by L. C. Mawson
Be not her maid, since she is envious;
Her vestal livery is but sick and green,
And none but fools do wear it. Cast it off.
It is my lady, O, it is my love!
O that she knew she were!
She speaks, yet she says nothing; what of that?
Her eye discourses, I will answer it.
I am too bold: ‘tis not to me she speaks.
Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
Having some business, do entreat her eyes
To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
What if her eyes were there, they in her head?
The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,
As daylight doth a lamp. Her eyes in heaven
Would through the airy region stream so bright
That birds would sing and think it were not night.
See how she leans her cheek upon her hand
O that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek!”
Damon stopped, his expression returning to normal fast enough to give Freya whiplash as he asked, “Well, how was it?”
Freya couldn’t quite gather an intelligible response. Even if the old English words were a little lost on her, the way Damon had spoken them, with an absolute sincerity of feeling, was not.
She tried to tell herself it meant nothing. He had just been acting. But that didn’t stop her cheeks from flushing bright pink.
“It was great,” she squeaked, suppressing a groan at her inability to control her own voice. “I actually need the loo,” she said, in a desperate attempt to get away. “Can you show me where it is?”
Damon pointed into the corridor. “It is just around the corner.”
Freya nodded, quickly hurrying in that direction.
Of course, when she was in the loo, she had no idea what to do. All she had the energy for was freaking out over the way butterflies were erupting in her stomach.
Before she had a chance even begin calming down, her phone rang. She took it from her pocket to see Alice was ringing her.
“Hey,” Freya answered.
“Moshi Moshi,” Alice replied.
“So I see you’re finally getting the hang of Japanese.”
“No, that’s one of the few things I can actually say. Which is kind of ironic since I never did master answering the phone in English.”
Freya smiled. “So, what are you ringing about? I’m kind of busy right now.”
“Yeah, you said you were going to go to Damon’s house. How is it?”
“It... Well, it’s really fancy. I mean, we’re talking football salaries.”
“Yeah, my aunt said that might be the case.”
“Your aunt? What does she know about it?”
“Well, she knows of Damon’s family. Apparently his uncle is quite powerful.”
Freya frowned, before realising Alice had meant Damon’s aunt’s husband, not Gregor. “Yeah, Damon said he was some kind of businessman.”
“And a fairly successful one,” Alice told her. “So, how are things going with Damon?”
Freya felt her mouth go dry. “Well, he... It’s fine.”
“Why don’t I believe that?”
“I just- it’s strange. There was a thing today that I can’t get into but it made everything weird. And now I’m here, being around him and it’s just...”
“Strange, I know.”
“Yeah...”
“Would this thing that happened today have anything to do with the fact that you have a massive crush on him?”
Freya blushed. “No I don’t.”
“Yeah, no one believes that,” Alice said briskly. “Look, just try to be normal around him, and I promise, it will be fine.”
Freya raised an eyebrow. “It’s not like you to promise something that you can’t guarantee.”
“Who says I can’t guarantee it?”
Freya frowned at that, but Alice continued on before she could say anything.
“Freya,” Alice said, her tone more than a little hesitant, “will you just promise me that you’ll be careful?”
“With Damon?”
“No, just in general. I mean, if anything happens... Just... Watch your back.”
“For what?”
Alice hung up before Freya got an answer.
Freya sighed, pocketing her phone. She decided Alice’s strange remarks were simply down to something going on with her sister, and that it had no bearing on anything to do with Freya.
At least the conversation with Alice had seemed to have calmed her down a bit, she thought, as she looked in the mirror and saw her face was no longer so pink.
She opened the bathroom door, heading back out to the living room, only to find Damon missing.
“Damon?” she called. “Where are you?”
Damon’s voice came from down the hall. “I forgot to put some stuff away this morning. I am just doing it now before my uncle gets home.”
Freya followed Damon’s voice through to the other room, finding that the room in question was filled with various weapons. They lined all of the walls, except for one which was made entirely of glass.
Freya tried not to look out of the large glass window, more than a little unnerved by how high up they were. Instead, she looked around at all the weapons that were collected, as Damon put a couple away.
“Why does your uncle have room full of weapons?” Freya asked, as she looked around, noticing all the weapon seemed rather old-fashioned. They were all swords, or axes, or even some that looked like spears. But there were no guns or anything like that.
“I told you, he works in security.”
Freya raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, but that usually means guns, not swords.”
Damon quick shrug. “Well... I know... But, still, he likes to know everything about every kind of weapon. Just in case...”
“Just in case someone tries to run him through with a sword...?”
Damon gave another quick shrug. “Look, I have no idea, he just likes them. Plus, he has been teaching me how to fight. You know, to build my confidence.”
Freya nodded. “Yeah, I always kind of wanted to learn martial arts as a kid. But I was a girl, so I got saddled with ballet.”
“Well, I could teach you, if you want. In fact, I am pretty sure my uncle would be glad I was practising. I tend not to outside of our lessons.”
Freya smiled. “I think I would like that.”
“Well,” Damon said, indicating around the room, “take your pick, and I will show you what I know. Do not worry, they are all blunted. Though I warn you, I am not that good yet, so I do not exactly have a lot to teach.”
Freya rolled her eyes. “Damon, you’re talking to a girl who can’t get through a single PE lesson without getting covered in bruises. I’m sure you’ll be better than me.”
Damon rolled his eyes. “That is only because you do not even try to catch the ball when it is thrown to you,” he said. “You just flinch away.”
Freya shrugged. “That’s only because I know it’s going to hit me.”
She made her way towards the swords, deciding to start with the basics.
Damon saw her, and made his own way to the weapons, picking up a sword she assumed was the one that was right for his height and weight.
One of the smaller ones seemed like the smartest choice to Freya as she had no idea which one she would actually be best at handling. But the sword Damon had chosen was nothing to sniff at, and she didn’t think one of the smaller ones could stand against it.
So, she picked up one of their larger ones, only to immediately regret it. The weight of the sword was heavy in her hands, and she almost dropped it. But she did her best to find her feet and figure out how to stand correctly.
“So, what?” she asked. “Do I just try to hit you with it?”
Damon nodded. “If you think you can.”
Freya awkwardly slashed her sword towards him, stumbling a little as the weight t
hrew her off balance.
Damon easily dodged out of the way of her blow, bringing his own sword down to lightly tap at her side.
Freya became incensed, spinning around wildly. Damon easily stopped her sword mid-blow, however, almost knocking her to the ground.
Freya figured she had to do something to regain her balance. Or at least attempt to keep it for more than five seconds. She quickly cycled through everything she knew about sword fighting, latching onto the TV show she had been watching the previous week.
Stance wide, body lowered.
She spread her feet, and immediately felt improvement to her balance. The next time Damon came in to hit her, she knocked his sword aside. However, just as she was beginning to smile at her small victory, Damon’s sword came around the other side, hitting her once more.
“You know, for dulled blades, this still actually hurts quite a bit,” Freya said, stepping aside to show that she was no longer interested in sparring.
Damon gave an apologetic smile, putting his sword to one side. “Sorry, I guess I just... I am used to being the one getting hit.”
Freya raised an eyebrow. “Your uncle hits you with these things?”
Damon quickly shook his head. “Just gently to show where he hit me. I swear, it is nothing bad. I am pretty durable.”
Freya nodded, taking his word for it.
Damon approached her, going slowly so that Freya could see what he was doing.
“Here,” Damon said. “I will show you how you are meant to stand.”
Freya nodded, allowing Damon close to her. Her heart thundered in her chest as he approached, and she struggled to catch her breath. Her cheeks flushed, and she wondered if Damon noticed anything as he moved his hands to her sides, repositioning her.
The places where his hands touched her skin tingled, and she felt her blush deepen.
He moved back around to her front, and she couldn’t help but note how close they were, memories from early in the day flooding back to her.
It would be so easy to close the gap between them, to press her lips to his once more, only this time without magic dictating his actions.
Would he pull away? Or would he reciprocate once more?
Before Freya could decide, however, they were interrupted by the sound of the front door opening.
“That is probably my uncle returning,” Damon said, stepping away from Freya, his face more than little pink.
Freya hoped his reaction was as much to do with attraction as hers had been, but they had been sparring. It could have just as easily been the exertion of exercise, she told herself in an effort not to get her hopes up.
Damon hurried out the room, and Freya moved to put her sword away, quickly glancing out the window as she went. There had been showers of rain all day, and the water left on the window had moved itself into spiral formations that were clearly not natural.
Freya sighed. No accidental use of her magic was good, but at least this hadn’t been harmful. And it wasn’t as if Damon had seen.
As soon as Freya put the sword away, she went to follow Damon back into the living room. But as she entered, she saw a man in the doorway that clearly was not Gregor.
He was a little shorter, though that wasn’t saying much, and he was much thinner, with none of the muscle Gregor had. In fact, he looked almost gaunt. He had the same paper white skin and jet black hair as both Gregor and Damon, but his hair was flecked with grey.
“Who is this?” he asked Damon. His voice seemed like it was trying to be friendly, but there was something in his tone that turned Freya’s blood to ice.
“A friend from school,” Damon said stiffly. “She was just leaving.”
Freya frowned. “Damon...”
Damon shook his head. “Freya, please,” he muttered under her breath, and she could feel the fear seeping from him. “It is time for you to leave.”
Freya wanted to argue, but fear had wired her jaw shut, and she found herself robotically picking up her bag before heading towards the door.
As soon as she was in the lift, the doors closed securely, the fear drained from her, replaced by fury.
Goddamnit! She hated herself for her cowardice. Damon had clearly been terrified of his father, and his aunt was obviously doing everything she could to protect him from him.
And Freya had left him there alone.
She let out a yell of frustration, her fist hitting the side of the lift.
While her loss of control brought a rush of shame, even if no one saw, it cleared her mind enough for it to actually think. She looked to see where she had punched the lift, only to blink in confusion at the large indentation in the metal.
“What the hell...” Freya muttered, just as the lift opened at the bottom floor.
Freya let out a sigh of relief as she saw Gregor coming in.
“Freya?” Gregor asked as he saw her. “Are you leaving already?”
She shook her head. “Damon, he– His father! He’s upstairs.”
Gregor took off, taking the stairs instead of the lift and going so fast that Freya could barely see him.
Freya pulled at the sleeves of her jumper as she tried to decide what to do. Should she go back upstairs and see what was happening? Damon had seemed determined she should leave. But then, he didn’t know that Gregor was coming back so soon. And she should be there, shouldn’t she? To see if Damon was okay. To apologise...
“You should probably go,” the doorman told her, his voice kind but firm. “You’re not going to want to be here for the aftermath of this.”
Freya nodded, too worn out to contemplate disobeying an adult.
Chapter Ten
Everything was grey when she made it outside. The sky, the rain soaked pavements, even the buildings seemed grey in the dim light.
At least the rain had stopped...
As she exited the housing estate, she pulled out her phone, with every intention of texting Damon to see if he was okay.
But as she reached for her phone, she glimpsed something out of the corner of her eye, freezing her still.
A pair of glowing red eyes.
Freya’s chest constricted as she desperately struggled to breathe. She looked around, but saw nothing, finally able to draw breath once more.
She pulled her hand up to her chest, finding her mother’s amulet beneath her jumper. He couldn’t get to her. Not while she had the amulet around her neck.
Despite that knowledge, her pace quickened and she hurried home.
Soon enough, she saw her school at the end of the street. She was halfway home.
But as she rounded the corner past the school, she saw the pair of red eyes once more. Only this time, they weren’t alone. The Demon they belonged to smiled at her, his sharp teeth gleaming in the dim light.
“Amber,” Freya desperately whimpered. She knew that her Guardian was gone, that she wouldn’t be able to reach her, but she was all out of other ideas. Calling out to her was the only thing that she could think of. After all, Amber would know what to do...
“Get home. Be as fast as you can, Freya. Don’t stop again.”
Freya’s head jerked up at the familiar voice, and she jumped, almost forgetting the Demon as she saw the familiar, ghostly form of her mentor.
“Move, Freya!” Amber commanded, and Freya did as she was told, practically sprinting back towards her home.
“Where – were – you?” Freya panted as she ran out of breath, her speed failing. As she slowed, she figured that talking wouldn’t slow her down much more, and she needed answers.
“You sent me away,” Amber told her. “My hold here is tenuous at best. After all, I am supposed to be dead. I am dead. And as such, I’m not supposed to exist on this plane. Your mother made me promise to look after you before she passed. That kind of promise has weight, and it’s the only thing keeping me here. I am tied to you. If you send me away, I go. Our bond had almost faded completely until just a second ago, and I would have passed on. Only you fearing for your life
like that was enough to bring me back.”
“You could have told me that before,” Freya managed, now walking rather than running, though it was a fast walk. It was the best she could do, with a stitch now assaulting her side.
“I didn’t think that you would send me away so forcefully.”
“You didn’t think the fourteen-year-old you are charged to look after might get angry enough at you at some point to yell at you to go away?” Freya asked, incredulously. As much as she hated stereotypes about people her age, and the condescending attitude of adults, the fact that Amber had completely ignored them was surprising. “Really?”
Amber shrugged at that, looking away awkwardly. “It’s been a really long time since I’ve had to deal with teenagers.”
“My mother was a teenager when you were dealing with her.”
Amber frowned. “And she died due to my fumbling...” she muttered.
Freya was about ask what the hell she meant by that, when she saw the Demon in front of her once more. He was standing at the end of the high street. The direction home.
Freya spun into a car park, hoping to lose the Demon.
As she entered the car park, however, he walked out from behind one of the cars.
Freya looked back, wondering just how he had managed to get in front of her. But she quickly spun back to the Demon as he finally seemed to be ready to acknowledge her.
“You, my dear, are particularly difficult to track down,” he said with a smirk.
“Don’t let him sense your fear,” Amber warned. “He can feed from it to increase his Energy.”
Freya felt the spike of irritation, turning to glare at her mentor. “That’s not as easy as it sounds!”
“Ah,” the Demon said, looking around. “It seems you have a Guardian of some kind. How unusual. I had wondered how a Sensitive Human had evaded me for so long. It seems someone has been intervening to protect you. So, who are they? Some kind-hearted Witch or Guide, or maybe even a Slayer, who saw some use in a little Human. I would suggest a boyfriend, but someone powerful enough to hide you from me couldn’t possibly be your age.” He looked her up and down before smirking once more. “Though, Light beings are never as virtuous as they like to pretend...”
The whole time he had been talking, Freya had been focusing on the cars surrounding them. Specifically, on the rainwater soaking them.
