There was no way that she would ever manage to get this much drool and blood out of her sneakers. That was the primary thought Tahra had as she slid through the gore and mess between two of the three legs attached to the monster overhead. She could feel it sloshing around inside her sneakers, soaking through her socks. They had been her favorite sneakers too. It seemed that now was not the time to mourn them though, as the angry (now bleeding) giant roared its outrage at her. Wads of drool, thick and yellowed, dangled and swung from the creature's fanged mouth. The fangs were particularly disturbing, as she had never seen a horse's head with sharp teeth. Though, she'd also never seen a horse's head on a humanoid body with three legs, two overly muscular arms and several eyes covering its back and chest before either.
The creature had a friend with it, a second giant that (she could only assume) another demigod was busy with in his own way. She could see someone male and (hopefully) human flailing around the second giant's disgusting feet. The second giant was even taller than the horse-headed giant. He had blue skin, one enormous eye that rolled and rolled in his head and a mess of stringy white hair. He wore a suit of armor that appeared to not include pants...or underpants for that matter. If Tahra had been worried about maintaining some sense of her innocence, this would have shattered that ideal quickly.
Tahra had little time to worry about the survival rate of the other person though, while she tried to keep herself out of the horse-headed creature's claws. As it roared, a massive hand swung down at her, aiming to squash her flat she was sure. Tahra tucked and rolled quickly to the side, screaming in her fright. Behind her the hand crashed into the flat cemented ground, breaking the concrete into shattered fragments. She felt the concrete underneath her shudder with the impact, and roil as if it had become an unsteady ocean. Dust from the broken stone settled over her head, shoulders and back and she huddled in a ball to protect her face. She thanked the Gods that they were only on the bottom of a parking garage and not on one of the many floors above. Otherwise, they might be falling to their death. Though, they may die anyway.
Clutched in her hands she held the "gift" her "father" had given her before he send her on her mission to die. A short sword her called something..Beagle...something, it was in the Gaelic language. Languages had never been her strength. She knew it translated to Little Fury, and she knew it left quite a cut on the undercarriage of the horse-headed beast. Hence, all the blood. She never would have imagined this might be the way she'd die. Squashed flat by some creature that until just a few days ago she never would have imagined to exist. She never would have believed it either if she hadn't seen it with her own eyes.
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Two days before, she had been living a mostly normal life. She was living in a small but cozy old apartment in the North End in Boston with her mother. They were lucky to have found it, since the places around that part of Boston were really expensive. It was small, and older--but it was just the right size for a family of two. They lived across the street from a family run bakery that was open 24 hours, and Tahra loved the way the sweet smell of bread, tinged slightly with almond, permeated the air. Their place hadn't been renovated for a long time though, it had dark wood paneling, and orange counter tops reminiscent of the 70's, but her mother slowly made it feel like a real home. Hanging photographs she'd taken from all over the world. Her mother's specialty was landscapes, and she often had her work featured in National Geographic. She traveled a lot of time for her work--and when she was smaller, Tahra often went with her. It was a great experience, but Boston always felt like home.
Her mother had never spoken much about who Tahra's father was, and Tahra in turn had never asked. He wasn't involved, so he didn't matter. That's what she had always thought. So naturally, when a strange man came to the door acting as if he knew her--she was not too thrilled. The man had wild auburn hair past his ears, a somewhat scruffy-looking, but well maintained beard and golden hooped earrings in both ears. Around his neck, he wore a strange gold choker that looked like twisted rope and was dressed in red flannel button-up and well-worn jeans. Spitefully, Tahra thought he looked like a flashier version of the brawny paper towel man.
"Can I help you?" Tahra asked, opening the door only enough so that her head and shoulders could fit through. The man ignored her obvious lack of enthusiasm and gave her a smile that would make starlets swoon.
"Yes, Tahra, you can." He said, voice thick with a brogue. She tensed at the man's use of her name. She hadn't given it. Was this guy a stalker? Her face twisted into a grimace, her malice and distrust immediately available for him to see as she started to close the door on him. But she found herself unable to do so.
"Creep! Stalker! Hey! GET OUTTA HERE!" Tahra shouted, attempting to force the door closed. She pushed with all her strength, hoping it would hurt the man's foot enough that he would pull it out, but it didn't budge. As she looked, she realized why. The door wasn't being held open by his foot at all..but by a thick branch that suddenly was growing between the frame of the door. Tahra stared at it, mouth agape. It wasn't possible. There wasn't any tree branch or anything growing anywhere near their apartment, never mind in the frame of the door.
"You won't close it that way." The man's voice seemed merry, as if he were laughing at her astonishment. And in fact, she could see his green eyes twinkling around the crack caused by the branch. He'd made no attempt to shove open the door on her--though he could have easily done so. Instead, he was watching her struggle and tire herself out, apparently to no avail. Tahra glowered at the man in return, pulling the door abruptly open again, just enough that her whole small frame was blocking it. The man actually laughed at her expression, startling her out of her outrage. "Is that really any way to look at your dear old Da?"
Now she was just plain dumbfounded. She gaped at the man, eyes wide, and taking advantage of her confusion, the man opened the door the rest of the way and stepped inside. As he crossed the threshold, the branch that had been blocking the door began to recede until it was like it was never there again. Tahra backed away from him, panicked. What the hell was going on? Was she hallucinating? Gently, the man closed the door behind him before turning back to Tahra with that same movie-star smile.
"Is Clara at home? I so have missed her." the man said, stepping around Tahra and toward their little kitchen as if he'd been there before. Tahra found herself answering him inexplicably.
"N-No, mom went on a shoot in Ireland."
Why did she tell him that? Her heart was racing. Was this man going to hurt her? Kill her? Why did he say he was her..."Da"? The man's large frame looked out of place in their tiny kitchen, his head nearly brushing the low ceiling. He sighed deeply at Tahra's answer, looking like a dejected school boy.
"Ah, that figures. That's poetry, there." He said in his baritone brogue. He clapped his large hands together momentarily, rubbing them together, making her jump. "Well! Right then. Sit down! Sit down!" He thundered at her, pulling out one of the antique metal chairs for her, and guiding her to the seat. Tahra, baffled, found herself sitting and staring at this stranger. He was having her sit--in her own house--as if she were HIS guest. Tahra felt her temper starting to boil at the edge of her thoughts, but somehow this man had managed to dumbfound her.
He stood over her for a moment, his giant calloused hands suddenly gently on either of her shoulders as if he were admiring her at arms length. (And in fact, he was) "Ah, let me look at ya. Just like her. Just like Clara, though a bit pale. What, you don't like to go outside every once and a while?"
"Like YOU can talk!" Tahra finally managed to retort, her anger lashing out hot and quick. He was as pale as she was! The big man looked momentarily stunned before breaking into a belly laugh.
"You're mine too, I see. My temper. I see it now." That cooled her pretty quick. She watched as the big man settled himself precariously into the chair beside her. Tahra scowled nervously.
"Who are you? Why are you here?" She growled, folding her arms across her chest. The man smiled at her impishly, scratching his shaggy head.
"Oh, I already said--didn't I? I'm your Da. Though, last I saw you were no bigger than a sapling..." Tahra felt her temper again. This man was really claiming to be her father? She desperately wished her mother were here to help her.
"Boy, you got a lot of nerve huh? Coming here--after all these years." Tahra growled, shaking her head. "How did I let you in? Get the hell out. You're no father of mine." With some effort, she stood, pushing the chair out behind her. Even standing over him, he was still a head taller than her. Still, she didn't back down. "Get OUT! Before I call the cops."
The man looked a little hurt for a moment, his smile faltering. He made a thoughtful sound in his chest and rubbed a large hand over his beard.
"Well, I can't blame you for feeling that way. We Gods do get busy though, you know. Time is different for us." He said, still un-moving. Did he say, Gods? Oh great, she let in a crazy person!
"What the hell are you talking about?" She hissed, scowling. She momentarily eyed the knife block on the counter behind the man. If she could reach it, she could defend herself long enough to call the cops. Or at least make enough noise for the upstairs neighbors to complain. The man had the gall to look suddenly confused..perhaps even a little devastated.
"Did she never tell you? She never told you what you were..." He ran his hands through his shaggy hair with a massive sigh.
"What? What I am?" Tahra asked, still eyeing the knives.
"Yes, Lass. What you are. A demigod. I'm Cernunnos--God of nature, and wild things. You might have heard of me--though usually they show me with horns...I thought this look might be less..intimidating for you." He explained, brows raised. "She never told you? Truly?"
Now it was Tahra's turn to laugh. This man was insane--though...there was still the minor issue of that mysterious branch that had stopped her from closing the door.
"You're insane." Tahra said with a chuckle. "No wonder Mom never talks about you."
"Insane, am I?" the man called Cernunnos suddenly looked a little more intimidating. "Watch." And as she watched, horns as if from a deer began to sprout from his forehead. Tahra wanted to scream, but it felt stuck in her throat. Soon the kitchen was also sprouting greenery, the table sprung to life as a growing tree, the floor sprouted flowers, and the walls became jungle-like as if Tahra had suddenly fallen into Jumanji. The room spun and tilted in her vision and the next thing she knew she was waking up, staring at the kitchen ceiling and the man's shaggy face.
He looked worried, and she nearly punched him in the face in her fright. Instead she screamed and inched away across the floor.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! You're ok!" He called after her, following. "Temper. I have a terrible temper. I didn't mean to scare you so badly."
Tahra had no other explanation for what she saw. He was a God. (And if he really was her father, she was a demigod) Over the next few hours, Tahra listened as Cernunnos (or Cern as he liked to be called these days) explained why he had come. The Gods had drawn together for one purpose--save the bridge between worlds. Apparently, it was an actual item. And Gods that were already on the mortal plain were stranded, while less friendly creatures had started to wreak havoc. Apparently, mortals couldn't see them--and instead thought they were witnessing terrible acts of violence or natural disasters. But the Gods knew better. He then explained that Gods couldn't really get involved...for despite all their powers mortals COULD see them. Apparently, they needed to be believed but not seen...some weird rule she didn't completely understand. Tahra suspected they were just lazy, since he didn't mind her mother seeing him. He then gifted her with a sword and explained she needed to go to San Francisco right away, where lately some especially suspect events were occurring. What the hell would she do with a sword?--she had asked. He'd insisted she would need it. Somehow, she couldn't seem to turn him down. If what he said was true, and monsters would take over if she didn't do this--she couldn't say no. Cern promised she wouldn't be alone--that the Gods were working together on this one and she would be meeting her partner there. She would know him when she saw him, Cern told her.
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So here she was--getting drooled on by a horse-headed monster. And she knew she saw someone else taking on another one--hopefully that guy was the "partner" Cern had mentioned. If not, both of them were probably doomed. Bracing herself, Tahra hopped to her feet, turned and flashing her Little Fury, charged the monster. With a cry, she thrust the blade at the creature's nearest foot, and as if by magic--the blade sliced through the foot completely, severing it. Tahra screamed, something between a war cry and horror as the monster topped backward. Its balance thrown off by its newly missing appendage.