens, you will always have your friends.”

  Tori-Suzanne probably knew what had happened to Beth and I. But there was an unspoken respect, an understanding between a mother and her daughter that didn’t require words, that did not require saying. Could Toril really say what was on her mind? What would her mother think of her then?

  “I don’t know why you’re proud of me. I’m a poor witch. I’m a terrible person.”

  “The perfect ones never amount to anything in life, Toril. It’s all been handed down to them, made too easy for them. You had to learn many things the hard way.”

  Tori-Suzanne leaned back and looked at the sky. She could no longer sit up, and lowered herself gently to the ground.

  “All you have to do in this life, is be true to yourself, Toril.”

  “Mum….”

  Her eyes lit up the night sky, and even though the life force had left her body, she knew she was going to a better place.

  “Touching. So very touching. Never underestimate the bond between mother and daughter. It’s truly a beautiful thing.”

  Toril stood up and turned around slowly, because she already knew the owner of the voice.

  Gesturing at her to raise her wand in his direction, Curie laughed at Toril.

  “One down, one to go. Let’s get this over with. Little Witch.”

  The Vengeance of Toril:

  Chapter 8

  “Vengeance is Mine, and retribution, In due time their foot will slip; For the day of their calamity is near, And the impending things are hastening upon them.”

  Deuteronomy 32:35

  “I’ve waited a long time for this,” said Curie. “After I’ve defeated you, I’ll throw your burning cadaver on top of your mother’s.”

  Toril said nothing, but her glare informed Curie that defeating her wasn’t going to be easy. As ever, he had something to say, once he felt he had read someone’s thoughts.

  “I do hope you’ve learned a few tricks, Toril. Last time I seem to recall forcing you on your knees.”

  Toril already had her wand arm stretched at full length. Its power was charging. She only had to let go in the direction of her nemesis, and then it would begin.

  “Bahlasti! Ompehda! I banish you from this life!” shouted Toril. She had never uttered the death curse before, hardly believing herself capable of it. But the demise of her mother had left her feeling raw, angry, yet incredibly focussed.

  Curie stood with his arms outstretched, fully expecting the charge to hit him, but to do no damage whatsoever.

  This time, however, he had miscalculated.

  Toril’s charge had struck him right in the centre of his chest, the force knocking him to the ground. He looked visibly shocked, but Toril was still quite some distance away from him. He could recover before she could strike again.

  Repeating the death curse, she fired in his direction again. For the second time that day, Curie had miscalculated. The blast hit his right shoulder, taking a chunk out of his arm.

  Toril had closed the distance down, and stood about twelve feet from him. Beyond Curie was a sheer drop. Toril had refrained from getting any closer, as the ground beneath her feet was sodden, and felt too soft to support a human’s weight. Whatever Curie had become, he was light enough for now.

  She raised her wand for a third time.

  “Alright, Toril, enough. You win. You don’t have to destroy me. Remember what your mother told you – if you kill someone, you risk awakening something evil within yourself. It will change the nature of who you are. You’ll never be the same. Trust me on this one thing – I know all about how killing changes someone.”

  Toril kept her wand high above her head, but pointed at Curie. She tried to remain logical, but everything about her life of late had been anything but logical. She didn’t know who to trust. She didn’t know if the Book was actually a heretic version of the true Wiccan teachings.

  She did know one thing. Getting rid of Curie could only be a force for good, and here he was, injured, seemingly unable to fight back, and quoting her mother’s words, no less.

  Toril had followed what the Book had told her to do. Beth had to appear to be fatally injured, otherwise the forces of Diabhal would
have claimed her body and soul. I was to be relieved of the Mirror, with the forces of Diabhal believing me to be dead, in order for Belial to leave my tortured body alone.

  She had hated doing it. She feared that Beth and I were dead. She knew that her mother was dead. Her death seemed so senseless. Toril could not understand why her mother would have succumbed to Curie. The answer perhaps lay in those final pages of the Book. But unless she completed her tasks as dictated by the Prophecy, she would never find out how to defeat the evil.