Down in Flames [OC Demigod Fic]

Chapter Six: "A Canine Encounter"

A booming bark awakens me from my sleep. Hellhound.

Bolting upright my bed, I rush to get my weapon out and handy. More barks follow the first, as well as a cry for help.

The past couple of days have been fairly easy. I rode my bike all day and broke into unoccupied motel rooms to crash for the night. I'm currently at a motel in the middle of Kansas, which seems like a random place for a hellhound to decide to spring up from the Underworld and attack random people.

Part of me wants to get out of here and run the opposite direction. This would be my first encounter with a full-fledged, deadly, actual monster. The thought of a giant dog that can rip me apart in seconds is enough to send me reeling. On the other hand, mortals are in danger, and I'm under the assumption that I'm the only halfway-trained demigod in the area. The scream following the hellhound's barks has proved that much.

The motel analog clock reads 7:03 am. I'm running on about 4 hours of sleep, which is decent, considering my current situation.

I grab my backpack and dash out the door, mounting my bike and following the sound of barks as loud of machine guns. The motel is strategically located at an exit for the nearest highway; cars are zooming down the road, into gas stations and fast food restaurants, unaffected by the apparent presence of a Greek monster. The Mist must be concealing it to all but the one person screaming, "SOMEBODY CALL ANIMAL SERVICES! THIS GIANT DOG IS TRYING TO EAT ME!"

That's when I turn the corner and see it. A black mastiff the size of a moose is lumbering down the sidewalk after some poor teenage boy who sprints like he's in the Olympics hundred yard dash.

"Hey!" I shout at the top of my lungs, catching the hellhound's attention. It looks back at me, it's blood red eyes staring into my soul. The boy takes this moment to gain ground on the hound, then duck into an alley.

The hellhound apparently doesn't see me as a threat, because he continues on his way, following the boy into the alley.

Yep, that kid is an idiot. What kind of person purposely corners themselves when they're being chased by a monster with an extremely acute sense of smell?

I reach the alley in seconds, my bike skidding as I hit the brake faster than one should safely attempt. "Big ugly!" I holler at the hellhound, immediately regretting my choice to gain it's attention. It turns and growls at me, preparing to charge.

I'm shaking as I take the Swiss knife out of my black hoodie's pocket; in my rush to get a weapon handy, I put the knife into weapons mode and I take the first thing that comes up. The army knife transforms into a metal crossbow, already loaded. Though I'm terrible at archery, the hellhound is close enough for even me to hit. I launch an arrow at the ferocious monster and it pierces the dog right through its heart.

With a loud whimper, the dog bleeds ichor and quickly falls down, disintegrating in seconds. For my first monster encounter, it seemed too easy— putting that fact aside, I'm glad the imminent threat is gone. I change the bow back into its knife form and glance over at the guy, who looks scared out of his wits.

"T-thanks," he says shakily, not making a move closer to me.

This is the first time I've gotten a good look at him. The boy is about half a foot taller than me, but probably not much older than I am. He has caramel blond hair and translucent blue eyes. If he can see through the Mist, it's possible he's a demigod. Perhaps he hasn't been found by a saytr yet, making him a late bloomer like I was.

"Don't mention it," I hop off my bike and walk over to him. "I'm Sabine." The boy doesn't respond, still looking at me like I've grown another head. Sighing, I ask, "Have a name, kid?"

"Rhodes," he answers, snapping back into reality. "...Is this a normal thing for you? 'Cause being chased by giant man-eating dogs isn't exactly 'typical' for me."

I shrug. "My life's never been normal. So, in a sense, crazy is normal for me, and normal is crazy. Follow?"

"...You're crazy."

"Aren't we both?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Fair point," Rhodes replies.

An awkward silence follows his statement. Rhodes stares at his shoes and I furrow my eyebrows, studying the boy closely. He wears a backpack like me, but he doesn't look homeless; his preppy, likely designer clothing shows that he definitely hasn't grown up poor, or been on the streets long at all. Rhodes must be running away from home.

Whether he's a demigod or just a mortal who can see through the Mist, we're both better off sticking together.

I take a deep breath and ask, "Rhodes, have you ever wanted to go to California?"