Freya Snow Pup Trilogy

by L. C. Mawson

  Margaret nodded, but didn’t leave, her expression turning to a frown. “What’s that you have there?” Margaret asked as she stepped forward, clearly looking at the notebook which was currently open on the page that laid out how to perform a memory spell.

  “Spells?” Margaret asked, worried. “Freya, I don’t know how happy I am with you getting involved in some kind of... Wiccan cult or something...”

  Freya froze. The last thing she needed was to be sent away over this, especially when Amber was nowhere to be found.

  Freya tried desperately to think of some way out of it, some clever lie that would cover her tracks, but her mind remained blank.

  Just as she needed to cast a memory spell...

  “Auferbulum,” she muttered.

  Margaret’s expression immediately turned blank, and it took a moment for any kind of cognizance to return to her features.

  Freya took that moment to close the notebook before shoving it under the covers of her bed.

  “What were we talking about?” Margaret asked.

  “You were asking what I wanted for tea,” Freya reminded her.

  Margaret nodded with a slight frown. “Can you smell strawberries in here?”

  Freya shrugged, though there was a slight, unmistakable smell.

  “Is it okay if I go to Damon’s tomorrow, after school?” Freya asked, wanting to steer the subject away from anything even vaguely related to magic.

  “I don’t see why that would be a problem,” Margaret told her. “Will his uncle be there?”

  Freya nodded. She didn’t actually know if Gregor would be there or not, but she didn’t want Margaret to forbid her to go over it. Not when, despite Margaret thinking to the contrary, there was absolutely nothing going on between Freya and Damon.

  “Alright, I don’t see why that would be a problem. Just make sure to tell me what time you’re expecting to be home. And I want you home no later than eight. It is a school night after all.”

  “Will do,” Freya assured her.

  Margaret left, doing that thing Freya hated, where she left the door slightly ajar. Freya jumped up to close the door herself, smiling just a little. She couldn’t believe she had actually managed to cast the spell. Especially with no training on the topic.

  She couldn’t help but feel a pang of annoyance as she returned her bed, however, reclaiming Amber’s notebook from beneath the sheets. Amber could have taught her how to use spells at any point, and yet in all the weeks they had been training, she had barely even mentioned Freya attempting it.

  Freya returned to the notebook, methodically scanning through each and every page, staring at the strange scripts, willing them to make sense. As she went, her annoyance with Amber faded into concern once more.

  She had no idea how to get her mentor back, and without her, Freya was completely alone...

  Chapter Nine

  Freya didn’t sleep that night.

  She only managed to snatch twenty minute naps, from which we she would awake in a blind panic. She would immediately turn on her phone, using it to illuminate Amber’s notebook, as she desperately searched for something that would tell her how to find Amber.

  As she arrived at school, her eyes were bleary and accentuated with dark shadows. She continued to search through Amber’s notebook during lessons, desperate not to be left alone with her thoughts. Whenever she couldn’t search the notebook, she found her mind wandering to the same place over and over again.

  Why had Amber been so reluctant to let her use her powers to their fullest extent?

  The more she mulled it over, the more certain pieces fell into place. Amber’s granddaughter had lost control her powers and had killed someone. Of course, since Freya had no relation to her, there was no reason to think she would go the same way. Except for, perhaps, the fact her mother might have had the same problem.

  Her “soul splitting in two” was vague enough to mean anything, but sending her away for five years seemed drastic. The fact anyone had resorted to such measures, told Freya her mother had turned into as much of a problem as Amber’s granddaughter.

  And if it happened to Freya’s mother, what was to stop it from happening to her?

  It became clear to Freya that Amber’s reluctance to teach her had been more out of fear of what Freya might become, than of Freya hurting herself.

  It wasn’t a thought Freya was comfortable with, so she did everything she could to avoid it.

  By the time break came around, she was ready to tear her hair out.

  Luckily, Damon was waiting for her.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. “You look...”

  “Like hell?”

  “I was going to say tired.”

  “I didn’t sleep. I guess... I guess I’ve got some things on my mind.”

  “You can tell me,” Damon told her.

  She wished she could, his sincerity causing her throat to sting. “Didn’t we agree that some secrets between us were okay?”

  He nodded in agreement as one of the older kids walked past, their backpack thumping Freya over the head as they went.

  “Come on,” Damon said. “Let us go somewhere quiet.”

  Freya followed close behind as he led her through to the music corridor. He went past the music classrooms, heading around the corner before entering a small room, that only just held a keyboard.

  Freya followed him inside the cramped space, and he closed the door behind them.

  “Aren’t these spaces supposed to be for music practice?” Freya asked

  Damon nodded. “Mr Carlton will not mind,” he assured her. “He’s rarely bothered by such things.”

  Freya took his word for it, sitting in the corner as she raised a hand to her chest, finding her mother’s pendant underneath her jumper.

  “Can I assume you do not want to talk about it?” Damon asked.

  “It’s not so much a question of want, as a question of necessity. I’m sorry, I can’t tell you.”

  Damon nodded in understanding. “Then would you like me to talk at you, in the hopes of providing distraction?”

  Freya smiled. “I think I would like that a lot.”

  “Well, I doubt it is a dilemma of the same magnitude as the one you are facing, but I do have one of my own that I would like an opinion on.”

  “Okay, shoot.”

  “So, do you know Nathan?”

  “Yeah, he’s one of your friends from music, right?”

  Damon nodded. “He has informed me Natalie has a crush on me.”

  Freya blinked at him for several moments, fascinated by the pink tinge of his cheeks as she tried to wrap her head around what he was saying. It shouldn’t be surprising other girls had an interest in him. And it wasn’t as if he was taken by anyone.

  Freya had no idea why it was bothering her so much. It wasn’t as if she liked him like that or anything. They were just friends.

  “Do you like Natalie?” she finally asked.

  Damon shrugged. “I mean, she is nice, and I like her as a friend, but I do not know if I like her like that. You know, romantically...”

  “Well, does it matter?”

  Damon frowned. “How would it not matter?”

  Freya shrugged. “Well, it doesn’t seem to matter to a lot of people our age. People seem to get with whoever for the sake of getting with them. And then they breakup in two weeks.”

  “Are you not generalising? I mean, it sounds as if you do not feel that way.”

  Freya snorted. “There is a difference between disagreeing with the behaviour and never having the opportunity to engage in it. I am very much in the latter group.”

  Damon must have picked up on her distaste with the topic because he changed it rapidly. “It occurs to me that you have shared quite a few of your favourite stories with me, but I have not reciprocated.”

  “Well, as long as they are subtitled, feel free to share as much TV from your home as you want,” she said.

  “Actually, I was thinking more
a kind of legend... I read about it as a kid and it has been on my mind a lot lately.”

  “Okay, so what’s the legend?”

  “Have you ever heard of the story of Princess Maltess?”

  Freya shook her head.

  “Well, at the time, my homeland was ruled over by several different factions, all vying for power. One of the most powerful factions was led by Maltess’ parents, until they were killed by their most powerful rival, Viktor.

  “After her parents died, Maltess refused the moniker of ‘Queen’, remaining Princess until she could avenge her parents.”

  Freya smiled. “Rampage?” she asked, imitating a character from one of her favourite TV shows.

  Damon smiled. “Well, it wasn’t a rampage as such, but she did eliminate almost all other factions besides Viktor’s, easily overshadowing his power. Viktor, in turn, cursed Maltess, hoping to demoralise her into defeat.”

  Freya frowned. “Wait, he used magic?”

  “It is a story, Freya,” he pointed out, seemingly a little perplexed.

  Freya nodded. “Right. Sorry. I guess I’m a little tired... So, how did he curse her?”

  “The curse he placed on her meant that all those she loved - in a romantic capacity which is actually a different word in my native tongue - would die. Her husband swiftly succumbed to the curse, and Maltess closed herself away in her castle, surrounded by only female advisors and warriors.”

  “Was there no chance of her falling for her female friends?”

  “No. By all accounts, she was straight.”

  “So, did she go on a murder rampage against Viktor?”

  “The thing about murder rampages is that they do little to end wars. The fighting went on for another decade or so, and Maltess and Viktor eventually came to a truce, bound by marriage.”

  “Wait, she married him?”

  Damon nodded. “There was no real quarrel between them besides revenge and wanting the throne. By sharing the throne, they created a bloodline that still rules to this day.”

  Freya frowned. “You guys still have a monarchy?”

  “You still have a monarchy,” he reminded her.

  “Okay, that’s fair. But it doesn’t seem right that Viktor cursed her and he still got what he wanted.”

  “Well, the curse caught up with him in the end. After many years together, it seems Maltess actually found it within herself to fall in love with him.”

  “Huh... That seems kind of awful for Maltess, doesn’t it? To fall in love again, after so many years, only for him to die? This story is a total downer. You said you read about this as a kid?”

  Damon shrugged. “I did not exactly get out much. That leads to a lot of reading, regardless of whether it is age appropriate.”

  “And you said this story had been on your mind. Why?”

  Damon shrugged, his gaze flicking to the window. “I suppose the message has always stuck with me.”

  “You mean the message that casting curses is a bad idea?”

  Damon smiled. “I was thinking more the message that love can be dangerous.”

  Freya frowned. “Yeah, that is really not the message I took away from that. And if it was the message it was trying to convey, then it’s a stupid message.”

  Damon raised an eyebrow. “Oh? This from the girl who actively tried to avoid me because she was scared of letting someone get close.”

  Freya rolled her eyes. “This is different.”

  “I do not really see how. Romantic love, friendship, regardless of which you are trying to avoid, you still believe that letting people close to you is dangerous. You have seen how it can be dangerous. I do not think exercising caution in this area is stupid.”

  Freya folded her arms. “I just... You shouldn’t let things pass you by out of fear. Not if you can control that fear.”

  “So, what? Is this your way of telling me I should get over myself and kiss Natalie?”

  Freya shook her head, the mention of Natalie stabbing at her. “Look, if you like her, then whatever, all I’m saying is if you like someone, kiss them.”

  Freya barely had time to notice the odd, low vibration beneath her words as Damon stepped towards her.

  And kissed her.

  Freya froze with surprise, but quickly melted as she got used to the strange new sensation, growing heady on Damon’s comforting smell.

  But after a moment, Damon pulled away, staring at her in shock.

  “Freya, what- You- Did you just compel me to kiss you?”

  Freya froze, the low vibration suddenly making sense. He had done exactly as she had said.

  She had used her magic on him to make him kiss her.

  She couldn’t explain it away, and she couldn’t let Damon know about magic.

  Could Auferbulum work again?

  As soon as she thought the incantation, however, Damon’s face went familiarly blank.

  “What were we just talking about?” he asked, and Freya had to suppress a sigh of relief.

  One crisis averted without Amber, she thought, though it came with the realisation that having the power to compel people to do what she wanted was a crisis all of its own.

  One Amber had never mentioned...

  “Hey,” Damon said, drawing her away from her thoughts. “Can you smell strawberries?”

  IT TOOK EVERYTHING Freya had not to let her anxiety get the better of her by the time the last school bell rang.

  Freya hurried out of the gate, only to see Damon waiting for her. She had completely forgotten she was supposed to go to his after school.

  She should tell him she couldn’t go. After all, she had already accidentally used her magic on him. Who knew what might happen if she had to spend more time with him alone? If her powers went out of control, she might actually hurt him, and she didn’t know how she would cope with that.

  But she didn’t tell him she couldn’t go. It would have been the sensible thing for her to do, but then, it felt too much like letting her anxiety win. Or rather, letting Amber’s anxiety win. After all, it had just been an innocent kiss. There was no reason to think her powers would become even more of a problem.

  Freya watched Damon carefully as he led her to his place. She couldn’t help but worry that maybe her memory spell wasn’t permanent. Maybe something would trigger his memory. Would the spell work if she cast it a second time?

  She was so deep in thought she didn’t notice where Damon was leading her. At least, not until she was almost run over by a BMW while trying to cross the road.

  She looked around, seeing that she was standing in the middle of a housing estate where every house was a mansion. Or, at least, very close to one. Most of them could certainly fit four of Margaret and Ryan’s house within them.

  “Where are we headed?” Freya asked.

  “The apartment building is just around the corner,” Damon explained.

  Freya frowned. She doubted there would be any kind of normal housing ‘just around the corner’.

  And she was right. The apartment building Damon led her to was large, and built out of pristine, pale bricks that seemed four times the size of regular ones. There was ivy artfully growing up the walls, and it seemed as if every apartment had a reasonably sized balcony, with railings of metal and glass.

  The building was clearly new, and Freya couldn’t help but be intimidated by it. She would guess one of these apartments would cost several times that of Margaret and Ryan’s house.

  Freya followed Damon inside, giving a meek nod to the doorman as they made their way to the lift.

  Damon hit the button for the penthouse, and Freya’s anxiety tripled.

  “This place is... really nice,” Freya managed.

  Damon shrugged, pulling a little at the sleeves of his jumper. “Like I said, my aunt’s husband is... This was easy enough for him to arrange. It is strange, he already did so much in removing me from my father; anything else feels like something I have to pay back. Even if...”

  “Even if?”


  Damon raised an eyebrow. “Secrets, remember?”

  Freya nodded, knowing she had no room to disagree. Especially in that moment.

  The lift finally reached the top floor, and they got out, Damon unlocking the door in front of them.

  The apartment was about how Freya had expected it to be, with everything white and glass. But there were signs that it was lived in. A mug sat on the coffee table, a pair of trainers were next to the sofa, and Damon’s PE kit looked as if it had been thrown onto one of the chairs the night before.

  Freya took comfort in the small signs of home, her anxiety lessening a little.

  “Is your uncle in?” Freya asked.

  “No,” Damon said. “He will not be home until later.”

  “Is he at work?”

  Damon nodded. “My aunt’s husband wants to open a regional office here, for some division or another, so my uncle is organising security around him setting up.”

  Freya frowned. “Regional office? So your aunt’s husband is a businessman?”

  “I suppose that is as apt a description as any,” he said with a shrug.

  “So, your aunt took you from your father and placed you with her husband’s top security guy?”

  “Well, he is also my uncle.”

  Freya nodded, though she was sure that that wasn’t all there was to it. It seemed as if Damon’s aunt was trying to keep Damon safe, presumably from his father. She wondered just how scary Damon’s father must be to elicit that kind of response...

  “We should probably get started on rehearsing,” Damon said, opening his bag to produce the script the teacher had given him.

  Freya brought out her own script.

  “Alright, so, I looked up what this is supposed to mean, so I think I know how I am supposed to say it.”

  Damon cleared his throat, looking up from his script to gaze at Freya, her breath catching at the mixture of heat and adoration behind his eyes.

  “But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?

  It is the east and Juliet is the sun!

  Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,

  Who is already sick and pale with grief

  That thou her maid art far more fair than she.