by Melissa Gunn
At least it’s not high summer, a circle would be impossible to draw then.
She looked about the garden and saw tall stinging nettles near the back of the ornamental border.
Not such careful gardeners after all. Luckily.
Wincing at the sting from the old leaves, she wrenched off a few stems and wrapped them around the willow twig. Tall, barely-seeded umbels of fennel completed the thyrsus. It was not a traditional Dionysian wand, but then again, she wasn’t trying traditional magic. She had a sudden memory of Lio commenting on the blood from her scratches, when she had summoned the sky river. Grimacing at the sheer grossness of it, she picked at one of her scabs till it bled once more, and pressed a few drops of blood onto the wand.
Ugh, I hope I never have to do that again. What now? I wish I’d been taught how to do this properly.
She started singing her song-web, unsure though she was. She hummed a few tunes at random, trying to get a feel for what would work here. Something with an unexpected twist, perhaps. Freya glanced around. Several were-foxes had gathered around the edges of the garden, and every one of them was watching her or Tammy. Or possibly Tammy’s boyfriend, who was holding Tammy’s hand and whispering to her. Freya caught his eye and put a finger to her lips. She didn’t know what stray voices would do, and she didn’t think the unexpected twist she needed in the song should come from a were-fox.
Ah, maybe that song about the two sisters. It seems appropriate somehow.
More confidently now, she began to sing an old song about sisters warring for the same man’s attention.
Not that we are, but never mind...
At first nothing seemed to be happening. But Tammy joined in on the last verse, their voices twining together, a semblance of harmony where there had been none before.
“I’ll be true unto my love...”
As their voices faded away, the centre of the ornamental pond seemed to dimple. The water level rose until it was overflowing the edges of the pond, lapping at Freya’s feet. Just as she remembered from that long-ago summer with Tammy, the pond seemed to invert, drawing up more water than could possibly be contained in it. A figure formed, rippling and brown with flecks of pond weed dripping down its back like hair. Instead of legs, the figure’s body flowed out from the hips down to the pond, a little like a dress.
“Watch out, it may be connected to the Gypsy Race,” murmured Tammy, pausing to take a pained breath.
“What’s that?” asked Freya.
“Just an underground river round here. Never mind, keep doing your thing,” Tammy waved away the issue.
Freya took a breath, then let it out. What could she say?
“Er. Greetings. I need help. I need to summon a sea goddess.”
The water column turned its humanoid head towards her. Freya was sure it was regarding her with contempt.
“Truly?” it asked her. “Why?”
“Look, I don’t know why. I just got asked to help my sister, here. The were-foxes told me I needed the North Sea goddess. Nehalennia. Can you help?”
“Perhaps. For a price.” The water deity seemed to be unwilling, swishing to and fro, the pond weed tumbling about.
Freya tapped her fingers against her leg.
“What sort of price?”
The deity indicated Tammy.
“The first litter.”
Freya was confused.
“What do you mean, litter?” She had a sudden internal image of an overflowing rubbish bin.
“Your sister. She will lose this litter without aid. Let me have it, and I will deal with Nehalennia.”
Freya, still disturbed by the idea of her sister carrying a ‘litter’ replied firmly.
“I can’t make that promise. My sister’s children aren’t mine to give away.”
“They are not for you,” said Tammy unexpectedly, addressing the water deity. The sisters looked at each other in unusual accord.
“All I want is to call Nehalennia. That shouldn’t cost so much,” Freya bargained.
“Very well. I will take my price from your future.”
Freya blinked. That sounded ominous.
What is this, Rumpelstiltskin?
“Not if it’s lethal!” said Tammy.
“It won’t be, for her,” the deity assured.
“I don’t want to agree to an unspecified promise! You could be asking for anything!” objected Freya.
“You’ve already turned down my first offer,” the deity replied.
“Because it was unreasonable.”
“You are hardly in a position to quibble.”
A future price seems so huge. What could a water deity want from me? Freya shivered. Beside her, Tammy moaned.
“Do something, Freya. I hurt. I don’t want to die.”
And here I am acting like the big sister again... but what else can I do?
“You’re not dying, Tammy. You’ll be OK.”
And I sure hope I’m right about that.
The unnamed deity surged forward threateningly, but did not break the drawn circle Freya had made. Freya put her hands on her hips.
Act confident and maybe you’ll look like you are confident.
“Make your price specific. I’m not agreeing to anything so vague,” she said.
“Firstborn children are the traditional price for supernatural assistance. But I have no wish for an actual child. What I want is potential. The potential that a supernatural child brings,” said the water deity.
“I can’t give away something I don’t have.”
“But you can give away something you might have. You are young. You have time for many things. Grant me this one thing. It will not hurt you, and in return I will help you get help for your sister.”
“Well... I guess so, then,” Freya agreed at last. “But just one potential. Not many. Help me call Nehalennia.”
The deity nodded her agreement.
“It is decided,” she said.
I hope I haven’t just sacrificed my future, thought Freya. I have no idea what ‘one potential supernatural child’ means to a goddess.
The deity raised watery hands, and they all heard the sound of the sea grow abruptly louder. The sound of waves crashing on the shore grew closer, and with a splash that drenched them all, a large wave surged through the garden, flattening plants and drawing at the legs of those standing. Freya shuddered as the wave overtopping them reminded her of her tsunami dreams. Instead of departing like a normal wave, this one stayed, swishing through the garden with a soft seething noise. Out of the wave rose another deity. This one was definitely female. Another, smaller wave coursed through the garden and became a dog-shaped lump of water at her side.
“Almighty Bastet, not her again,” muttered Karim, forgotten until now.
Freya spared him a glance, remembering his tales of a goddess on his sea voyage. Where had he sprung from, anyway? She’d thought he was fetching her mother. Before she could ponder his re-appearance further, Lisichka and the other weres sank to their knees in the water.
“Our lady,” they all intoned. Freya looked at them uneasily. She’d brought them their goddess, it seemed. But at what cost to herself? Lisichka arose and addressed the sea goddess directly.
“We are seeking to return to your lands, Lady Nehalennia. With the soon-to-be-born children of this water-summoner” - she gestured towards Tammy - “we will have regained our water affinity. But they need your help to be born alive.”
The sea goddess looked at Tammy, then back to the weres.
“A worthy endeavour. And my dominion is growing with every passing season. I would welcome new denizens in my realm. But I can only do so much,” Her voice was like waves playing on seashells, rough, but with unexpected tinkles. “Not all may live.”
This sounds worrying. Does Tammy know what they plan? Freya didn’t trust this goddess an inch - and she trusted the were-foxes even less than that.
Nehalennia transferred her attention to Freya.
“I under
stand you have already bargained with your future.” She smiled. It was not a pleasant expression. “I will take my price elsewhere.” She splashed into wave form once again, her dog following suit. The waves rolled improbably towards Tammy and Freya, and faster than thought, broke through Freya’s circle. The waves sloshed around Freya for a moment, then surged over Tammy, who had collapsed to lie on the grass, clutching at her stomach. Her water-covered form writhed and twisted. A drenched scream bubbled forth, then she was still.
“Don’t!” Freya cried, and throwing salt at the nameless pond-deity, she dismissed it without ceremony. Pulling out the magnifying glass, she glanced towards the sun - thank goodness it had come out from behind the clouds for a change - and angled the glass to catch the light. A small white circle played upon Nehalennia’s waves, and slowly but surely the waves began to steam. Sunlight - the only thing which could change the nature of the sea. Sometimes high-school physics was worth knowing. Although, now Freya saw how small her circle of light was, she realised that it must feel like a mere pinprick on the surface of Nehalennia’s bulk. Nevertheless, as abruptly as she had surged forward as a wave, Nehalennia reared back into her person-form.
“You’ve made your point,” she said, quite pleasantly. “But you’re too late. I have helped the litter live and taken my price.”
“No!” Freya’s mother was suddenly there, splashing heavily across the small garden towards her daughters. Dropping to her knees beside Tammy, Danae looked vengefully towards Nehalennia.
“You. You did this. You have overdone your price.”
Nehalennia shrugged, a ripple running through her watery form.
“I was called. I came. Anything more I do is surely a bonus.”
“A life taken is not a bonus. Give it back.” Danae was fierce in her grief.
“You know I can’t do that,” said Nehalennia carelessly.
“Then take another in its place. Make it mine.”
Freya was horrified all over again.
“No, Mum!”
Nehalennia merely laughed, the sound of waves crashing on beach. She looked at Freya again.
“I have a new companion. You have dismissed the water-spirit who brought me here. I am bound no longer. Farewell. Enjoy my gifts.”
She collapsed into waves once more, and the waves drained quickly back towards the sea. Beside Tammy, Danae cried out as her older daughter was dragged with the receding tide. She reached for Tammy, and Freya left her useless circle to clutch at Tammy too, but to no avail.
The two of them ran after the departing wave, grabbing frantically at Tammy. Freya managed to snag Tammy’s hand for a moment, only to have it torn from her grasp. In that brief moment, Freya felt Tammy’s hand grip hers.
“She’s alive, Mum!’ Freya gasped. Stumbling over rocks and roots, they reached the edge of the sea all too soon. But the grey waves surged back and forth, unbroken by Tammy’s figure. Freya and her mother collapsed together onto the gritty shore, for once aligned in their sorrow.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
AFTER THE FLOODS
Freya and Danae sat for a long time together on the shore, eyes searching in vain for Tammy. The sun shone thinly down, and gulls called harshly to one another. Freya felt empty, too shocked for simple grief.
“I always worried it would end up like this,” said Danae.
Freya looked at her in surprise.
“With Tammy taken by a vengeful sea-goddess? Seriously, Mum?”
“Well, maybe not exactly like this, but yes, I’ve been afraid of vengeful sea-gods for many years. Since I was about your age, in fact,” said Danae.
“What happened to you, back then?” Freya was somehow sure that something had happened. Perhaps the something that had sentenced their family to life on the coast all these years.
“I suppose it doesn’t matter if I tell you now.” Danae’s voice cracked.
Mum must love Tammy after all, despite all the arguments.
“Mmm?” intoned Freya cautiously, not wanting to stop any helpful reminisces.
“Well... I was very naive at your age. Much more so than you, I think. I lived on the shore, lived and breathed seaside life. But - well, there was a boy. I thought he was a full human, but now I wonder... Anyway, he was handsome, but he never noticed me. So I struck a bargain with the sea-gods. I’d just started to realise I had power, but it was so little really. It couldn’t help me get that boy, and that infuriated me. So, I went to the sea, and I asked for help. As you’ve seen, the sea-gods can do all sorts of things, but there’s always a price. I didn’t care, I just wanted him.”
“You agreed to a future price, didn’t you, Mum?” Freya was disapproving, frowning at the thought of her mother’s carelessness.
“Frigg help me, I did. And how I have paid, and paid, and paid.”
“Looks like Tammy has paid, to me,” said Freya, then wished she hadn’t. Danae started to cry again, harsh sobs that shook her body.
“Oh, Mum...,” Freya trailed off. What was there to say? She patted her mother’s back, then realised that she did want to know more. “What happened to the boy, then? The one you paid so much for?”
“I had him for a night. It was - well, you don’t want to hear about that. The next day, he announced he was leaving, he had a job over in the gun states. I would have followed, but there was no way I could afford to go. I got offered a short-term job over here, which I took mostly to show that I wasn’t heart-broken - just to show him, you see.”
“That’s not a great reason, Mum.”
“I know. At least, I know that now. Of course, then I discovered I was pregnant with Tammy and met your father. I ended up stuck here, and stuck on the coast, hoping that the sea-goddess wouldn’t take her price too soon, or that the price would not be more than I could pay. At least you were noble in bargaining away your future, to save someone else.”
Freya didn’t feel particularly noble. She heartily wished that Tammy hadn’t needed rescuing, and that no price had been required. She digested the revelations from her mother slowly, picking up handfuls of grey sand and sifting them through her fingers. The sand was wet and claggy from the recent waves.
“Wait, you said you were pregnant, then you met Dad? Tammy isn’t even my full sister?”
“That’s right. Dion suspected, of course. That never helped our relationship. But he’s long gone, now.”
“You should have told us, Mum.”
“Would it have made a difference? You’re sisters all the same.”
“I know, but it might have helped explain our differences.” Freya thought of the years of conflict between her and Tammy - petty sibling conflicts, perhaps, but they hadn’t helped anyone. She found a shell in her handful of sand and cracked it into tiny pieces.
“Perhaps I should have, but there never seemed to be a right time. I suppose now it’s too late,” Danae said.
“Yes. Much too late”.
KARIM APPEARED AT LAST, avoiding the puddles that remained. Freya smiled a little despite herself.
‘Cat-boy’ had clearly not been a totally unwarranted name for him. He knelt and put an arm around Freya, ignoring her mother’s sudden sharp glance.
“Are you OK?” he asked her.
Freya considered the question with rather more care than it probably deserved.
“No. No, I am not OK. But I don’t think I want to talk about it now. I want to go home.”
“Come on then. Let’s go see how it survived that wave,” Karim suggested.
Freya groaned. She hadn’t considered that her home might be in the path of that improbable wave of water.
“You go ahead, Freya. I’m going to stay and sort out what’s happened between my daughter and these... people.” Danae cast a flinty glance at the were-foxes who hovered awkwardly behind them.
Freya still hesitated. Was her Mum safe with these weres? Danae must have seen the uncertainty on Freya’s face.
“I’ve kept myself alive for longer than you’ve bee
n around, Freya. I’ll be fine.”
I guess if she doesn’t want me stay, she feels safe enough.
Freya and Karim hurried through the edges of town to her house. It was still standing, to Freya’s relief. At least this house was far enough from the sea that the storm surge had not washed it away. The garden was another matter, utterly destroyed, battered by waves and water.
“Mum is going to be so mad when she sees this!” Freya gasped. The front door had been washed open. Debris - flotsam and jetsam was what they called it, Freya thought, dazedly - decorated the hall. Everything was wet.
“Don’t turn on anything electrical,” Karim warned unnecessarily. He was busy texting on his phone. She wondered how he could do something so mundane at a time like this.
“Don’t take any photos, please. I couldn’t bear this to end up on someone’s Flimflam feed.”
Karim looked up at her, dark eyes wide but unreadable in the dim hallway.
“Don’t worry. I’m just letting Aisha know what’s happened. I don’t do social media except with my archaeology group. And this is several hundred years too young to interest them. Now, bury it in sand for a thousand years, and I’d have something to photograph.”
“Oh you. Don’t tease, I’m not in the mood.” Freya continued up the hall. She glanced into the kitchen and wished she hadn’t. Seaweed decorated the floor, complete with a couple of crabs who scuttled for cover as she looked in. Bits of someone else’s garden gnome poked out from under the seaweed. The cupboards hung open, their contents scattered and soaked. The fridge was emitting buzzing, sparking noises.
“Karim!” Freya called. “Can you find the fuse box? It should be near the front door. We need to get everything turned off before we have a house fire to deal with as well as a flood.”
Karim poked his head into the kitchen before taking two long strides back along the hall to the fuse box.