Dark Winter: Trilogy

by Hennessy, John

  "How?" said Beth. "Capturing one, we were nearly obliterated along with it. How can we capture so many? It can’t work."

  "I have to agree with Beth," said Toril. "That’s two to one. I’m sorry, Milly."

  "What the hell is this?" I shrieked. "This is not some goddamned school committee meeting. Voting? For God’s sake, Toril."

  "Two-two," said Troy, turning to face us. "I have to agree with Rom."

  Troy placed his hand over his neck wound. "It won’t be long before I’m one of them. Rom, I know you have no reason to trust me, but you have to, if you want to get out of this alive. How does the Mirror work? Tell me, and I can set it up in such a way that maybe we can capture all of our friends there."

  "I like that plan better than yours, Toril," said Beth. "Maybe we can try it. Milly?"

  I was exhausted, hungry, scared. I wanted to go home. "I’m all for it. You’re tired, I’m tired, we’re all hungry and scared to hell, and while I think Toril has a good plan, I refuse to stay the whole winter in this damned circle! Yes Troy, I’ll help you."

  ***

  If I had known it was the last time me, Beth, Toril and Troy would all be together, I would have chosen better words. Jacinta wasn’t with us and I could sense enough from Toril that things regarding Jay were bad, irrevocably bad.

  All the same, we had a job to do, and if it didn’t work, it didn’t matter anyway.

  I could see and hear Toril’s protestations, but Troy and myself left the circle regardless.

  Walking along the right side of Troy, he looked almost normal.

  "So, what’s your story? You’re hurt?"

  "Yes. But I’ll be alright."

  "Toril doesn’t seem to think so."

  "Don’t mistake her bull-headed logic for pessimism, Rom."

  "But you are hurt, aren’t you? Badly?"

  "Rom, you’re wasting time. They’re coming. Set the Mirror up over there."

  I set it down on the floor. "How does it work, Rom? Can you get it to point at that group, and kind of, I don’t know, work it remotely?"

  "I don’t know," I said with brutal honestly. "I usually hold it in front of them. I am not really sure exactly how it works, except it’s kind of like an intent. If I wish it, concentrate on the target, it sucks them in. Well, sucks their soul in. I really should stay here to make sure. If I don’t, they could take the Mirror, if all fails."

  "That’s a negative. You have to get back in the circle."

  "Troy, you can’t do this on your own."

  "I can, and I will. You just do your job. Back in the circle, now!"

  "Troy, it’s suicide!"

  Troy Jackson gave me the strangest of looks. It was a smile, a kind of half-smile someone gives you when they are thinking Yes. You’re right, but we have to do this anyway. I’m really going to miss you, Romilly.

  I wanted to run towards him, but his lower legs were starting to disappear from view, and he no longer hid the wound on his neck. His skin went a lurid, yellowish colour, and his eyes started to bulge, then sink low into their sockets.

  "Troy!"

  I was dragged back on my heels. Beth had got hold of one arm, Toril, the other.

  "No! We have to help him. We have to!"

  Toril said, "He’s gone, Milly. I don’t want to accept that, but logic-"

  We were back in the circle. I pushed Toril so hard she fell to the ground, and raged at her.

  "Logic?" I screamed. "Logic? Your goddamned logic is flawed. Troy is our friend."

  Toril composed herself, grabbed my shoulders and shook me hard.

  "Yes, he’s our friend, and he’s asked you to do something for him. For us. Can you concentrate on that now, and argue with me later when all this is over?"

  I was beside myself with upset. I wanted to save Troy. He wanted to save us. He was sacrificing himself for us. I hated the fact that Toril, once again, was right. I had to concentrate.

  I turned around, and focussed my energies on the Mirror. What I wanted, was impossible. Selective targeting. Selective soul taking. No. It was all, or nothing.

  All the Zerythra, and Troy, or nothing.

  Get it wrong, and they would over-run our town, and kill everyone.

  It would have been nice with Troy, but he loved Toril, and in any case, he was turning into a Zeryth. Not the kind of boy to bring to the folks back home.

  He stood in front of them, and as he transformed, they didn’t touch him. He smiled a full beamed human smile back at us one last time.

  The Mirror shimmered into life, and a blinding blue light encircled them all, with Gorswood Forest set ablaze for miles. In the searing heat, the thick snow soon melted away.

  Beth, Toril and myself huddled together and threw ourselves to the ground.

  I could hear Beth praying under her breath. Please God, please God, take those demons away. She kept repeating it, over and over again. I started to repeat it with her, and to our surprise, Toril joined in. Any other time, she would have said "I’d knock that off if I were you, Beth."

  We kept our eyes shut. Fear of blindness, or seeing the destruction of Troy, kept us from opening them.

  The seconds that passed felt like hours.

  Slowly, I opened my eyes, and looked around. The Zerythra were all gone. The Mirror fizzled violently, then toppled over, ever so gently, to the ground.

  I found myself in the centre of the circle. Beth grabbed me by the hand, and Toril grabbed the other. We looked at each other as if to say do you think it’s safe to go outside now?

  We took a synchronised step forward, then another, and were clear of the circle. The Forest was eerily quiet. Too quiet.

  I looked at the Mirror. It bore a blackened sheen, and smelt of burnt ash.

  But the Zerythra were nowhere to be seen.

  Nor was Troy, for that matter.

  "He’s gone, isn’t he?" I said, needlessly.

  Toril nodded ruefully. "Romilly, we need to put Mirror away. If we can’t destroy it, we must protect it. I suggest we put it in your wood-cabin, and I can place a protective spell around it. Agreed? Beth?"

  "Agreed," said Beth. "It seems the only way."

  "Are we just giving up on Troy?" I said. "After all he did for us?"

  "We need to understand things more," said Toril. "My skills – I’m a novice at best, and you need to work on your powers concerning that Mirror of yours."

  "Where’s your wand, Toril?" asked Beth.

  "Last time I saw it was at the cemetery. I lost it when fighting Dana."

  "You fought Dana?" I asked, stunned that she had lived to tell the tale.

  "Yes. I was lucky. Jacinta wasn’t so much."

  My many questions would have to wait. Surviving a battle with Dana was no small thing.

  "You haven’t given up on a rematch?"

  "Maybe not," said Toril, "but the last time we met, it was a bit one-sided. She took my pentacle and cut off some of my hair too. What a bitch."

  "Then we might have a problem," I said. "She might just be up to something."

  "Meaning?" asked Beth.

  "I’ve given some thought to that," said Toril crisply. "Imitation, I would deduce, but in this case, it’s not for flattery."

  "What then?" asked Beth.

  "Something for ill, that’s for sure. I’m far too tired, as we all are, to deal with that now. We should go home, rest, and regroup."

  "We can mourn for those we’ve lost as well," said Beth ruefully.

  I knew I would have to do that as well, but Nan, and especially my father, would not have me feeling any self-pity. I picked up the Mirror, which was surprisingly cool, but felt much heavier, It seemed to have enlarged in size by an inch or three as well.

  Another light almost blinded me, but whilst it was something normal, it caught me by surprise. A bright sliver of sunlight pierced the sky, lighting up the grass in front of us.

  The image of Jacinta I had in my head, was not of a girl lying cold in the ground. It was of her skipping through
the grass back home, which had grown tall but was not yet quite a wilderness.

  The sun beat down on her, but not in an unpleasant way. Her hair shined a fierce honey blonde, and I realised that it was this colour, and not white, was her colouring all along. I felt myself gliding towards her, with Beth and Toril not far behind.

  Jacinta turned to look in my direction, and for the first time in ages I found myself smiling.

  My concentration was broken by an image of Rosewinter, overrun by the ghosts of St Margaret’s Hospital. They were making their way to the town of Gorswood.

  You think you’ve won, haven’t you? said The Demon.

  I refused to acknowledge the Demon. I would not answer it. Recognise it.

  I didn’t know if we had won. But we had put off Diabhal for now. The Demon, if it was staying with me, wasn’t going to spoil our victory, if that’s what this was.

  In the heavens, Jacinta turned to look in my direction, and for the first time in ages I found myself smiling. In these moments, I realised the Demon held no power over any of us.

  The next winter might not be so long after all.

  Epilogue

  The beautiful, raven-haired girl approached Troy Jackson.

  He looked totally unspoiled, as if his life contained a rewind button that allowed him to go back to a time before the Zeryth had tore a gaping, bloody hole in his neck.

  The girl’s jewel glistened in the void, yet her smile lit up the entire place. She caressed the pentacle lightly with her fingers. She felt its power. She also felt that the previous owner of that jewel, missed it, and missed it greatly.

  Troy ran to her at breakneck speed, picked her up in his arms, and kissed her passionately. Giggling, she beamed right back at him.

  "Toril Withers," said Troy. "Would you mind telling me how you got here?"

  Dark Winter: Crescent Moon

  Contents

  Dark Winter: Trilogy

  Copyright

  Dark Winter: The Wicca Circle

  The Demon of Gorswood Forest

  Voices in the Dark

  The Ouija Board

  A Knock at the Door

  The Girl with Tainted Hands

  The Fifth Floor

  A Smouldering Wreck

  Evil can be Found

  in the Most Innocent of Things

  Bequeathal

  Learning Curve

  White Roses for Dana

  Mirror, Mirror

  Choosing a Victim

  Entrapment

  Losing Her Religion

  Looking Evil in the Eye

  Five Lives for Five Souls

  Redwood

  Unwanted Visions

  The Darkest Side of Me

  Tears of an Angel

  The Devil Within

  Set the Evil Ones Free

  The Burning Forest

  Dark Winter: Crescent Moon

  Introduction

  Prologue

  The Selena Triangle

  Jeannie

  Kindred Spirits

  Scars

  Remembrance

  The Circle

  The Ghostly Visitor

  Walking with Demons

  The Blood-Splattered Girl

  Terrors Down Below

  Absolution and Retribution

  A Bloody Ascent

  Escaping the Netherworld

  Distant Voices

  Reading Between the Lines

  Leaving Gorswood

  Beth’s Truth

  Pretty Girls Make Good Graves

  Peace in My Time

  Face to Demonic-Face

  Toril Faces Her Demons

  Tear My Soul Apart

  Scratch, Scratch

  Demons at the Lake

  The Twelfth Doll

  Burn, Witch, Burn

  Gethsemane

  Dark Winter: Last Rites

  Dedication

  Copyright

  Introduction

  Prologue

  The Last Resting Place of Bethany O’Neill

  Black Pennies

  The First Banshee

  Demon Amongst Us

  The Haunting of Annelise

  The Last Will and Testament

  of Jacinta Eleanor Crow

  Looking for Trust in All the Wrong Places

  Chapter 2

  There is Blood to be Spilled:

  Chapter 13

  Orphans of the Forest:

  Chapter 15

  Old Forest, New Tricks:

  Chapter 16

  Demon One:

  Chapter 17

  The Lazarus Conundrum:

  Chapter 19

  A Dark Secret Unearthed:

  Chapter 20

  The Forsaken:

  Chapter 21

  Secrets Down Below:

  Chapter 22

  The Dead Have Risen:

  Chapter 23

  Mr Jackson, I Presume:

  Chapter 24

  Dark Witch:

  Chapter 25

  The Suicide Swing:

  Chapter 26

  Last Rites:

  Chapter 27

  Destiny:

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  Your Free Book is Waiting!

  Copyright

  About The Author and this Book

  By the same Author

  Your Free Book: II

  Your Free Book is Waiting!

  Introduction

  Fear is a subjective thing. What scares one person, won’t scare another. Sure, you can talk about a loved one tapping you on the shoulder when you least expect it. For others, it’s the sound of thunder that can freak them out.

  What about the knock at the door, though? At 9am in the morning, it’s expected. Welcomed, perhaps. Even if it is the jobsworth yellow jacket who has come to read the gas meter. Wearing a yellow jacket seems deliberate. Wasps have yellow jackets. And what do wasps do? They sting. That’s what he’s doing. Just doing my job, he’ll say. But he’ll sting you too, when that bill arrives.

  At 9pm, it’s completely different, and especially in the winter months when, in England, summertime officially ends in late October. For most summers I have known, summer has ended in August. If we’re lucky.

  The phone rings in the afternoon, say 3pm. Fast forward twelve hours though, and it is said that you are at the hour when the dead, the undead, and everything else inbetween, has risen, is active, and is coming for your soul.

  No cheap tricks like rattling chains or turning the lights on and off. They are coming for your soul. And you know what? Just before they claim it, they’ll take your mind too.

  When my sleep has been disturbed, it’s been the same since childhood. I never want to wake at that hour of 3am. Even if you bury your head in the pillow for what seems like an hour, you’ll be crestfallen to see the clock laugh at you, displaying 3:06 am all too clearly.

  When I came up with the idea for Dark Winter, about a girl holding an item of some importance, and facing some kind of demonic test in the woods, I thought back to my childhood, and the things that scared me. As I have said, what scares one person, will not scare another, but that doesn’t mean it is not scary. When such smug, superior people pass judgement on one who faints, or has arachnophobia, they won’t truly know fear until it arrives when they least expect it. Perhaps then they will be more understanding. By then, it’s probably too late.

  The heroine of the story, Romilly, is a typical teenage girl, with her mixed up emotions, hopes and dreams, but she is never, ever whiny. She doesn’t feel sorry for herself. She just wants to understand why things happen. Don’t we all?

  Whether we want these things to happen to or not, they will happen. Our part in the universe is just one element. And even though the demons in Dark Winter form part of the after-life in the story, I would like to think that there really is something beyond what we already know.

  Just like Romilly, whose wavering faith mirrors my own, I hope to God there is.

>   - John Hennessy, September 2014

  From the Diary of Romilly Winter, April 14th.

  Aged 18, I’m probably too old to keep a diary now, still I write words nonetheless, hoping for something coherent, something real, something I can believe in to come out of it. Maybe I have written a lot this winter because it’s the kind of season that ceases to end. When will the snow stop? Even when I want to see blue skies, my eyes are tricked into seeing pitch-black night.

  Dana Cullen told Beth one time that ‘Nothing ever just happens, there is always a design.’ But I have seen enough in my short life to know that things don’t just happen. Maybe my faith is to be tested at every turn, so I hope to God that there is some design amongst the chaos.

  Another part of me believes that things don’t just happen for a reason, and all we’re doing is fighting to make sense of the chaos that surrounds us. The kind of chaos that would become us, if it went unchallenged. It is a battle I find myself losing, and yet those around me think I am so strong for keeping it together.

  I hope to God with my every breath, but what is hope anyway? Does it fool us into forgetting what is real in our lives? What if it is all wrong, that we are all lost souls wandering around with no meaning to our existence? What can hope do for us then?