Freya Snow Pup Trilogy

by L. C. Mawson

  “How much?” Amber asked her.

  Mel shrugged. “I don’t remember. I only glanced at it in passing.”

  Myrcella passed the bag back to Freya. “Mel has a point about the bounties. If you go to the collection point, they’ll tell you if any of the previous owners were wanted. You can come back and sell them after.”

  “Great. Where’s the collection point?”

  “I’ll take you,” Mel offered. “I’ve got almost everything I came for.”

  Myrcella finished putting Mel’s items through the till. The till itself was a laptop, plugged into a money drawer and scanner. It looked out of place in the otherwise rustic establishment.

  “Well, if you girls think you can manage yourselves,” Zed said, turning to Amber, “I would be grateful if you would join me for a drink.”

  “It’s the middle of the day,” Amber reminded him.

  “Human sensibilities,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

  Amber gave Freya a torn look.

  Freya shrugged. “I’ll be fine with Mel. You should go. I’ll have to get home in enough time to get ready for tonight anyway.”

  Amber nodded. “Alright,” she told Zed. “One drink.”

  Freya took her backpack and followed Mel out of the shop. The other girl took her chair from her bag and expanded it again, to the annoyance of the people trying to get past. Mel just glared back at them as she got back into the chair, letting out a sigh of relief as soon as her weight was off her feet.

  “Need a hand?” Freya asked her.

  She shook her head. “No. The thing’s charmed to wheel itself.”

  Freya nodded, wondering if it would be rude to ask why she needed it. She decided that it probably would be, instead asking, “So, where is this collection point?”

  “Down by the cafe. Which we should visit after, if you’ve got time. They have an awesome sea-shake.”

  “Sea-shake?”

  “Yeah, it’s about as close to Atlantian cuisine as you can get on Earth. It’s not bad, though.”

  “Atlantian...? Oh, you mean like the water realm, right? Atlantis?”

  Mel nodded, looking vaguely amused. “Yeah, like Atlantis. Like the home of Mermaids...”

  Freya looked at her blankly for a few moments before smacking her palm against her forehead. “You’re a Mermaid. That’s what the scales are about.”

  Mel smirked. “Well, I mean, I’m a hybrid. Hence the legs. And the chair.”

  Freya just gave her another blank look. “Why would being a hybrid mean that you’re in a wheelchair?”

  Mel frowned. “Okay, seriously, what’s up with you? I mean, you’re here, so you must have some contact with our world.”

  “Yeah, I do, it’s just... My guardian has kept me pretty isolated while I got the hang of my powers.”

  “Your guardian? Not your parents?”

  “I never knew them.”

  Mel nodded. “Another orphan? We’re pretty common around here,” she explained. “The timeline shift wasn’t exactly kind to the adult population and there was a little scrambling after.”

  “Yeah, the timeline took my mother. I don’t know who my father was.”

  “I’m sorry,” Mel said. “My parents were killed back in Atlantis. I live with my father’s coven here.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Mel shrugged. “So, you’ve really never heard of Christian-Anderson Syndrome?”

  Freya frowned. “Nope.”

  “Oh. That’s what I have. Mer/Humanoid hybrids can change between legs and a tail at will but it’s not uncommon for one of them to have problems. Walking on my legs feels like walking on knives for me. I can’t do it for very long.”

  “But your tail is fine?”

  Mel nodded. “Yep. Not that I can use it all of the time.”

  “Unless you live in Atlantis.”

  Mel snorted. “Yeah, no. There’s no way I’d live there. They’re not fans of Humanoid species. Hybrids aren’t exactly treated kindly.”

  “That sucks.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it.” Mel turned the corner as they approached the cafe, taking Freya into a small, shadowy alcove. There was a small counter, behind which Evelyn was sitting, with a laptop in front of her.

  Oh for the love of...

  Freya cursed in her mind as Mel knocked on the counter in front of her.

  “Hey,” Mel greeted as the Dark Witch looked up.

  “You’re one of the kids from the local Light coven,” Evelyn noted. “And the abandoned pup. I wondered if I’d ever see you again. I keep missing you at the kid’s.”

  Freya shrugged. “Damon doesn’t know that I spend my nights hunting Demons.”

  Evelyn laughed at that. “Oh, don’t worry, pup. I won’t divulge your secret. No, that’s something I am more than happy to let play out on its own.”

  “You two know each other?” Mel asked.

  “I work with a Human,” Evelyn explained. “Freya’s a friend of his nephew.”

  Mel nodded. “Well, we were wondering if the bounty on the Cult of Eden was still active. Freya dealt with one of them a few months ago.”

  “Yeah, it’s still open. Got any proof?”

  Freya handed her the knife. “Have you got any other open bounties? I might have a few more.”

  Evelyn nodded as she inspected the dagger. “Sure, we’ve got a few. Have a look at the board over there.”

  Freya looked over at the board and saw a collection of wanted posters. She only recognised one of them. The Hybrid from the night before.

  “This guy,” Freya said. “He’s dead now.”

  Evelyn gave an impressed hum. “Have any proof?”

  “I can tell you where I killed him. I doubt the Humans have done much in the way of clean-up since last night.”

  “Good enough.” Evelyn passed her a cheque for seven thousand pounds. “The bounty wasn’t that high on the Cult of Eden guy. It was just a gesture, after all, and there were a few of them. The Hybrid is probably up to ten thousand. He wasn’t too discerning in his victims and he got some Witch. Her parents are pretty well off and they’ve been itching for revenge. You’ll have to come back in a couple of days once we’ve confirmed it, though.”

  Freya nodded, not exactly sure what to do with the piece of paper in her hands. She couldn’t deposit this much in her bank. Margaret would know. She’d have to open a separate savings account and magically conceal it.

  How did you pay taxes for bounties?

  Actually, how did you pay taxes at all?

  “Thanks,” Freya said before leaving.

  “I’m not exactly sure how all of this works with Human banking,” Freya admitted.

  Mel shrugged. “Don’t ask me. I work at my coven’s library and I look after some of the kids when their parents are at work, and that covers my food and board. If any of us collect on a bounty, most of the money goes to maintaining the coven, but you get to keep a small cut. I also get a small allowance from my inheritance until I turn eighteen and get it all.”

  “I hope Amber knows...”

  “She probably will,” Mel assured her as they entered the cafe area, waving her wand at the chairs to tuck them in so that she could get past them.

  Freya looked at the cakes on display and found that she didn’t recognise any of them. “Are all of these safe for me to eat?”

  Mel shrugged. “I have no idea. Some species can’t process some things, but none of it should be toxic unless you’re a Pure Blood.”

  Freya bounced a little on her toes as she argued with herself. She hated trying new food. She approached it with the same trepidation she would playing Russian roulette. But there was no way she could refuse to get anything without it seeming odd.

  She opted for a pastry with a middle that looked like custard and a “nightmare coffee”. She hoped the name was just a playful piece of marketing.

  “That’ll keep you up all night,” Mel warned, indicating to her drink as they found a table.


  Freya shrugged. “Good. Tonight is prom, and after last night’s hunt, I’m in serious danger of falling asleep.”

  “Urgh, you’re actually going to your prom?”

  “Yeah. It’ll be a laugh. Why? Are you not going to yours?”

  “It was last week. No one from the coven went. We got drunk at the bar instead.”

  “The bar?”

  “Our coven is a hotel.”

  “Nice.”

  “I know, right?”

  Freya took a bite of her pastry and found it sickeningly sweet. She quickly turned to her coffee to mute the sugar, but that was like being hit in the face with pure caffeine.

  “You weren’t joking about the coffee.”

  “Nope. And when you do sleep, you’ll probably have lucid dreams.”

  Freya nodded. “So, no watching Five Nights at Freddy’s let’s plays before bed then?”

  Mel smirked. “Well, that’s just good advice generally.”

  “Yeah, probably.”

  Chapter Three

  Freya was cutting it fine when she arrived back home and Margaret wasted no time in letting her know it.

  “Was it really necessary for you to go out shopping today?” Margaret asked as she yanked a brush through Freya’s newly-showered, thick, black curls.

  “Ow!” Freya yelped in protest. She hated other people touching her hair.

  “Do you want it to look nice or not?” Margaret asked, her sharp tone making it clear that there was only one right answer.

  “Sorry.”

  Freya was pretty sure that Margaret’s hairbrush pulled out more hair than it tidied, but soon enough Margaret was pinning it back in a silver hairclip. It was heavy and pinched, but Freya knew better than to argue, so she simply turned to her wardrobe to wrestle with the crimson dress Margaret had bought for her.

  The fabric was mercifully soft and, while the cut was low at the top, the skirt didn’t bind her legs and was long enough for her not to have to worry about her flashing her knickers by accident. She could do without the lady-stilts Margaret was insisting on, however.

  Margaret, thankfully, let her apply her own make-up. While she could just about cope with someone messing with her hair, her face was a no-go zone. Though Margaret did still continue to back-seat the process.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to try some of the lip liner?”

  Freya knew that the right answer was to concede but she didn’t want to. She didn’t see the point of it and she didn’t know how to apply it. Margaret would have to do it to get it right and that wasn’t happening.

  “I’m sure,” Freya told her. “I think my make-up is fine like this.”

  Margaret gave a disapproving hum, but otherwise let it go. “Here, let me have a look at you,” she said, pulling Freya away from the mirror. “Oh, you look so beautiful.”

  Freya shrugged awkwardly. “Thanks,” she eventually remembered to say.

  “Here, let me take a picture.” She brought out her phone. “Smile.”

  Freya did as she was told, though she couldn’t help but be self-conscious. Her smile always looked weird in photos. It was fine on video, but photos just seemed to always catch her the wrong way.

  “Do I really look okay?” Freya asked nervously.

  “Yes, of course you do.”

  Freya looked at herself in the mirror again, wondering. She thought she looked good, but then, she thought that every day, and other people didn’t seem to agree.

  “Freya, I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.”

  Margaret had her there, so she nodded, thankful for the sound of the doorbell.

  She jumped down the stairs as usual, though she had to grab the banister to stop herself from going over on her ankle, cursing her shoes once more. Her friend Alice had refused to wear anything but heeled boots, and Freya couldn’t possibly imagine why.

  The doorbell rang again just as she made it down to the bottom of the stairs.

  “I’m coming!” she yelled back, hurrying to open the door.

  She opened it to see Damon in a rather fancy looking tuxedo. On the one hand, she was struggling to hold back a laugh, but on the other, it definitely wasn’t a bad look for him.

  “I, um...” he stammered after she had opened the door.

  “Hello to you too,” she said, wondering what the hell had gotten into him.

  He nodded, blushing furiously. “I... You look great.”

  “Oh.” It was her turn to blush now. “Um, thanks. You too.”

  “You’ll be back at a reasonable hour?” Margaret asked them. “I don’t want you waking me up at two in the morning.”

  “Yeah, we’ll drop her back right after the prom ends,” Damon promised.

  Freya knew that some of the other kids were planning on heading into town after the prom ended, but she hadn’t been invited. She wondered if Damon had and would head out after he’d dropped her off, or if he’d turned down all of his invitations.

  “How are you getting there?” Margaret asked and Damon turned, letting her look at the large limo parked outside. “Nice,” she commented.

  “My uncle borrowed it,” Damon explained. “He sometimes doubles as a driver at work.”

  “Well, have fun,” Margaret told them.

  “We will,” Freya replied as she headed out of the door.

  “And text when you’re on your way home!”

  “I will!”

  THE RIDE TO THE SCHOOL was a short one. Freya usually walked the distance, though there was no way she would attempt it in heels, and no way Margaret would allow it after dark. She didn’t know that Freya had no need to fear mortal danger. Though, Freya supposed that her travelling alone after dark might attract opportunistic Demons, and ruining her dress would be a shame.

  It actually took them longer to park near the school than to drive there. They ended up stuck in a line of limos, all trying to navigate the tiny car park.

  “I can’t believe they’re having this at the school,” Damon complained as he slumped back in his seat, his arms folded.

  “I know right?” Freya agreed. “Mel says her school booked out a proper place.”

  “Mel?”

  “Oh, um, she’s a new friend I made.”

  Damon raised an eyebrow. “From a different school?”

  Freya nodded. “Yeah, I met her in town.”

  “Nice,” Damon replied as his uncle finally managed to pull up close to the school.

  “Alright you two, have fun,” he told them. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  “What if I want to do a girl?” Damon asked as he opened the door.

  “Okay, Smart-arse, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do in a gender-neutral sense.”

  “That literally bars nothing.”

  “Do you want me to pick you up or not?”

  “There’s no way you won’t come back. That would leave Freya stranded too.”

  “I didn’t say anything about not picking Freya up. She has some respect.”

  Freya smirked as Damon narrowed his eyes at her.

  “You only think that because she’s some kind of evil genius.”

  Freya’s smirk widened as she deliberately turned to his uncle. “Thank you for the ride, Gregor.”

  “It’s no problem, Freya. Keep him out of trouble.”

  “Will do,” she promised as she got out of the car as daintily as she could manage, cursing how she had to be careful how she manoeuvred in her dress to avoid catching it in the car door. She missed her trousers.

  Damon shook his head as she closed the door. “I have no idea how you do that.”

  She shrugged. “They’re called manners, Damon. Please and thank you will get you a long way.”

  “I say please and thank you,” he retorted.

  “Okay, so, it’s a little more complex than those two things. Do you really want instruction in etiquette or would you rather go inside and see how terrible this is?”

  “Inside,” Damon said, outstr
etching his arm.

  It took Freya a moment to realise that he meant for her to take it. She did, concentrating on hiding her blush as she felt his body heat radiate against her, a stark contrast to the cold night air.

  Damon walked with her in a way that reminded her of an awful period romance film Margaret had made her sit through. She wondered if he’d ever been to a real dance. Like, an old fashioned one. His family were definitely posh enough for it to be a possibility, though his uncle was pretty laid back and Damon didn’t really spend any time with the rest of his family.

  They entered to see that the barriers which normally separated the assembly hall from the dining hall had been removed to make one, large space, which had been filled with bright red balloons. There were multi-coloured strobe lights illuminating the room and a DJ was up on the stage at the end of the assembly hall, playing a recent dance anthem which Freya usually avoided listening to. The lyrics basically boiled down to “I take no as a challenge, ha ha, isn’t rape culture fun?” and she was having none of it.

  “I miss the Cha Cha Slide,” she yelled over the music at Damon.

  “The what?”

  “It was the song they always played at the discos in middle school. I never figured out what ‘Charlie Brown’ meant, but it was still fun.”

  “I can’t really hear you!” Damon yelled back.

  Freya sighed, concentrating a bit to weave a sound filter around her. The noise of the music died down a little as Damon’s voice became clearer. She wondered if she could do the same for him, but decided against it. She doubted he would realise that the noise change was thanks to magic, but maintaining her own filter was immensely draining on her concentration. She doubted she could keep up a second one.

  “I wonder if they have the plastic boxes of juice,” Freya said, amplifying her voice a little to be heard.

  “Boxes of juice?” Damon asked with a raised eyebrow.

  Freya dragged him over to the food table and, as she suspected, there was a selection of clear plastic boxes filled with multi-coloured sugar water. She picked up a blue one with a mix of nostalgia and disappointment. This felt exactly like a middle school disco, and they had always been pretty bad.