Demigods, Dates and Dragons

Snooping around a mansion full of monsters at night? Not the best idea for someone’s mind. I do my best to keep my breathing controlled.
This is what you’ve been training for. This is who you are.
I have to admit. Whoever this dracaena is, she has good taste. The mansion is luxurious.
Everything matches, furniture, decoration, everything. And it’s surprisingly clean for a monster’s lair. I sidestep a giant hole in the hardwood floor, amidst the foyer, guessing this is where the dragon came from.
It’s too dark for me to see in the basement. I peer around, holding my shield’s grip as tight as I can.
There is an unnerving stillness in this place. I remember Diomedes mentioning hellhounds, so every creaking sound tries my patience.
I’m not like this. It’s like I’m invincible to fear or exhaustion, but I can handle monsters. In the end, it’s the thought of Charlie that makes my heart go skydiving.
Suddenly, I catch a scrapping sound. Like claws scarring the floor.
I inhale deeply, hoping a puffed up chest will me more formidable.
‘Here I come, snake-bitch. And you better gimme my mother’s hair back,’ I growl and start making my way to the source of the sound.
I find the flight of stairs that’s going to take me from the first to the second floor. The sound is blood-chilling. My mouth has the taste of vomiting.
And as I walk up the stairs, I get the idea that each creaking sound will be my undoing. Under the light that comes through the corner wall’s window I see the bulk of the hellhound. It’s like a Rottweiler, the size of German tank and black as the darkest of nights. Only thing we have in common, are the eyes.
Its are red like war and ancient onslaught. Mine? Mine are red like determination, courage. And death.
The hellhound lunges itself using the leverage its having and comes crushing down like an avalanche. I don’t even consider trying to take the hit and stop the monster. I don’t have Charlie’s muscles or size.
Nimbly, I dodge the cloud of darkness the hellhound is and slash its sides. It’s a clean strike. Nothing fancy. Basic fencing. The hellhound grunts in pain and slams against the wall, which gives in.
I see the monster’s body disintegrating to dust, like standard procedure, but it does destroy the wall first and then, before it can touch the ground it’s dispersed. Its essence returns to Tartarus.
‘One down,’ I mutter as I put my helmet straight. ‘And whatever is left up there to go.’
I take care as I make my way to the second floor. The corridor has seven door. Three to the left side and four to my right. Call me traditional, ‘cause I’ll go to the left. Three’s a number of great importance in Greek Mythology, so I move to the far end left door.
Don’t get me wrong, but monsters are stereotypical melodramatics. So, I take a deep breath and shiver. ‘That’s the last time you make the reservations for our date, Beckendorf.’
I cut the lock with my blade and kick the door in. All I can do is gasp. There’s nothing there. My head droops and I hunch my shoulders.
‘Please not be in the basement, please don’t be in the basement,’ I growl and get ready to turn but then my vision goes blank with pain.
I scream as I crash on the floor. My back feels like’s it cracked open. I moan and look over my shoulder. I grimace and curse. There they are, two dracaenae, half exotic-women, half-snakes armed to the teeth, ambushing me.
If I had to guess, the one with the crooked smile and the ironed tail was the one who whipped me down.
‘Could you be any more of a snake?’ I growl and duck the next strike of the second dracaena’s spear. My back is halfway through being numb and flaring at the same time. I block with my shield, try to riposte, hold my ground, but they are pushing me to the corner.
I grit my teeth, as I feel them destroying any defense I put up. Small cuts starting to mass up. I rest on my knee, trying to hold my ground but there is a fluttering in my chest. My hands are growing heavier. My mouth is dry. I call out Charlie’s name but it’s nothing more than a rasping rag of air.
One of them strikes me high, knocking the helmet off my head. There are beeps in my head. Stars before my eyes. I can’t speak. I can’t think. All that there’s inside me, is a knot in my chest.
I can’t see the dracaenae. I simply close my eyes, and I wait the mortal strike.

Notes