by Melissa Gunn
“Do you want to eat or don’t you, Tammy?” Danae asked.
“I want to eat real food.”
“This is as real as food gets.”
“Then I want fake food. In a packet,” Tammy said.
Near the damp ditch, Freya had found something else that looked familiar. She picked the frondy leaves on their crunchy stem and waved it proudly.
“Look Mum, celery. We could have soup with this, right?”
Freya quite liked soup, it was a comforting food, especially with fresh bread to go with it. Now, she held out the vegetation she’d found for her mother to inspect.
“Not that one! Freya, that’s not celery. That’s deadly poison. Hemlock water droplet. Put it down and we’ll find somewhere to wash your hands. But better look closely at it so you’ll see the difference, next time. I don’t want any of that ending up in our soup! We’d all be in hospital or worse.”
Freya dropped the offending plant as though she’d been burned, a curdling anxiety forming in the pit of her stomach at the thought that she had almost poisoned her family. Though the crisis had been averted, the feeling stuck with her, a nagging guilt that spoiled her enjoyment of the day.
The small family trudged on through the chill autumn day, gathering and gleaning. It took several hours before they had enough food to satisfy their mother, by which time they’d ventured far through the countryside beyond the town, and it took them another hour to get back to the holiday home they’d moved into after their time at the bed and breakfast had run its course. The chalet was a slight improvement on the mouldering bed and breakfast, but only in that they no longer all had to squeeze into one room. The owner of the chalet had explained that the reason they were having it cheap was because it was the off season, and they’d be cleaning the shared toilet block themselves. Freya thought the holiday park owner was definitely part troll - or possibly a descendant of Charon. He certainly seemed miserly enough to be a descendant of the stingy river-guarding god.
CHAPTER EIGHT
WINTER
“I heard Mum talking to Dad on the phone last night.” Tammy leaned towards Freya conspiratorially.
Tammy and Freya were trying to make dinner with a can of beans and an assortment of foraged greens. Danae was still out, working late as she had done often in the last few weeks.
“Wait, what? How do you know it was him?” Freya glanced around to be sure they weren’t being overheard.
“She used his name, idiot child.”
“I’m not an idiot, and don’t call me a child!” She raised her arm, mock-threatening.
“Yeah, yeah. But do you want to know what she said?”
“Maybe...” Arm lowered again, Freya leaned in.
“She said, ‘I’ve had enough of your running around town’ - something like that, anyway - ‘The girls and I will figure out a way forward ourselves. If you had thought of us before you went off, you’d have stayed home.’ So, you know what that means?”
“That you eavesdrop on private conversations?”
“No! If she wanted it private, she shouldn’t have been talking outside my window. No, it means that Dad has gone off with someone else. Can you believe it?”
“I don’t want believe it.”
Freya put her hands over her ears. She didn’t want to know if her Dad had major personality faults. He was still Dad to her, and she missed him.
“Oh, spoilsport,” said Tammy, but she walked over to the kitchen counter and started hunting for other things to eat. She didn’t try to tell Freya any more about what things their Dad might have done.
THE YEAR DREW ON AND the days grew darker.
“There’s nothing growing but toadstools out there now, Mum” Freya complained one bitter afternoon.
“And it’s too cold,” added Tammy.
While it wasn’t raining, the air was chill with a promise of frost. Outside, the long grass on road verges had died off. Even the late harvest apples were long picked.
“Hmmm. I don’t want you going after mushrooms, even if we could do with the food. There are too many poisonous ones that look similar to the edibles. At least to the uninitiated. Very well, we’ll get back to your history and theology lessons. I haven’t taught you much about that since we left the cottage on the cliff. It does mean less to eat today, though. We could be down to cattail tubers soon.”
We haven’t had home lessons since Dad left. Apart from foraging lessons, of course.
Freya knew better than to mention Dad now.
“Do we have to have lessons? Couldn’t we just read a book where it’s warm?”
Freya was dressed in all the clothing she owned; the chalet wasn’t warm except in comparison to outdoors. She tried again to avoid work.
“I’m sure Mr Fluffbum would like the company better if we’re quiet.”
“You can read books after lessons. Your cat will just have to wait for his chance at quiet. Have a walnut and let’s get started.”
“I have school homework to do,” announced Tammy.
“Well, that’s a first. Alright, since you’re so keen on working, you may do your homework. Freya, come over here by me and we’ll go over the Norse gods.”
“I need to find something for Mr Fluffbum to eat, though, Mum. He came in with a vole yesterday, I’m sure it’s because we aren’t feeding him enough and he’s trying to hunt. It took me ages to catch it again after he let it go,” said Freya.
“At least he cares enough to try and feed you, Freya.”
“Ugh, that’s gross, Mum!”
“So, Norse gods.”
“Oh, alright.” Her attempt at diversion having failed, Freya surrendered to the inevitable.
ONE GOOD THING ABOUT the beach chalet was that it wasn’t too far to go to meet Lio. She’d followed Mr Fluffbum to the beach most nights after they moved to the chalet. Some of those nights, Lio was there. Freya had been shy, hesitant to talk to him at first. But since he never pushed her to do things she didn’t want to, and always had something for Mr Fluffbum, she’d come to look forward to his presence on the beach.
Of course, going to the beach wasn’t Freya’s idea of fun these days, especially not in the dark of winter, but she had to keep Mr Fluffbum fed somehow. Curiously, he turned his nose up at walnuts. Whenever a storm rolled through the area, her cat led her to the door at night.
“Honestly, Mr Fluffbum,” Freya whispered to her cat on one such night, “why do you always choose the times I’d rather be at home in bed to leave the house? I thought cats liked comfort.”
Her cat blinked, the glow of his light-reflecting eyes briefly quenched, and scratched at the chalet door again.
“Oh, all right. But it’s freezing out there.” Freya stepped into her wellies and slipped an anorak from the hook by the door, but waited till she was outside to put it on. It was too noisy, the fabric crackling and liable to wake someone, if she put it on inside. Tonight, it was sleeting. She was both soaked and chilled by the time she wrestled on the coat. She pulled its hood well down, and hoped this trip wouldn’t take long. She couldn’t wait to get back into her warm, cosy bed.
Down by the dunes, Lio appeared as he invariably did on such occasions, with fish for her cat held in one hand. He was alone this evening, his racing cronies nowhere in sight. The tide was in, so there wasn’t much space for racing along the beach - the waves encroached on the dunes at high tide. Lio crouched down to offer the fish to Mr Fluffbum, who took it delicately in his teeth, then turned his back to eat in privacy.
Freya took the opportunity to duck into the small shelter provided by a rare salt-tolerant shrub that was growing on the edge of the dune. She huddled under her anorak, and was relieved when Lio sat down beside her, blocking the wind a little more.
“How do you do that?” she asked him. “How do you and your friends run on water?”
She felt, rather than saw him hunch down miserably.
“They’re my brothers. And we all have the gift from our Dad.” His mouth snap
ped shut audibly.
“You must be demis, then,” Freya ventured. Lio didn’t reply.
“I wish I knew how to do something like that. I know my family are demis too, but no-one ever tells me anything more than that. How am I supposed to know what powers I might have? I’m old enough to start getting powers now, but nothing’s changed.”
A particularly savage gust of wind threw sleet at them like needles. Freya covered her face with her arms and hoped it would pass soon. At least it was dark enough that Lio couldn’t see her embarrassment at bringing up such a personal issue.
Beside her, Lio – who at least had a top on this evening – shrugged.
“I can’t remember being taught that. I guess my brothers and I traded secrets a bit – but mostly we just played tricks on each other.”
“Typical boys.”
Freya could hear the smile in Lio’s voice as he replied.
“Yeah. And I still don’t know how to do half what they can. We’re all different, though, maybe we can’t do what each other does.”
“I’d settle for being able to do anything. Anything at all,” Freya said. “The way things are now, I might as well be human.”
Lio laughed aloud.
“It must be odd living amongst humans all the time. No wonder you have trouble figuring out what your powers are. I guess you can’t practise out in the open?”
“As if. I’d be grounded for life if I tried. If I had something to try. All I’m allowed to do is identify other demis – and then avoid them,” Freya complained.
“At least your parents care. My Dad doesn’t care what we do.” Lio sounded as though that was a problem. Freya noticed that he didn’t mention his Mum.
Best not to ask about that, she thought.
“Do you think you could teach me anything?” she asked. To Freya’s disappointment Lio shook his head.
“I haven’t a clue about anything other than wind and storms,” he said. “And I can tell that’s not your specialty.”
Freya leaped eagerly on the clue.
“Do you know powers I have, then? All I know is that my Mum descends from Freya, and my Dad from Dionysus. But Mum does plant stuff, and Dad sells wine. Not exactly the stuff of gods.”
Lio shook his head again.
“It’s too hard to tell when you’re a mix,” he said. “I only know you’re not like me, not a descendant of Aeolis.”
Freya drooped, feeling the bitter cold more now that her bubble of hope had been burst.
“Are you ever here when the weather is good?” Freya asked Lio wistfully, hugging herself tightly to keep in any vestige of body heat.
“No, worse luck. You’ll only find me on the edges of the storm. It’s a bit rubbish, but that’s my life.”
“Wow, that is rubbish. For me, too. If I have to go down to the seaside, I’d rather it was in good weather. I hate storms.”
Lio shrugged. “Sorry. If it helps, it’s great to see someone else out here who isn’t a deity or one of my cousins.”
“Thanks. I think. But if you manage to come on a sunny morning, I’d be just as happy,” said Freya.
“I’ll bear it in mind, assuming I get any power over my life some day.”
Lio looked so downcast, even in the dark, that Freya couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, even as the wind buffeted her hood off, exposing her face to the freezing rain.
“Oh. Well, good luck with that, I guess. I’d like some power over my life too. Coming out here is about the only thing I get to decide to do, and even that’s governed by Mr Fluffbum. Thanks for keeping him in fish, by the way. We don’t have anything at home he can eat, except when we get cat food in a charity box.”
“He seems to enjoy my offerings. And it never hurts to keep a cat happy.” Lio smiled at the cat, who was now performing his after-meal grooming, licking his paws and swiping them over his face.
Mr Fluffbum twined around Freya’s legs, then Lio’s, and then turned away to lead Freya back to the chalet.
“See, even now I’m being bossed around!” Freya laughed a little, although she was serious.
“You’ll never be your own boss with a cat around,” called Lio, as Freya rose and followed Mr Fluffbum back over the dune. She waved a hand in acknowledgment. Even if it came about by the whim of her cat, Lio’s help with feeding Mr Fluffbum was about the only bright thing in her life at the moment.
CHAPTER NINE
SPRING
The main street was strangely unchanged, Freya thought. Surely, a storm that washed away a family’s house and tore apart their lives should change more than just that house. Freya and her Mum were walking around the town on a Saturday morning, looking for examples of practical theology. Freya was enjoying the rare opportunity to spend time with Mum without having to look for food, though she’d die rather than say so. Tammy had vanished on errands of her own that morning.
“I wish we got to do more of this. It’s much more fun being out and about looking for demis, than it is sitting around talking about them.”
“Yes, but you have to know what you’re looking for, before you go looking.” Typical Mum-brand circular logic. “Now, tell me when you think you’ve spotted a non-mundane.”
“What about that old man? He could be a relative of Woden, couldn’t he?” Freya tried to indicate the person across the street without pointing. She felt silly, indicating with her chin.
“What makes you think so?” Mum never let Freya get away with a simple yes or no answer.
“Umm... he’s old?”
“Anyone can be old, Freya. Try harder now.”
“Er. OK. Um... Well, the big black birds embroidered on the back of his jacket seem like a bit of a giveaway. And oh, I don’t know. He looks sort of like a know-it-all.”
“The phrase is ‘wise’. And the big black birds are ravens. But don’t let him see you staring.” They hastily turned off the main path. The old man in question was looking at them suspiciously.
“Why don’t we make friends with other demis, Mum? Wouldn’t it make sense to know more people like us?”
“That’s never ended well for us in the past. It’s best to stay underground, so to speak. Just another ordinary family.” Danae glanced behind them and increased her pace.
“Surely ordinary families don’t move as much as we do?” Freya was panting a bit as she tried to keep up with Mum’s long, not-quite-running strides.
“Perhaps not. I believe they don’t have angry goddesses destroy their homes, either.” Danae turned a corner, dodging a wind-blown sheet of newspaper as she did so.
“That doesn’t seem fair.” The paper Mum had dodged wrapped itself around Freya’s legs. “Ugh!”
“Come on, Freya, forget the rubbish. We’ve been spotted, and we need to get out of here. The last thing we need is a confrontation with some know-it-all Wodenite demi.”
“Why not?” The question was mostly a gasp for air.
“Because Wodenites think any descendant of Freya is honour-bound to do what they say, and I will not put up with that. Especially since they usually want to re-enact some shamanic rite or other. Definitely not what I want to do with my life - or yours.” Danae grabbed Freya’s hand, and they broke into a run. Freya wasn’t sure what Mum was trying to tell her, but fear gripped her throat as she was tugged along.
Around another corner, the familiar town seeming all too small with its limited turnings and short streets. The two of them drew up short as the old man who might be a demi appeared suddenly in front of a bakery a few shops down from them. A bus drew up across the road in a screech of air brakes.
“Quick, let’s get the bus.” They crossed the road hastily and leapt up the steps of the bus.
“Two please,” gasped Freya’s Mum as she scrabbled for her purse.
“Where to?” the bus driver asked in a grumpy voice.
“Oh. Um. Two stops along, please.” Danae seemed flustered, almost dropping her bag as she fumbled for her phone to pay for the bus. Freya looked
out past the driver’s balding head, and saw the Wodenite crossing the road, too.
“M- mum. He’s coming.” She could hardly get the words out, anxiety tensing her jaw muscles.
“Is it time to leave, driver?” Danae’s voice was tense but controlled.
“All in good time.” The driver closed the bus doors, but sat reading from a clipboard for a minute. The old man appeared at the closed door and tapped at it. The driver looked up, shook his head meaningfully, and engaged the engine. The bus lurched forwards abruptly. Freya staggered against her Mum; Danae grabbed for a handhold. Through the bus window Freya saw the old man raising his hand, looking bewildered. To her relief, the bus surged around a corner without slowing to pick him up.
“Come on, Freya, we may as well take a seat.” Danae waved Freya further down the bus. Freya took staggering steps towards the middle seats - one, one two three, lurch, one two. She grabbed the handle attached to a seat opposite the back door and swung herself in. Thump. Danae made a more graceful entry beside her, and the tension seemed to drain out of her.
“Sorry about that, Freya. It’s not often Wodenites actually do follow us. But I met one once who wouldn’t give up, and it’s given me a real dislike of them.” Danae glanced out the window, apparently checking that the coast was clear.
“What if he was an ordinary old man wanting to catch the bus home?”
“Well, then he’ll have to catch the next bus. We’ll stay on one more stop. Just in case.”
Freya suspected Mum wasn’t telling her everything. It seemed odd to go out looking for other demis, but then run when they approached.
“Are there any demis that are safe to spend time with, Mum?” Freya looked back too, and was reassured to see the usual assortment of people out shopping. No bird-embroidered jacket to be seen. Of course, it was hard to spot anyone between the racks of clothes designed for a warmer beach than theirs, stands of postcards and huge signs advertising all-day breakfasts to the tourists.
“I guess most of them are probably safe. A lot don’t even know what they are. Our family is unusual, you know. We know about our demi heritage on both sides. That’s why Di-” Danae broke off. Freya was sure she’d been about to mention her Dad.
