Freya Snow Pup Trilogy

by L. C. Mawson

  Damon raised an eyebrow. “Scared how?”

  She shrugged, letting out an irritated groan. “I don’t know! I’m sure it was just some trick of the light, or I was just jumpy because I accidentally watched a really scary bit of Spirited Away. I just... I kept seeing eyes in mirrors. Or, you know, I thought I saw eyes in mirrors. Like someone was watching me. I know, I know, it’s really silly...”

  “That’s not silly,” he assured her, though he was looking at her with a strange expression that she couldn’t place. “So, you won’t be coming with me tonight?”

  “I... I’m being ridiculous. Of course I’ll go with you.”

  “Do you have a costume?”

  She paused at that before shaking her head. “Nope. And I bet the costume shop will be packed.”

  “I walked by it on the way here. There was a line. And a bouncer.”

  “A bouncer? Really?” She sighed, shaking her head. “You know, I think the jewelry place has masks and wigs, and it’s probably not as packed. I can string together a TV Black Canary costume with stuff from there and stuff at home.”

  FREYA RETURNED HOME for an hour to put her costume on, and found that most of that time was taken applying black eye shadow around her eyes.

  “I look like the Winter Soldier and Rocket Raccoon’s love child,” she complained to Amber as she placed her mask over her face, checking that she had covered all of the skin within the eye holes. She was no longer so worried about talking to her guardian in her room, as Amber had shown her how to make guards which would soundproof the room when the door was closed.

  “I don’t know who they are,” Amber said simply. “It’ll look fine once you put the mask on properly.”

  Freya gave a reluctant hum of agreement as she realised that she was done. The mask had thin ribbon for her to tie around her head, which she knew would be annoyingly fiddly.

  “Hey Amber,” she said as she finally managed to get it tied in place. “Is Halloween really a thing? Like, with magic and stuff, I mean.”

  Amber nodded. “Death is rather cagey about where you go when he takes your soul after you die, but wherever it is definitely gets closer to this realm on Halloween. Most Humans won’t know the difference, but magical beings, and even Sensitive Humans, can feel a change. It can be... unsettling.”

  Freya gave a disgruntled hum. She’d never really given much thought to life after death. When you died, you died. That was it. Obviously, Amber being there should have told her differently, but Amber was different. Death let her linger. For everyone else, she assumed that Death taking them was it. The end of the line. She’d never really believed that she was jumpy on Halloween because of ghosts. Not real ghosts anyway. She had assumed they were just figments of her overactive imagination.

  She wondered if she should just start attributing everything weird that ever happened to magic from now on.

  “When I was little, I thought I saw eyes watching me in mirrors on Halloween,” Freya admitted as she pulled on her blonde wig.

  “That’s not surprising. Mirrors are often used as portals or windows between realms.”

  Freya pulled a face as she finished her outfit by putting on her leather jacket, inspecting herself in the mirror. “I’m not exactly happy about ghosts watching me.”

  “You know that I’m technically a ghost, right?”

  “Exactly.” Freya hadn’t exactly been quiet on the fact that Amber watching her before she came into her powers unsettled her. She knew that Amber hadn’t really had another option. She needed to keep an eye on her, and make sure she didn’t attract the attention of other magical beings, but she hadn’t been able to gather enough power to possess anyone until Freya was already a teenager, meaning that they couldn’t interact.

  It still weirded her out, though.

  “I’m not going to have to fight ghosts tonight, am I?” Freya asked as she put her phone into her pocket, ready to go out for the night.

  “I doubt it,” Amber assured her. “They will be just as incorporeal as I am. They won’t be able to harm you.”

  “Good to know.”

  “Though, if they do start bleeding through to this world, you may not be able to call me. I’m technically supposed to be on that side and things can get... messy if I get too close to the wobbly bits.”

  “Wobbly bits? That’s what it’s called? Wobbly bits in the veil between worlds?”

  “Well, I’m not exactly well-versed in the correct vernacular on the topic,” Amber defended. “So yes, I shall refer to them as wobbly bits.”

  FREYA HURRIED TO MEET Damon, finding him on the street corner by Kevin’s house, looking at his phone. He was wearing a black onesie with a glow-in-the-dark skeleton pattern on it. On the wall next to him was a skull mask.

  “Hey,” she called to get his attention.

  He blinked at her for a few moments before recognising her.

  “Well, I guess it’s confirmed that the mask and wig are good enough to hide your identity,” he joked.

  She laughed. “Now we just need to find some crime to stop. I guess you could pass as a budget Ghost Rider.”

  “I’m just here for the skeleton war,” he told her as he put the mask on.

  “You came dressed as an old meme?”

  “I came dressed as a skeleton, who can be considered part of an old meme in certain circumstances.”

  “Nerd.”

  “She said, while dressed as a comic book character.”

  “I’m actually dressed as the TV iteration, I think you’ll find.”

  “I rest my case.” He pointed down to the other side of the cul-de-sac. “Come on. Kevin’s house is the one with all the pumpkins and stuff.”

  Freya looked down the street and indeed saw that one of the front gardens was filled with pumpkins and skeleton props.

  “Okay, I can vaguely understand one person getting overexcited about Halloween, but why is everyone else playing along? This seems too... I don’t know... Childish for your friend group. Shouldn’t you all be on the town moor, smoking weed and being too cool for this?”

  Damon rolled his eyes. “They are not like that, Freya.”

  She made a disbelieving hum, folding her arms as he led her to Kevin’s.

  “Also, Kevin’s parents aren’t here, and his brother bought a metric-ton of booze.”

  She smirked as it finally made sense.

  As they approached the front door, they were greeted by someone covered in a bedsheet, with poorly shaped eye holes cut out of it.

  “Ooooooooohhhh, Iiiii’m aaa spoooooooky ghoooooooost,” she said, waving her arms under the sheet.

  “Nice last minute costume,” Damon commented, pushing his mask up to the top of his head.

  “Thaaaaaanks,” the ghost said before dropping the voice. “I couldn’t afford to splash out on a costume, so me mam let me have this old thing.” She turned to Freya. “And who are you meant to be?”

  “Black Canary?”

  “Who?”

  “From Arrow. You know, the TV show...”

  The ghost shook her head before turning back to Damon. “If you’re going to bring a date from another school, try to bring someone who knows the difference between Halloween and Comic Con.”

  “She is not from another school,” Damon said, seemingly bewildered by the comment. “It is Freya.”

  The ghost nodded. “Well, I guess that makes sense then.”

  Freya stalked off at that, not wanting to risk using her power to set the bedsheet aflame.

  “Gemma is like that with everyone,” Damon assured her as he caught up with her. He hadn’t replaced his mask, seemingly forgetting about it. “Don’t let it get to you.”

  Freya sighed. “I’m not. I actually couldn’t care less about her opinion of me. I just don’t have to stand there and listen to it.”

  “Fair enough,” he agreed as they moved through the dark rooms of the house. Kevin had seemingly set up various spinning party lights in some of the rooms, with the o
ther illuminated by lamps with paper decorations draped across them. The whole thing looked like a giant fire hazard to Freya.

  That didn’t bother her, though. No, what bothered her was the loud, thumping music that was being pumped throughout the house. She was immediately struck by the thought that there had to be a spell or something that could dampen the noise, but she didn’t know it. She made a mental note to ask Amber about it later.

  “Let’s get a drink,” Damon said after a moment, leading her through to the kitchen.

  He pointed to the array of spirits. “What do you want?”

  “Do they not just have beer?” she asked.

  Damon spun around before yelling “Kevin!”

  A guy in a black cloak with a scythe spun around. “Hey, Damon! You made it!”

  “Yeah! Great party, dude.”

  “Thanks. I can’t believe so many people showed up.” He turned to Freya. “Who’s your friend?”

  Freya answered for herself. “It’s me. Freya. We have drama together.”

  Kevin frowned at that, turning back to Damon. “You invited Freya?” he hissed.

  “Oh my god, I am right here,” Freya said, her arms folded tightly across her chest. “But if I’m not welcome, I’ll go.”

  “He didn’t mean-” Damon started, but Freya had already stormed off.

  FREYA HEADED THROUGH the first door, only to end up in what appeared to be the dining room. She faltered when she realised that there were no decorations and no other guests, telling Freya that this was probably a no-go zone. She didn’t care. She was storming out anyway.

  She moved past the large mirror, only to stop dead. She caught sight of something out of the corner of her eye. Turning to look in the mirror, she saw that her own reflection had been replaced by that of a pale figure with messy black hair and a swirling black tattoo around her right eye. Her eyes were entirely white.

  “Help me,” the figure in the mirror rasped, causing Freya to jump backwards, into the dining table.

  “Amber!” Freya called out, but there was no answer.

  Freya spun around, intending to leave, only to see the woman from the mirror was now physically in the room. She looked as if the colour had been washed out of her, but she was solid. She was sitting in the corner of the room, her knees clutched to her chest as her jet back hair stuck out at odd angles. She had a black, spiralling tattoo across her left shoulder and the left side of her neck, seemingly spreading out from her heart, matching the one around her eye. All up and down her arms and legs were deep slashes, though no blood was spilling from them. Probably because she didn’t have any.

  Freya finally found her voice, managing to say “You look like hell,” in a slightly strained voice.

  The woman jerked her head up to look at Freya, her eyes an identical shade of green to her own.

  And then she laughed. It was a little broken, but it was definitely a laugh, as she looked over her arms and legs.

  “I can see that,” she said as she stood up, quickly looking distraught. “Oh, I really do, don’t I? I didn’t think of that... What if Lily is the one to find me?”

  Freya’s mind honed in on her mother’s name, though she quickly told herself that Lily was a common enough name.

  “Lily?” she asked.

  “My daughter... Can you find her and make sure she’s not the one to find me? Please? Her full name is Lily Snow. I know it’s not a Reaper’s job, but please just find her...”

  Freya frowned, deliberately focusing on anything but the fact that this was her grandmother in front of her.

  “I’m not a Reaper.”

  The woman blinked at her a few times.

  “No, of course you’re not,” she said after a while, seemingly to herself. “He wouldn’t send a Reaper. Of course he wouldn’t send a Reaper... He didn’t. I remember now. He blamed himself... But he didn’t send a Reaper.”

  She turned back to Freya with a frown. “How long?”

  “How long what?”

  “How long has it been?”

  Freya shrugged. “A while, but I can’t be more specific since I don’t know when you died.”

  “1988.”

  Freya quickly worked it out in her head. “You’ve been dead for twenty seven years.”

  The woman folded her arms with a frown. “If you’re not a Reaper, then how do you see me?”

  “It’s Halloween.”

  The woman raised an eyebrow. “I have corporeal form. After moving on. Even I was never that powerful. I don’t think...”

  Freya shrugged sheepishly. “I don’t know for sure but... I have a hunch.”

  “A hunch?”

  “Shared blood,” Freya figured. “You said your daughter’s name was Lily Snow?”

  The woman nodded. “What of it?”

  “Well, that was my mother’s name.” She pulled her mother’s pendant from under her top, where she always kept it. “This was hers, apparently. And, I guess, yours. Amber said her mother gave it to her.”

  She nodded, looking it over. “It belonged to my grandmother, who passed it down to my mother. Then she passed it down to me. I suppose Lily would have gotten it after I died... You said was when talking about her. Past tense. Where is she? And how does she have a fully grown daughter in so little time?”

  “Well, I mean, I’m only fourteen. She died when I was born. That was back in 2001. She was nineteen.”

  She looked Freya over before shaking her head. “She died at nineteen? From childbirth?”

  “Well, no, they just coincide. She died stopping the war,” Freya explained, shifting her weight from foot to foot. She wasn’t sure how she could feel more uncomfortable.

  “Of course she did,” the woman muttered, shaking her head. “You said Amber looks after you now?”

  Freya frowned. “I guess. It’s complicated.”

  She heard Damon shout “Freya!” at that point, distracting her slightly.

  The woman grabbed her shoulders, bringing her attention back to her.

  “Don’t trust Amber,” she warned. “She is probably the reason your mother died.”

  She disappeared just as Damon entered the room.

  “Are you okay?” Damon asked.

  “I... I’m not sure,” Freya admitted, her eyes still glued to where her grandmother had been just a moment before.

  “I know Kevin was an arse, but it wasn’t about you. Not really. He just thought you might tell about the booze.”

  “It wasn’t what Kevin said,” Freya managed after a moment, realising that she was shaking. She tried to stop, but her efforts did nothing.

  “Was it ghosts?” he asked, no judgement in his tone.

  “Damon?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Let’s just stay in and watch Cabin in the Woods next year.”

  FREYA GROANED, THROWING her mask down onto her desk, as it occurred to her just how difficult it would be to take off all of the black eyeshadow she had on.

  Amber appeared as she pulled a babywipe from the packet on her desk.

  “You tried to call me before,” Amber said, a little hurriedly. “Was everything alright?”

  Freya nodded. “Yeah. I just talked with a ghost.”

  “You talked with one? How did it get through enough for that?”

  “Shared blood. It was my grandmother.”

  Amber seemed to pale at that, her eyes widening slightly.

  “You talked with Hope? What did she say?”

  Freya shrugged, turning her attention back to removing her makeup. “She wasn’t all that coherent at first. She hadn’t realised how long she’d been dead. She asked me to find her daughter and I recognised my mother’s name. Then she recognised my pendant when I showed it to her. She disappeared pretty quickly, though. But not after warning me not to trust you.”

  She turned back to Amber. “She said that you were probably the reason my mother died.”

  Amber nodded, her arms folded tightly across her chest.

  “S
he was right. I’ve never hidden the fact that your mother died because of choices I made, Freya.”

  Freya had to admit that she wasn’t wrong there as she leaned back against her desk.

  “I know. It’s just... different to hear someone else say it. She seemed to really... She was adamant that I shouldn’t trust you.”

  “And she has every reason to think that way,” Amber admitted. “After my husband and son died... I let the Ancient inside me take hold. I didn’t even realise I was doing at first, but I relied on her more and more. She is a being of power far beyond any left in this Creation, and she doesn’t really see people as people. They’re just tools. Just part of her equations.”

  “And that’s why my grandmother hated you? Because you didn’t treat people as people?”

  Amber sighed. “Because I didn’t treat her as a person. I could have helped her, and I didn’t. Not when it mattered. I just steered her power towards good use. In the end, I was the only one surprised when she killed herself.”

  “She did that to herself?” Freya asked, remembering the deep gashes up and down Hope’s arms and legs.

  “Yes. I realised what I had become after that, and I removed myself. I lived alone, with little contact with the outside world, until one of your mother’s teachers sought me out. I had hoped that I could help your mother in the way that I couldn’t help your grandmother, but I miscalculated. And we both know how well that turned out.”

  Freya raised an eyebrow. “I mean, you died. I wouldn’t exactly call that a ‘miscalculation’.”

  Amber nodded, though she in no way looked as if she believed Freya’s words. “Regardless, the Ancient is gone now, and I have no agenda beyond keeping you safe. If you trust nothing else, trust that.”

  Freya mulled it over for a moment before deciding to trust Amber until she did something to betray that trust. She had certainly never tried to use her as a weapon in any war.

  “Okay then,” Freya said simply before returning to removing her makeup.

  “What else did she say?” Amber asked.

  “Nothing I can think of. Why?”

  Amber shrugged. “Just curious. It’s not every day you get to speak to a dead family member.”