Down in Flames [OC Demigod Fic]

Chapter Eight: "Rhodes Almost Gets Eaten... Again"

"HURRY! SHE'S GOING TO EAT ME!" Rhodes screams, clinging onto me like a leech. I turn my head to look behind me, then wish I hadn't. The harpy's gaining on us.

"I'm trying, but you're being really distracting right now—"

"Excuse me for not wanting to die!"

I let out a frustrated sigh and switch on auto-pilot. Rhodes has the courage of a small kitten. Literally, he's like an indoor house cat that's gotten chased by a dog the first time he stepped outdoors.

"Here, take this," I hand him my knife-turned-crossbow, creating a distance between us; I'm not much of a hugger. "You'll probably have a better aim than me." He stares back at me, his face pale with worry. Why I've trusted him with my only weapon, I have no clue. In the meantime, I start working on the jet fueled engine, hoping to stabilize it enough to keep our speed up

I hear an arrow whiz through the air, followed by the harpy's cackle. "Barely missed," Rhodes groans.

Hearing another arrow click into place, I tell him, "Don't fire until she's close enough to get a clear shot." I hear another whizzing sound— typical.

My head is parallel with the ground at my current position as I attempt to reattach a couple of wires. I'm glad I don't have a fear of heights in this situation. Most Hephaestus kids do, seeing as our father was thrown down from the highest spot of Olympus. On the downside— excuse my pun— I freak out whenever I'm underground.

"Rhody, you need to be patient," I say in my calmest voice, more to myself than him. I'm about ready to throw a fireball at the bird and be done with it, but I might scare my witless ally and be stuck on my own again.

"Okay, I can do this," he replies, but he's probably talking more to himself as well. He takes a deep breath and time seems to stand still. I hear the sound of something being scratched at the same time Rhodes' arrow hits its target. The harpy squawks in pain. In that same moment, I prop myself upright and kickstart the bike's newly enhanced jet-speed engine and we accelerate to over 85 miles per hour, leaving our poor harpy friend in the dust.

"Are you okay?" I shout over the machine, barely moving my head back in his direction.
"Yeah, but let's stop soon," he answers. If I'm not mistaken, Rhodes sounds anything but okay.

When we reach the nearest city, I fly down and land in the nearest empty parking lot. A couple of mortals on the sidewalk gawk at us, but one look from me has them quickly averting their attention elsewhere.

As Rhodes and I hop off the bike, I glance over at him to see how he's holding up. The guy's in bad shape; he clutches his left arm, where his crew neck sweatshirt has been torn by the harpy's talons. He winces in pain and turns that side of his body away from me, as if to hide the fact he's hurt.

"Are you bleeding?" I ask, sliding my backpack off my shoulder to see if I have anything to help him.

Rhodes nods and bites his lip. "I'll be fine. It just needs patched up." He starts to walk away and I start to panic internally.

"Wait, don't leave! I can help—"

He laughs lightly, pain ringing through his voice. "I'm just going to get some bandages. I'll be back, dork." He uses his uninjured arm to point at a local pharmacy across the street. I breath out a sigh of relief as I watch him skirt across the street and enter the store. For a moment, I thought I'd lost my companion after only two days of travel.

Just as quickly as the panic left, it returns as I see a ghostly face appear in front of me. With a shriek, I jump back in surprise, inconveniently toppling over my bike and falling smack onto the pavement.

"You always this clumsy?" He asks as I rush to gain my footing. Rhodes still has my knife, leaving me defenseless against... A ghost that can't harm me in any way, being a hologram. I want to face-palm myself. Sometimes, I forget to use my brain.

"No. Do you always pop out of nowhere scaring people?"

"You've clearly never seen a ghost before," he smirks. "I couldn't help it— your reaction was golden."

I cross my arms and study the phantom; a boy in his late teens with Elvis-style hair, wearing a long black overcoat. He seemed like an average ghost, not that I know what an average ghost is like. He probably died in the 1950s, judging by the ghostly greased hairdo.

"What do you want?" I retort, fuming. I wish I could sear his smug little face off.

"Cool it with the attitude," he says in a chiding voice, though his easygoing smile doesn't waver. "I didn't come all the way up here from Elysium to be treated like this."

My cheeks turn red with embarrassment. "Sorry," I mumble.

"Don't worry about it. The name's Dennis," he holds out his hand to shake.

"Sabine," I reply and attempt to shake his hand, though mine passes straight through his. I shudder at the strange feeling. Dennis laughs lightly and wiggles his transparent fingers before withdrawing them.

"Pleasure meeting you, Sabine. What are you?" He asks. I tilt my head, confused. Clarifying, he continues, "Mortal, demigod, nymph..."

"Demigod," I answer. "You?"

"Ah, that doesn't matter right now," he brushes off the question. "What matters is, you're in danger." His expression becomes almost worrisome, a feeling of fear radiating from him and settling inside me.

"I don't understand."

"I'm here to warn you," he steps closer, his pupils darkening from their original ghoulish green to a charcoal color.

"About what?"

"Rhody."