I could not understand what Nan was saying.
"The imprint-"
"-will happen again, but there will be a cost. A very heavy price to pay, but I am confident you will deal with it."
"What do you mean?"
"You have to go back, Milly. This place….it’s not your final destination."
"Nan! You don’t understand! I died at the hands of Beth over an hour ago!"
"Time has no meaning here, I told you that."
Maybe not here, but there, on Earth it does. Surely my body was decomposing by now.
"Milly, you will fail in the same way Toril failed when she was up against the one true evil.
You simply don’t believe, so nothing you truly want, can ever be. Don’t you understand?"
What was she saying? That I could go back, and that everything would be okay?
"Okay, I wish that Beth and I were not dead, and that Curie was."
"No. No. Not that simple. You can go back, if that is what you really wish, but to wish Curie dead would make you as bad as he is."
"What about Beth?"
"What about her?"
Tears welled up in me again.
"She’s dead."
"Begging your pardon, but you’re wrong. You think so corporeal, Milly. Open your eyes.
Open your mind. Believe."
Okay, I will believe. I need to know Beth will be okay. But that axe, buried into her back, her last breath blowing onto my neck, that nightmarish death rattle as she died. It was more than I could take.
"You’re sure you want to return? To stay here, would be easier."
So many questions, so little time.
"Can I visit you again?"
"Probably not, if you decide to go. But I will try and visit you."
"Like a ghost in one of your stories."
"Yes. Remember what I said about them?"
Of course I did. "They are always true, that’s what you said."
"Except you won’t be scared."
I was scared though. Scared of failing. Again.
Nan leaned forward, and kissed my forehead. In that moment, I found the blood coursing through my veins, and warmth return to my cheeks. I found myself back in my body, strapped to the chair in that hellish Carving Room.
My neck was working too. I turned to Beth, who was looking like her old self with every passing second.
Then I realised what was happening. Toril had the Mirror of Souls in her hands. She had imprinted herself on it in a bid to return our souls to our bodies. Maybe the heavy price to pay that Nan referred to, was that two zombies would be released from that netherworld. Curie
would have a small victory at least.
In the haze of being stuck between two worlds, I was unclear about whether or not I had to be dead in order for the Mirror to imprint itself on someone else. If it had to be someone, I’d put my money on Toril. In her hands, the Mirror would be safe.
***
Troy tied Curie up. He explained to Toril, who was working her magic on Jacinta, that he managed to escape from the bag because he simply woke up. The chloroform used on him mustn’t have been enough to keep him sedated for say, as long as Beth was, so when he realised what was going on, he managed to unzip himself from the bag and attack Curie.
Of course, it would not have been so easy, had the bodybag had its zipper fully closed.
Toril’s mind was having to work fast. Pointing her wand at Jacinta’s abdomen, she said,
"No pain or suffering or hurt shall you feel, I command your every wound to heal."
"Now what?" said Troy.
"We wait," said Toril.
"What about Rom and Beth?"
Toril had accepted, albeit with sickening reluctance, that her friends were dead. But looking once at us, she could still see our auras. There was still hope.
Troy saw the perplexed look in her eyes. "Withers, do you think you can do something?"
A groan from Jacinta. She writhed on the floor, and then was still, but was okay.
Toril was grateful to the deity. Looking back at Troy, she was resigned to defeat.
"There is maybe something I can do, but I’m not sure I have the power."
Looking at Curie, it seemed Troy had secured him properly.
"I hope you’ve done a better job on him than he did with you."
"I think so," said Troy. "He isn’t going anywhere for a while. Now – you said that maybe there was something you could do. Well, if you can, shouldn’t you try?"
The problem was that Toril’s confidence in her Wiccan abilities was small. Curie was right about one thing - she wasn’t a good witch. She practised the big spells, not the small ones, like when Jacinta wanted her to move the gate. When it came to be tested against evil, hadn’t she failed, and failed miserably?
"I just don’t think I can magic anything up with this," said Toril, placing her wand back in her bag. But Romilly has something that might just work."
"What is it?
"A Mirror. The Mirror. I think it’s why Curie wanted to bring us here. Romilly called it the Mirror of Souls."
Reaching into my bag, Toril held the Mirror in her hands.
"Looks like an ordinary old mirror to me," said Troy. "Curie went to all this trouble – for this?"
"Yes."
"You’ve seen it before, haven’t you?"
Toril bore a pained expression on her face. "Yes, I have. It didn’t seem to work then, either. I don’t know how to make it work, Troy, and in fact, even if I could, I’m afraid to use it."
I did want to come back, and more than that, I wanted Beth to come back. She deserved life. Did I really care about mine? But I realised if Toril used the Mirror to trade my soul for another, it could mean the release of the zombie girl I trapped at Beth’s house. All the danger we had gone through, would be for nothing.
The decision was all down to Toril.
"Given time, do you think it can work?" asked Troy.
"I don’t know," said Toril. "Maybe."
"Well then, I say do it."
"The consequences-"
"-are something we will deal with at that time. Right now, you have a chance to bring our friends back. Now I don’t know much about any Mirror, or this Witch stuff you practise, but I think Rom would prefer to face the demons than be stuck in this…whatever they are stuck in. Their bodies can’t stay whole forever Toril, and by then, it really will be too late."
Good work, Troy. I’ve have to agree with him if our positions were reversed. I’d do it, and damn the consequences.
"Logically-"
"Toril, come on, will you? Forget logic, what we need here is action, and now!" said Troy.
He grabbed the Mirror from Toril, but it shot a bolt of energy into his chest. The force of the beam landed the Mirror into Toril’s hands once more, and she was knocked to the floor, but the Mirror was safe.
A little dazed, Toril got up slowly to check on Troy.
"Are you alright? Troy!"
His eyes flickered into life. "I’m okay, Withers."
Slowly, he got to his feet and looked at Toril. "So, you can hold the Mirror, but I can’t? What gives?"
"I’m not sure. Maybe only women can hold it. That’s why Curie got us here. He couldn’t use it directly, but indirectly, through one of us girls. It’s quite logical when you think about it."
Troy liked Toril for her good looks, but there was no doubt she was smart too. ‘If only Rom had showed any interest in me,’ he thought, ‘I wouldn’t be looking at Toril the way I am now.’
"Troy? You haven’t said anything for ages. Are you okay?"
"Uh…yeah, sure, Withers. You were saying?"
"Well, I don’t really know how to use this Mirror, but I think if I stay close to the girls, maybe something will happen."
"You usually say…something Wiccan…..in these kind of circumstances, don’t you?"
"Yes. But I don’t think this Mirror works on verbal commands."
"What, then?"
"I don’t know, just shut up and let me think for a minute."
Troy was pretty ashamed of himself. He found Toril’s directness very appealing, and found himself wondering why he hadn’t asked her out before. He knew why, of course. He liked someone else.
Me.
***
Toril sat down in and crossed her legs in front of me and Beth. We must have looked terrible, and if this didn’t work, our looks would only get worse.
What if the worse scenario happened? That in the attempt to bring us back, the zombie girl and her hellish kin were released?
No. Mustn’t think like that. Must think positive. Must believe.
Come on, Toril. That’s the key. Believe you can do this.
Toril held the Mirror up in front of her face. She pointed the reflective side towards myself and Beth, and waited. It seemed like she was meditating, as she seemed to go into some kind of trance.
I felt a warmth right at the pit of my stomach, and strength returned to my hands. The swelling on my neck reduced, and I could feel the colour return to my face.
I had a feeling in my legs, but it was like pins and needles. I wanted to stamp my feet until the tingling stopped.
The last thing to function was my eyesight, but my ears must have started to work just before them as I could hear almost audible sounds around me. Then I realised it was Toril speaking to me.
"Romilly? Can you hear me? Are you alright?"
Toril’s voice was becoming a crescendo. Then I realised I could hear her thoughts in my head, but it didn’t seem to work both ways. Her thoughts were blocked to me. I didn’t know Wiccans were telepaths. There was a lot I was learning today.
I wanted to speak, but my mouth felt very dry. I could lift my hands though, and slowly, I pointed to my mouth.
"Wa…..ter…" I said, sounding like I had swallowed the coarsest of sand paper.
Excitedly, Toril motioned to Troy. "You heard her! Get water!! It worked! Bloody hell!"
Beth was coming to as well. I wasn’t fully aware of this until Toril was crying her name out loud, in happiness.
Both Toril and Troy seemed to have forgotten about Jacinta, but she spoke up. "Well, that was a trip! Good job, Toril, you’re a pretty good witch after all. It’s not every day you run into someone who can bring the dead back to life."
I turned to look at Beth, who was looking at me. She must have been thinking the same thing as me. The last time our eyes had met, she was full of fury.
"Milly…I don’t know what to say," she said.
"Say you are okay then."
"Yeah, I’m okay."
Jacinta and Toril hugged me and Beth tightly.
Our happiness was short-lived though. Toril broke off and looked around the room.
"What is it?" asked Jacinta.
"Something. Maybe nothing," said Toril. "I don’t see any zombies here, do you? Maybe Curie was full of it. He just wanted to kill us."
"We have a much bigger problem than that," said Troy.
The ties that had bound Curie were on the floor. The old devil had escaped once again.
Redwood
Running as fast as his fifty-two year old legs would carry him, Curie headed far away from his abode to the deepest part of the woods.
Toril had been right about one thing – the existence of another house, similar to Rosewinter. Of course, no-one knew how to find it. It couldn’t be found with any map – it found you, in pretty much the same way it found Nan and Dana all those years ago.
Curie continued to run, wondering if Diabhal’s trio of demons, the Erinyes, would find him, and when they did, what would they do to him? Did it matter? He was already a dead man walking, and doomed to repeat his life in eternal damning servitude to Dana, and to Diabhal.
Although he was wearing thick clothes, combat style trousers, a thick twill shirt, and an Aran jumper, as he ran through Gorswood Forest, the trees seemed to bend their branches, trying to trip him up. The attack was relentless.
The branches stuck out at unkindly angles, and tripped him up as he ran. Not every time, of course – he knew the woods well, and could sometimes jump over a rogue branch or fallen log, only to be clothes-lined by a branch above him.
Snowflakes that had been gentle on his face when he entered the forest now stabbed viciously at his cheeks.
It was as if this part of the forest knew what he had been up to, and wanted to stop him getting to Redwood. Of course, a forest as old as Gorse had its share of ghosts. Many things that people like Curie wanted to keep secret, were often buried in the forest. Still, nothing had been proved, and why would that status change, when he was forced to do Their bidding?
At the other end of the Forest, the ghosts that roamed the ruins of St Margaret’s Hospital, the Great Hall close to Rosewinter, were not allowed to leave. Not unless the silver birch tree was damaged, and well, that tree had stood for nearly three hundred years. There was some benevolent spirits there.
Even if they ever got released, they would be no harm to Diabhal.
Sometimes the Forest gave up its secrets, sometimes not. Still, Curie kept on running. The wind howled as if it was cursing him, and the snow fell so fast, and so thickly, that he lost his footing, sliding for several feet, and his right knee connected with the base of an old, but very solid oak tree.
He howled in agony, because he had damaged the knee in his youth, and despite many operations, it had never been the same. The cold was getting worse, and the light was all but gone. If he didn’t get moving again soon he wouldn’t survive the night. Then it would all start again.
There would be no escape. That was his punishment. When Aaron Noone’s body had been left outside in the grounds, police conveniently looked the other way. When Dana had been summoned by Beth, what she thought was retribution, was merely a repeat of what had gone before.
Ever since he had slashed his mother’s throat, who had been pregnant at the time, Curie’s existence was to do the bidding of Diabhal. He committed this crime when he was just five years old. He had been running around Gorswood Lakes when he stopped to look at something. Rumours circulated of the Erinyes, a trio of female demons who lived in the lake, had tried to kill him, and only agreed to let him go when he promised to make a killing in their name.
After a seventeen-year stay at St Margaret’s, he was released - a new life and a new identity. Of all places, he managed to get work in a school. As far as the children in the town were concerned, he really was the bogeyman, the very embodiment of evil. Rumours continued to circulate, and nothing was ever proved.
When evidence pointed to Curie over the death of Beth’s parents, it was conveniently lost, the case forgotten, and another man, Michael Dean, was implicated…just because he happened to say Hello to Beth’s parents on the day they died. Just for being the last man people could remember talking to the O’Neills, Michael Dean would never be released from prison in his lifetime. The judge had been very clear about that.
Beth felt she knew better than that, but the bailiffs who were ordered to remove her, roundly silenced her screams in the courthouse.
Going back to his house on the school grounds would seem sensible, but there was too much activity around there. No - there was only one place Curie could go for sanctuary– to Redwood. It was a secure wood-cabin on the farthest edge of Gorswood Forest. To Diabhal, it was known as Diabhal Takh - the Devil’s House. To Curie, it was known as Redwood, which sounds innocent enough until you realise it got its name from the countless murders that took place there.
No-one would think to follow him there. From beyond the house, the road that joined the forest to the other side of the city had gone into disrepair a long time ago, so no traffic ventured in from that side either.
At least, from this side of the town, nothing human would venture out that far. The fear of something unnatural chasing him to yet another death would spur him on.
Curie did not want to die in the forest. He got hold of his leg, and ma
ssaged the damaged knee furiously, and though he got to his feet by pulling himself up by a large branch on the old oak tree, his knee-cap felt like it was slopping about under his skin. He fell awkwardly, putting all his weight on his bad knee.
He unzipped the side of his trouser leg and pulled it back so as to expose his damaged knee, even though the pain was excruciating.
Curie was about to pass out, and he knew it. There was also nothing he could do about it. Either the cold forest would be the death of him, or one of the demons of Diabhal would claim his soul once again.
Dark Winter: Trilogy Page 21