Dark Winter (7 page)

On my hands that made me look like I was a hundred years old.

“Oh, Mary mother of God,” exclaimed Beth, blessing herself. “I had no idea it was that bad.”

She fainted from shock, and I don’t remember how I crawled into my bed, but I rolled my head into a piece of paper.

When I woke up, Beth had already gone, but had left me a note.

“Sorry. It freaked me out. I know I shouldn’t have asked.”

I was severely hung over the next day, but managed to call Beth on my cell. There was no answer, nor for several days after that. I had lost a friend, and she was the closest thing I had to one in all my time at school.

I knew that I shouldn’t have shown her. Beth knew better than that to ask. The demon drink caused all this. 

Surely she knew what to expect? I just showed her my hands. No-one had been killed though, so why all the drama?

Still, Beth refused to talk to me, and I considered the friendship over.

After that, she did end up in a clique of sorts, with two girls I really wasn’t sure about.

Toril Withers was a bit of a paradox. She had raven coloured hair and huge chocolate brown eyes. Boys would like her just fine, until she would start cleansing their aura, or inviting them to her Wiccan 101 after school classes. Troy Jackson seemed to rise above all though that, and adored Toril. You could see that he looked at her differently to any other girl.

Some boys would even put up with her attempts at being a witch just to get to her. But she seemed to sense they were up to no good, and she would make up some excuse not to be with them. Being a Wiccan was just as important to Toril, as being a Catholic was to Beth.

“Does it bother you,” asked Beth, “That you know you are not really good at being a witch?”

“No,” said Toril. “Does it bother you when you don’t go to church sometimes?”

“Not really,” said Beth. “I’m still a Catholic. I’ve got my faith.”

“Good for you,” said Toril, “and I’m still a witch.”

Toril and Beth got on, but there was no doubt that what Toril needed was some kind of kindred spirit. Equally, it needed to be someone that Beth could relate to.

In the second year at school, Jacinta Crow arrived. People gawked and stared at her, because Jacinta had white hair. Not like white-blonde that you can get at a hairdressers, but old-lady type white hair.

Rumour has is that her parent’s died in mysterious circumstances. Students, being cruel as they sometimes are, believed that Jacinta killed them, and had been sent to our town, far away from her original home as punishment.

Unlike Beth, whose emotions were often all over the place, Jacinta had a coolness that Toril adored. Someone else Toril adored, Sherlock Holmes, had Dr. Watson as his foil, and Beth….didn’t really fit the bill. Jacinta, on the other hand, did. In drama class, the normally reserved Jacinta came into her own when play acting with Toril. Jacinta later admitted to have never read any of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s works, but said that she did in order to get close to Toril.

“Why did you say you had read the stories, when you hadn’t?” asked Toril.

“I needed a friend,” said Jacinta, “and you looked like you needed a kindred spirit.”

Those were exactly the words Toril was looking for. Just how Jacinta could know this, Toril could not fathom a guess. I could see it irked Beth terribly, and finally, the long silence between us both ended.

“Hey Romilly,” she said brightly. “Want a coffee?”

I had been looking in the shop windows at things I could not afford. I turned around to see her. “Oh, hi Beth, how are you doing?”

“I’m good. You got time for a chat?”

“Sure.”

We sat down at the coffee house and Beth apologised for being so distant. I had had time to think about the cold note she had left me, and I couldn’t help but spit bullets at her.

“Beth, the only reason you are talking to me now is because you feel Toril and whatshername – Jacinta – are freezing you out. Not a nice feeling is it, to be dumped, without a chance to defend yourself, is it?”

“It’s not, Milly, honestly.”

I glared at her. I would not have her call me a pet name after how she treated me. Two long years and she had never said a word. We both knew why though.

“You had Toril, and with her and Jacinta you were making a pretty nice crew, weren’t you? Now it’s not working out so good, you come back to me. I’m not going to be used, Beth.”

“I’m not using you!” Beth screamed. “I never was! I missed you, it was me that messed it all up, and I’m sorry. I freaked out when I saw your hands like that. I am
so
sorry. I’m hoping we could talk, and maybe, you know, we can all be friends. You, me, Toril and Jacinta. Please, Milly.”

I didn’t glare at her this time. I felt rather ashamed of myself. Also, I was annoyed at Beth. We had wasted time. I didn’t mind her having other friends, but I hated that we had lost two years of what had been up to then, a potentially great friendship.

I still wasn’t sure about Toril and Jacinta. Both girls regarded me with disdain, as pretty much everyone else did. I wasn’t a mixer, and I let the students know it.

I was, however, sure about Beth. There was an earnest expression in her eyes that told me she really did want to be friends again.

Still, I thought it best to say what I thought, even if it meant losing her friendship. Again.

“I don’t think the Witch or White-Hair will want me tagging along like some lost puppy, Beth.”

Expecting her infamous Irish temper to flare up again, I braced myself, except, it didn’t happen.

Beth sat down again and sipped her coffee.

“Toril knows she is not much of a witch, but she’s working on it. As for Jacinta, she’s had it rather hard in life. You know what I’m talking about. I’d been in Gorswood Mental Hospital myself for a few months. Jay’s parents were thought to be amongst the group who set the place on fire. I thought with Rosewinter being close by, you’d know that. Your safe haven is in the vicinity of crazy people Romilly. At least, the ghosts of the crazy people that roam the woods. If you’re not scared when you’re there, you should be. Not all the horrors of Gorswood Forest lie in the East, you know.”

“Don’t try and scare the f-, the hell out of me, Beth.”

“Yeah, well, maybe when you and her are close friends, she’ll let you in on it. But I wouldn’t be a good friend if I gossiped. So I can’t tell you, except to say that maybe you shouldn’t called them
Wooden-Witch
and
White-Hair
to their faces.”

“I didn’t mean disrespect. It’s what some at the school used to call them.”

“But you know better than to do that, Milly. You, of all people.”

Beth was right. I shouldn’t name call, and bay for blood like the rest of the sheep. I had been on the wrong end of it often enough.

“I know. Sorry again.”

I just had to ask her.

“Beth…did you ever tell Toril, Jacinta,
anyone
, about that night? You know, what you saw, in the wood-cabin? I had kept that rumour from becoming truth all the time at school, you know?”

“Jesus God, no. I told no-one.”

“But your folks knew, right?”

“They assumed something, incorrectly of course. I mean, they know your parents too, and parents talk. I told them nothing about your hands, and confessed to being completely bombed out on drink. Grounded for a week, and had to say a full rosary every day for three months. My soul was saved. Father Brannigan exorcised the demon.”

Beth laughed that infectious, contagious laugh again.

She grabbed my hand and squeezed. “I’m okay, Milly, honestly. We’re okay, right?”

“Absolutely.”

I meant it. It was great to be back with Beth. The way I saw it, having Toril and Jacinta as friends, even if they weren’t close ones, didn’t matter. It was a bonus. So there would be four of us, and that sure beat one versus the world.

*
                            *                            *

Of course, it couldn’t last. Things were just going too well, and once I had revealed to the girls the marks I had got, and also how I had gotten them, the friendship melted away.

The two girls seemed to have convinced Beth that I was self-harming, and Toril, who should have been more open-minded because of her Wiccan beliefs, simply wasn’t, and whilst the three of them gelled together even more, I was frozen out.

I had been told by Father Brannigan, the school chaplain and Beth’s family priest, to always be honest. A fat lot of good that had done me.

With my every waking moment I found myself wishing that Nan had never given me the Mirror.

*                            *                            *

I awaken with a start. There’s shouting all around me. Some voices are out there in the distance.

“It’s a green bottle blue, Alix, I’m sure of it. Look at these markings!” said one voice.

“Be quiet and stay back!” said another. “That spider’s got bigger problems. That’s a tarantula hawk spider wasp, if I’m not mistaken. Saw it on the box the other night.”

“Shut up, will you, and help me with the girl. And get those things away from here. That’s not even funny.”

“Troy, have a sense of humour. Just, help me get her up.”

The second boy was even bigger and broader than Troy,  hooked his hands under my arms and dragged me away with ease me away from the spider, which is now being attacked by a horrid looking wasp with a black body and rust-red wings. It’s one of the most horrific things I have ever seen in my life, and I thought after the tarantula, I would never say that.

The wasp was dragging the tarantula away. I lay there, absolutely petrified, the wasp’s deathly buzz ringing in my ears. I never thought I would feel sorry for spiders, until now.

A girl appeared in the clearing, and looked straight at me. I knew who it was – Jacinta, but I was still dizzy, and heavily disorientated.

“Jay, come over here,” said Troy. “She’s bleeding, and needs help.”

I hadn’t even told my friends where I was staying. Where had they come from anyway?

Had Beth led them here?

I staggered to my feet. “Easy now,” said Troy. “It’s fine, Rom, it’s us.”

I wasn’t coherent enough to answer properly, I just knew had to find my way back to Rosewinter.

Troy wasn’t prepared to leave it at that, and motioned the others to follow him, and catch me up. I was good at few things at school, but running was one of them, playing music was another. Once I got back to Rosewinter and cleaned myself up, I planned to spend a long time with my violin. Back then, that’s how Troy, of course, knew me. He could play the piano, I could play the violin, and well, that was it. He showed no interest in me, and I failed to show the right kind of interest in him, and here I was, stuck in shame-on-you-land.

I ran as fast as I could. All the same, the group were not far behind me as I threw myself into my sanctuary. Rosewinter may have some evil there, but I preferred it to staying outside, where the group continued to give chase.

That was when I heard the familiar authoritative tone of Toril Withers, who was screaming out to Troy to go no further.