Dark Winter: Trilogy

by Hennessy, John

  I slip the gloves from my hands, and my veins pulse angrily. I stretch my fingers out in front of me, hoping that the contact will not do to me, what it had done to Troy. Sure enough, the barrier teases my fingertips, and though the force tries to push me back, I stay firm. Maybe it was the stances I learned in kung fu, but I wasn’t being repelled. The pain was quite intense, but I had a reasonably high pain threshold, except for when the demon invaded Troy’s body. Then, the bastard hurt me bad. I would get the Mirror, and turn it on myself. Then the demon would know true pain. If it ripped my body apart to get rid of it, then maybe that’s how things are supposed to be.

  I push my arm through, and it remains intact. I force the rest of my body through, and though I feel I am beyond the barrier, it’s like I am in a vacuum. There’s no air at all, and I know I can’t stay here, not for long.

  Must find the Mirror.

  Hopefully, the Mirror should be where I left it; in my dresser upstairs. I take laboured breaths as I ascend the stairs. I decide against lighting my surroundings on purpose, as I have enough trouble dealing with the demons in the dark, that I do not want to see them in the light.

  I open the drawer, half-expecting it not to be there, but I’m so relieved when it glistens back at me. The drawer seems warped, but it’s not from age. The Mirror, which had enlarged after its contact with the army of Zeryths, had pushed the sides of the drawer apart. It would not be safe to keep it here either.

  I grab the Mirror with both hands, and maybe it’s the disorientation from my snail-like breathing, but it feels like my insides are being pulled apart. My organs feel like they are being arranged from inside.

  I fight every second to keep conscious. In these moments of confusion, where I’m reaching a higher state of delirium, I don’t even know why I’m here. Leaving Gorswood had been my plan, and I thought it to be a good one. But sometimes, you can’t run away from your fears, you’ve got to face them head on. Can you run away from a fear? I don’t think it’s possible. It will remain with you until you deal with it.

  It’s the unknown fears that are the hardest to overcome. I know this demon resides in me, that’s what I know. But I don’t know what it will do next, and I cannot allow it to hurt others. If Troy truly has returned from the void, then he deserves his chance at life. I feel like whilst I have this demon inside of me, I will never be truly free, and I want to be, I really do.

  I’m hoping that the Mirror will help me rip the demon from my body. It’s not the kind of abortion they do on the NHS, but it will have to do.

  I stand just a few feet from the Mirror. As it illuminates I keep my eyes trained on it intensely. I can’t seem to look away.

  If the force rips the demon from me, but I somehow survive, I’ll be grateful. I’ve shared my body and soul with this demon for far too long. I’m doing this not because I’m tough, or that I’m trying to make some kind of statement. I’m not doing this because some people may think I’m a negative person who is getting what she deserves. I’m doing this because I care, because I am strong, because I won’t allow this demon to win, and spread its terror to those I care about.

  I am not the whiny, hormonal, two-faced bitch some think I am. I’m better than that. People think they know you when in fact they’ve only scratched the surface of the kind of person you are.

  To some, I was the girl with weird hands. To others, a relationship wrecker. To others, a friend. Guess which one I’d like to be remembered as?

  I breathe hard, as it’s really difficult now, because the demon is up to speed on what I’m doing.

  Too late, bastard. You are going down.

  Scratch, Scratch

  “You better pray she’s alive, Denzel.” Lunabelle heard her voice careering towards a shrill, then reined it back. “I’m not even joking. You’ve gone too far.”

  “The other tests didn’t break her. There’s the coffin, and one more test. Don’t be worrying, Belle. She is just fine. We know what the prophecy says, and I say she is the one. One of us is the cat, the other is the mouse. She’s just got to figure out which one she is.”

  Lunabelle stormed over to Denzel and slapped him hard in the face. She was about to hit the other cheek but he grabbed her wrist and squeezed until the look in her eyes told him she would relent.

  He gently let her arm go, folded his arms, and waited for Lunabelle to say it.

  “There are to be no more tests on Toril Withers. If it’s not you, it’s Dana Cullen. If not her, it’s Don Curie. She won’t crack, no matter what you throw at her. She’s too strong for you. You think you’re in charge now, but what about her? She’s here because she is raising the stakes of her own. So stop pissing around and tell me where she is.”

  Lunabelle raised her wand towards Denzel, the lines on his forehead showed far less than on Lunabelle. She believed in the prophecy, and pretty much everything the Circle stood for. But this was a test too far. She didn’t believe Toril would be alive as and when Denzel took Lunabelle to her resting-place, because he knew where she was, and as usual, he had the upper hand. Threats on him simply didn’t work, and she knew it. But he just kept on pushing her buttons.

  “Do you really think Diabhal would let Toril Withers die, when she is so close to fulfilling the prophecy? Come now, Belle. Think.”

  Lunabelle found it most disconcerting that Denzel could hide his Jamaican accent and speak with crisp English when he wanted to. No, she didn’t truly believe anyone connected with the Circle would let Toril die, but still, how was she supposed to breathe?

  “Air holes. There were some drilled into the little witch’s coffin. She’ll be able to breathe a lot longer than if they weren’t there. I will take you to her, but I can’t agree to no more tests. She does have two more to face.”

  Lunabelle could not keep up hostilities. She just didn’t have the energy for this nonsense.

  “For pity’s sake, Denzel-”

  Denzel snarled at Lunabelle. “Pity? Why you want to pity the prom queen, the gorgeous girl, the super-witch, hmm? Why? What’s to pity? She’s favoured over any of us, and we’ve been here longer than she’s been alive. Nothing to pity.”

  “But if the prophecy is to be fulfilled-”

  Denzel gave Lunabelle a look as if to say Yeah, So?

  “-that means Toril will be turned into something she’s not. I can’t allow it.”

  “Are you forgetting your part in this, Belle? Don’t tell me you haven’t the stomach for it.”

  Lunabelle sank back into a wooden chair and grazed its back against the wall. She could not believe that all the elements of the prophecy were coming to pass. She’d observed Toril growing up, of course, but she had shown no interest in the dark side of the craft. The Mirror of Souls finally coming into contact with one of their own – Toril had held it, albeit for the briefest of moments.

  Lunabelle felt that Toril’s strength came from her fearlessness, but Denzel didn’t seem to be convinced, and just kept pushing her. Always more tests. Always more danger. Toril was a nice girl, and from what she knew about her friends, they were nice too. Too nice for this.

  She stood up with a start.

  “Enough. Just tell me where she is, Denzel.”

  ***

  She was surprised that he gave up the information without further protest. Lunabelle thought differently about that. If she found Toril alive, there would be just more tests for her, and how much could any one person take? If she turned on him, could even Denzel stand against Toril? In some perverse way, these tests would surely make her stronger.

  Lunabelle made her way through the various passages of the house of the Circle, and finally made her way into open air. Unlike the experience Toril was forced to undergo, Lunabelle’s footing was very sure, there was nothing she could fall into. But the coffin, that was real enough. The smell of mahogany hung high in the air. Lunabelle approached the solitary casket, placed in the ground with flowers on top of the freshly dug soil, bearing her name. T-O-R-I-L.

&n
bsp; “Jesus. Sick bastard.” Lunabelle could barely hide her disgust at Denzel’s behaviour. “If I’d known they were going to do this to you Toril, I’ve have sent you packing that very first moment I set eyes on you.”

  Lunabelle forced the soil asunder, and worked both of her hands underneath the coffin lid, heaving it into an upright position. What she saw would haunt her to the end of her days. The deathly white face of Toril; pale lips, and bloodied fingers - her usually perfect nails almost ripped down to the stump. She had tried to get out of the coffin, all of her efforts in vain.

  Lunabelle recoiled in horror. Yes, Denzel was right; she had been complicit in all of this. But what good could Toril do as a ghost? Had Tori-Suzanne Withers been right all this time? Was the Circle, in fact, not a decent Wiccan coven but a place where the greatest evil resides? Hadn’t Denzel even the nerve to mention Diabhal?

  Lunabelle decided that whatever else, she would help Toril leave the Circle, and she would have to contemplate leaving it too, before anyone else ended up dead.

  A raucous laugh filled the parkland, which had taken on a sudden chill despite the signs of spring. Lunabelle released her arms from around Toril, ran towards the source of the laugh, and went to punch him.

  Denzel continued to laugh. “You can’t hurt me, Belle, so don’t even try.”

  He pushed her back, and she managed to curse him once she had regained her breath.

  “You sick, twisted fuck. What the hell is wrong with you? That poor girl-”

  Denzel grabbed Lunabelle by her throat, lifted her up, and slammed her to the ground. Lunabelle winced in pain. In her panic to find Toril, she had forgotten her wand. But she had her pentacle.

  She felt around her neck, and, when she realised her pentacle was gone, the laughing resumed.

  Denzel was clutching her pentacle. He’d removed it from her neck when he grabbed her.

  “Have you lost something?”

  “Don’t fuck with me, Denzel. Give it back.”

  Denzel’s passive expression did not change one iota. He continued with the expressionless, vacant look as Lunabelle stood up and held her hand out. He could see she was furious. But this was bigger than her, than him, even precious Toril. When it was all over, she’d understand what this was all about.

  Denzel waved the pentacle around in a circular motion. “You should know after all these years, that I am not fucking with you. But you keep on with this attitude, you can go in the box along with your precious Toril.”

  Denzel tossed the pentacle in Lunabelle’s direction, but she dropped it and had to fumble for it in the grass. Denzel slammed the lid of the coffin down, the shock of the noise making Lunabelle jump.

  “Too over-the-top, even for you, Denzel. So what now?”

  “A final test, before the real challenge. Come with me, Belle.”

  It must have been some kind of trick that Denzel was pulling on Lunabelle. Her magic was good, but Denzel seemed to have knowledge of much darker things. She hoped that Toril’s apparent deathly state was not the reality, but this was no way to treat her if it was. Toril needed to be strong for what was coming, and surely all these tests were doing was undermining her strength, focus and great tenacity. Lunabelle had seen a great and unpleasant change in Denzel since Toril arrived on her doorstep that fateful day. She decided that if she ever got the chance, she would exact her revenge on Denzel in the worst possible way.

  ***

  Toril found herself in darkness, but at least she was breathing. Her hands were covered in her own blood. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, pipettes of information came through along with the tiniest shards of light. She remembered now. Toril had banged her fists against the coffin, scratched at the undersides of the lid until the last remnants of her strength gave out. Any spells she tried didn’t seem to work in this environment. Denzel, the Circle, or perhaps both, had rendered Toril’s abilities virtually useless.

  In the room, Toril could make out a shape. Unfortunately, it was a shape with which she had been recently acquainted. Approaching it stealthily, she smoothed a slightly bloodied hand over the top of the wooden structure.

  A coffin.

  Toril stood back from it, wondering whether to open it, or to wait and see what would happen, if anything. Several moments passed before she decided to overcome the creeping sense of panic that bit at her, and she ripped the lid open.

  Toril peered inside, but could not see anything. But she could hear something. Something moving towards her position. Resisting an overwhelming urge to spin around with the speed with which she opened the coffin, Toril pivoted on her heels and faced the position from where the sound was coming. It sounded for all the world like one of the undead zombies, the Zeryths. She had recalled outside the chapel how clammy their skin was as fingers covered with uneven, broken skin probed her stomach, looking for her intestines, a kidney, or a lung.

  A hand grabbed her wrist, and the figure’s eyes burned into her own. Toril knew the person, but how strange she looked, with her fullsome, spirited look replaced by a deathly pallor. Parts of her skin had been broken by thorns that had pushed their way through. Whatever this entity was, Toril tried her hardest to accept that this was not her mother.

  “Mum???” wheezed Toril incredulously.

  “You left us to die, Toril,” she said. “We waited. How we waited. I told you not to go after the dead. I wish I had taken my own advice. At least you can join us now.”

  Toril wanted to get passage by this entity, who was not her mother. She would not believe it. Believing it would make it real. What we see in front of us can be made even more real if we believe in it.

  Unknown to Toril, but soon to be familiar to her, an arm wrapped itself around her waist, the other arm, around the front of her neck. The rotting body of Beth had emerged from the coffin. Toril could even smell the essence of the perfume Beth often wore.

  Still, she refused to believe what she could see, feel and smell.

  It’s not my mum. It’s not Beth. Toril kept her thoughts crystal clear and pulled herself free of the arms, which were devoid of skin, only bits of tissue clung to them. Toril fell forward, and hurt her chin as she hit the floor.

  She groped in the dark for the door handle, and breathed with relief when it unlocked. Toril found herself in a narrow passageway, with a faint light up ahead. Not waiting to see if the demons from the room would follow her, Toril’s brisk walk burst into a sprint.

  As Toril approached the faint light, she bumped into another familiar face. Mine.

  I held the Mirror in my hands. I held it front of my stomach, because my insides had ripped out when aborting the demon. That’s right, the bastard was terminated. At least, that’s the image Denzel wanted to project.

  “You want the Mirror, Toril?” I mocked. “You’ve always wanted it. Just like you always get everything you want, you bitch.”

  My altered image hurled the Mirror at Toril, who had the presence of mind to catch it in her arms. I had thrown it so hard at her that she had travelled back some twenty feet or so.

  Behind Toril, and close to her head, the door creaked open once more. Dragging her by her hair, Denzel spoke in a low voice. “You come with me now. You got a test.”

  Toril screamed at Denzel, and clawed at his shovel-like hands. She knew that blood had been drawn from him, but the strong grip on her hair remained.

  Denzel threw Toril across the room, which appeared to be empty. No coffins to be found here.

  “Final test before the real thing, little witch.”

  “Where’s Lunabelle?”

  “Watching.”

  “I demand to see Lunabelle now!”

  Denzel laughed as if Toril had said the funniest thing in the world. “She’s watching. She’s watching and waiting to see what you’ll do.”

  Denzel didn’t have to wait long for a response, as Toril lunged at him. Denzel had something Toril lacked. A pentacle. He tapped it gently and the light from it charged an energy force which hurled Tor
il’s body hard against the back wall. This time, she did whimper as she collected herself.

  “You wanna see Belle? You got it.”

  Denzel left the room, and Lunabelle walked in, glaring at him as he passed. She ran towards Toril, and asked her was she alright. Toril looked dazed, angry, confused, and even a touch afraid.

  “I’m sorry Toril,” said Lunabelle affectionately. “You do need to go through this. I’m just hoping you’ll make the right choice.”

  “I can do it, whatever it is,” said Toril. “Just make sure that when I’m done, I have five minutes alone with Denzel in a darkened room.”

  Lunabelle’s concerned expression gave way to a half-smile. She doubted Toril could get through the final test, but this was all part of the Circle’s design for her. She gave Toril a motherly hug, which surprised her.