Free The Tricking of Freya by Christina Sunley Page A

she was the goddess of love, it was Freyja people turned to for matters of
the heart, and she was the goddess too of birth, often invoked when women
went into labor. Freyja was also the goddess of magic, able to see into the
future. It was Freyja who taught Odin himself the art of prophecy. Although gods and goddesses were not the only ones who had this power. A
few humans did too, mostly women, and such a women was called a volva.
The volva sat on a high platform, dressed in cat-skin clothing, because it
was believed that cats would escort her to other worlds. The volva would
close her eyes, her head would sway, sometimes she would wave her hands,
or her magical staff the word volva means wand-bearer-and then she was
on her way, traveling to other worlds, to consult with the spirits and then return to her audience with news of the future. And who do you think it was
that a volva would turn to for inspiration and guidance?"
    "Frey] a?"
    "Indeed. And not only was Freyja a seer extraordinaire, she was a shapeshifter as well. She could turn herself into a bird and travel great distances,
into other worlds, wearing a cloak of falcon feathers. She rode around
heaven in a chariot pulled by wild cats, and on her neck she wore the Brising necklace, which everyone was always trying to steal from her because
of its great power. Oh, some giant or other was always trying to carry her
off, but Freyja called the shots when it came to men."
    Birdie paused for a breath. I knew that behind her cat-eye sunglasses
her eyes were large and spinning. "The trickster god Loki accused Freyja of
sleeping with various elves and gods, including her brother, Freyr. And on
the cusp of the conversion to Christianity a rogue Christian poet in Iceland
referred to Freyja as a wild pig in heat, a she-goat bitch roaming the countryside. A blatant attempt to denigrate the fertility cults, which had a lot of
staying power, let me tell you! Long after the so-called loyal followers of
Thor and Odin traded them in for the one God almighty, pockets of Freyja worshipers continued on in sacred groves, until the Christians started calling them witches and their cats familiars, claiming they used their magic not
only to predict harm but to cause it. Oh, blasphemy! But so it goes, when
one religion gets taken over by the next, one god substituted for another.
Fickle we are, fickle fickle fickle!"

    By this time I was completely lost. Fickle denigrate blasphemy rogue
bitch. It seemed Birdie had forgotten I was only seven, forgotten I was even
there. Had Birdie said that Freyja was a witch? Witches were bad and I
didn't want to be named after one. I lay down again, pressing my face into
the sandy beach blanket, but out of the corner of my eye I watched Birdie
talking, her hands gesturing in the air, her voice high-pitched and excited,
the words so fast and strange I couldn't understand them at all anymore
and soon they were swallowed up into a strange seashell roar deep in my
eardrums. A cloud eased itself over the sun and I felt a shiver travel up between my shoulder blades. I sat up and my teeth began chattering, slamming jackhammers so loud it broke Birdie out of her trance.
    "Baby, are you cold? How can you be cold?"
    "I'm hot."
    Birdie took off her sunglasses and stared at me. Her eyes were all pupil,
holes of black with only a tiny perimeter of blue. "Oh my God," she said.
"You're a lobster."
    Hardly anyone was left on the beach. The last families were packing up,
trudging back to their cottages. I couldn't walk; sand rubbing against the
burned soles of my feet made me scream. So Birdie carried me piggyback,
trading the beach bag back and forth between hands. "We forgot my sailor
cap," I whispered in her ear. "Mama makes me wear my cap. Mama doesn't let
me stay in the sun long. Mama puts lotion on me so I don't burn. Mama-"
    "Enough Mama," Birdie snapped. "Mama isn't here. You're stuck with
Birdie now, okay? And next time maybe