Beast Below

I watched as Freya stormed out of our cottage, slamming the door shut behind her. I stared, confused and still filled with whatever anger had randomly welled up inside me earlier. I never was angry, especially not so angry that I destroyed things. I pulled open the door and searched the surrounding land.

“FREYA!” I yelled. I couldn’t believe I’d said that, told her that. “FREYA!”

She wasn’t coming back. I couldn’t see anything past the clearing I’d placed the cottage in but I knew she was gone. When my parents used to fight, Mom would piss Dad off so much that he had to leave. He would storm out of the house, cursing and slamming every door he passed through, his tires screaming as he sped away from our house to stay with his buddy from work or take up a permanent residence on a barstool for a couple of nights. One thing I’d learned from that was that when someone went off like that, it was highly likely that they weren’t coming back until the next day.

However, this posed a bit more of problem for us than it did to my parents, what with Freya’s condition to turn into a giant rage monster with man-eating jaws of fury and whatnot. It was a bit problematic for sure. Instead of just sitting down and talking out our feelings and crap, I had to make sure that she didn’t, you know, freak out on the first person she comes across after sunrise and maul that someone to death. That would not be good, for obvious reasons.

“Goddamn it, Freya,” I cursed and walked back into the house, slamming the cabin door. I picked through the mess I’d made singlehandedly. I’m impressive, really. Oncoming storm, almost. I sorted through the books, the furniture, the silverware. I knew what I was looking for, but considering everything had turned into a projectile, I wasn’t exactly sure where everything had landed. I picked up every book and paper, laying them on the counter or table, checking the title and type of scrawl.

Leanza was a master of writing spells and incantations. If there was something she wanted, and there wasn’t a spell for it, she’d make one. She’d written a spell, one of the very first nights I’d spent with her. It was in an old journal of hers, and it was full of spells and potions, and cures. Unfortunately, she never had the need to write a spell to reverse her own curses. Why would she? She’s a demon, according to Freya. She was selfish and reversing her own curses would benefit others. However, she had written a spell to track down this rare creature she’d come across in her travels. It was a pretty powerful spell, but the rare creature luckily got away. I know what happens to creatures when Leanza catches them. I should know. I’m one of them.

Finally, after looking for close to 10 minutes through the house and nearly giving up, I saw it, wedged underneath the easel I’d made for Freya for her paintings. It was small, leather bound journal with a long string of leather that wrapped around the journal in order to keep it closed, unlike all of Leanza’s fancy spell books which were latched shut and sometimes even locked, not that that could stop me. A simple wave of my hand and those locks popped open, just like that. The journal was old, the cover worn and the pages yellowed with age.

“Finally. I mean, really,” I grumbled, kneeling and lifting the journal up. I remembered watching Leanza working, whistling almost happily as she tested out each version before finally scribbling the incantation down onto the soft paper. She loved it, one of the only things that she did. It was amazing to me back then, watching her be so peaceful for a while. Even when we’d first met, Leanza was always very, what’s the nice way of putting this, turbulent. Whenever she’d put that raven quill to her paper, she’d mellow and it was just so bizarre.

I unwrapped the book quickly and flipped open to the middle, where the binding fell open naturally. I remember Leanza, staring at that page for hours, tracing the quill’s inkless tip over the paper again and again, trying to come up with the proper wording. Finally, it came to her. There was no need for a big long speech in Latin. All you needed, she’d said with wide, excited eyes, was just two words, and a rune.

Reperio and then the name of what or who you were searching for. The rune she had provided looked an awful lot like an R, except instead of being rounded, it had sharp edges. It’s used to find what is sought, and in safe journeys.

Back then, though, none of that meant anything. Runes, incantations, Latin, they all meant nothing to me. That was the upside to living with someone like Leanza, you learned things because she gave you no other option. It was learn or die. Forgive me, I don’t want to die.

“Don’t worry, Freya. I’m coming,” I muttered, tearing through the house towards Freya’s room. I ripped open her bedside drawer and rifled through. She’d smack me if she saw me doing this but lucky for me, Freya wasn’t here to rip me a new one about this. If she ever comes home, I’ll have a lot of explaining and grovelling to do. No, not if. When, Bennett. When.

I pulled the necklace out, one that she didn’t wear too often because of her morningly transformation, and dangled it in front of my face. It was a simple vintage teardrop amethyst pendant hung from a sterling silver chain, a gift from Freya’s grandmother on her 16th birthday.

I sent up a quick prayer to every spirit and god I could think of that this could work for Freya, like it had for the creature. I had a very small window to find her, and bring her back, that is, if she’d left. Considering how pissed we both were, I’d say it’s a fair guess that she’d booked it across the protective shield.

I left the cottage, turning at the last moment to stare at my mess. I waved my hand from left to right, sweeping it over the entire disaster zone, willing it to pick itself up. And I watched as the furniture began to shuffle its way back, little pieces coming to find themselves where they belonged. I grinned and tucked the journal in my back pocket, pulling the door shut behind me. I put my hand over the lock and felt it click. I held up the necklace, securing the chain by wrapping it around my hand.

“Alright, let’s do this.”

I cleared my throat and with my right pointer finger traced the Rad rune above my open palm where the pendant lay waiting before saying gently, “Reperio Freya” The pendant wiggled slightly, but lay still otherwise. I glared at it, but my eye caught on my ring. Freya wasn’t around to get hurt, and this spell was a bit out of my power range. I slid it off my finger and into the pocket of my jeans. Without the dampener, I tried it again, retracing the rune and resaying the words. Immediately, the pendant zoomed to the end of its chain and faced towards the northeast. I followed it and adjusted my course as it did.

It seemed like forever that I walked, through woods and across streams, up hills and then finally, as the sun had already started to raise, I saw it. The town. An ill feeling filled my gut as I thought what Freya could do. This was the nightmare. This was real. Freya was the beast and that poor town wasn’t going to know what hit it.

I followed on, watching my step and my direction. I didn’t really need the pendant anymore. I could hear the screaming, and it grew louder as I drew closer. I tucked the pendant away and raced down the last hill, passing a cemetery. That cemetery was going to have a few more headstones if I didn’t hurry and get Freya back to the meadow.

As I rounded a corner onto the main strip of stores, I saw her, wings out, fangs bared, talons dug into an old woman. There were bodies laying in the street, draped on windows. The town, it seemed, was empty. I’m sure there was only a hundred or two so people in this town, but it seemed to me like Freya had wiped every single last one of them away. Buildings were destroyed, their roofs caved in and their windows smashed. Doors lay open, waiting for someone to come along and shut them. Corpses of people young and old lay shattered, blood soaking them as they were missing their throats or their intestines. I cringed, swallowing the bile that rose in my throat.

“FREYA!” I screamed, watching her bare down on the old woman whose hands were already covered in blood, as well as her stomach where Freya was subtly ripping her apart. I knew what those talons felt like, and just thinking about them made my back and chest ache. The woman’s face, from what I could see, was pale and scared for her life. “FREYA!”

I used my magic to pick up a rock from the ground and hurtle it towards the beast. It hit her in the shoulder, but had no effect. She continued taunting the woman, digging her claws in deeper and snarling at her. I snapped off a pipe from the outside of a building and sent that flying, catching her in the back. She whirled around, her mouth dripping with blood.

“How about you pick on someone your own age?” I snapped, feeling the anger I’d felt earlier begin to course through my veins once again. This was still my fault, no matter what she’d said. If it weren’t for my drawing, for my nightmare, this never would’ve happened. If I hadn’t drawn it out, everything would be fine. I should’ve left her in my mind, where nightmares should stay. If I’d just done what everyone else does when they have nightmares, we would have never even been here. These people, they were innocent. They had nothing to do with this. But the beast I’d made Freya into, the beast didn’t care. It was bloodthirsty and evil, not like the Freya I’d grown to know.

The beast snarled and released the woman from her talons, but without medical attention, she was going to bleed out and die with the rest of her town. Freya stalked towards me and I snapped another pipe off the building, catching it as it flew at me. Her eyes flashed with the desire to rip me to shreds. I rushed towards her advancing figure and just as she was about to rear up and swipe me with her claws, again, I skid under her and towards the old woman. I collapsed beside her, and collected her into my arms. She reminded me of my Nan, a happy woman whose wrinkles came more from laughing than her old age.

“Hey, you gotta hang in there,” I said, pushing her greying brown hair out of her face. She smiled weakly and reached up, resting her bloody hand on my jaw.

“You remind me so much of my Nathan when he was young,” she whispered, voice hoarse and barely audible over Freya’s roaring. She had swung back around towards us and in a state of fury, set her eyes momentarily on tearing down the courthouse.

“Tell me more about Nathan,” I replied, tugging off my hoodie, careful not to jostle her. I bunched it up and pressed it into her stomach.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” she asked.

“It’s Bennett. What’s yours?”

“Jocelyn,” she mumbled, resting her head against my chest.

“You have to stay awake, Jocelyn. I’m gonna get you out of here and we’re gonna save you, okay?”

“Oh, but Harold, he’s waiting for me. He says it’s okay, that I’ll be with my family.”

“Jocelyn,” I whimpered, keeping an eye on Freya as I pushed Jocelyn’s hair away from her face. Despite the agonizing pain she must’ve been in, she had a faint smile dancing on her lips.

“I’m going home, Bennett. I’m going to be with my sons again. Wouldn’t you want to be with your family again, if you were me?”

I couldn’t answer her, because, yes. I would love to be with my family again, with my mom and dad, with my friends, away from Leanza.

“I’ll say hi to your Nan,” she mumbled as her eyes fluttered shut, and she went limp in my arms. Tears streamed unexpectedly down my face as I stared into this woman’s peaceful face. She was with Harold, and her sons. She was home, but it was Freya who did this. I carried the woman to the park and laid her gently beneath an old lilac tree.

“I hope Heaven is nice, Jocelyn,” I whimpered and wiped the tears from my cheeks. Pissed, and hurt, I stomped towards Freya, picking up the pipe I’d dropped near Jocelyn. Sensing my presence, she swung back towards me and we stared at one another.

“Forgive me, Freya, but you’re definitely gonna be sore tonight,” I said, sending her flying backwards towards a large oak tree. She slammed against it and fell into a heap on the ground. I had to get her back to the meadow, within the protective barrier, before she found her wings and another unsuspecting town. She collected herself, standing up and facing me. Her eyes had narrowed to slits, glaring at me for interfering. She didn’t know who I was. She didn’t recognize me as Bennett, the boy who she had known for 3 years, who had provided her with a safe place, food, clothing, a home, who had worked for 3 years to try and cure her of this.

I stood my ground as she approached, holding the pipe firmly in my hand. She stopped just a few feet away.

“Please, Freya, listen to me. You know me. Bennett. You know who I am. Listen to my voice. You know it sounds familiar. That’s why you haven’t attacked me yet. You could easily rip my throat out and eat me for dessert, but something is telling you no. Listen to it. Try to remember. Try to remember how every full moon, we pack a lunch and I take you to the farthest edge of the meadow, and we listen to the wolves on the mountain. Try to remember the time I accidentally turned your hair green and yellow and you wouldn’t talk to me for a month. Try, please.”

The beast stared, not taking its giant eyes off me. I could only hope there was a piece of Freya conscious enough to hear me. Then again, Freya would hate herself if she were conscious for this. She raised her front paw and with a sick grin, swiped at me, sending me flying towards one of the only buildings left standing. I heard the sickening crack of my own shoulder and ribs before I really felt it, falling to the pavement and letting all the pain flood into my system. Without a single care, I closed my eyes and let all of the unmanly tears flow down my cheeks. If I was going to die, at least Leanza wasn’t the one who killed me. I let out a choked laugh at that thought, and let go. My Nan was waiting, after all.