DESTINY ↳ WILL SOLACE

5. I Play Pinochle with a Horse

He just smiled. "Awake, huh?"

Percy could've cried in relief, but she settled for smiling widely. The Grover standing in front of her was the same Grover she had known for the last year—a human dressed in jeans, t-shirt, and converse. He had a shoebox tucked under his arm, but Percy was more focused on the fact that he didn't look anything like the goat-boy in her nightmare. Everything must've just been a bad dream. Her mother was safe. They must've stopped by this house for some reason, but they were still on vacation. Her brain must've been tired, making up things, and they must've been at Grover's summer house or something.

"You saved my life," Grover said quietly. "The least I could do was give you this."

All of her previous relief melted into her shoes as Grover handed her the shoebox. Lead-like dread filled her stomach as she opened it. Inside lay a black-and-white horn, jagged from where she had torn it off, tip still splattered with dried blood. Emptiness spread through her, numbing her fingers. It hadn't been a nightmare, then. Her mother was really gone.

"The Minotaur," she whispered.

"Um, Percy, I don't think it's a good idea—"

"That's what they called him in those Greek myths, isn't it?" she demanded, finding her voice again, rage coloring her tone. "The Minotaur. The beast of Minos. Half-man, half-bull."

He shifted uncomfortably. "You've been out for two days," he said, changing the topic. "How much do you remember?"

"I... I don't know. Is my mom really—is she...?"

Percy couldn't force herself to say the sentence, and Grover didn't respond, but that was an answer already.

She stared out at the valley.

Under normal circumstances, it would've been beautiful to her. A huge forest stretched as far as she could see, with strawberry farms and a trickling stream. A light breeze stirred up the reeds and grass, and the sky was the brightest blue she had ever seen. Rolling hills surrounded the valley, and the pine tree was on the tallest one, directly in front of her. Even that looked beautiful in the sunlight.

It shouldn't have been. Nothing should've been. Her mother was gone. The world should've been black and white.

"I'm a horrible protector," Grover sniffled. "I should've been there to protect you. I'm the worst satyr in the world. I'm—I'm a failure!"

He started to cry, stomping his foot so hard that it came off. Well, not his actual foot. That would've been rather disturbing. Instead, the converse high-top fell off, and from the angle she was sitting at, she could see that the inside had been filled with styrofoam, and there was a hoof-shaped hole in the middle, presumably for Grover's hooves, which she could see perfectly clearly in the sunlight.

"Oh, Styx," he mumbled, pausing his crying as he tried to get the shoe back on.

As he struggled to put it back on, Percy just stared at him dully.

So Grover was actually a satyr. Of course he was. Why not? She was willing to bet that if she shaved his hair, she'd find small horns. But unlike that night, Percy was too miserable to care that satyrs existed.

It didn't change the fact that her mother was gone, squeezed into nothingness, dissolved into golden light. What was she supposed to do now? Live with Smelly Gabe? No... she would never do something like that. She'd have to live on the streets. Go to foster care. Maybe she could even pretend to be seventeen and join the army. She'd do something.

Grover was still sniffing. The poor kid looked like he was about to cry again.

"Grover," she said, "it wasn't your fault."