Dark Winter

by John Hennessy

  I figured I mustn’t be more than an inch in height, and maybe a gram or so in weight. At least, if I was heavier, I would feel like a mouse to Beth, and she would swipe me off without looking.

  I moved as fast as I could, and reached her left elbow. I tried not to look down, though I already knew it was a long way down. I couldn’t fall, I could not fail, not now, when I was so close.

  Then Beth shivered and I nearly lost my grip.

  “Damnit O’Neill, stay still will you?” I said, not realising that she might just hear me.

  At that moment Beth did turn her head, but that was okay, I wasn’t there just yet.

  Beth continued her surveillance next door. I climbed up onto her shoulder and finally I could see what she was swearing about. Curie was pinned down by a Zeryth, and seemed as helpless as I was just a few moments ago.

  “Where is it? The Mirror,” said the Zeryth.

  “Why should I know anything about that?” said Curie. “Whatever I tell you, you’ll do away with me anyway. Good. I want that.”

  “So tell me. He has no further use for you. I can end your miserable existence quickly,” hissed the Zeryth, who slightly relaxed the grip on Curie’s throat.

  Curie knew that if the Zeryth got hold of the Mirror, it would be the end of all things. He didn’t care about that, he just wanted to be free of Dana’s hold over him.

  He made his choice.

  “It’s next door,” he said. “You’ll find that infernal Mirror next door.”

  Beth’s eye dilated as she saw the Zeryth glided towards us. If I was to be any help at all to my friend, Toril’s spell had to wear off now.

  * * *

  Of course, it would have been great if what I had wished there and then, had happened. No. I was still about one inch tall, give or take a millimetre or two, and Beth was oblivious to me being there. One sneeze from her and I would be blasted out of the window.

  There would be no way back then.

  The Zeryth glided into view, and incredibly, Beth was still facing away from her. I took drastic action and yanked at her hair.

  “Jesus Christ! What the-” shrieked Beth.

  Pretty soon, she saw what was going on. The Zeryth pointed a bloodied, bony finger towards her. “The Mirror. Give it to me.”

  Another exclamation followed, featuring the Lord’s name.

  As the Zeryth moved towards Beth, who was frozen on the spot with fear, as opposed to one of Toril’s spells on this occasion, I climbed down on some strands of Beth’s red hair, and then, she finally saw me.

  Beth still wasn’t in any fit state to move, or react, except for uttering a few more biblical rated profanities as I launched myself at the Zeryth.

  I managed to land above her eyelid, and stuck my outstretched nails into her left eye ball.

  She howled in pain and swatted at me. The Zeryth was successful, because I blacked out from the blow. Beth unfroze all of a sudden, and caught me in her hands.

  The Zeryth was clutching at her bloodied eye-ball, and then, with one of her own nails, plucked it out.

  “Gross,” said Beth. “That is disgusting.” Looking down at the miniature version of me in her hands, she said, “So. What’s your story Milly?”

  “The Mirror, Beth. You have to help me use it.”

  The one eyed Zeryth was still moving towards us, with three more outside, the door.

  We found ourselves outsized, and outnumbered. Toril’s spell had saved me from one death, but was just delaying the inevitable.

  * * *

  Amidst all the mayhem, we had forgotten about Curie. He burst in, looking a broken shell of a man, and was holding an archer’s bow.

  He pulled back a quiver, and let the arrow fly. Beth would not have the time to get out of the way, not did Curie try and tell her to move aside.

  I was as surprised as anyone to see that the arrow embedded itself in the back of the Zeryth’s head. It screamed, and then disappeared before our eyes.

  At that moment, Toril’s spell wore off, and I was back to normal size again. I launched myself past Beth and grabbed the Mirror.

  “Small world,” said Beth, grinning even though we found ourselves in a desperate situation. “It’s good to see you again Romilly.”

  I concurred with that statement. Turning to Curie, who was still holding the bow in our direction, I said, “Care to put that down?”

  Curie did as I asked.

  “How did you know where that zombie’s weak point was?”

  “Not everyone has their genitals in the same place. Instant destruction if you hit there.”

  “Yeah…but that doesn’t explain how you knew that.”

  “I’m a rat, Romilly.”

  “Do you have any more of those arrows?” asked Beth. “We have company.”

  “No. Not enough time. Also, you were mistaken, Romilly. You thought I was sharpening the blade of the axe. It wouldn’t take much to crush your puny neck, you know,” said Curie wearingly, yet there was nothing lost in the icy way he spoke. “The manufacture of a xy-light is difficult thing. But if you have one, you can kill that which cannot be killed. If you want to get out of this though, I know a way that just might work.”

  “Then out with it,” said Beth. “Quickly now.”

  “Aren’t we impatient, Miss O’Neill?” Curie walked past us and wedged the bow into the locking latch of the door.

  “That will buy us some time,” said Curie. “When the first Zeryth comes into contact with that, it will be injured, and unable to attack us. When the second crosses the thresh-hold, you, Romilly, will trap it with that Mirror of yours.”

  “And the third? What about that one?” asked Beth.

  “That honour is yours, Miss O’Neill. Yours – and mine.”

  Curie grabbed Beth with one arm and produced handcuffs with another, and latched the cuff onto her wrist. She kicked out wildly and screamed at him. “Romilly, stop him, for God’s sake.”

  “Curie!” I stammered. “What are are you doing? Let her go!”

  “She won’t help me willingly, so I have to force her to do so. The Zeryth cannot kill both of us at once, so whoever is left can do it.”

  “Romilly! Help!” screamed Beth.

  No matter what craziness Curie came up with, he always had a way of topping it. Yes, maybe I could stop one Zeryth, but not one, and certainly not two. I only hoped as they approached the thresh-hold, that the bow would cause the damage Curie said it would.

  As it glided purposely towards the door, I slipped off my gloves to reveal the markings on my hands and forearms. In the darkness of the night, I wondered if I really did look so different to those that would aim to destroy me? Perhaps we always destroy what we fear, what we don’t understand.

  The first of the three Zeryths came into contact with the bow, and sure enough, Curie’s plan worked. Exit zombie one.

  The second, like all these zombies, was too smart to fall for that, so came through the window instead.

  I wasn’t worried about trapping it with the Mirror. I decided I would use my bare hands to destroy it. I knew also that I would feel sickening pain at the moment I came into contact with it, but that was better than risk Beth getting hurt, who was still trying to get out of the handcuffs.

  “Damn you Curie, for bringing this day on us,” I said, as I reached towards the zombie, it suddenly darted, changed course, and slashed at Beth, gashing her leg right on her knee.

  I screamed at Curie to do something, but he just lay back, laughing maniacally as Beth continued to bleed heavily.

  He unlocked himself from the cuffs, and said, “Not everything is as it seems, Romilly. I needed Beth to cause a diversion.”

  “Why?”

  I wanted to know, as Beth was slipped into an unconsciousness state.

  “Because now you can deal with the other one, and of course, the man himself. Concentrate now, and give my thanks to Miss O’Neill.”

  I did as I planned to, and not because Curie was uttering comm
ands. I held the Mirror in front of my face, and the third zombie howled as it was pulled into it, with the kick back sending me flying, it was a miracle it did not get broken.

  I felt sick, dizzy, disorientated, but I just had to get to Beth. I was tired of Curie’s cryptic behaviour, tired of fighting zombies, and most of all, being stuck in this hellhole.

  Curie had gone. Beth was bleeding heavily from her leg, and I doubted any skills I had in first aid, would help her.

  “The man,” said Beth, groggily.

  “Beth, just lay still. Curie’s gone, the old devil. Don’t worry about him. I will take care of you, alright? Stay with me Beth, please.”

  “No…I mean, the man,” said Beth. “In my family…in Irish families, the man means the Devil. This place…is the Devil’s House. That’s what Diabhal Takh means.”

  Beth wasn’t making a lot of sense to me, but I let her talk anyway, because her talking, even if it didn’t make much sense, could only be a good sign.

  Beth was still bleeding heavily. I knew that this was not the time to make a tourniquet, so I did the next best and safest thing, and dressed the wound with one of the sleeves I had torn off my blouse.

  Blood was still coming through, so I ripped off the other sleeve and hoped that this would stem the flow. She looked rather pale, and I was worried that she may be going into shock.

  If only Toril were here, perhaps she could fix it.

  “Beth, keep with me, keep talking. Did Toril send you here somehow?”

  Beth nodded slowly, but it was a definite nod for yes.

  “Can we get back to her, you and I? Don’t faze out on me now. This is important. Can we, or not?”

  “I…I don’t know,” said Beth, with increasingly slurred speech. “Maybe we can only get back when the job is done, you know?”

  I could not accept that we could be stuck here. By my count, we had dealt with the Zeryths that had been sent to destroy us. We should be able to go home. I would not be able to move Beth by myself. We needed help. Transport, if we could get it. We had none of these things.

  Curie had gone, and I didn’t expect he would be back. It was just Beth and me, stuck in the darkest part of Gorswood Forest.

  I was trying hard to recall what had happened with Toril, back when all of us found ourselves in Curie’s house. It seemed that she had an ability to read my thoughts, but I could not read hers, it was just one way.

  I couldn’t leave Beth, not like this, but I also felt that we would be doomed if we stayed in this Godforsaken place any longer.

  We had secured our safety, for now.

  While I was thinking what to do, a voice broke my concentration.

  “Milly…”

  Beth was still conscious, and tugged at my jeans.

  She didn’t look good, but better than a few minutes ago. It seemed her condition wasn’t getting that much better, but from what I could see, she wasn't getting worse, and I would take that set of circumstances over the other.

  I really didn’t know what the next stage was, but staying put was rarely a good option. I felt that there were no more Zeryths to attack us, should we decide to up and make a run for it, but there was the possibility we could run into other things. Curie. Troy. Dana.

  Suddenly, it seemed the decision to stay right where we were, was better. But how could it be? If Curie or any of the others were to return, there was no guarantee that we could fight them all. In fact, make that just me – Beth was in no fit state to fight anyone.

  “Milly, I’m okay…a bit woozy, but I’ll be alright,” said Beth. “you can go, okay? I’m sure you’ll be back for me.”

  I could only smile. Beth was so self sacrificing, but I really did wish I could take her with me. If I did so, we could both end up getting killed.

  “Milly, you know what you have to do.” Beth grimaced in pain as she pulled her leg to the side.

  Beth was right about one thing. I would have to do something. But what that something was, remained unclear to me. Was I supposed to use the Mirror on Curie, or on Dana? Maybe on the Wood Cutter, Diabhal himself?

  Did the Wood Cutter even actually exist? We had heard about such things as kids, but the more I grew up, and the more I knew about Curie and the rumours surrounding him, I believed two things were possible.

  The first was the fact that Curie was the Wood Cutter, or the reality of his existence was in his head, and in his head only.

  The second, was that the Wood Cutter did not exist at all, and that it was in fact Curie, who somehow could manipulate the authorities to evade punishment.

  There was something else niggling at me though. My nan had told me the story of her and Dana, and the wretched house that by foul circumstances, Beth and I found ourselves in.

  If the way Dana met her end was true, then, the Wood Cutter had to exist, didn’t he?

  I looked at the Mirror. I could see only my reflection. How strange it was that I could not see it, the first time it was handed to me. Maybe after it imprinted itself on me, it could show my reflection.

  Either way, I had a very strange feeling well up inside of me.

  Evil can be found in the most innocent of things.

  I turned to look at Beth. Sweet. Beautiful. Innocent.

  The overwhelming feeling I had was about Beth. She had tried to kill me, after all. Innocent no more then.

  She must die, Romilly. They all must die.

  The demon within me was reasserting its power over me.

  I was unsure of pretty much everything now, as the room swam around me, the heads of long dead animals that hung on the wall, opened their mouths. I was sure they were mocking me.

  Out of the madness, came clarity, and a sense of purpose. I knew two things that I had to do now.

  I must use the demon’s power to break the Mirror. I simply had to kill Beth.

  Set The Evil Ones Free

  For her mother, the birth of Toril Withers had been an extremely difficult one. Complications at a late stage meant delivery by Caeserian section would be impossible. Even so, the baby made its way into the world. Many of her bones were broken during the delivery. The doctor had been a bit too rough with the forceps.

  A kindly midwife who went by the name of Winnie, had rubbed some ointment into little Toril’s body, which she claimed would help her heal properly. With the oil making her difficult to keep hold of, her mother remarked to the midwife, “Oh, dear God! I nearly dropped her!”

  “I wouldn’t worry about that,” said the Winnie, slipping a bottle of the oil into Mrs Withers belongings. “That ointment will take care of her. With that seeping into her skin, the Devil himself could not defeat her. Rub it in for a week, then she’ll be fine. Her skin will be as soft as petals on a peony, but she’ll be as tough as nails. So, have you decided on a name yet?”

  “Oh..well, you might make fun of it, but my name is Tori as you know, my husband’s name is Bill. We’re going for Toril. We thought a mix was better than anything else.”

  “I like it!” said Winnie, clapping her hands together. “That girl is going to go far, you will see.”

  * * *

  Ever since she had been a little girl, all Toril Withers had ever wanted to be was a witch. She remembered how it all started. She had been in her room, one Halloween night, when she saw her. Saw It.

  Nine year old Toril was absolutely convinced of what she had saw, and become entranced by it so much, she told her mother who, took an uncharacteristically charitable position, and said she believed her.

  “A witch, Mum! Can you believe it?” said Toril, excitedly.

  She remembered what the witch looked like, and recounted this to her mother in vivid detail.

  Up until that point, Toril had expressed no interest in witchcraft. She hated scary movies, and could not understand all the fuss about Halloween.

  Her father sometimes wanted to take her to bonfires, but again, she hated things like that, and fireworks, though she admitted were wonderful to look at, were too loud, and
frightened her a lot.

  So her excitement over the sight of a witch, on a broom, above the road where Toril lived, seemed all the more curious to her parents.

  The following Halloween, her father revealed a surprise to her – a witch costume.