Whoops. Since you came in on Wednesday instead of Saturday, I forgot to mention that there was a song on the grammophone one of the times she played it when she was attempting to learn one of the other languages.
"Little Freya saw a man on the stair,
She saw a man who wasn't there,
She saw the man again today,
She wished, she wished, he'd go away..."
Poor Freya. She woke up in a dear little pickle. She found herself in a library and heard Liam's voice. She tried to run, she tried to hide, but there was nowhere out of this library. Days passed. She tore up books for a pillow out of their ripped paper. When she woke, it was normal. She could tear at her flesh and hair but when she awoke, she was fine. She never got hungry. Never needed to go to the toilet. Never once in the five years she lived in that library. Liam Conner came to visit her on several occasions, making her dance, making her obey him, and all she had for company was the little black teddy bear that Peter won for her at the fair. The toy he'd carried around for luck while gambling before giving to her, and thus smelled of him. It was also the only soft thing in the library. She felt it was five years, but it may have been more.
A month before she was rescued, she started hearing snatches of voice. Peter's voice, threatening the others with being turned into ash if they didn't reverse the ritual properly. She followed the voice but found nothing. And then after a time, she was in a dark room, surrounded by three rings of candles, incapable of moving, and so very hungry. Devastatingly hungry. She wore a very revealing dress. She could see Liam among the red hooded people in the room. Peter held a flame thrower and made them all back up to the wall. He came and picked her up and she blacked out from the pain.
When she woke up, she was in a dark subway tunnel, being dragged into a subway carriage and plopped down onto one of the cushioned benches. She found that she was crying blood. She was terribly hungry. Peter smelled so good ... so delicious. She whimpered, crying harder when she realised what she had become, and pleaded for death. Peter apologised, with tears in his eyes, for leaving her alone, and paced a little, seeming confused, worried about a decision that was difficult to make. Finally, he sat her up, leaned her head back and opened her jaw. He straddled her, pulled down the straps of her dress and placed his hands, one over the other, over her heart, and pressed his lips against her, breathing warmth into her. She felt the pain well up, over and over, as her heart began to struggle, to beat again.
Figures appeared behind him. Menacing dark shadows. She tried to call out but his mouth was on hers. She tried to tap his shoulder, to distract him, but he didn't seem to notice. Finally he began to slump to one side, just as a figure decapitated the shadowy figures and tossed Peter off her, swinging her up into the arms of ... Koppel.
Koppel rescued her, taking her back to a friend's haven. She could see he was supernatural but couldn't tell what. He convinced her to go back to her demonic friends. He told her to help him stop the war. He told her she was someone special. That she should keep her friends from killing the vampires in retribution. He said Peter was dead. He told her a lot of things, everything she wanted to hear, and asked her to please, help him. He promised to give her more advice if she could only secretly call him the next night and tell him what was happening. But she couldn't tell the others about this. They wouldn't trust him. They'd keep her from him if they knew ... and he couldn't stand that.
Oh yeah, and not suprisingly, Freya got the monophobia derangement out of this.