Dark Winter: Trilogy

by Hennessy, John

  The next second, my world spins with the sickening realisation that Toril has fatally wounded me.

  Destiny:

  Chapter 28

  I lay choking on the ground, a burning sensation in my chest. My clothes felt soaked with my blood. I was shaking in the cold, my body reacting, forcing shivers out of me, trying to keep me warm.

  “Die, Romilly. You have to die, understand?” said Toril. “You have to die.”

  My teeth chattered but I managed to answer her. “You traitor, Toril. You let the evil become you.”

  “Shut up,” she said. “Shut up. I’m not talking to you.”

  She crouched over me, and jammed her wand into my throat. “Don’t you get it? It’s over. Beth is dead. The Mirror is gone. It’s over.”

  Oh Toril, you deceitful bitch, I thought. Some bloody cheerleader you are. If I could raise my hand I’d stick three fingers up at you.

  “Understand this,” she commanded. “Her body is dying. She’s suffered a fatal blow. Her best friend is dead. The Mirror of Souls is on its way to your master. You’ve won.”

  I felt something leave me. I was sure it was my soul prising itself from my body for the last time. But Toril stood up and pointed her wand at something else.

  It was my demon. Belial looked down at my stricken body and laughed. “We never thought we would see this day. Humans that were supposed to help each other, turning on each other.”

  “You’re to go, and never return,” said Toril. Belial never answered Toril directly, but spoke to me instead.

  “And now, Romilly, with death all around you, I can finally let you go.”

  He laughed a mocking tone in my head. I thought it would never stop, but Toril rushed to me and I no longer felt its malice.

  “I had to make your body weak to the point of death, otherwise he would not leave you, understand Romilly? Don’t die on me here.”

  She patched up my wounds using a combination of spells and ointment that she rubbed into my chest and arms. It was the oil of the dillfern.

  “This is the very last bottle. It doesn’t grow in the forest anymore.”

  But I retained hopeful. Maybe it would grow again. Toril was smarter than I gave her credit for. She knew what she was doing, and she was unfailingly brave. I may not have trusted her along the way, but her weird twisted logic had kept us alive.

  She sat me up. “Do you feel better?”

  “I feel hollowed out, Toril, like a balloon on legs.”

  She handed me something, at first, bizarrely I thought she had magically retrieved the Mirror. Instead, it was that infernal book of hers.

  “I don’t want to see that,” I said. “That book has been nothing but trouble for us.”

  “I interpreted it wrong, but understand Romilly, I wasn’t supposed to have it. Not in the end. This is yours now.”

  If Toril didn’t know what to do with the blasted book, and someone like Lunabelle had studied it all her life trying to decipher its messages, how could I possibly know?

  “You can do it because it is your destiny to do it,” she said, reading my mind.

  But I did not want to. With Beth gone, I had no desire to complete my destiny. Toril looked to the four corners of the woods, before looking up to the sky. What in the world was she looking for?

  “Just checking the demon has really gone. I cannot see a shadow on you. I think it worked. He believed you really were dying.”

  “I wish I had died, instead of Beth,” I said.

  “Give me your arm,” Toril said impatiently. It must have been a part of my arm that had no oil of the dillfern, because she cut into it until blood seeped from my skin. I protested, but she held my arm over the book, the last page of it.

  As my blood fell on the paper, images and words appeared.

  “Can you see something? Anything?” she asked. “Anything that would motivate you to complete your destiny?”

  I could. It told me something I was overjoyed to hear, and yet a great terror, a terrible fate still awaited me. But to the first part, I could not help but smile at Toril.

  “You saved her from the drop,” I said, hardly believing it myself.

  “While you were attacking Dana, it gave me the opportunity I needed. Beth is safe. I returned her to home.”

  I found the strength to hug her. I now understood that Toril’s path was more difficult than my own. She had to convince the evil ones that she was on their side. That was the only way to defeat them.

  The page showed a map; a path to the Mirror. I would not have the luxury of the three nights depicted in Lunabelle’s grand plan. It would have to be destroyed quickly. I was now in a race to destroy it before Diabhal could use it again.

  I had to stop that from happening.

  ***

  I scooped the book into my arms and ran with whatever strength was left in me. There had been two old wood cabins at the start of this tale, now only one remained. I was already in East Gorswood, so I would not have far to run.

  With my new found abilities, I could see things that no-one else could, such as the traps that Donald Curie had left surrounding Diabhal Takh.

  I could see through the brickwork. I could see a pale blue light emanating from the Mirror. Curie had placed it on the top of an old well that resided in the building. What horrors was he planning to release?

  I burst my way in, as there was no need to enter quietly. He never turned around; he just kept looking into the Mirror.

  “You see, a rat will always find its way home,” he said. “This would be far less painful if you had just done your duty Romilly, and died in the woods like I planned. You’re always messing things up for me.”

  “A rat will play like a rat,” I answered. “Step away from the Mirror, Curie.”

  That did make him turn around.

  “You’re too late, Romilly. It’s already begun. You didn’t know, but the Mirror can indeed unleash Hell on Earth. It works like a portal. They are coming.”

  He had placed it on what I could only describe as some sort of well. He must have kept it from view in the past, because during my previous time here, I could not recall seeing it. The Mirror’s larger shape fitted perfectly into the opening. I had to do something.

  If the well was the path, and the Mirror its conduit, maybe I could use the knife I had retrieved from Nan’s grave? Something felt wrong about that idea as soon as I thought it, so I dismissed the idea out of hand. Besides, Curie was not about to let me walk up and retrieve the Mirror. Was that even possible? It appeared to have fused with the opening to the well.

  “You recognise this knife, don’t you?” I said. “It really does kill things that can’t be killed.”

  He smiled at me. “Even if you kill me, you can’t stop the demons coming through. You’ve always had help Romilly. You never do anything on your own; you are just not capable. Victory over Belial does not belong to you. If you think he’s truly left you, you’re deluding yourself.”

  Lies. All lies. Curie was so practised at the art of deception, he was practically a master. But masters could be defeated.

  I would have to be lightning fast. I threw the book onto the Mirror, the weight of it helping it to crack open. I stabbed Curie in his chest with the blade, before impaling it into the book. There was an explosion as I was thrown aside. My body felt twisted and broken, but through bloodshot eyes, I could see the Mirror’s destruction, and the book along with it.

  When the dust had settled, I could see a crescent moon in the sky. I attempted to smile, but the blade I had used on Curie was now jabbing into my neck.

  “Maybe you’re the one who needs this,” said Curie, who was pussing blood and other foul liquids everywhere. “Maybe you’re the one – the thing that can’t be killed. God and the Devil know I have tried. The Mirror is gone into the abyss, Romilly. But evil will find another way. It always does.”

  I did not want to be with him at the end. He would just talk me to death.

  “You were fast, I’ll
say that for you, but you need two of those-”

  Donald Curie’s body fell to the floor, turning to a mound of grey ash just a few moments later.

  “My brother was right after all,” said Danville Curie, who was twirling the knife’s twin in his hand. “I’m glad to see you made it.”

  He helped me stand. The air in the woods was changing, and snowflakes teased my cheeks. Shoots of green leaves even appeared on the branches.

  “This night is December 24th,” he said. “Happy Christmas, Romilly.”

  “Happy Christmas,” I said, still struggling to look at the same facial features of my nemesis. But his was a kinder face, not one of a killer. He had helped me to end the reign of terror of a man truly in the service of the Devil. Gorswood had a chance for peace now.

  “Did you want any gifts for Christmas, Romilly? Anything at all?”

  I smiled at him. “No, I think I’m a little old to be getting presents,” I said.

  “Well now that the demon has left you, I would like to give you one present. Will you accept it?”

  I nodded. It would be impolite not to accept. He’d even gone to the trouble of wrapping it.

  When I opened it up, I could breathe a sigh of relief as it returned my reflection.

  It was a mirror. A simple looking object. And that was all.

  Epilogue

  Toril and Troy put aside their mistrust and, on a sunny day in June – the 6th, of course, Toril looked resplendent in a luscious black wedding gown. Troy looked good on the day, and of course, Toril had insisted that Beth and I be her bridesmaids.

  So I found myself actually being at the same wedding as Troy, just not being the one getting the wedding band from him. That was okay. He had told me one time that he had moved on from Toril, but in his heart, he hadn’t, not really. But I had moved on from him, and life would move on whether I chose to be a part of it or not.

  I chose to stay involved.

  Beth and I remain life-long friends. She adopted a single, carefree life. When I asked her about getting involved with someone, she explained that sharing all that time with Dana meant she now appreciated being on her own, and she knew I understood all about that.

  Curie was partially right. Belial never truly left me. The nightmares still return sometimes, but far less frequently than they used to. Destroying the Mirror had broken my link somehow, and God how I was grateful for that.

  I could have let Beth heal my hand, but I decided against it. One day, I woke up to see my hand was whole again. She never admitted it, but I think Toril had something to do with it.

  Toril would visit me with her mother on occasion. Tori-Suzanne was determined to indoctrinate me into the new Circle. So far, I’ve politely resisted her request, declining each and every time. She is patient, and keeps telling me One day, Romilly. One day you’ll join us.

  Maybe I would, but right now, life has a different plan for me. I woke up one morning with a new purpose. I wanted to rebuild Rosewinter. It was something I wanted to do. I did not want to pay a builder either. I had some spells which no doubt would have made the task easier, but I wanted to do this myself, planting each brick, piece of wood, and pane of glass myself. Nothing Wiccy about it.

  A face I was growing accustomed to saw what I was doing one day and offered his services. Patrick, the barman at the Dying Swan.

  “You don’t think a woman can do this job, no?” I asked.

  “There are few that could,” he replied, “but then, you’re not just any woman, are you?”

  “I’m just me,” I said. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

  But he did help me, and about six months later, we had constructed a thing of beauty that Nan would have been proud of, and my parents too. I was so used to having him around that I ended up going to a wedding of my own, as the bride this time. Beth and Toril did the honours for me, and it completed my very special day perfectly.

  As Patrick and I grew closer, it was inevitable we would have a child of our own. I named her Cassandra, it was just a name I liked and it suited her down to the ground.

  This was my very own circle, one I was happy with. Peace and hope now lay ahead of me, and that was all I have ever wanted.

  ***

  East Gorswood looks lot different now. Children play in the area, the council spent lots of money to improve the area and it is a pleasant place to be. Cassandra loves it too. She’s like any other girl; she enjoys skipping, laughing, dancing, singing, and playing with dolls. I’m not so keen for her to do that last part.

  In the future, I’ll tell her about her heritage, about why I’m a witch, albeit a reluctant one. Not a heroine. I was never the heroine.

  One day, when we were out walking, a lone, ragged, blonde-haired doll was seen floating down the water in East Gorswood. Cassandra asked me to get it for her.

  She was ten at the time. I rubbed her shoulders gently and told her that she was a little old for dolls. She nodded in agreement.

  “You’re right Mum,” she said. “I don’t need a doll. I need a mirror. My hair has come loose.”

  I produce a small mirror from my bag, the one Danville Curie had given me, and handed it to her. She’s got Patrick’s eyes, and unfortunately, my wavy hair. She’ll be straightening it for life, poor girl. But her own cuteness beams back at her.

  Maybe one day, I will tell her what happened; what we all went through so that she could grow up in a peaceful world.

  That story can wait, and that doll can float out to the far ends of the sea, never to be seen again. As for the wand I now possess, it could become quite the family heirloom. I might even bequeath it to Cassandra.

  Today is a good day, the sun shines and melts away the last of the snow. She tugs at the crescent moon pendant I gave her and smiles at me. I hope she never has to face what I did. It’s now time for this tale to end.

  I think we’ve earned the right to be happy.

  THE END

  Acknowledgments

  The idea for Dark Winter began in late 2012. I had been visiting many places that had been reputed to be haunted, but it was Great Barr Hall and Saint Margaret’s Hospital, a place that was so scary to visit, with its history that ultimately fired my imagination for the story.

  The creation of Romilly as a character was not that hard, but the choice of her as a female lead for my book was not as difficult as you might think. As an author, we have to create believable and relatable characters. I put a lot of myself into her creation and think she is better for it as a result.

  When I had put just a few pages together for the first book in the series, Dark Winter: The Wicca Circle, I handed them to my mother to read over and give me a few of her thoughts. Bear in mind I had already gone through the writing, editing and publishing process for my first book, the non-fiction and semi-biographical The Essence of Martial Arts, what I wanted to hear was ‘This story has potential.’

  Whilst my mum didn’t use those exact words, she was encouraging, and has always remained constant through my writing journey. As one sits as the keyboard, typing away, trying to find words that via twenty-six letters of the alphabet, turn into a three to four hundred page novel. Sometimes it really is amazing how books get created at all. After all, the author starts with a blank page. But I have some people to express my thanks to.

  Here we go then.

  Mary Hennessy – It can’t have been easy to read some of my books, but you stayed the course and often quoted Don Curie as the man you loved to hate. I’m grateful you read Dark Winter and found characters you could root for and be intrigued by. Thank you for helping me get my first library card. I think that same day I found Rebecca’s World by Terry Nation, a book I loved back then, and still do. Thank you and much love.

  Xuyi – Somewhere deep inside I know you believed in me, and though my stories may have not always been to your taste, it’s good to know that you encouraged me to keep going, and always believed I would make a breakthrough.

  Aditi Saha – what can I say abo
ut the lady who trusted that Dark Winter was going to be a good story. When I read your review, I thought – wow – somebody gets what I trying to achieve. That first book was rough, perhaps amateur in parts, but you gave it a chance. You are a reader – perhaps the most the voracious reader I have ever known, so giving my book a chance really did give me a chance. More than that, you have become a friend.

  Merril Anil – you read all my books and always let me know where I can improve. This is vital for new and experienced authors alike. Thank you for always giving me your best critique.

  Adriana Girolami – One of my earliest supporters and a great author in your own right.