After today, Freya’s fear of dogs is not likely to go away soon.
I wasn’t with her when she went to meet Sol at the dog park today. I’d wanted to be, but I was delayed on my patrol when Ophell and I found a knot of Violences encouraging a bar brawl. We had just finished off the enemy when Eburnean sounded the alarm.
I arrived in time to find Freya stretching out her hand to a sleek, coppery dog who sniffed at her curiously. Sol was standing just behind them, completely at ease—he was familiar with the dog and knew her to be friendly. He could not see, of course, the small shadowy figure crouched with its hand at the dog’s neck.
I slapped Freya’s hand away just before the dog snapped, seizing the small Fallen by the throat in the same movement. It squealed shrilly, and I heard several dogs beginning to bark. The deep vibration of Freya’s fear sent shivers up my spine.
“Get her safe,” I cried to Eburnean and dragged the Fallen well away from her.
“You don’t want to do this,” it was whining, its sharp fingernails scrabbling at my hand. It had a high, grating voice that made me angry just to listen to it. “You don’t want to hurt me—”
“In fact I do,” I snapped in return, tightening my grip so that I did not have to listen to that voice. I hefted it up to eye level. Its feet scrabbled in the air, and its eyes darted madly from place to place. Its face was less human that any of the Fallen I have yet seen, with a pointed snout and fangs sprouting from under its upper lip.
Then Ophell was there behind me, and the Fallen quailed, its manic energy overwhelmed by fear.
“A Craze,” Ophell said scornfully. Like me, he still burned with the spirit of battle, his aura spreading far around us both. “Least of their kind—not even brave enough to touch the hearts of humans, they must make innocent animals into their weapons. Do not listen to its voice, Asa’el.”
“But I will, when it answers this one question,” I said. I lowered it just enough that its feet could brush the ground, and loosened my grip. “Did Asoharith send you?”
“Asoharith?” it choked. “I don’t know any such—”
But I had seen the spark of its fear, and I spread my wings wide. “Who is more frightening, Fallen?” I demanded. “The one who sent you, or the one who has you by the throat?”
Still it hesitated—I must ask Orison how it is that angels can compel truth from the Fallen. I shook it fiercely, and it gabbled an affirmative.
“Yes?” I asked, my heart speeding.
It fell quiet in my grip and grinned madly at me, its sharp claws stroking my wrist. “Yes. I came because Asoharith hates you and wants you to suffer. It is such beautiful hatred, Asa’el.” My name on its lips was filled with such scorn that I shuddered.
“Why does she hate me?” I demanded.
“What does it matter?” It laughed, and continued to laugh in a rising voice, making the dogs bark again.
“You’ll get nothing more that’s useful,” Ophell said. “Let me take care of this. You should see to Freya.”
I wanted to argue, but now I know what he was seeing in me—that the creature’s maddening power was beginning to affect me. I threw my captive into Ophell’s grasp and went back to find Freya.
Sol had settled her down on a bench outside of the park fence, leaving his own large dog inside to reassure her. Still, she was white and shaking, unable to shake the image of the powerful jaws closing just short of her fingertips. Neither Sol’s apologies nor Eburnean’s silent presence at her back eased her fear.
When I settled down next to her, though, she was able to take a deep breath. I suggested to Sol that he go talk to the owners of the offending dog, and when he was gone I enclosed Freya in my wings. “You are very brave to have done this,” I reminded her. “And this is neither your fault nor the fault of the dog. Look at her.”
She turned her head to see the scolded dog sitting with her head down, ears low, her whole body a line of shame. I could see her confusion and regret—she loves people, all kinds of people, and hasn’t snapped at anyone since she was a puppy. Freya could see less of this, but she still saw the truth, and she relaxed, a bit.
“I am sorry that she came so close to hurting you,” I went on. “I wish I could remove all the evil from the world, if only to be sure that you would be safe. But at least we both know that you can face that evil, even without me, even when you are already afraid.”
She sighed and leaned back into the bench and into my embrace. I stayed with her for a while, murmuring nothing much at all, until her shaking stopped.
Sol returned after a moment, still without Jax. “I’m so sorry,” he said again. “Danny and Sam are very sorry, too. I really don’t understand it—they say that they haven’t ever seen Penny snap at anyone, either.”
“Maybe I just smell bad to her,” Freya said. “It’s okay. Just a sign from the universe that I’m meant to be a cat person.”
“Well, I won’t argue with that,” he said. “But let me make it up to you. I’ll buy you a cup of coffee—no dogs allowed, I promise.”
“I’ll take you up on that,” Freya said, getting to her feet. “But maybe not today? I gotta go home and change my pants,” she joked.
“Totally fair. You name the day.”
She nodded and waved farewell, starting the short walk home with her hands clasped around her elbows. I walked with her, and by the time she was in the house, she was more at ease.
“Oh, Jolly,” she sighed as she fell onto the couch next to the lounging cat, “you are all the wild animal I can handle.”
“It won’t happen again,” I assured her. “I won’t let it.”
She picked up Jolly and draped him across her lap. “It was weird, though. Like I wasn’t scared at all until it actually snapped. Usually you can tell with dogs, right, if they don’t really like you? Like they growl first?”
“She did like you,” I told her. “But the Craze made her frightened and angry, and so she struck.”
Glancing through the doorway with a faint frown—as if she had heard something there—Freya snuggled the somnolent Jolly close to her chest. “Weird things are happening, Jolly,” she murmured.
I took a few steps back from her. “I am sorry,” I whispered. “But I will protect you, I promise.”
She smiled, let herself slide down into a horizontal position, and closed her eyes. I stepped close once again and whispered to Jolly to keep an eye on her. He flicked his tail at me, but then began to purr loudly.
Poor Freya. She is caught in something that is not her fault at all. I wish I knew that I could remove her from that vulnerable place, or at least protect her while she is in it.