“No!” Elspeth replied from behind her hiding place. “I think we’re good thanks!” The angry snarl told her that sarcasm was a poor choice. She looked around frantically, searching for something she could use. A weapon against an angry god, chosen from gift shop junk. There was a strange noise, not quite the clicking of hooves onto tile, but more a strange mixture of clacking and squelching.

Blood. The events of the night before raced through Elspeth’s mind. It was made of blood. Its solidity was an illusion, brief moments of coherency amongst the chaos of crashing gore-filled eddies. There has to be a minimum, Elspeth thought. It couldn’t hold together last night. Enough of the blood used and it fell apart. Her eyes settled onto something, a neatly stacked pile nestled into one of the nooks shelves that held the array of gifts. Elspeth smiled, she had found it. Her weapon.

Cernunnos lumbered forward, moving like a crashing wave. As he stepped his body shook and wobbled like poorly set jelly. He was incomplete, the ritual interrupted. Normally he savoured the hunt, the chase, tracking his prey through the night. Now though he was racing against time. He needed to deal with these two people, these "detectives". He didn't have long, his body already starting to slough apart, pools of blood trailing where he walked. Supplicants were replaceable, there was always more humans eager to offer the appropriate sacrifices for a boon. That is, of course, if he could survive the night.

The curved table ahead, there was someone there, he was certain. The woman had shouted from behind it, barking defiance at his godly order. A wicked smile curved across his lips even as a handful of his gnarled yellow teeth collapsed into their constituent blood, tricking down onto his already red skin.

“Come out woman,” Cernunnos snarled. "I will make it quick. You should be proud, to meet your end at the hands of your god!"

“Didn’t work out so well for you last time did it?” Came the reply from behind the counter. Cernunnos chuckled at the response. Brave to the last. He was at least certain that his prey was worthy, he was humble enough to admit that.

"I underestimated you, I admit that," he said, stepping closer to the desk. "You and your comrade have proven admirable warriors." Blood dripped free from his leg, splashing onto the tile as he took another step. "I will take no pleasure in ending your lives," Cernunnos said, the lie hanging in the air threateningly.

“Yeah, same here,” Elspeth replied. She popped up from behind the counter, her hands grasping something tightly. A stack of large tea-towels, “I love Raasay” emblazoned on the top. She slid the top one of the pile, throwing it outwards in one swoop. It struck the twisted god in the chest, sticking to his vicious body. It quickly stained red, drinking deep his blood like a vampire.

Cernunnos stumbled backwards, peeling the now soaked towel from his chest. As his hooves found purchase, so did Gregor’s knee. Seeing the advance of the horned god upon his colleagues hiding place he had burst forth from his doorway, running across the open hall, stepping over the bodies of townspeople as he ran. His knee raised up into the creatures back. He felt it sinking in, the blood forming the body of the beast losing any semblance of solidity. Gregor quickly pulled his leg free, blood splashing onto the floor and staining his trousers.

Cernunnos roared as it tried to stabilise itself, arms thrashing, trying to desperately to land a blow on one of the humans. He could feel the rage building within him, escaping as heat, his body begging to boil, bubbles forming on the surface of the blood. It howled, its horrid shrieking wail cut off as Elspeth struck Cernunnos across the face, a tea-towel wrapped around her hand like a knuckleduster. Blood splashed outwards in a curving splatter, a chunk flying free, Cernunnos’ face melting back into shape slowly.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Gregor realised his partners plan immediately. He raised his hands, catching a hastily thrown towel. He twirled it tight, lashing it out in a whip-like motion, a manoeuvre well practised from ill-spent high-school P.E lesson. It cut deep into the god's body, getting stuck in the matted furred chest, dangling freely as it absorbed blood, a slow creeping line of red.

It was too much. The rage, the anger, the constant loss of blood. Cernunnos could feel his body failing, losing its cohesion. He simply let go. Arms exploded outward, legs became stretching searching rivers of blood. His image collapsed from beast-man to furious wailing bubble of blood. He lashed out, tendrils of blood striking blindly, crashing into the counter.

Elspeth tried to duck, but the shifting mass of blood was faster. An outreached flailing limb struck her in the chest, sending her flying off her feet. Her back struck the tile hard as she slid across the ground.

The blob turned towards Gregor. At its surface, the faint outline of a face could be seen in between pulses of blood. It was smiling. Gregor turned to run but found himself gripped in a mass of tentacles. They squeezed, pressing against his flesh in a growing agonising pressure. He could feel his muscle bruising, screaming in agony.

“Hey, fuckface,” shouted Elspeth. The face on the glob shifted, disappearing on one side, then reappearing facing her. “This yours?” She wrapped a knuckle against the elaborate pillar of horns. One side of her dropped, injured from her fall, her other hand pressed against it. She smiled, and then pushed.

The pillar topped, ancient fragile bone striking the hard tile for the floor. It shattered, sharp fragments of horn flying free, its intricate delicate arrangement collapsing from the force. It scattered across the floor, destroyed utterly.

Gregor dropped to his knees, gasping for breath. There was no agonised screech, no wail of defiance. Cernunnos simply ceased to be, the blood composing his body falling to the ground with a splash. It lay there, silent, harmless.

"You alright there Lythgoe?" Elspeth asked, hand outstretched. Gregor took it as she helped him to his feet.

“I suppose so. I have to say, that was…unexpected.”

“What part? The god made of blood, the weird pillar or the crazy cultists praying for tourists?”

“What? No, that shit is normal for us. I mean the tea-towels. That’s a new one for the books.” Gregor rubbed his sides, aching from the creature’s vice grip. He looked down at his shirt, stained red with blood and shook his head.

“Ah well,” Elspeth said with a smile, “I figure you use silver for werewolves and iron for fairies. For a big wet blood monster, we needed something absorbent”

The boat purred in its mooring, ready to take its precious cargo to the mainland. A gaggle of extremely unhappy locals handcuffed and seated as police officers stood before them. Gregor had called to the London office, who had pulled some strings and arranged for some officers from a nearby mainland town to take the boat over. Next to them was the ferryman, looking extremely pleased with the number of "passengers" he had.

Gregor adjusted himself against the lamppost he was leaning on, drinking from a steaming paper cup, warm coffee radiating out from within. He was watching Elspeth instructing the uniformed officers. Apparently satisfied, she nodded to them and stepped off the boat. The ferryman, clad in his yellow waterproofs, was already untying the boat.

“So?” Gregor said as Elspeth approached. “What’s the official line?”

"We're going with what it looks like. Cult. Murder-suicide gone wrong. Poison in the Ribena or something like that. Maybe we can get some fraud charges to stick with the surviving trust members, see if we can get the money spent on the centre turned over to the other families. The relic?”

“All locked away.” Gregor tapped at a suitcase he had bought for far too much money from his hostel. “Does mean we need to head down to London, get it sealed away in the vault.”

Elspeth nodded. Special Investigations was hidden beneath New Scotland Yard, obscured down multiple access corridors and basement hallways. Beneath that again was the vault, the largest collection of occult materials and relics in the country. The fragments of the pillar would be locked away, sealed where they could never be reassembled. “After we’ve done that, we need to come back.”

“We do?”

“Yeah,” Elspeth said. Her face was solemn. “In the camp, there was a spirit, a prisoner who died there. He helped me during our…night time adventure there. We need to help him. We do owe him.”

“Fair enough.” Gregor took a long sip of his coffee. “Can’t say I’ll be happy to see this island again. This is going to suck for them, the tourist industry is as good as dead right?”

“Are you kidding? People see the news there was a cult here and they’ll come flocking. There will be a Netflix documentary before the end of the year, you bet your fucking life on it.”