Freya Snow Pup Trilogy

by L. C. Mawson

  “Same as the last one,” Freya said, holding back a curse as the Demon rolled out from under her blade.

  Body language and facial expressions definitely weren’t her thing, she allowed herself to think before refocusing on the Demon making a renewed attempt at her.

  The Demon reached to her side and Freya panicked, assuming that she was going for a source stone to augment her power.

  She grabbed the water from the puddles surrounding them, readying it to block a surge of Energy.

  Instead, a throwing knife whizzed right through the wall of water, catching Freya’s side and allowing the Demon to shift behind her.

  The next thing Freya knew, she had been kicked forward and onto the ground, the skin of her chin scraped away by the tarmac.

  “I focus on details rather than the overall idea,” Alice said as Freya jumped to her feet in one, smooth motion. She thanked the five minutes of ballet lessons when she was six for teaching her that trick.

  “Same,” Freya replied, the Demon in front of her frowning in confusion.

  Freya concentrated on the water once more. Her muscles still needed work, but her elemental magic was coming along faster than she could have hoped.

  “I take things too literally, so I often miss what people are trying to say,” Alice continued.

  Freya sent a cascade of water at the Demon, using it to pin her to the wall before replying.

  “I actually don’t think I’m that bad for that.”

  “What about insults?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You always used to take insults literally when you were little. You honestly believed that the kids in your maths class thought you were ‘stupid’, despite you being the top of the class, because they called you it.”

  “Okay, I get your point, but I don’t do that now.”

  “All right then,” Alice allowed as Freya made her way over to where she had trapped the Demon.

  The Demon spat at her, and Freya was a little impressed with herself to see blood in it.

  “The House of Javon will have their revenge,” the Demon yelled at her.

  “Hang on a sec,” Freya told Alice, muting her mic before turning back to the Demon. “Yeah, I don’t know what that is.”

  Amber appeared at that, seemingly sensing Freya’s questions.

  “If I had to take a guess, I would say that the Demon from Valentine’s was from the House of Javon,” Amber figured.

  “Oh...” She turned to the Demon, a little sheepish. “Sorry?”

  “You will pay for killing my love!”

  “She tried to kill me,” Freya defended, but she could see that she was going to get nowhere. “If I release you, will you leave?”

  “I’ve been watching you. You killed my love, and I’ll kill yours!”

  “Who the hell are you talking about?”

  The Demon sneered. “I’ve seen you fawn over him. Damon, I believe his name is.”

  “Oh, for the love of- We’re not together! Why do people keep thinking that we are?”

  Amber just gave her a pointed look.

  “Actually, don’t answer that,” Freya muttered before turning back to the Demon. “If I let you go, you’ll kill Damon, is that the gist of this conversation?”

  “I will flay him ali-”

  Freya had her sword through the Demon’s chest before she could finish.

  Amber had that look. The I don’t like it when you kill look, but Freya was going to continue ignoring it until Amber could actually offer up a viable alternative.

  “Damon’s a target for them now?” Freya asked her guardian as she let the water that had been holding the Demon disperse.

  “Potentially. It may be prudent to change your route so that you patrol closer to his house,” Amber told her before fading.

  Freya let out a groan before unmuting her mic.

  “I’m back.”

  “Okay, last one. I get extremely upset when the way I like to do things is suddenly changed.”

  Freya sighed before answering with “Yeah. Now and when I was a kid.”

  “Okay, that was it.”

  “What did I get?”

  “40.”

  “What’s the lower threshold for Autistic?”

  “31.”

  “Yeah... That sounds about right...”

  Book Two: White

  “Aunt ‘illy! Aunt ‘illy!”

  Tilly tried not to sigh into her coffee as her niece ran back into the house from the garden. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been allowed to sleep in. Or have a night out. She loved her niece, and of course she wasn’t going to leave her without a home in the wake of her sister’s suicide, but she still hadn’t ever imagined herself as a full-time carer for a child at 23.

  Or at any point, really. Fae didn’t usually have children of their own.

  “You’re covered in mud,” Tilly commented as she looked over the mess her niece had made herself into. “And you’re still in your pyjamas.”

  “I didn’t have time to get dressed!”

  Tilly gave in to her compulsion to sigh at that point. She had no idea how to deal with misbehaving children – in fact, her instinct was to encourage them – and she was wary of being too harsh with Lily after she had lost both of her parents in such quick succession.

  “Why not?” Tilly finally asked before drinking deeply from her mug, ignoring the slight burning sensation.

  “The fairies said they wanted to play!”

  That was the closest Tilly had ever come to doing a spit-take. She raised an eyebrow, pointing to her slightly damaged butterfly wings. “A Faerie like me?”

  Lily shook her head, grinning. “They’re little and sparkle-y.”

  “I’ll bet they are,” Tilly groaned, narrowing her eyes. “Stay here.”

  Lily did as she was told as Tilly stormed out into the garden. She made her way towards the hedge at the back, noticing the tell-tale sparkles her kind gave off when they embraced their heritage, much like her brother had.

  “Get out here. Now,” she commanded.

  Speaking of my brother, she thought to herself as one of the Fae landed on the branches of the hedge, just at her eye level. He was about two inches tall, with brown hair, and was clad in leaf-green garb. He looked about 11 years old. The exact age he had been when he had left for the Glades of the Fae, after their mother had been lost.

  “Peter,” Tilly greeted, placing her hands on her hips. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

  “I just wanted to play with my niece,” he said, innocently.

  Tilly wasn’t buying it. “You’re not taking her.”

  “Oh, come on, sis. Can’t you see how sad she is? To have lost both of her parents at such a young age... And she has no friends. You and I both know you’re not suited to this task. Do you not think she would be better off with me?”

  Tilly shook her head. She wasn’t stupid; Lily was going to grow up to be as powerful as her mother. This was simply the first of many moves to control her before she came into her power. Tilly knew that Hope hadn’t wanted her daughter anywhere near any of those politics, and Tilly was determined to adhere to her sister’s wishes.

  “Do not come back here again,” Tilly warned.

  Her brother scoffed. “You rejected your heritage, dear sister. You have not the power to vanquish me.”

  Tilly narrowed her eyes, letting a small flame dance across her palm. “I may have rejected the ways of the Fae, but I have spent my time training in combat magic your kind knows nothing of. Do not challenge me.”

  Her brother sighed, before disappearing. “I do not wish a fight between us,” his disembodied voice told her. “In the name of family, I shall leave her in your hands. But my offer remains open...”

  Tilly rolled her eyes, though let out a sigh of relief. Her brother may be many things, but Fae kept their word.

  Chapter One

  Freya couldn’t help but grin as she headed out of school, knowing that sh
e wouldn’t have to return until September. Provided that she decided to come back here for sixth form. Her last GCSE exam - which had, annoyingly, been French listening, which always tripped her up - was over and done with.

  Her grin was mostly down to the fact that this marked the end of her frumpy uniform and having to take subjects she hated. Goodbye all language-based subjects. From now on, she would only focus on what she was good at. Not to mention the freedom to leave during lunch and free periods.

  Of course, Freya should have known that such things never last long. Just as she was leaving the building, a rat-faced girl with shoulder-length, dark hair approached. Freya recognised her as Jamie, Damon’s girlfriend. Jamie hated Freya and made no effort to hide it. She seemed convinced that Freya was trying to steal Damon from her and dealt with it by spreading nasty rumours about her around school.

  Not that anyone believed them. Freya was known for having no friends, doing well in school, and being a “teacher’s pet.” No one was ready to believe that at night she headed into town in tight leather outfits and screwed anyone who looked at her.

  Though, Freya did suppose that her armour for Demon-hunting was mostly leather. She wondered if she had been sloppy with her glamours and Jamie had seen her one night. It might go towards explaining the basis for the strange rumour she had generated, Freya decided, despite the usual ones being “crazy.”

  “You bitch!” Jamie screamed, before slapping her across the face.

  Freya instinctively clenched her fist, but managed to stop herself from igniting it in flame, or using it to remove some of Jamie’s teeth.

  “You bloody boyfriend stealer!” Jamie continued, still screaming through tears.

  Freya put all of her effort into clamping down on her anger as a crowd began to form. The last thing she needed was to reveal her magic over something as trivial as getting back at Jamie. Also, it would be wrong, but that thought alone probably wouldn’t have stopped her from at least setting the screeching girl’s hair alight.

  “I hope you two are happy together, you bloody slut! What nasty little tricks did you use to seduce him, huh? Bloody tramp!”

  Freya actually let herself laugh aloud at that. Damon had no filter, and had never really twigged that his best friend being a girl would make talking about his sex life awkward. She knew exactly what Jamie had done with him, and the hypocrisy was hilarious to her.

  “Oh, grow the hell up, Jamie,” Freya told her, not noticing the low vibration beneath her cold words that had Jamie staring at her like a deer in the headlights.

  Freya quickly headed to the front gate where Damon, as always, was waiting for her. He hadn’t had an exam today, so he wasn’t in his uniform. Instead, he was wearing his usual black jeans and black t-shirt, despite the warm weather. Not that Freya could talk, since her own aversion to colour only made an exception for blood red. Plus, any t-shirt that fit Damon like that was nothing to complain about. The tight fabric showed off the wiry muscles beneath his skin, all across his lanky frame.

  Okay, so maybe Jamie’s accusations weren’t completely unfounded. Freya had always been attracted to her best friend, but it had been made clear to her over the years that he didn’t feel the same way. So, she buried those feelings and focused on just being his friend. Especially since his friendship wasn’t something she was willing to lose.

  He grinned as he noticed her approaching, a few strands of his long, jet-black hair escaping his ponytail to fall across his dark, almost-red eyes. She might have blushed, if her approach hadn’t resulted in her inhaling a sudden waft of cigarette smoke. She choked back a cough, as she always did. As much as she hated the smell of cigarettes, she was also kind of glad that Damon had started, since the smell was such a turn-off for her. It made it much easier to not act the fool in his presence.

  “What did you do to Jamie?” Freya asked with a raised eyebrow as he tossed his tab to the floor before falling in-step with her as they headed towards his place.

  He shrugged. “I broke up with her.”

  “Why?” She could think of several reasons, but she didn’t understand why it had taken so long.

  “She told me that I had to stop talking to you. I told her to shove it.”

  Freya couldn’t help but snort. “That might explain why she slapped me.”

  “Sorry,” Damon told her, his tone completely genuine. “So, did somebody call her an ambulance already, or...?”

  Freya rolled her eyes. “I held myself back. Barely. I swear, I don’t know what you saw in her.”

  He shrugged, which pretty much answered her question. He was a teenage boy and she was a willing girl he didn’t find questionable. A pretty low bar, which made Freya feel all the worse about him ignoring her. Not that it had been such a bad plan in the past. Freya had mostly been indifferent to all of Damon’s other girlfriends. Much like the rest of his friend group, Freya didn’t know them too well, and they had made it clear that, while they wouldn’t actively bully her, she wasn’t welcome to hang out with them. The problem with Jamie was that she had been the only recurring girlfriend, and she was the only one with an active hatred of Freya.

  “So...” Damon started once more. “This means I no longer have a date for prom tomorrow.”

  Freya rolled her eyes, feeling little sympathy. “Join the club.” She wouldn’t have even agreed to go if her foster mother, Margaret, hadn’t found out about it and bought her a new dress, assuming that she wanted to go.

  “Well, why don’t we go together?” Damon asked and Freya’s heart skipped a beat. “You know, as friends.”

  She almost sighed at herself before replying. “Sure, why not?”

  IT ALWAYS AMAZED FREYA how quickly time with Damon seemed to fly. It felt as if they had only just left school when they reached his place.

  “Be two minutes,” Freya told him as she headed into the bathroom to change into her workout gear.

  She wondered, as she so often did, if the girl who had broken into her magic while scared and alone in the school toilets would recognise her now. She hadn’t grown any taller, but her physique had changed. She wasn’t really thinner, except perhaps a little around her face, but many of her curves were now the result of muscle rather than fat.

  Maybe it wasn’t that she looked that different, she thought. Maybe it was just that she no longer hated how she looked. The spark of confidence had returned to her wild green eyes and a smile was gracing her lips far more regularly than in the past.

  Her workout gear consisted of black joggers and a white vest, with white and pink trainers. It was more practical than fashionable but she didn’t think she could really justify spending her pocket money on anything fancier, given how expensive workout gear could get.

  Freya moved back through to the training room, where Damon was waiting for her. Damon’s uncle worked in private security and had a thing for collecting weapons. He had taught Damon to use modern firearms, ancient melee weapons, and martial arts in what Freya assumed was an effort to grow his confidence after years of living with his abusive father.

  For Freya, it was more than convenient. Amber, the ghost her mother had charged with keeping an eye on her, could teach her magic, but there was no way she could teach her the practical skills she needed to accompany that magic in a fight. Not that Amber was too happy with her fighting, anyway.

  Her first encounter with a Demon had been an accident. He had latched onto her, thinking she would be easy prey. And she almost was. The second encounter, however, had been a little more down to Freya. She had sensed the Demon, not the other way around. She had been ready to ignore it, but enough pestering got Amber to admit that the high crime rate in the city was a little more supernatural than originally thought.

  Though, they had turned out to be after Freya anyway, so it had all worked out.

  Freya didn’t necessarily go looking for trouble, but in this city, it was hard to avoid. Not to mention, she was actually getting kind of good at taking down Demons. She liked it. It
made her feel like she was doing something worthwhile for once, and not just running in place until the next set of exams.

  “You ready to get your arse handed to you?” she asked Damon as she approached, picking up two small swords. Damon tended to prefer one longsword, but Freya liked to dual-wield.

  “You wish,” he countered with a grin.

  She was cautious, as she always was. Damon was Magic Sensitive, meaning that he was immune to spells not directed specifically at him and so often saw through the glamours she used to hide her Demon-related injuries, but he was still mortal, with no knowledge of magic. She had to be careful not to reflexively use her magic when sparring with him.

  Damon was quick and he was strong, but she was quicker and stronger. He’d only had a few months’ head start on her and she’d thrown herself into training with more determination than he had.

  It wasn’t long before his blade was knocked from his hand, clanging to the floor, and one of hers was at his neck, while the other was at his crotch.

  “Surrender?”

  He rolled his eyes, lifting his open-spread hands to tell her she’d won.

  “I don’t know what it is with you and the knife to the dick,” he said, shaking his head.

  She shrugged. “Extra reinforcement to stop you from trying anything.”

  As much as Damon might have thought it silly, Freya had found it a particularly effective strategy.

  “Want to go another round?” Damon asked, but they heard the door open before she could answer.

  “Damon?” his uncle called from the front room.

  “Yeah,” Damon called back.

  “Freya with you?”

  “Yep,” Freya confirmed.

  “Good,” his uncle said, entering the room, “because this pizza is a bit bigger than the three of us can handle, I think.” He held up a carrier bag which was straining to contain the biggest pizza Freya had ever seen.

  “Wait, three of us?” Damon asked. “I thought Charlie had to stay in Durham overnight.”

  “Yeah. Evelyn’s in town. We’re working a job together for the next couple of weeks.”