Dark Winter: Trilogy

by Hennessy, John

  “You’re not putting a blindfold on me, Troy. Not this time,”

  “Awwww…you’re no fun, Rom. No fun at all.”

  He plopped me down on the bed, and lay next to me. He was looking right into my eyes.

  “What? What is it?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” he replied cryptically. After a while, he spoke again. “You’re beautiful, Romilly.”

  I loved how he said my name. Something in his tone had changed, and I didn’t feel like his kid sister anymore. Of course, that’s how I thought he perceived me to be. But something was changing.

  He leaned in towards me, but I had to qualify the situation, bearing in mind what happened in the bathroom, but also, my moral sense of things. I could not do this to Toril.

  “I really have moved on, Romilly,” said Troy. “I can make my own decisions. Toril…..was great….but rather bossy, you know. Maybe I just want to be with someone who’ll respect me.”

  I sat up slightly, and rearranged the pillows behind me.

  “Toril never gave me that impression about you.”

  Troy bore a pained look on his face. “Come on, Romilly. Toril’s like a firework, you know? She burns bright so that she gets everyone’s attention. Then, if they don’t do what she wants, she gets bored with them, and moves on to someone that she can bend to her will. You know….like Jacinta. Like Beth.”

  Troy rearranged his pillows too, then continued, before I could get in a response, or more accurately, a defence of the three girls. I believed that Beth and especially Jacinta enjoyed being with Toril. They were anti-clique. Toril had always said so.

  “Toril couldn’t bend you to her will, though,” said Troy. “I love your strength, Romilly. I really….love…it.”

  Troy playfully sucked in his bottom lip, then let it out, and raised his left eyebrow, just like Roger Moore did when he was James Bond. I kept playing the words in my head over and over again, wrestling with my conscience.

  I’ve moved on Romilly.

  Maybe I want to be with someone who’ll respect me.

  “Unless I was wrong…about what happened in the car back then….I don’t want to play head games with you, Romilly.”

  “What if Toril is alive, Troy, what then?”

  “I told you. I’ve moved on.”

  “Can we take it slowly? I don’t know if I can, you know…all the way. Not tonight. I’ve got to work this through.”

  Wow, sometimes I really hated the words coming out of my mouth. Here I was, with everything I wanted, and I was rejecting it.

  Instead of getting annoyed with me, Troy smiled. “Well, you have draw the line somewhere. Just relax, let me take of everything.”

  Troy had convinced me. I let him do it. I lay back on my pillows, and let his warm body caress my own. He was experienced, and he knew what he was doing. He took his time to arouse me, but the truth was, I was already there a long while ago. I hadn’t quite gotten over with the kisses in the car.

  He was touching me in a way that drove me wild. I can’t really offer any reason why I hadn’t gone for it before, except to offer some weak excuse that it wasn’t ladylike, and I really was saving myself for someone like Troy. I never expected that someone to actually be Troy.

  He ran his hands over my legs, electrifying my skin, before stroking my neck and kissing me a bit roughly. I was so lost in the feeling that I was unable to kiss him back. I just let him touch me and I allowed myself to enjoy the moment.

  His hand pushed inside, and found my special place quickly. I never knew this could feel so good. I wanted a release so much, but was scared. Troy might be experienced, but I wasn’t. I understood the folly of that now. I didn’t have the religious constraints that Beth had, but I shackled myself with them anyway. Stupid, stupid me.

  I was not going to be governed by those rules anymore. The peace, the happiness, the contentment I was experiencing was unlike anything I had known in my life. I was okay with how Toril would be about this. It may not do much for our fragile sisterhood, but I would reckon with that later.

  For now, I was going to enjoy myself. I kissed Troy back with a ferocity that shocked even him. We both duelled for supremacy. The key was to let him think he was winning, but the truth was, I was just going to let him think that. Not a head game, no matter what he thinks.

  My hands, which were free of their gloves, didn’t bother Troy at all, although the veins gave me the worst kind of pain sometimes.

  I cupped my hands around his chin and pushed my mouth against his, loving every warm feeling he gave me.

  With his left arm, he pushed me down hard onto the bed, in a manner which shocked me. I stifled an ‘ow’, but was still reeling from that when he just ripped my underwear off and started to push into me. This….this was not how I imagined it. Not pleasant at all.

  “Troy!”

  “Easy, Rom,” he panted. “Easy now.”

  “You’re hurting…you’re hurting me. Please! Please stop! Stop!”

  “It’s supposed to hurt….what’s wrong with you?”

  There was nothing wrong with what Troy was doing, after all, I had invited it to some extent. But the real Troy would listen to me. I knew that. I realised what was wrong with me. The Demon had left me, momentarily and had gone into him.

  Troy’s eyes flashed a demonic red, and held me down.

  ‘No. No fun for you Romilly. You’re supposed to be guarding the Mirror of Souls, not giving it up for a quick fumble. Strike him down now, otherwise, I’ll have him rip you apart.’

  The Demon may have gone into Troy, but I could hear the very clear threat in my head.

  Troy couldn’t stop himself, I understood that now.

  ‘I’ll make Troy do it, and I’ll have the ghost of Toril haunt you so bad, you will kill yourself through the madness. She saved you, and this is how you repay her? Still think you are imagining things?’

  I understood that Dana, Curie, Diabhal and the Demon would not allow me to have the life I wanted. I would not be allowed to have peace in my time. Tears poured from my eyes, and the veins pulsed angrily in my hands.

  With all my heart, I did not want to do this. But Troy, under the influence of the Demon, would not hear my voice.

  I did not want to kill him, but the Demon clearly wanted me to act. I was still a novice at all this, and I had no-one…not my Nan, or my parents to guide me. The only one who could guide me was Toril, and for all I knew, she was dead, and even if she wasn’t, I felt pretty sure she would kill me for this.

  The Demon, in a weird sort of way, was right. I was supposed to be guarding the Mirror of Souls, and I’d let my fantasies dictate my actions.

  I had to regain control of the situation, but the Demon was hip to my game.

  ‘Touch this body, and I’ll let him die, before returning to you. I’ll kill him.’

  I had to bet that so far, the Demon hadn’t been able to kill me, and I asserted that my touch would not kill Troy.

  Using a punch drill that my kung fu teacher would have been proud of, I sent Troy flying.

  His body collided with a lamp, and I found myself surrounded in darkness, except for the unreal image of the Mirror of Souls, that emanated a blue haze. Was it a message, or an action I was to take in the future?

  I wondered if it was possible to use the Mirror on myself, to trap the Demon. But seeing what the Mirror did to Diabhal’s minions, I felt I would be tore apart.

  I wanted to cry uncontrollably, but I slapped my face hard, and chastised myself for acting like a little girl. I especially chastised myself for acting like I was in some kind of fairytale, like I was Troy’s damsel in distress, and he was my knight in shining armour.

  What pathetic fantasies we are fed as children. I really did need to read more widely, just like Toril had done all these years. I had demanded ghost stories from my Nan, whilst in contrast I read Sleeping Beauty at the library over and over again.

  I had grown up in the last few years, but clearly, not enough.


  For good or ill, I had been bequeathed this Mirror of Souls. I am its custodian. I am supposed to protect it. Instead, I felt that it was me who needed protecting from it.

  So far, all my uses for it had been reactive. A demon appeared, I trapped it. With every success, if you could call it that, the Mirror became slightly larger in its dimensions, and definitely much heavier. If you asked me if I could do a repeat of what went before, say, to lift the Mirror above Beth’s head, I don’t believe I could do that now.

  Sometimes, I felt much stronger, as the veins in my arms and hands twisted viciously. So maybe I could lift it up. But truthfully, I wanted no contact with it. It scared me. Terrified me, really. It would not do to leave it at Rosewinter. I would have to get the Mirror back.

  Leaving Gorswood was a mistake, I know that now.

  I looked towards Troy, and I could just about make out the outline of his body in the darkness. I didn’t believe he was dead, but our…..whatever we have or had…was dead, surely? I could have no relationship with him. The Demon would see to that.

  I put my clothes back on, and looked towards Troy, who appeared to be unconscious.

  I wanted to take him with me, but I knew I couldn’t lift him up. Staying put was no choice either.

  In the darkness, some clarity came to me. I had to find Beth, and I had to find Toril, that is, if they were both okay. I hoped to God that they were okay.

  By splitting us up, and distracting me, Diabhal was winning, and despite what Dana would say and how she would act, I knew that she was doing his bidding too, but for her own ends, of course.

  We were stronger together. Safer together.

  Oh Toril, please don’t hate me. Please. What have I done to her? Of course she will hate me. Of course she will.

  I would tell her the truth. Then again, if she really could still read my thoughts, and my mind was too undisciplined to be able to deter her, I wouldn’t have to.

  I took a deep breath and looked around me. The Demon was somewhere. Perhaps it was still in Troy’s body. I made tentative steps towards him, and crouching down, raised his eyelids slowly.

  I felt the evil envelope me, as his eyes flashed red, and an unearthly sound came from his body.

  With trembling hands, I clutched his car keys and made my exit.

  I sat in the car for an age, before deciding to turn the ignition on. The car roared into life.

  I had to fight this on my terms, not Diabhal’s.

  I turned the car around, looked towards Troy’s direction one more time, and hoped that the Demon would at least leave him be, and come after me once more. Troy did not deserve that fate.

  Something like a demon wasn’t constrained by time or space. They entered you whether you willed it or not. A crescent moon illuminated the night sky. I took it as a good sign, and checked the pendant was still around my neck. I was relieved to find it was still there.

  Another deep breath, and I put my foot down. I set out to return to Gorswood.

  Face to Demonic-Face

  Toril Withers looked around her home. There was an eerie silence; an emptiness about the whole place. She was used to her father not being at home, who would sometimes put down the longevity of his marriage to not being there when Tori-Suzanne was at home.

  But there was more to it than that. Things seemed to be missing, for example, her mother’s favourite winter coat. That wouldn’t be odd in itself, only that it was the one that she wore for special occasions, such as when her father was back home, and they would go out for an evening dinner. None of this felt right.

  Toril had found herself in her bedroom. There was nothing to see here, and answers would only be found in other parts of the house. She pressed two of her fingers to her lips, and patted a kiss down on a photo frame featuring Jacinta.

  Toril started to make her way down the stairs, and bypassed the lounge, making straight for the kitchen. She was light-headed from her dealings with The Circle, and was bristling with Lunabelle dismissing her, after all they had done to her.

  She still didn’t really know what the point of all that was. Lunabelle had proved to Toril that her skin could be broken, that she really could be hurt. That was a physical test. Others were more psychological, like the ones that creep Denzel had set for her. Toril didn’t want to believe it, but felt Lunabelle was complicit in anything Denzel did.

  Toril had gone to The Circle because her mother would not give her the wand that would defeat Dana. She hoped to find some answers there, but instead, came away more confused, and ached with hurt more than ever.

  Toril placed some bread in the toaster. It was still fresh, so her mother could have only left a few days ago, at the most. Toril checked the answer machine to find that no messages had been left. Or maybe they had been erased just before she had left.

  Looking around, Toril detected a chill in the air, and a darkness unfolding outside. The weather would tease with Spring, before sending Winter back with a hammer blow.

  There was no note on the table from her mother. Wherever she had gone, it had been without planning it in advance. Toril deduced that her mother had a good reason for leaving the house. There was more proof required. Toril felt around the back of one of the cupboards, expecting to find her mother’s wand there. Toril would never take a wand that did not belong to her. She had lived by this code all of her life, and she would do so until she departed this world.

  The wand was nowhere to be found.

  The sound of something wooden being rolled on the surface of the mahogany table broke Toril’s concentration. She spun around as the voice spoke in a chilling but child-like manner.

  “Have you lost something, Toril?”

  The girl sat at the table, elbows perched on top, underneath hands that propped up her chin. Raven-dark hair, with white-blonde strands. There was no mistaking the eyes, which were now a piercing dead-cold blue.

  In place of the infamous white dress was a scoop-necked red jumper and blue jeans. The wound on the shoulder was covered up by the cut of the jumper, but the owner of that wound brushed off any discomfort through her menacing demeanour.

  Toril momentarily lost her cool and lunged at Dana, who had the figure of an eighteen-year-old.

  “Ah-ah-ah!” said Dana, gesturing at Toril with the wand. “Sit. Please.”

  Dana beamed at Toril. Blood pouring from Dana’s mouth as she spoke had been something Toril had previously gotten used to. No blood this time, although the fangs sat dutifully cased within her mouth. For all intents and purposes, this was Dana, but through her foul craft, had taken the best and most striking elements of Toril and Jacinta.

  What couldn’t be replicated was Toril’s compassion and kindness. Such things were lost on Dana.

  Toril seethed heavily and sat down, her eyes burned towards Dana.

  “I suppose you’d like to know how I come to look like this. Why I’m looking like this,” said Dana, almost happily.

  “I don’t care to know,” said Toril, “and you will return that wand to me.”

  “It’s not yours to return to, unless I say so.” said Dana. “Mummy already said you can’t have this one.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Ooh!” said Dana, who placed the wand down on the table before clapping her hands together. “You don’t waste time with chit-chat, do you?”

  Toril remained mute, but her look spoke volumes.

  “I just wanted to talk, Toril. Girl to girl. Let’s face it, we didn’t exactly get off to the best of starts last time.”

  “That’s putting it mildly,” hissed Toril. “My friend is dead because of you.”

  “Well,” said Dana, “that was most unfortunate. But let’s chat, like civilised people, and maybe I can help you.”

  “There is nothing you can help me with,” spat Toril.

  “Now come on, Toril, be nice. Play nice. Otherwise I won’t play nice. Though I have to say that you’re not like those other losers you hang around with.”

  Toril wa
s furious, but could not contain her anger at seeing the cherished blue pentacle that hung around Dana's neck. Dana smirked at Toril’s discomfort.

  “I’ll be nice when you return to me what is mine.”

  “All in good time,” said Dana. “All I want is to have a little talk, and considering the wand here, you really should play along.”

  Toril considered the situation. Sure, there was time to talk, but why was Dana here? Was it another trick? What would something like Dana want to talk about? Talking was not Dana’s speciality. Killing was. Something was not quite right about this. There was no doll involved, no blood splattered white rose.