Dark Winter: Trilogy

by Hennessy, John

  Beth looked wild-eyed at Toril.

  “Sometimes, I look at you, and I think about Curie, and I think how you are all linked somehow. How can I kill something that can’t be killed? How can I hurt someone who can’t be hurt?”

  “I feel hurt,” said Toril. “I just don’t bleat about it in the same way you do.”

  Beth shoved Toril back against the wall and pointed the blade at her left eye.

  “I doubt the oil of the dillfern was rubbed into there,” snapped Beth.

  It was something Toril had never considered. She had always felt safe because of her mother’s wondrous gift at her birth. Who knew what would happen if her eyes were attacked?

  “I could blind you,” said Beth. “But I don’t want to do that.”

  “So put the knife down.” Toril did not bite with her remarks. She just wanted to be on the same page as Beth.

  Beth took a step back, then another, but kept the knife pointed at Toril.

  “Why did you do it?”

  “The Book. And before you say anything, I totally believe that if I hadn’t done, what I did, I have no doubt that the Circle would have found Romilly, and killed you.”

  “You left Romilly for dead! You don’t give a fuck about her!”

  “Beth, please…”

  “No! No! I don’t believe you! And it doesn’t matter, because you failed. Romilly survived the blaze. I was with her in the hospital. We’re stronger than you think. What do you have to say about that, witch?”

  Toril walked towards Beth. The knife point connected with her throat.

  “You’re right, Beth. You are both stronger than you think. I am strong only because of what my dear mum did, and because I wear this.”

  She lifted the pentacle from her neck and over her head, and handed it to Beth.

  “I’m vulnerable now. I’m not a hundred percent sure, but I would say that even a normal knife could pierce my skin. So, if you want to do, what you want to do, I won’t stop you. You deserve your revenge.”

  ***

  If I had been party to the events unfolding in the Dying Swan, I would have slapped Beth – hard. I would have also given Toril a good beating too. She deserved it. I don’t care about her reasons, her logic­, because she always had a way of using her logic to explain her actions, to justify anything. It had a major plus, but huge minuses too. Logic wasn’t the only way to approach something. I had no doubt Toril had feelings; she was just better at hiding them than the rest of us. She was as deep as the ocean, that girl.

  Instead, I had to focus on one thing – the biggest thing – my life. It was ebbing away in the forest. Strangely, the wound Curie had inflicted on me did not hurt, apart from the initial sting.

  I hated him, and I promised to see his demise one day. But I think I would have to join a queue that was no doubt increasing in length. Many people wanted rid of him, I was pretty sure of that.

  The shadow in front of me…it was a hooded figure that placed its hand on my wound. I squirmed, but almost instantly I started to feel better. The wound was healing. I felt less faint. My strength was returning. I could not make out a face on the figure, and I still had the issue of being restrained.

  I turned my head to nod towards the thick branches. The figure seemed to understand, and touched the branch around my neck, which immediately loosened.

  “You must make things good again. When you have done that, meet me at the Priory. You know the ruins of which I speak. Something will be returned to you, that belongs to you alone, but only if you reform the bonds of your own personal circle. Do you understand?”

  I wasn’t sure I completely understood, but the figure was not exactly intent on helping me decode its message. I say it because I could not make out a man’s voice, nor a woman’s voice. It did not sound like a demon, nor something for ill, and that, I was grateful for.

  Finally, the figure waved a hand in front of me. I was hurtled through space, and probably time too.

  When the world finally stopped spinning, I found myself at the entrance to the Dying Swan.

  Good. That was fine with me. I was in dire need of a stiff drink.

  ***

  Beth understood that what she was doing was wrong. She had been motivated by revenge before, that’s how she used the cursed Dana doll in an attempt to hurt Curie. Dana’s appearance that day, and her subsequent attack on Curie, was all for show. We ran out on him that day, believing he had been killed. But Dana had gotten to him long before we did.

  My, did they put on a show for us.

  We needed to understand who our foe really was. I didn’t understand Toril’s actions, and as Beth held the knife to her throat, it was clear that she didn’t understand them either. Beth was not a killer. Leave that to the ones who want to be the hero. If someone kills a murderer, they are often hailed as a hero. Kill someone who attempted it, then you can expect to be reviled as the bad one.

  “I’m tired, Toril,” said Beth with weakness in her body and her voice. “I’m tired of not being able to sleep at night. I’m tired of the conflict in my heart, as well as the constant pain. Chasing you, chasing Romilly, I feel stretched and worn out. I’m eighteen years old, but I feel ten times that. All because I don’t know what you’ve got in store for us. The only way to stop you, is to stop you.”

  “Let me just say one thing, Beth. If your religion instructed you in a certain way, wouldn’t you follow that instruction to the letter?”

  “Not if it meant hurting those closest to me. The only reason I haven’t plunged this knife into your neck is because Romilly survived. If she had died…if…if…”

  Beth didn’t have the guts for this job. We all knew she wasn’t a killer. Toril believed, incorrectly for once, that Beth did what she did because of her faith. But she wasn’t as beholding to it as Toril was to hers. There was a conflict raging within her. The hardest thing to do would be to show mercy, to not hurt an apparently vulnerable Toril.

  “Dana was right about you,” said Toril slowly. “And she was right about many things. She told you that we all arrive at a point in our lives, doing the things we are meant to be doing. There’s a reason why you’re doing this.”

  “Because of what you did! That’s why I’m here!” spat Beth.

  “Beth, look at the bigger picture. If you hurt me, there will be no-one to go with you to the woods. You’ll have to go back there on your own. And I have no doubt you’ll fail.”

  “So give me what will protect me then.”

  “The pentacle is a personal thing, Beth. It won’t help you.”

  Beth took a step back, removing the knife from Toril’s throat. She let the knife drop to the floor.

  “A knife won’t help me in the woods. But the Mirror you stole from Romilly will.”

  Toril sucked in a huge breath of air, filling her lungs completely before responding.

  “I didn’t steal the Mirror, Beth. I took it, for safekeeping.”

  There was a knock at the door, someone shouting about wanting to use the toilet.

  “Feck off, gobshite!” screamed Beth, who kicked out at the door, keeping it shut.

  “You heinous culchie bitch!” came the acerbic reply. “Let me in!”

  Beth knew the commotion would attract more people to the toilets, but as quickly as the row had started, the noise instantly stopped. When Beth turned around, Toril was already putting her wand back into her bag.

  “What did you do?” asked Beth. “What did you fecking do?”

  “I made her go away,” said Toril plainly. “Now we are even. And since when did you start swearing?”

  Beth ignored Toril’s last statement, but could not let go of the first.

  “We won’t be even while you can’t bring yourself to tell me the truth.”

  “Would it comfort you to know that Romilly is okay. Basically okay?”

  “How would you know that?”

  “Telepathy and empathy, Beth. If Romilly was dead, I would have felt that.”

 
; Beth wanted to believe Toril was not telling the truth, but she actually believed her. She knew that Toril had powers different to her own, and they were growing all the time.

  ***

  I stood in front of the bar, no doubt looking the worse for wear, but at least I was alive. The knife wound inflicted by Curie on me had healed completely. I hoped the old bastard was in Hell, washing the Devil’s underwear as punishment for not finishing me off.

  “Romilly, is it? It is, isn’t it?” said Little Pat. “What would you like to drink?”

  I allowed myself a smile. I was so parched that I would have drunk the spilt drops of beer on the bar top if it didn’t look so weird.

  “Anything,” I said. “You choose.”

  He poured a reddish-amber liquid into a glass and pushed it gently towards me.

  “You look like hell,” he said. “No offence.”

  “None taken,” I replied, gulping the drink down in one. The hit burned the sides of my throat as it went down, but it was good. “What was that?”

  “Southern Comfort. Do you like it?”

  I nodded.

  “I like the whole zombie look, Romilly, but shouldn’t you be toning it down a little? Halloween was nearly a week ago.” Little Pat, who was anything but small, leaned over towards me.

  “Frankly, I think you’ve overdone the blood a little, don’t you think so?”

  I looked down at my clothes. Yes, they were drenched with blood. My own blood. But he wasn’t to know that, and I wasn’t about to make him any the wiser.

  “My Halloween tends to last longer than I would like, Patrick. It’s just the way it is.”

  “I see you go by a lot,” he said. “You had the old wood cabin, didn’t you? Did you ever find out why it burned down?”

  I regretted gulping the drink down so quickly. I wanted another one, needed another one, if I was going to continue this conversation. Then I remembered how bombed Beth looked after swigging from the bottle. If I was to deal with her and Toril, I would need a clear head.

  “The answer’s a lot closer than you realise, Pat my boy,” I said. I looked around at the group of people. There were too many of them here, and I didn’t want anyone to get hurt. Whoever had been my angel in the woods had sent me here with one purpose – to reform a circle of sorts. Fine. I could do that, so long as I had what was rightfully mine.

  Toril had better give up that Mirror of mine. Otherwise things were about to get a lot more bloody than Patrick realised.

  ***

  “Do you know what we were doing, your mother and I? Do you know what we were trying to do?” screamed Beth. She was displaying an anger Toril actually found unsettling. Toril put thoughts out of her head about Beth’s time in the madhouse. She was mad with Toril, sure, but not crazy. People would judge Beth too harshly, perhaps myself included.

  “We were destroying Dana! You know, the bitch that now shares my soul! And we know what you were doing, don’t we? Attacking Romilly at a time she needed your help. I’m not going to do to you, what you did to me, Toril. I want you to live, to be burdened with all the harm you have brought on others. You and your precious Wicca Circle. To hell with the lot of you!”

  “Beth…” Toril extended a hand to her but it was slapped away.

  “Don’t touch me! You can’t be trusted, Toril!”

  Toril’s connection with me was strong. I felt dizzy at the bar, but not from the drink, though from Patrick’s look, it was one that condemned me, as if he was saying Seen it all before, love. Watch the step on the way out.

  He didn’t look like he knew much about witches. Barmen weren’t supposed to.

  “Do me a favour, Pat?” I asked. “Close up?”

  “Still got fifteen minutes to go, Romilly. You trying to put me and my family out of business?”

  I paused for a second. “You know what you were saying about Rosewinter? How it burned down?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, Romilly, sure.”

  “There will be nothing left of this place, if you don’t clear house in fifteen minutes.”

  He looked at me, and I looked right back. I meant it, and he knew I meant it.

  “There’s two girls in the back,” he said. “You know them, don’t you? There some aggro between you all? Is there?”

  “I’m afraid so,” I confirmed. “Will you tell everyone to go home?”

  “All right,” he said. “Me Da’s not here. But I’ve got to be, all the damned week. You’re not going to fight with them, are you?”

  “I really hope not,” I said. I meant every word. So long as Toril gave me back my Mirror, I could let everything else slide. I still wanted to slap her one for stabbing Beth. At the very least. “But if you want your Da not to beat you hard, I strongly suggest you clear house. Now.”

  He knew I was far from drunk. Though he wasn’t as committed to the Dying Swan as his father, he wouldn’t want anything to harm the pub’s income. He also knew I was deadly serious too. He was probably three or five years older than me. He didn’t need to know why I was here, why I was sent here. I didn’t want him nor anyone else to get hurt. I just wanted answers.

  And the Mirror, naturally.

  ***

  “I don’t own the place, Romilly. If you’ve got problems with your friends, you really should take it outside.”

  “Believe me, Pat, if you don’t close up now, your customers will all see it. They’ll all be part of it. You saw the red on my clothes? It’s not fake, I promise you.”

  Patrick looked to his left. Beth and Toril had been in the toilets for a very long time. I knew what he wanted to do, and I had to stop him. I didn’t want him to get hurt.

  “You’re a nice girl, Romilly. Wouldn’t do if I let you get hurt.”

  “Are you hitting on me?”

  “Jesus no! Just…”

  “Never mind,” I said. This was no time to complicate my life any further than it was. He did make me forget about Troy though, and that was something I thought I would never contemplate doing. He may have told me he had gotten over Toril. Now, the more grown-up me believed I was over him. Who’d have thought it? “Just let me go and see to it. All being well, when this is over, you’ll still have a pub left to run.”

  He slid me a Coke on the house. I drank half of it down, and walked calmly in the direction of the girls’ toilets. It would take every ounce of discipline from my kung fu training not to crack the heads of those on the other side of the door.

  ***

  I expected it to be jammed tight. I also expected my strength to be poor, but as I kicked out at the door, it gave way with ease. There was the reminder from my stomach that I had been wounded, but at least I was not bleeding. Whoever that had been in the woods, I was grateful to them.

  Beth stood open mouthed at me. Toril slid back against the wall, but was equally mute. It would be left to me to say something.

  I had this image in my mind, what I would say to Toril if I ever saw her again. What she had done to Beth and myself, I don’t need to go over that again. The strangest feeling of calm came over me, and I felt no animosity towards Toril. Maybe you all expected me to kick the seven bells out of her, but as I looked at her, I saw a girl who had aged. It was as if the contact with the Mirror had spread far beyond her hands and forearms.

  She had been cursed.

  The entity in the Forest told me to reform my own special circle. Well, I had no family. Beth was now the closest thing I had to a sister, and Toril….Toril I pitied. She needed my help, not the harsh words and actions I had planned to unleash on her.

  I wrapped my arms around Beth and kissed her. She was shaking as I held her, her tears making my cheeks warm.

  “It is you, this time, isn’t it?”

  I said nothing, but nodded. She embraced me even tighter then, and I looked over towards Toril, and extended a hand to her. I could see the marks on her hands, and the wrinkles in her face. A girl closing in on twenty now looking about eighty years old.

  “Happy Samha
in, Toril,” was all I could say.

  She rushed towards me and completed our own special circle. It was fractured, full of mistrust, and yet our bond had to hold. Our lives depended on it.

  Orphans of the Forest:

  Chapter 15

  Patrick was as surprised as anyone to see the three of us emerge without having knocked lumps out of each other. That said, we looked the worse for wear. Thankfully our shame was to be a private one. Patrick had been as good as his word, and closed up for the night.

  He was the first to speak.

  “I didn’t know whether to call an ambulance or the undertaker,” he said. If there was a joke there, he was hiding it well.