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Okay, so that's the six seconds I had to enjoy the knowledge of my demi-godishness. Most of it was spent screaming and huddling from glass that was blown in through by a huge gust of wind.

I fell back, landing on the ground as glass showered down on me. The boy raised his hand, and the wind blew harder. I shielded my eyes, but managed to glimpse him through the tornado of broken glass the boy, wings extended, feet only barely touching the ground. I couldn't help it. I was terrified. I bit back a scream, and scrambled away.

The elderly screamed. They hid under tables and ran slowly to the exits. I dived behind an upturned table. I leaned against it, my back to the whirlwind. Everything was suddenly in sharp detail, as if I could see everything happening at once. My mind raced. It tried to think of someway- some impossible way of getting out of this or explaining this. It was- impossible. He couldn't be human- he was- was- something else. A monster.

"Don't try to hide, little goddess!" the boy yelled at me. The table flew away, leaving me exposed.

I froze, all plans in my head went quiet, except for one tiny little voice that said;

I`m going to die.

That's when I realized that my head is absolutely useless when if comes to life or death situations.

The monster/boy/thing stepped forwards, and electricity cackled in his hands. He held it out, like he was going to shoot white hot energy at me, and I scrambled back, terrified..

Then a bingo ball came out of nowhere and hit the monster in it's eye.

In this retirement home, our bingo set was bought in the fifteenth century by the look of them, so they were actually made of wood and had some weight to them. Perfect for throwing. I whirled around to see Mrs. Gordon, standing on a table, clutching an armful of balls, and brandishing another ball in her right hand.

"Begone, foul spirit of the air! Get lost!" Mrs. Gordon then proceeded to cuss out the monster in ways that made me blush.

The monster looked about as confused as I did. The wind died down a little bit- enough time for Mrs. Gordon to lob one more bingo ball at it, hitting it right in the temple. It bounced off without more than a blink from the boy. He turned his attention to Mrs. Gordon, tilting his head in confusion.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

Mrs. Gordon shrugged with more grace than a ballerina, "Throwing balls at you."

He was distracted, and I glanced down at the bingo ball on the floor. It rolled towards me, revealing it's number- O 42. My mind went into overdrive. I could see everything clearly, like it was in high definition. I saw Mrs. Gordon on the table, frowning at the boy- the boy staring at Mrs. Gordon like a zoo exhibit.

He's going to kill her! I realized in a flash. I had to do something. I had to do something!

The boy lifted his hand again, energy cracking and I lurched into action.. Adrenaline shooting through my veins, I scooped up the bingo ball (O42) and biffed it at him. It collided with his nose and blood spurted out. "Wha-!" his hands flew to his face. It gave me my opening. I charged at him, pulling him to the floor before he could react.

We scrambled. I climbed on top and I saw his face, shocked, and a little scared. Like me, like I was.

I punched in the face. Over and over again, until he stopped moving.

In the aftermath, there was a stunned silence, then screams as the rest of the occupants of t room promptly ran for the exits as fast as their achy joints could take them. Soon it was only me and Mrs. Gordon left in the room. I stared at my hands, speckled with blood now, and bruises forming. "Oh my god." I whispered, scrambling off of the body.

"Well, that was fun." she said gleefully. "Today must be a five-lemon-drop day!"

I blinked in confusion, staring blankly at Mrs. Gordon as she climbed off of the table and rambled over to me. Her glasses were askew and her clothes had tears in them, but she looked as bright as ever. "What the hell was that?" I asked in a small and confused voice.

"Beats me." Mrs. Gordon shrugged, helping me up. "Looked like a air-thingy. Spirit. You know, a storm-doodad. Nasty stuffs."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I cried. "It looked- it looked like it was going to- to kill me, what the hell?" I started pacing. "I don't- I don't understand, what did he.. it want? Oh, this can't be happening, this can't be happening this can't be..."

"Didn't your parents tell you about this? Why are you asking me?" The old lady made a face. She let the bingo balls fall to the floor.

I waved my hands in the air. "CAUSE YOU LOOK LIKE YOU KNOW WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON." I sat down on a table heavily, rocking back and forth with my head in my hands, "Please tell me that was a dream. This isn't happening this isn't..."

Mrs. Gordon patted me on the back. "Sorry, but it wasn't. Personally I'm surprised that it hadn't happened earlier. Demi-gods tend to be attacked. Thought you knew."

"Demi-god?" I gaped at her. "What are you even talking about?"

"It means you're the kid of a Greek god and a mortal, or human. Really? Has no one told you this?" she said as if this was supposed to be common knowledge.

Demi-god... The monster... "storm-doodad" had called me "little goddess." This was all new knowledge- Greek gods, monsters; I had only heard about these in school and audiobooks. This was insane.

"You're insane." I said, breathless.

Mrs. Gordon nodded. "Yep." she rapped her head with a knuckle. "It's why I get to see more than others. Still doesn't make me wrong though- you're still a demi-god."

"No- I'm not, this is just... crazy stuff, okay?"

"Oh my gods, you need to get over this- there are lots of demi-gods! It's okay! You're not alone- you even got half-siblings out there! On your dad's side of course."

My head whipped up. "My dad? What does he have to do with anything?"

"Greek god- I'm surprised you haven't figured it out yet- you really are a stupid girl."

"Hey.." I protested weakly as my heart wasn't in it anymore. She was just spouting nonsense now. She could say anything now and I wouldn't really care. This was crazy- it wasn't possible- didn't make sense. "Yeah. Whatever, Greek god... sure."

She looked at me, puzzled. "Of course! Your dad is-"

The storm-spirit shifted on the floor. He moaned, and he cut Mrs. Gordon off. She waved at me urgently, motioned to the door. "Get out!" she hissed.

"But-" I opened my mouth.

She pressed a finger to her lips. "Shhh! Go! It'll wake up soon, and you don't want to be here when he does. You're a demi-god: he'll want to hurt you more than he'll want to hurt me."

Oh please. I wanted to just get out right then and there, but Heather popped back into my head, making me pause. Mrs. Gordon saved my life "What will you do? A-are you going to be okay?"

Her head bobbled, her blue hair sticking up in all directions. "Oh, I think I'll just stick around, make sure that it's held up while you make a run for it. I should be fine- besides, I've had a good life."

I froze. It was weird, that she was talking about dying with so... casually. I was at war with myself. She seemed fine with it, and I really really wanted to get out of there, get somewhere safer... Home. Even if Mrs. Gordon could die- I didn't care. "A-are you sure?" I mumbled.

She smiled and nodded. "Go."

I did. I turned and ran out of the building just as sirens began to wail. I regretted doing that, but at the time, I was just happy to be alive.

It was half an hour walk to my house, and I made it in twenty minutes, because the adrenaline was still pumping through my blood. I just had to get away from that place- away from that thing. Mrs. Gordon wouldn't hold it off for long. I practically flew up the apartment stairwells, up to the fifth floor.

"Mom? George?" I yelled.

"Devitka?" yelled my mom from the living room. "Devitka, what's wrong?"

I ran to the living room, just in time to catch my mom as she stood up. My mom was a few inchesshorter than me, had darker skin with a few wrinkles around the eyes. We shared the same hair- wild and curly- which she had up in a bun. She took one look at me and gasped.

"Devitka, what the- what happened to you?"

I pointed, breathless, in vaguely the same direction as the retirement home. "There was- there was a thing, and it did this.. thing and there was broken glass and then Mrs. Gordon threw a bingo ball at it and I knocked it out and- and then I came here." The words rushed out of my mouth, jumbling together as I tried to make sense of the events that had just occurred.

My mother blinked at me, a look of extreme worry on her face."What?" she stood up fully, and started ushering me to the bathroom.

"I don't- I don't even know what the whole... Stuff happened today and I don't know how to explain it," I bit my lip. My mother opened the bathroom door, turned on the faucet in the bath and left, telling me she would be back with cloths. Left alone, I stood in front of the mirror, getting the first look at myself since the accident.

The girl in the mirror staring back at me. She had cuts and scrapes on every square inch of my brown skin, with blood creeping down. Her hair was a bird's nest and her eyes were red and puffy. She looked scared, frightened and little. I sighed, my stomach dropping and shame creeping into my mind. I was scared and.. .I had just run away, leaving Mrs. Gordon there with the monster thing. She could be dead and it would be my fault. If I had stayed... I might be dead, but at least... at least I'd know. At least I wouldn't be a coward.

Tears started forming in the corners of my eyes.

"Oh, Dev..." murmured my mother. Her arms wrapped around me, stroking my hair. It hurt, and I could feel sharps of glass press into my skin.

My throat felt dry, sore, closed up. If I started talking, everything would just come undone. I'd start crying- sobbing, and my pride wouldn't allow that. I grimaced, "I-it's okay, Mom." I croaked, finally. I think she knew I was lying, but she was nice enough not to say anything. She just nodded and ran the cloth under the water. She turned back to be and started dabbing at my wounds.

"Looks like it was serious." she said softly.

"It was scary." I swallowed, hard.

We lapsed into silence. I took off my shirt, and Mom continued to brush glass shards off of me, while applying antiseptic to where it's needed. Every once and a while, I hissed in pain, but was otherwise quiet.

My mind, however, was racing,

What had just happened? I had just seen boy with wings that seemed to control wind and lightning! He tired to kill me but Mrs. Gordon threw a wooden ball at him and they all mentioned called me a demi-god. My dad, too. I was tired, and I needed reassuring that the world wasn't crazy- I wasn't crazy.

"M-Mom?" I stumbled over the words. "Mom... can you tell me about Dad?"

"Who, George?" she laughed. "He's out grocery shopping. Besides, I think you know everything there is to know about him. Except he snores."

Despite what I was feeling, I managed to laugh along with her. "No- I know that too- I can hear him." My hands suddenly became suddenly interesting. "I meant... my real Dad."

She stiffened. "You know... we had a thing- it didn't last long- and her left before I knew I was pregnant. What makes you ask now?"

"It's just.. what happened at the home... I think.. I think it had something to do with my real dad."

My mother dropped the towel. "What?"

I waved my hands to placate her. "No, no, it's just- they kept mentioning him, like they knew him and I was really confused, so I thought maybe you could clear things up."

She sighed through her nose as she picked up the towel. She rinsed it slowly, getting all the blood and glass off before returning to dab at me.

"Your father was a lot different than George. He was gruff. Almost closed off, but once you got on his good side, he was great. We dated for... about 2 months. After two, he moved away, and I never saw him again. I found out that month I was pregnant. I tried everything to call him or get in contact, but nothing worked. He was gone, and I was left with the task of telling your grandparents that I was pregnant out of wedlock."

I laughed sympathetically. From what I had heard, Nani was hell in comfortable penny loafers. She ruled the family with an iron fist, and had a twisted sense of humour. She didn't take any news well, always finding the worst in it. "That must have been hard."

"You have no idea." she chuckled. "There was yelling and screaming and they excommunicated me. I haven't seen them since. That's all of the story."

The knowledge took a while to sink in. There was no new information, nothing that could help me. I wanted to ask if he was a... no that'd be silly. Mom, did my dad just so happen to be a Greek god, and if it's not too much trouble- would you mind telling me which one? How could I have possibly justified that question without sounding insane?

"What was his name?" I asked. She worked her way down my arm and rinsed out the towel again.

"He said his name was Karl Tongs."

I thought back to what I had learned in school, about Greek mythology and was happy to find that there was no god named Karl. A pause hung in the air, and I thought it would be best if I didn't pry any more. I would have time to ask about him later. For the time being, I've been reassured that I am not completely insane.

"There." declared my mother five minutes later. "I'm done with your upper body. I'm sure you can do your legs yourself." I looked down at my torso, covered in little Dora the Explorer band aids.

"I think I've got it from here." I agreed.

She handed me the towel and left, most likely to call my step-father asking him to pick up some more band aids. We were running low. Soon I'd have to resort to SpongeBob themed ones. As much as I enjoyed the show, I didn't want a laughing SpongeBob anywhere near my legs. Or Dora, for that matter, but at least we're both girls. What happens between girls stays between girls.

I heard Mom talking on the phone in hushed whispers to George. She sounded scared, and I couldn't blame her.

Then the doorbell rang.

My mother answered it. I applied the last Dora Band-Aid and heard her gasp. "Oh my god, are you okay?"

A frail voice I recognized traveled to the bathroom, "Oh I should be alright," said Mrs. Gordon. "I was just wondering if your daughter was home."

Hastily, I pulled on a long-sleeve shirt and some cargo pants, and emerged from the bathroom just in time to see her hobble into my kitchen with her cane. She has multiple scratches across her frame and a nasty one that ran over her eye. It was bleeding and she kept having to blink it away as she swayed gently where she stood. Mom stared at me as if to say Who is this, and who else should I expect to show up?

"Mrs. Gordon?" I was shocked and over joyed to see her alive. "What- How did you..." A million questions flew through my mind. How are you alive? Where is the storm thing? How did you get those wounds? Who's my dad? Have you missed your crazy medication? Of course, the only one that comes out of my mouth was; "How did you know where I lived?"

"It was on your volunteer form which you so carelessly left behind." she shoved a grubby and torn piece of paper under my nose, which had my name and address very clearly printed out. "I found it at the front desk. You should be more careful with your things, Devika."

She's bleeding on the floor, and she takes the time to scold me? She's tougher than I thought.

"Uh, Mrs. Gordon, would you like to sit down? You look like you need to..." I said, grabbing a chair from the kitchen table.

She nodded. She seemed pleased with me. "Don't mind if I do. Thank you, dear. At least you can remember your manners." Mrs. Gordon eased into the chair, resting her cane against the table. After a moment's though, she turned to Mom. "Can you be a dear and get me a glass of water? I'm afraid the trip over here left me parched."

"I could get you a towel for your head too- with the number of towels I've ruined today, it wouldn't really hurt to ruin one more." my mother offered.

"That would be lovely, thank you, Mrs. Gupta. I need to talk to your daughter alone anyway."

"No you don't." I said but it was too late, Mom had left, and I was alone.

My eyes found the floor, and locked my gaze.

"Devitka? Is something wrong?"

"Many, many things are wrong. You are one of them. I just almost killed someone because of you!" I hissed.

"Almost but you didn't- I dealt with him for you."

My chair clattered to the floor as I shot to my feet. "You WHAT?"

Mrs. Gordon sipped her tea. "Why are you so surprised? He's a Venti- or a storm-spirit. He's a monster- they don't count as people."

"But- but- but you killed him!"

"Hush, hush of course not. I didn't have Celestial Bronze with me, that's the only thing that can kill them, send... them back to Tartarus. Anyway. We need to talk about your future."

"I don't want to talk about my future with you-"

"That really doesn't matter. Cause you're a-a..." Mrs. Gordon frowned concentrating. "What's the word... demi-god. Yer a demi-god, Devitka... You need to know things. There's a place... to go..."

Mrs. Gordon was beginning to list to one side, her speech becoming slower, more confusing. It wasn't looking good. She needed a doctor. My mother entered the room, with a damp cloth.

"Mom-"I whispered to her. She nodded, and whispered into my ear. "Called the ambulance while I was gone. I didn't train as a nurse for nothing. They would be here in 10 minutes, keep her talking."

"What was that?" yelled our guest. "Sorry- my hearing isn't what it used to be!"

"I was just commenting to Dev about your- uh- I was just asking her if she'd like some tea too." lied my mother.

She looked disappointed. "Oh. Fine, then... Back to the... demi-godliness. Your daddy's a goddy. You've got the scent on you... I know cause I... I got clear sight. I got really, really good eyesight. Yes."

Mrs. Gordon grabbed my arm suddenly. She leaned in close. "Your daddy is..." Her eyes glazed over. "You know what? I've completely forgotten. Pack your bags. Got to the States.. there should be a road, path... find your way to the camp."

"O-okay, Mrs. Gordon..." I stammered. She had stopped making sense at this point. I glanced at my mother, who was just as confused as I was. She lifted a hand and twirled a finger around her head- Cuckoo. Mrs. Gordon didn't see and continued rambling.

"And I know this... cause I'm a not a demi-god... like you. But- but- but- Imma clever 'un." she tapped her head. "That's why I'm still alive 'n' kicking..." A frown crossed her face and a look of intense worry made me pause.

"Mrs... Gordon?"

The woman placed her mug on the table. "Did I do a slip tie or a...sailor's knot when I tied it up?" She looked up at me, sudden clarity in her eyes "Oh dear." she said to herself. "It's got your scent... It'll come for you."