Then Toril remembered that there was something she had that would provide some light; her mobile phone.
She could not feel it on her person though. She hadn’t left it at home, surely? Her mum would call her on it and realise she had gone, and left for the Circle. She had just turned up here, with no recollection of how.
More laughing.
“Denzel, you just bloody well cut it out, will you?”
Her words reverberated in the darkness, like some kind of sickened echo. A male voice mimicked how she spoke.
Toril went to her knees, and crawled along the corridor. She muffled an ‘ow’ as her head hit something solid, and felt around on the floor. It was another pentagram, but something was carved into it.
Her fingers ran along the outline, then trembled as she traced inside. An image began to form in her head.
“The star has been upturned, and the goat….that’s the goat’s horns…definitely.”
With horror, Toril could only conclude that the Circle was a place of evil. No self respecting Wiccan would have a pentagram design like this in their house. Is this why her mother left the Circle? The dark practices had usurped the normal ones?
The pentacle burned into her neck and weighed heavy on her chest. Her hair caught fire and she could contain her nerve no longer.
“Lunabelle, where are you, damn you?!”
With that, the floor underneath her collapsed, and she fell into water. At least, she hoped it was water. The shock stopped her from passing out, although the pentacle still felt like it weighed twice her body weight, and dragged her down beneath the surface.
She tried to keep her head above water, and take breaths when she would come up for air, but terror overwhelmed her.
“Lunabelle! I can’t swim! I can’t swim!”
Toril had no need to swim since leaving school. She disliked the lessons thoroughly, because she just did not possess the natural grace many other school children did. Every time she grabbed onto the side of the swimming pool, a teacher would step on her hands. After that, Jacinta, Toril and Beth avoided swim class.
No teacher this time, just the weight of the pentacle, which she fumbled at feebly to remove, dragging her down to the depths.
Toril sank like a stone to the bottom. The water emptied around her, and she choked herself awake. The room widened, and footsteps approached.
As Toril slowly came to, trying to make sense of her surroundings, she could hear words, spoken to her from the past.
Nothing ever frightens you, does it Toril?
Not really. Seen some things that disturbed me though.
“Oh but you are frightened, aren’t you gal?” said Denzel.
Toril shuddered violently as the cold water seeped through her clothes.
“Wh-what the h-hell is this? Where’s Lu-Lunabelle? I demand to see her.”
“You in no position to make demands, gal. ‘Belle see you when you ready for her. You ain’t ready. Scared little girl.”
Through the weight of the pentacle, and the energy used to avoid drowning, Toril was unable to get up.
“You’re trying to kill me!”
“So you wanna go home now, scared little girl, that right?”
No. Toril did not want to go home. Her mother would be furious with her for leaving in the first place. There was no real way to determine how long she had been in the Circle’s premises, and anyway –
I want to kick his ass all the way to West Gorswood. Then I’ll feel better, thought Toril.
“No. I’m staying. You’re not getting rid of me that easy.”
“Not your choice. Not now. ‘Belle will decide. But seems to me that you ain’t the One we thought you were. Maybe you an impostor, faked the blood somehow. Looky here.”
Denzel knelt down next to Toril and pulled out a long knife with a serrated edge. Toril’s eyes glared in the dark.
“So tell me,” said Denzel, the blade switching from one hand to another as quick as light, “What things scared you?”
“I’m telling you nothing until you remove this pentacle from me. It’s torture, that’s what this is. You want me to say I was scared. Okay! I’m scared. You want me to say I’m frightened. You bet I am. You wanted to humble me, yes, you’ve done it. Now you got all you wanted from me. Now get me Lunabelle.”
Toril’s eyes watered, but she was not crying. It was an adverse reaction to the shock of nearly drowning. Everyone has a fear of how they will die. For some, like Beth, it was burning to death, just like her parents died. She didn’t know, but for me, it was falling to my death. I often have that dream. But for Toril, it was drowning.
“What about dis knife, gal? Now you know you can be cut, how you feelin’?”
“Not as strong as I thought I was. You want to kill me, go ahead. I am done being scared.”
Denzel laughed uncontrollably, to the point that Toril had to shout Stop It several times but he just ignored her. Instead, he grabbed her wrist and made her spread her fingers apart. He then darted the knife between her fingers, and Toril found her screams were louder than his mocking laugh.
Finally, he let go of her wrist and she shrunk back into a corner. At least she hoped it would be a corner. It was hard to see, hard to tell, if there were corners in the room she was in.
“Lunabelle! Help!”
Toril screamed at the top of her voice. It was an act. Yes, she was scared, yes she was frightened, but most of all, she just wanted to get Lunabelle’s attention. This Denzel was a cowardly, odious man. He’d be for it when Lunabelle found out what he was doing to her.
Still, the exertion had tired her, and though she shouted out twice, Lunabelle did not come. There was no sound, except for the pounding of her heart, and the clicking sound in Denzel’s mouth as a toothpick rolled between his teeth.
Toril tried to reason things logically. This was a test. It had to be. Really, how much danger had she been in? Circus tricks, that’s all Denzel was capable of pulling. He was part of the act. Lunabelle had to be in on it too.
Still, she decided to play the scared little girl act a while longer.
“You going to feel dis knife gal. Gonna cut you.”
“Yeah, well, I’m real scared,” said Toril.
“I can see dat. You all an’ wet yourself.”
“I’ve been in freezing water, a-hole. You want to kill me, go right ahead.”
Denzel laughed so hard his toothpick fell out of his mouth and clattered to the floor.
“Kill you? Why would I wanna do dat? You way too much fun to kill.”
Toril grabbed the toothpick and rushed at Denzel. It was the last bit of energy she had, but she had not lived eighteen summers to be removed from this Earth by some toothpick clicking asshole.
She aimed for his eyeball with the toothpick, striking the centre with pinpoint accuracy. Denzel howled in pain, and Toril scrambled passed him, albeit on all fours. She became aware that she was no longer able to pull herself forward, and looking back, even though she did not want to, she realised Denzel had gotten hold of her leg, the pick still protruding from his eyeball.
Toril kicked out at Denzel, but it was useless. Her legs defied her, just like when you are drunk, even though your head says you are just fine.
He climbed over her and with his thick skinned fingers, pulled her head back by her ears, and finally applied the knife to her neck.
“Nah. I choose to kill you. You ain’t fun to me no more.”
A woman’s voice in the darkness, which became illuminated by the pentacle that she wore.
“That’s enough Denzel, for tonight anyway,” said Lunabelle.
“Yes ma’am,” said Denzel, who pulled the pick out of his eye, but the eyeball popped out with it. Laughing at Toril once again, he threw the eyeball in her direction and she squirmed in disgust.
From his shirt pocket, he produced sunglasses, and promptly put them on.
“The One she ain’t. Scared little girl is all she is.”
“Goodn
ight, Denzel,” said Lunabelle. “You alright, Toril?”
Toril did her best to compose herself, but she was very angry at Lunabelle. Why had she let Denzel terrorise her like this? Lunabelle dimmed the light on her pentacle and threw Toril a towel.
“For your hair,” said Lunabelle, before waving her hand and in doing so, Toril’s clothes became dry immediately, and the pentacle unclasped itself from Toril’s neck.
“Are you feeling better?” said Lunabelle.
“No,” said Toril, surprising Lunabelle with her answer. Walking up to her, Toril shocked Lunabelle by slapping her hard to her face, nearly knocking her sideways into the wall.
“Now I am.”
Lunabelle dusted herself down. The sting of the slap hurt, and whilst Toril had her reasons for reacting like she did, the young Wiccan would have to control herself, if she was to fulfil her destiny.
Toril was still trying to find a regular breathing pattern. She draped the towel over her head, and breathed into it until her breathing stabilised. She remained silent, and Lunabelle took a calculated risk by grabbing her arm.
“Come along, dear.”
Toril came to an abrupt stop. “You’re not going to stab me in my hand again, right?”
“Of course not, that’s done. You passed that test.”
Lunabelle ushered Toril into a room that was dark, except for an altar shaped table in the middle of the room. An object lay on it. Toril pulled the towel roughly from her head. She knew instantly what the object was.
“Go on dear, pick it up,” said Lunabelle, the lightness of her tone suggesting she had forgotten Toril’s hard slap. At least, hostilities could cease for now. “Go on.”
Toril walked up to the table, and indeed, she had been correct. It was the object she thought it was. She hesitated from touching it, or even approaching it. She felt its power. It gave her a rather unpleasant head rush. She balanced herself without the need for Lunabelle to steady her, and placed her hands on her hips, looking first, towards the table, and then turned her neck so that she could see Lunabelle.
“Toril? This is what you’ve wanted all along, isn’t it?”
“Let me tell you how I roll, Lunabelle. I go by logic first, and gut instinct, a close second. Both are telling me that I should not pick that wand up.”
“But you didn’t hesitate to inflict pain on Denzel, or slap me, so what was that? Logic, or instinct?”
“Neither,” said Toril. “My intuition naturally reacted. You both deserved what you got.”
“Your mother wouldn’t have hit me.”
“I’m not her, obviously.”
“Obviously. Is that why you hesitate to pick up the wand? You think it is some kind of trap?”
Toril wasn’t as annoyed at Lunabelle as she was making out. But keeping the room icy a while longer couldn’t harm, and whilst they were talking, Toril felt she was unlikely to be tested again so soon.
Lunabelle wondered if Toril could read her mind. If she could, she would be wondering why new-born babies were called as such, especially when they contained their mother’s annoying, divisive genes. Toril was, if anything, more combative than her mother.
“A test, a trap. Pretty much the same thing so far,” said Toril coolly.
“Is that what your intuition tells you?”
“My instinct, and it’s as keen as my logic too,” said Toril indignantly.
“You’re upset about the pentacle. You’re assuming the same about that wand.”
“I’m assuming nothing,” said Toril crisply.
Motioning her to sit down at the table, Lunabelle seated herself first. Toril dutifully placed herself in the other seat.
“It’s just a wand, Toril.”
“Then you pick it up.”
“I’m not on test here.” Lunabelle regretted it as soon as she said it. She looked at Toril, who couldn’t help but grin. Toril was great at extracting information it seemed. She could be very useful to the Circle.
“So it is a test,” said Toril, folding her arms, and kicked back on the chair. “That is not my wand, no more than that pentacle was….speaking of which, where is yours? Show it to me."
“My pentacle? No….you wouldn’t be interested in that.”
“I rather think I would.”
“You’ve seen it once already today, Toril. No need for a repeat.”
“I have seen the light from it,” said Toril, “but not the pentacle itself.”
“Will you pick up the wand if I show it to you?”
“First things first.”
Lunabelle knew the prophecy spoke of The One being a demanding, difficult witch, but this was more than she was prepared for. Maybe that’s how The One is chosen. He or she could not be a compliant member of the Circle. Such a person would have to be difficult, challenging, brutally honest, and extremely intelligent. Lunabelle unbuttoned the top button of her cardigan, and gently pulled at the chain around her neck, bringing the pentacle into clear plain view of Toril. It was silver, encased in a rim of gold. The gems that were raised on it were blue in colour.
“It looks like my old one. Just like my old one,” said Toril, who could not hide the sadness in her voice. “That one-eyed fool gave me a purple one.”
“One-eyed he may be, now,” said Lunabelle, “but you should be careful who you call a fool.”
“I’m very careful with the words I choose,” said Toril.
“Actions are more important though, wouldn’t you say so, Toril?”
“Not if they are the wrong ones,” she replied. “How long are we going to continue this game?”
“Is that what you think this is?” laughed Lunabelle. “A game? If you really think so, then there’s no harm in you picking up that wand.”
“You seem really desperate for me to pick up that wand,” said Toril, “and I want to know why.”
“I can’t give you my pentacle,” said Lunabelle, who could not help but read Toril’s thoughts, “but I can put your mind at rest. No harm will come to you if you pick up that wand. But if you choose not to pick the wand up, the test is over. We – are over.”
Toril must have hesitated too long, because Lunabelle waved her hand, and Toril transferred out of there. When the spinning stopped, Toril nearly vomited from the motion.
She had arrived back to an empty house.
Leaving Gorswood
Troy wasn’t allowed to stay overnight in the ward with me. Hospital rules, or something like that. He wanted to stay, to protect me, in his own words. But he understood. He knew he could not protect me, not from this.
Oh. I know he wanted to, but he knew as well as I did that the Demon would not stay quiet for long. If I was being totally honest with myself, I did not want anyone around me who I cared about whilst I had this thing inside of me. I was in a hospital, yes, but this was one operation they could not perform. The Demon would go at a time and date of its choosing. I did all I could to block my thoughts from it.
There was something more than brotherly in the way he looked at me, and in the way he held my hands, both of them now. Sometimes, he would move my hair to the side, and ask me if I was comfortable. I didn’t want to say what was in my head, nor acknowledge the warning in my heart.
Troy had only been nice to me.
I wanted to ask him how he was going to deal with his parents, who had all but given up on his return, even though Toril had seen them one time and told them that she believed we would see Troy again, and soon.
They had taken the Catholic view that Toril meant the afterlife. The truth was Toril would never give up on seeing Troy alive again. I know she hadn’t said that explicitly to myself and Beth that day, the day we lost him. But no-one should ever underestimate Toril’s determination. I try to tell myself there is nothing behind Troy’s care and attention to me; that it is simply a brotherly, friendly kindness.
“Goodnight Rom, I’ll see you first thing in the morning. I don’t like these hospital hours any more than you do. I asked the nurs
es to check in on you every now and again.”
“I’ll be alright. Thanks, though.”
“Any demons that come in the night, they’re not real, and they can’t harm you, okay?”
“Sure thing, Troy.” God. What was that? I must sound like Alix to him.
“Tomorrow then.”
“Tomorrow. Thanks for…everything.”
Troy smiled, I feebly wave. He leaves, and I am alone. Sort of.
The lights go off. I’m grateful I’m not in a mixed ward, and given the amount of pain killers I have been given, I feel I will fall asleep soon, and when I wake, I know Troy will be there.
Dark Winter: Trilogy Page 48
