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STORMY WEATHER
By evening the increasing violence of the storm forced Freya indoors despite her worry. She sat by a window with a view of the front strip of concrete. The window itself was covered with strips of tape to prevent shattering in the event of a particularly violent wind gust. Her first choice of window had not been available - it was already covered with a sheet of plywood, since a wind-flung branch in an earlier storm had smashed its glass. Freya huddled in a blanket for warmth.
“Can’t we turn on a heater or light a fire or something, Mum?”
Danae was chopping onions with a practised hand. Onions were almost always cheap.
“No, Freya. You know the electricity has been off for days. And there’s no wood left for a fire.”
Freya turned away from the window to look at her mother.
“Why is the electricity still out, anyway? Isn’t it someone’s job to fix it?”
“Yes, well. That woman who runs the corner store told me that every time they try to fix the lines, they get blown down again. Too many storms for them to cope with. If you ask me, I think there’s probably some Thor-kins around in this town. They’re often associated with storms.”
Danae’s stormy expression as she searched through the sprouting potatoes for ones that weren’t too soft to use suggested she herself might be related to the thunder god, though Freya was sure that wasn’t the case.
“You always think everything’s due to some demi or other, Mum. Couldn’t it just be weather?”
“Not in my experience. There’s usually more demi effects around than most people realise. They just don’t know what they’re seeing.”
“OK, Mum, if that’s how you see it. Where’s the camping stove?” Freya didn’t disbelieve in the gods - she’d seen plenty of river gods, after all. But she did think her mother’s attitude was rather extreme.
“It’s in the kitchen box. But we’ve only got a bit of fuel left for it, so keep it for hot drinks, after I’ve used it for the soup.”
“Can’t I have a hot water bottle, Mum?”
“There’s not enough fuel for that, Freya. And you spent too much money on cat food for that cat of yours for us to buy more fuel.”
“He has to eat, Mum!”
Freya’s family had invested in some camping equipment at their last house when there was a little extra money for a change. It was worthwhile to be able to cook even when the electricity was off, as it so often was. But a camp stove didn’t keep anyone warm. Warmth was a luxury item these days. Coal fires had been banned for a few years now, and only rich people had hydrogen or solar heating. Freya kept her vigil in the cold, her head resting on the chilly window.
The potato and onion soup was good, though, seasoned with foraged herbs. Freya felt a little better after she’d had her share.
Mum makes the best soups, even when we have almost no food.
Despite her concern for Mr Fluffbum, she felt happier for being fed.
I just hope Mr Fluffbum has found the food outside. Even if it is all anty, now.
“Are you going to bed, Freya?”
Danae had collected the dishes and left them in the sink.
“No, I want to stay up and see if Mr Fluffbum comes back.”
“Are you packed for tomorrow?”
“Mostly.” It was almost true. Freya didn’t have much to pack, so she didn’t think it would take her long.
“Well, finish it off now please. Then, you and Tammy make sure the dishes are done. I’m going to bed.”
“Yeah, yeah. Goodnight, Mum.”
Freya resumed her watch of the street, without packing, hoping that soon a twitch of an ear or swish of a tail would announce her missing cat’s return.
It was closer to dawn than midnight when she awoke, dismayed to discover that she’d slept. Her watch had been unsuccessful. No cat had slunk nonchalantly into view. She checked out the window again, hoping to see Mr Fluffbum waiting outside the window. Instead, her view was unexpectedly obscured. At first, she thought her vision was faulty. Or maybe the night was just really dark. Then she realised that her window had in fact been covered by a layer of leaves.
“Seriously? We don’t even have a street tree here.”
Freya tugged at the window latch, but it resisted.
Oops. I forgot it’s painted shut.
Freya creaked to her feet. Surely, she was too young to feel this stiff. But she’d slept so long in one position, her legs had gotten numb. Wind still battered the house, but she wouldn’t do any good trying to see through a dark window. She lurched down the stairs, clutching the banister for balance. Her legs weren’t working properly after her long stint at the window. She wriggled her toes until the feeling came back into them, then proceeded in a more normal fashion. The blanket around her slipped off halfway down, and she had to pause to rearrange it scarf-style over her shoulders, or risk tripping on the trailing edge.
I’m sure other demigoddesses don’t have to fight with blankets on the stairs in the night. Why does this sort of thing always happen to me?
A few more steps saw her safely to the ground floor and creeping down the hallway. The floor was uncovered - probably it had been polished a couple of decades ago, but it was now returning to its original state. The surface was chilly beneath her feet, and the floorboards creaked in an uneven cadence as she walked along the hall to the front door. Peering out, she was relieved to see that the rain had stopped. However, no cat mewed in grateful greeting. Remembering another night like this one, a few years ago, Freya stepped out of the house and pulled the door closed behind her. The night they stayed in a bed and breakfast, that dreadful day their house had washed away. Back when Mr Fluffbum had been just a kitten, he had led her down to the beach on a stormy night, begging for fish from the wind demis. Had he gone looking for Lio in a storm again? It had been years since that had happened - since they moved to the hills, in fact. Freya headed for the sea, just in case.
There was not much beach in this town, not anymore. Thanks to the rising of the sea, there was now only a concrete seawall increasingly broken up by seas that were rougher and higher than it had been designed for. With many of the streetlights not operating, the streets were dark as well as windy.
“Come on, Mr Fluffbum, this is the sort of night you’re supposed to be curled up on my bed, not missing in action.”
There was no answer from the streets. On balance, Freya supposed that was just as well. What would she do if she met someone out here in the wild night? Lucky it was so cold, anyone sensible would be at home. Did that mean she was not sensible? She supposed it did.
Freya reached the seafront without sighting her cat, or anyone else. If it weren’t for the blue-lit flickering of TV screens from some windows - the ones with household batteries - the town could be empty, ghost ridden. The wind howled through the streets, blowing leaves and old takeaway boxes before it.
Freya leaned into the wind and clutched at her blanket. She looked north first, but could only see endless breakers crashing against the rocks which were exposed at low tide. No cat there. She turned bodily to the south, blocking some of the wind so that her blanket flapped in front of her. She squinted along the seawall. The promenade was scattered with chunks of broken concrete from the wall. Another furious gust, and a chance wave broke over the wall with a smattering of foam. Was that a movement, just beyond the reach of the wave? She hurried in that direction, but stopped, her skin crawling when she saw a figure easing out from beside a building. Distant thunder rolled ominously. The figure laughed cheerfully.
“That is so over-the-top, honestly! Thor has too much sense of the dramatic,” said the figure.
Freya felt a rush of relief. The voice was familiar, and so was the skinny, half-clad figure, seemingly lit by red light. Given the night was dark, the effect was startling.
“Lio! What are you doing lurking about here? It’s a long way from your normal beach, isn’t it? Don’t you have things to do, races to run?”
“I always have races to run. Though I’ve not done that for a couple of years. Family duties, you know. But as for beaches, I go where the wind blows. The world is my home! But I thought I saw you cowering between the buildings, and I was intrigued.”
“I was not cowering! It’s cold out here, you know. Not that you’re dressed for the weather.”
Lio grinned.
“I make my own weather. No blankets for me. But you are usually led by a cat or two, yes?”
Freya, who had experienced a lightening of heart when she identified Lio, now felt a flood of hope.
“Just the one cat. I’ve been looking for him everywhere. Have you seen him?”
Lio’s face clouded. “I haven’t, sorry. But you should know, there’s a troll in this town. Nearly full-blood, I heard. They can be partial to cats.” Fear clutched at Freya’s stomach, hope vanishing like water down a plughole.
“Do you mean...”
“I don’t know anything for sure. I only come when there are storms, you should know that. And this storm’s from the north, so I’ve just whipped in on the end of the cyclone, so to speak. I heard about the troll from friend. A troll so nearly full-blood is pretty rare these days, so that gets commented on. As do demi-goddesses who walk out in storms with their cats. Anyway, I hoped I’d see you out and about. Hardly anyone else comes out in storms these days. I haven’t seen you for years. You’ve grown.”
“Ugh, you sound like a long-lost aunt! You’ve grown, too, if it comes to that.”
“You should come out more often. I’ve missed you.”
“I guess I’ve been feeding Mr Fluffbum well enough that he hasn’t felt the need to go out. If he doesn’t, I don’t. Sorry.”
“It’s not much fun without other demis to talk to, you know. Full-bloods are always holier-than-thou, and humans don’t even notice me. Or maybe they pretend they don’t, I’m not sure. They look around and through homeless people in the same way. So demis - well, I just wish there were more of you out at night. And out in the weather. It seems like most of you are practically human, these days.”
Freya clutched her blanket tighter.
Lio seems much less tied to humans than we are. Maybe his deity-blood is more recent...
“Well, we almost are. Mostly human, that is. Most of us have almost no powers to speak of, so we have to try to look like humans, anyway. Or so my Mum is always telling us. It doesn’t seem fair that we should be demis and not ever get to tell anyone, or do much about it,” said Freya.
“Unfair, and surely dangerous, too. If you don’t do anything with your power, however small, surely one day something will pop, yes?”
Lio gestured with his hands, miming an explosion. No constrained British body language for him, Freya noticed.
“I guess. Tammy - my sister - she’s always using her powers. No fear that she will pop. But I don’t even know what my powers are. Apart from water summoning, I suppose. Not that I’ve done that much recently. I never do near the sea.” She shivered. The sea still scared her after all these years near it.
“So, you found some powers then? That’s great!” Lio enthused.
Freya shook her head, not denying it, but rather in response to the emotions that came with remembering her lost closeness to her sister.
“Yeah, I did. Water like Tammy. Fresh water.”
“That’s an odd one. I wouldn’t have guessed it from a Norse goddess, Greek wino combo,” Lio commented.
“I know, right? I have no idea how Tammy and I ended up with such a weird-yet-similar power. That sort of drove Tammy and I apart, you know. I think she was envious of what I have. She went through some weird stuff when her power came in, and I haven’t had anything like she did. Not that I’ve done anything with power for a while. There didn’t seem to be any point in competing with her. But that reminds me. You said there was a troll here. Does he have a name? Tammy knows some part-trolls. And jotunn.”
“Sorry, I’m not good with names, I mostly remember faces. But she should probably be avoiding the jotunn too. I’ve heard it said that jotunn is just an older name for troll.”
A particularly strong gust of wind spattered sea spray over Freya. She edged towards the meagre shelter of the battered seaside houses, unwilling to turn her back on the sea. Lio walked with her. He seemed to have no qualms about the stormy sea.
But then he wouldn’t, would he? He spends his whole life in storms.
“But aren’t the Norse giants and trolls different? That’s what Mum always told me.”
“Stories change. It’s hard to know their truth. Be careful out there. Avoid the jotunn if you can. Your cat should, too.” Lio looked around as though trolls might be peering out from the nearby buildings.
“Tammy’s not going to listen to me about that. But we’re leaving here tomorrow. That’s why it’s so urgent I find Mr Fluffbum - no, don’t laugh. I was pretty young when I named him, you know. And it suits him still, he’s got such long fur. If only I could find him!”
“I can look for your missing cat. He may remember me fondly.”
“That’s true. I don’t think we would have got through without you and your fish, that first winter,” said Freya, warmth stealing into her voice.
“My pleasure,” said Lio. “But I make no promises, now. Trolls, you know. And kelpies.”
“Surely there aren’t kelpies here, too! I haven’t seen any.”
“Oh, yes. It’s probably a good thing you’re leaving. I don’t know how long you’ve been here, but this town is not a healthy one, not for people who like to live long, happy lives without being a meal.”
Freya shivered. While they hadn’t encountered more than the usual number of dangers in this particular town, hearing how dangerous it could be was worrying. But...
“So, how do I know I can trust you? Are you a healthy being to be around? It’s not like I know you well anymore.”
“Hmm, tricky question! But yes, you can trust me. I always looked out for Mr Fluffbum, didn’t I? Still, how do you know you can trust anyone?”
Freya found herself nodding.
“I suppose. But tell me if you see Mr Fluffbum. Please! I miss him. I need him.”
“I’ll keep an eye out. But I’ll only be able to tell you if another storm blows up this way, or if I see him before this storm moves on. You land demis are not the only ones with limited powers, alas.”
He seemed genuinely sad about this. Freya too wished she had the powers of her ancestors. Why, the original Freya was said to have had a chariot drawn through the sky by cats! That seemed beyond the achievable in Freya’s lifetime. Right now, just one cat curling around her ankles would do.
A sudden gust of wind blew sea spray onto Freya once more and she shivered again, suddenly aware of how bone-deep the cold had become.
“I can’t stay out here. I’ll freeze. And surely Mr Fluffbum wouldn’t have stayed out, either. He’s usually inside on nights like this.”
Lio looked at her with something like pity on his face, and reached out a hand to gently pat her shoulder.
“I do hope you find your cat. Check for bones, though. Good luck.” With those decidedly depressing words, he turned and ran swiftly out of sight. Freya wondered where the other boys were, the ones whom she’d seen sometimes when she saw Lio on a beach. She didn’t wonder long though. The bitter cold and the talk of trolls and bones scared her. She turned away from the sea, and started running herself, back to the house that was home for the rest of this night, at least.
Next morning, Freya awoke at first light still pressed against her leaf-covered window. She had spent the night leaning against it in the hopes of hearing her cat come home. She was stiff and cold, and had to stretch her legs a few times before she had enough feeling in them to walk without falling, then went to find her sister.
“Tammy. Tammy, wake up. I need to know; just how much troll is that boyfriend of yours?”
“Mmmf. Why are you waking me up so early?” Tammy rolled away from Freya.
“Because my cat is still missing, and your boyfriend might have something to do with it. Tell me about Sigvard, please,” said Freya, jittering from foot to foot with impatience and worry.
“I don’t see what Sigvard has to do with your cat. Like I told you, he’s a jotunn, not a troll. And he’s from Norway. OK? Now let me sleep.”
“Are you sure he’s really a jotunn?”
“That’s what he told me. Why would he lie? Now go away!” Tammy pulled her pillow over her head.
Freya did so, still worried by the dreadful thought that had come to her while she slept.
What if Tammy’s boyfriend was also the troll Lio had told her about? What could be easier for a cat-loving troll than to pick off a friendly cat like Mr Fluffbum?
Still, there was not much to be done, since Freya had no way of verifying the species of Tammy’s boyfriend. All she could do was keep looking for her cat.
A tour of the streets in the morning light - dreary with a light drizzle that kept threatening to become heavier - failed to turn up any sign of her cat. When she returned to the house, colder than ever, and now uncomfortably damp as well, Freya saw that the leaves on her window had blown partly off. The remaining leaves spelt out words:
NO CAT YET.
Can’t you manage anything creepier, Lio?
The wind demi clearly didn’t have access to something as simple as pencil and paper. At least, Freya was pretty sure that it was Lio who had rearranged the leaves.
The house she returned to was in a familiar state of semi-chaos, with the usual piles of things they enjoyed having but now needed to pack littering the floor.
“Mum, why do we even bother to keep this stuff?”
“Because it’s important to be warm enough at night. Are you saying you don’t want blankets?”
“Of course I do, it’s just that we have to pack everything so often. Maybe we should just admit we’re permanent travellers and live in sleeping bags.”
“That doesn’t sound comfortable. And anyway, I’m sure we’ll find somewhere permanent one day.”
“But when, Mum? I’m so sick of moving all the time!”
“Oh well, it depends...”
Freya’s mother trailed off, the task of exiting a house taking over her forebrain once more as she piled last-minute things into bags.
“Oh well, same old same old,” sighed Freya. Then she rallied.
“But Mum, I still haven’t seen Mr Fluffbum. Have you seen him anywhere? We can’t leave without him.”
“Look, I’m too busy to think right now, let alone look for that cat of yours. We have a deadline; buses don’t wait for anyone. And we don’t have transferable tickets. If you can’t find him, he’ll just have to make his own way.”
“But he’s a cat, Mum, not some super-tracker dog or haunt or something!”
“I know, I know, but I’m too busy. Please go make sure we’re packed up, and hopefully he’ll turn up shortly.”
Dissatisfied with this response, but powerless to change her mother’s mind, Freya set off on her usual exit-tour of the house, collecting essentials that had been left out: portable stove, solar charger for her sister’s phone (not often useful in winter, but too expensive to lose), a half-empty pack of painkiller.
She passed her sister arguing on her phone to someone. Not wanting to eavesdrop particularly, but unable not to hear her sister’s half of the conversation in the thin-walled house, Freya inadvertently gained more insight into the challenges their family was facing this morning.
Tammy was grumpy because her boyfriend (Freya couldn’t help but wonder again, troll-friend?) had apparently refused to move any things of hers, claiming a lack of fuel. She refused to discuss the problem with her family, grimly stuffing her belongings into an overloaded suitcase with one broken wheel. Freya suspected that the friend had declared a disinterest in visiting Tammy once she was further afield. That would certainly account for some of the grumpiness.
Freya hastily crammed her belongings into the large rucksack she’d acquired in a thrift shop. It was easier to carry a cat cage if you had a free hand. Her other hand would be engaged in pulling a suitcase full of food and kitchen items. Now though, she wondered if she would need the cage. There was still no sign of her cat, and no more word from Lio. The storm had receded, leaving the usual grey skies.
When the family left later that day, they left without Freya’s beloved pet. Freya took the precious cat-cage, though - just in case. No amount of raging or tears could persuade the rest of the family to stay longer. Freya was heartbroken. Surely, no new town was worth leaving behind a loved one. Even if the old town in question was a troll-infested hole full of houses without decent gardens.
If I had found Mr Fluffbum, I’d be happy to be leaving this dump. It’s not like I even made any friends here. It’s just... I want my cat!
Freya was the only one who looked back as the small family trudged away towards the station. All she saw was rain, lashing the houses where they perched at the edge of the heaving sea. Her tears blended with the rain till they ran unnoticed down her face. By the time the rain cleared - well, stopped for a short time anyway - her tears had dried. And she knew that she couldn’t rely on her family to care for the same things that she did.
“Goodbye, Mr Fluffbum. I hope you turn up somehow.”
Their bus was missing. Freya stared at the orange text on the overhead signs, willing their bus number to appear, perhaps with a few numbers indicating the minutes until it arrived.
That’d be a handy demigod ability. I wish I had it.
Sadly, no matter how hard she willed, the display continued to indicate a lack of buses.
“What time was the bus supposed to be, Mum?” Freya asked, setting down her burdens and wrapping her arms around herself.
“It’s supposed be leaving in two minutes. Right before the bus going east.”
“And we’re catching the bus going north, right?”
“Yes. The bus that is currently nowhere to be seen.”
Freya shuddered as a particularly violent gust of wind blew a wet spattering of rain under the bus shelter.
“It doesn’t look like the bus gods want us to leave without Mr Fluffbum,” Freya said.
“Act your age, Freya, there are no such things as bus gods,” Tammy said, hunching her shoulders against the wind.
“I know, Tammy, it’s a joke.” Freya rolled her eyes at her sister.
“If Sigvard had been nicer to me this morning I’d stay anyway,” Tammy muttered.
“Told you he was a troll.” Freya knew she shouldn’t taunt her sister about her boyfriend - Tammy was obviously upset - but she was too upset about the loss of Mr Fluffbum to care.
“He is not a troll. Just making a really poor choice right now.”
“That’s enough from both of you,” snapped Danae. She’d been furiously searching bus timetables on her phone. “We can catch the next bus north, there’s one due in half an hour. But I don’t have enough money left to get us new tickets all the way to our destination. We’ll have to walk the rest of the way. With any luck the storm has done its worst here.”
“Oh, Mum, no!” both girls chorused in dismay.
“Yes. It’s not so far. And it will be a good opportunity to review your knowledge of northern edibles. They’re quite different to the southeast.”
Tammy and Freya exchanged identical expressions of horror. Neither of them felt that an extended walk in the rain with their mother drilling them in foraging was an enjoyable prospect. However, there was little choice.
“At least we can get partway on the bus,” Freya said. “Will we have far to walk?”
“We’ll see,” said Danae.
***
THERE WERE STILL FORTY kilometres to go to get to their new home when the bus deposited them at another gloomy station. The rain had paused for a while and watery sunlight was causing steam to rise off the asphalt.
“Let’s get a move on, then,” Danae said briskly. Freya and Tammy, scrambling to pick up their things, ceased glaring at each other long enough to glare at their mother.
“This isn’t anywhere near where we’re going, is it?” Tammy asked, consulting her phone.
“It’s a lot closer than we were. The sooner we start, the sooner we’ll be there.”
Freya rolled her eyes.
“We’re going to have to camp out, aren’t we, Mum?”
Danae shifted uneasily.
“Maybe not, if we hurry.”
“I am not camping out. My things would get ruined,” Tammy declared.
“Your things aren’t as important as my job,” Danae snapped.
Freya picked up her empty cat cage and shouldered her rucksack.
Looks like it’s time to act like the adult around here.
“Come on, Mum, Tammy. The longer you argue the later it will be when we arrive.”
***