Dark Winter: Trilogy

by Hennessy, John

  “It must really annoy you that I keep fighting you. I’m going to break your circle, Curie. You, Diabhal, Dana, and your Satan worshipping friends at the coven. I’m going to stop you.”

  Curie laughed so hard he bent over double, coughing and spluttering as he tried to regain his composure.

  “That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Just when do you plan to do this great act, Romilly? When? Break free from the tree and attack me. Come on!”

  He waved the knife at me again. I could not move at all. My last act of bravado had come to nothing.

  “No,” he said with sinister menace. The only circle to be broken is yours, Romilly. Don’t you see? The longer you stay alive, you will see all of those you love and wish to protect, dying around you. Your parents? Gone. Your Nan? I don’t see her. Jacinta? Pushing up the daisies. Tori-Suzanne? Pressed to death.”

  At that, my eyes lit up.

  “Oh? You didn’t know, my insensitivity once again. Forgive me, Romilly.”

  “Beth and Toril live.”

  “Toril may have tried to con us,” said Curie, but the fact is you don’t know if Toril is alive or dead. Beth survived because Toril tricked us. But tricks run out, as does a witch’s luck. I’m not going to be so kind.”

  The knife pointed towards the space between my legs.

  “You have heard about FGM in Africa, right Romilly? Female genital mutilation? A nasty, but necessary business. I was going to do it. I was going to cut you there. But I won’t. I don’t want you to think of me sexually.”

  “There is no chance of that.” I have given him a smart reply, but inside, I was terrified. Absolutely terrified.

  “Here’s a trick I learned from Toril.”

  He turned the blade on its side and pushed it into my stomach. I didn’t even cry out, it was like a needle – a big needle, punching its way through my skin. But it was bad, a bad deep cut.

  “Think of me only as the man you love to hate.”

  He withdrew the knife, and the initial blood splatter was enough to drench my jeans. I would have to fight to stay conscious until someone could rescue me. I would-

  “Don’t forget, Romilly, I can read your thoughts. I know what you know. Beth is with an exact copy of you, on the way to meet up with Toril. But the little witch is going mad in the woods. The Book isn’t revealing its secrets, and one of our Circle now has the Mirror.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “No, Romilly, I’m not. I’m telling you the truth. Just like this knife tells the truth. It asked your body a question – Can you live if I go inside of you? Only you know the answer to that.”

  Stay awake, Rom. Stay conscious.

  “Even if you do stay conscious long enough for someone to help you, you know that these woods are haunted. There are far worse terrors to face in life than the small matter of your body giving up on you.”

  I rested my eyes, but remained aware of my weakening state. I had five minutes, maybe more, but no more than that, before all the blood in my body left me.

  Curie did one more thing. He walked up to me, leaned into towards me, and licked the side of my face with his tongue.

  “Ugh, that’s horrid!” he spat. “I thought I’d try it, seeing as you’d never give me the chance in real life. Whatever did Troy Jackson see in you? Oh! Look at this!”

  The dog had returned. I wanted it to go back to wherever it had come from, but it wanted to help me. It circled around the base of the tree twice, and brushed passed my legs. The dog stood on its two hind legs, licking at the wound in my stomach, attempting to stem the flow.

  “He likes to lick! Look at that!” smiled Curie. “I can do that, little doggie, I can do that too.”

  Curie licked the knife with my blood, then placed it into his pocket.

  He took two steps back, withdrew his left leg, and kicked the dog in its stomach. The yelps and cries of pain rang out in the forest, and the dog could only roll about on the floor.

  “The thing with administering pain, Romilly, is that it is supposed to bring out a response. Your silent treatment to me, has caused me to hurt this animal. Now I must end its suffering.”

  The dog looked up at Curie, its eyes displaying no understanding of what had just happened. It tried to stand up on its legs, but fell forward, nuzzling its mouth into the wet ground. I could not move. I wanted to help it so much, but I could not move. I hated the frailty of my body sometimes.

  Curie lifted his leg, and raised it over the back of the animal, who never saw his boot come down, crushing his spine. The dog writhed about for a while longer, then lay still.

  Curie hadn’t taken his gaze off the dog in all that time. Finally, he prodded the dead dog with a stick, saw that the animal was no longer breathing, and smiled at me.

  “I do like that,” he said. “I like to see them writhe around. It’s like a final defiant act of the body, you know? I’ve seen it before. So many times. You should witness death, Romilly. It doesn’t half change your view of the world.”

  When he disappeared into the woods, laughing at my demise, I found I could stay conscious no longer.

  The last sight I had was of something dark closing in on me, perhaps one of the ghostly denizens of the forest. Strange, how the warm blood now escaping from my body gave me a perverse kind of comfort.

  Reforming the Circle:

  Chapter 14

  Beth was close to Toril’s location. My doppelganger followed. If the real me had been there, I would have done everything to warn Beth. But as we were copies of each other, would she have believed me? Under pressure in the past, Beth had chosen poorly. I needed her to choose wisely now.

  “Milly? You okay?”

  “Yes, Bethany, I am fine. Fine.”

  Beth had come to a stop, and raised her hand to make my copy stop.

  “You’re fine? You’re sure?” she asked.

  “Yes. I am fine. Why do you keep asking that?”

  “Nothing,” replied Beth. But it was everything. Beth knew I used contractions. My copy didn’t, or to use her way of speaking, did not.

  The forest had made an error, and Beth had apparently realised it. What was the copy going to do now?

  They had reached the brow of a hill, where three trees lay ahead, a young woman sat on the forest floor, flipping the pages of a book. Beth was looking at the girl who had stuck a knife into her. Waves of mistrust came flooding back.

  Beth turned to look at my copy, who was following her like a lost puppy. Did the copy mean to get Toril’s Book? If so, she would kill Beth and Toril in order to do it, and in my fading condition, I would be unable to help.

  “I want you to stay here, Rom-”. She had recalled Tori-Suzanne’s warnings, and that of her daughter, who told her not to mention names in the woods. “I’ll go and speak with her.”

  But Toril had already felt Beth’s presence, and turned in the direction of the three trees behind her. She lifted her wand and fired at my copy, who laughed and disappeared into the night air.

  “Are you going to fire on me too?” snapped Beth. “Or perhaps you’d like a knife.”

  “It’s good to see you again, Bon-Bon. So good.”

  There was a hint of emotion in Toril’s voice, something Beth was surprised about.

  “You have a lot of explaining to do,” said Beth, who wanted to know Toril’s reasoning for stabbing her. “How did you know it wasn’t your former friend?”

  “I read your thoughts. I sensed your unease. It was more than just being in the forest. You didn’t believe it was who it was supposed to be. That was all the information I needed.”

  When I was younger, probably the first word people would have used to describe me would have been naïve. I don’t think that word applied to me, not truly. I was clearly inexperienced with the world, not knowing the true horrors that waited patiently to attack me, not to mention the demons within.

  But Beth? She was naïve, always had been. Always needing assurances from someone else to validat
e her existence. We could have been so tight, the very best of friends. But she chose Toril and Jacinta. I’m no longer envious, but I was back then. Just a little.

  Beth would have shown me there and then how much she had grown up. She would trust Toril, but it would be in a probationary sense. She needed answers about herself, but she wanted to help me first. That’s why I love her. Toril would do well to realise just how golden Beth really is.

  “Your explanation to me, for what you did to me, can wait. But I need your help to find the real --.” Beth raised her finger and drew my name into the air. “She’s in the forest somewhere. We have to find her.”

  “No,” replied Toril. “All this time, they’ve had us on the run. Let’s take a break, and figure out what to do. Come to the Swan with me?”

  “If I didn’t know you better, I would say you are wanting me to relive one of my worst nightmares!”

  “I will explain everything, I promise. And then, I am going to hand you a knife. You can use it on me if you don’t like what I say.”

  Beth rolled her eyes from one side to another, and replied. “Alright. About time I got my own back. As for the drinks, you’re buying.”

  ***

  The entities in the forest might have been scary, and not backwards in showing their malcontent, but at no point did it stop Toril and Beth from leaving the forest, and making their way to the Dying Swan.

  Toril said hardly anything, but knew that the use of her wand had alerted those same entities to her presence. She no longer cared, not in the reckless sense of the word, but simply because they knew she had powers that could hurt them. It was an uneasy stand-off that now existed.

  For her own part, Beth had mulled the idea over of returning for me or staying with Toril. I understood her confusion. But if I had been her, choosing healthy, powerful Toril over frightened, exhausted (and now injured) me would have been the right choice. Who is to say that I am to survive all this? I no longer possessed the Mirror. The way I saw it, in many ways Beth and Toril were stronger than me. Whenever trouble hit, I fainted, I ran away, I would hide. Could it be true? That my martial arts prowess only looked good inside the walls of the kung fu class?

  What exactly had I achieved, only to break my hand on Curie’s jaw? Those fingers never set right ever again, and the zombie in the pit ripped them from my hand.

  Oh no. I realise, a little too late, what is happening. The demon is rising, and with it, my negativity about myself and the position in which I find myself.

  I know it is bad, I realise that. I am restricted by a cursed tree and am bleeding heavily from my abdomen. At this rate of blood flow, I probably have no more than two minutes before I am dead.

  Scratch that. There’s a black shadow looming in front of me, extending its hands in my direction.

  Christ.

  I do the only thing a girl can do in this situation, and scream my head off. The figure moves in, closing a hand over my mouth, and another, by my wounded stomach.

  Okay demon. Rip my guts out, and make it quick.

  I was numb, exhausted and terrified. But I forced my eyelids up, heavy as they were. I would look my executioner in the eye.

  ***

  There was no friendly hug from Toril as the two girls walked briskly to the Dying Swan. Outside and inside the pub, there was more frivolity and jovial goings on than normal.

  “Happy Samhain!” they would shout to each other. “Blessings on you! Blessed Be!”

  Kids, being kids. Adults wishing that they were children once more. How did All Hallow’s Eve become such a festival of light and mirth?

  “They’re using Gaelic terminology, Beth. Can you hear what they are saying?” asked Toril brightly.

  “I do,” said Beth. “I should be wearing a crescent moon tonight, shouldn’t I? Or maybe a pentacle.”

  “For fun,” replied Toril solemnly. “We need something more potent.”

  My belief, my faith is good enough, thought Beth. Be honest Toril, you’re surprised I’m here, aren’t you?

  When the girls had reached the insides of the Dying Swan, Beth watched as Toril took off her hood and scarf. She looked drawn, old, tired. Beth was shocked into saying something.

  “What in the name of God happened to you? You look terrible, Toril.”

  She smiled, and though she kept her lips pursed together, Beth wondered if a toothy, crooked grin was about to escape from there.

  “And I love you too, Beth. Come on, let’s get the drinks in.”

  Toril summarily ordered a Southern Comfort for herself, and a Glenfiddich for Beth.

  “Not getting into the Halloween spirit, eh girls?” asked the barman. It wasn’t the pub landlord, Bren. He must have been somewhere else, maybe in the beer garden outside. It was a pleasant night for Halloween. In fact, the residents of Gorswood had been basking in double digit temperatures that week, and the reports said that into November, the Indian summer-like conditions were set to continue.

  “You’re Bren’s son, aren’t you?” asked Beth. “Are you big Tom, Little Tom, or just Tom?”

  “Little Pat,” he replied. “The other two are out the back. My Da knows you. Brittany, isn’t it?”

  “Bethany.”

  “Oops. Ah well, here’s your drinks, so.”

  “This place couldn’t get more Irish if they built it out of leprechauns,” said Toril wryly.

  “A witch who tells jokes. Well, that beats Banagher,” said Beth. “You’ll let me in on your joke, won’t you? Why you stabbed me? I’m dying to hear the punch-line, Toril.”

  “Not here, Beth,” said Toril, who grabbed the two drinks before Beth forced the glass of Glenfiddich out of her hand.

  “I’ll keep an eye on that, thank you.”

  “No love lost between us, is there?” rued Toril. “Grab that seat over there, Beth. The one in the corner with the red curtain.”

  Beth understood why Toril had chosen such a busy place. If there was to be a fight between the two of them, it would be in full view of everyone. Would Beth really take the risk?

  Toril kept her eyes on Beth whilst she grabbed the glass of Southern Comfort. It was a double, and as it hit the back of her throat she quickly realised she could not down it in one. She placed the glass back on the table.

  “I needed that,” she said. Toril gestured to Beth to drink up.

  “I need to stay sober and focussed Toril. I have one friend in the woods-”

  “You mean we have one friend in the woods-” began Toril, but she was cut off by Beth.

  “As I was saying, I have one friend in the woods who needs my help. I don’t how to get to her. I will be scared to go back in there on my own. But I would be more scared to go back in there with you.”

  “Beth!”

  “Hurts, doesn’t it?” said Beth. “I trusted you! We all did. Don’t you dare tell me that you did what you did because of some Wiccan nonsense, because….because…”

  Beth was shaking like the ground beneath her had become an earthquake.

  “Beth, is that what I think it is?”

  Beth had one hand placed around the glass. The other was hidden from view, but Toril could feel it – feel what was in Beth’s hand anyway.

  “What do you think it is, Toril?”

  “I’d say you’ve got a knife pressed against my stomach.”

  “So you know where we’ve got to go, don’t you?”

  Toril nodded and stood up. She didn’t want to say it, but it seemed as if Sister Beth had returned with a vengeance. Toril had never called Beth that horrid nickname at school, if anything, she felt sorry for the girl, who had clearly been through a lot and must have felt horribly victimised.

  The girls’ toilets were empty. Beth’s green eyes were alight. She was furious with Toril, and scared beyond her wits for me.

  “I can’t go back there on my own, but I can’t go with you either. I don’t trust you, Toril. How can I?”

  She raised the knife and placed it against Toril’s throat. T
he young witch did not take a step back, nor blink. Not even once.

  “I want to hurt you. I want you to feel pain, the way I feel pain. The way Romilly feels pain. No-one else matters, so long as you come out on top, isn’t that right Toril?”

  As usual, Toril tried to approach the situation logically. Beth was scared, that much was for certain. But she was also under pressure from the entity called Dana. Could she be pressing her to do this?

  “Beth. You can’t cut me with that knife. Come on, put it down.”