The last thing I could imagine was running half-naked from a deranged grandma, but I guess you never know what to expect in New York—the City of Dreams, or in my case, nightmares.
The week had started so great. I'd somehow managed to lose the social workers who tried to cage me back in a classroom. I'd even scored a juicy apple from the market on 37th Street. It could have been an amazing day if my greedy stomach hadn't put me into this fucking mess. One dollar was all I needed for a shawarma—a real king's meal to close the day—, so I strayed the avenues, trying to hustle the missing buck from some NPCs roaming around.
Then I saw her: a wrinkly old lady with leathery skin and a weirdly intense stare. But my growling stomach made her look like a savior. She wore an expensive-looking black coat, golden rings flashed on her fingers, and a fancy bag practically screamed "Shawarma" at me.
I approached her, sliding through the crowd like a shadow. Then it happened. We met eyes for the first time, and my stomach didn't just growl—it knotted. My internal alarm bells went off, a primal instinct screaming at me to get out. So I bolted.
"Give it back, thief!" she shrieked.
I sprinted, my sneakers slapping against the pavement. I could hear her steps getting closer—impossibly fast. My heartbeat accelerated, thumping against my ribs like a trapped bird. What is wrong with her? How is a sixty-year-old this fit? I took a sharp right around the corner, dodging a guy in a suit. My feet skidded on the wet walkway, and for a second, my heart jumped into my throat as I fought to keep my balance.
I found my footing and pushed harder. My lungs began to burn, the cold city air stinging my throat. Somewhere behind me, I heard a heavy, rhythmic thwack-thwack—like a giant bird flapping its wings. I risked a look back and nearly tripped over my own feet. The old lady was airborne, her silhouette twisted into something demonic. I stopped for a heartbeat, my brain stalling at the sight.
Run, you stupid shit! My inner voice screamed. I broke out of my stupor. "Why is nobody noticing this giant chicken?!" I wheezed. But New Yorkers are pros at minding their own business, even when a demon is gliding down the street.
Suddenly, the air cracked behind me. A searing heat tore into the nape of my neck and sliced downward. The impact sent me eating pavement. I felt my jeans shred as my knees hit the hard ground, the skin peeling away.
"Where is it? Give it back and die!" the demon screeched. I rolled over, gasping. She had leathery, bat-like wings, yellowed fangs, and jagged claws dripping with something warm and red. My blood.
"What the fuck do you want? I didn't take anything, you stupid chicken!" I shouted, forcing myself back up. Every nerve in my back was on fire, a white-hot throbbing that made my vision swim with black spots. I cut around another corner, my legs feeling like lead, only to realize… it was a dead end. A chain-link fence topped with jagged barbed wire blocked my path.
"Seems like you are out of luck, half-blood," the demon mocked, hovering just above the ground.
Half-blood? What the hell is a half-blood? My heart was hammering so hard I could hear the blood rushing in my ears. I scanned the alley, looking for anything, any way out. Then, I saw it. The bottom of the fence shimmered, like a glitch in a video game. A wooden board flickered into existence, covering a hole in the mesh. Carved into the wood was a glowing white symbol: a Greek Delta.
"All in or nothing, bitch!" I roared. I threw every ounce of my remaining strength into my legs, lunging arms-first at the board. I've always been strong, it's how I've survived the streets and ended up there. I poured all of my desperation into the hit.
I slammed into the wood and didn't stop. I burst right through into a terrifying free fall.
I hit the ground hard for the second time today. A stinging, electric pain crawled up my spine, knocking the wind out of me. I lay there for a second, gasping for air that smelled like old stone and dust. I stood up, shaky and shivering. I was in a hallway; the walls were ancient sandstone, weeping with moisture. The hole I'd fallen through was high above me.
"Where am I? How is this under New York?"
"You can't escape, half-blood! Stop running!" The demon's shrill voice shattered the silence, her body visible through the hole.
"One foot after the other," I hissed to myself, my muscles twitching with exhaustion. "You can do it. You're the fastest." I started running again. In a desperate move to slow her down, I ripped off my shredded, blood-soaked shirt and flung it back at her face.
Fifty meters in, I dove right into another corridor. Here, the walls shifted to concrete, layered with fresh graffiti. At the end of the hall, a heavy, rusted door was slowly groaning shut. Squeeeeeak.
"Come on, one last sprint!" I begged my body. I mobilized the final scraps of my energy, my balance shifting forward until I was half-running, half-stumbling. The gap in the door was closing—one meter left.
The frantic flapping of the demon's wings was right on my heels. I could feel her hot, foul breath on the back of my neck, itching the open wound on my spine.
I lunged. I passed through the slit a fraction of a second before the door slammed shut with a bone-shaking thud. An agonizing cry erupted from the other side. I spun around, chest heaving, and saw it: the demon was pinned. Her ugly, distorted head had made it through, but the door had clamped shut on her throat.
"I will… have my revenge!" she spat, her yellow eyes bulging. Then, with a soft hiss, her entire body dissolved into a cloud of shimmering golden dust.