Deadly Waters | Percy Jackson

5. a Goat, a Horse and a Spy

When she saw his eyes open, she asked, "What will happen at the summer solstice?"

Percy managed to croak, "What?"

She looked around, as if afraid someone would over-hear. "What's going on? What was stolen? We've only got a few weeks!"

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, "I don't . . ."

Somebody knocked on the door, and the girl quickly filled Percy's mouth with pudding.

The next time he woke up, the girl was gone.

A husky blond dude, like a surfer, stood in the corner of the bedroom keeping watch over me. He had blue eyes- at least a dozen of them-on his cheeks, his forehead, the backs of his hands.

Safe to say, Percy passed out again.

|0.2|

When he finally came around for good, there was nothing weird about his surroundings, except that they were nicer than he was used to. He was sitting in a deck chair on a huge porch, gazing across a meadow at green hills in the distance. The breeze smelled like strawberries. There was a blanket over his legs, a pillow behind his neck. All that was great, but his mouth felt like a scorpion had been using it for a nest. His tongue was dry and nasty and every one of his teeth hurt.

On the table next to him was a tall drink. It looked like iced apple juice, with a green straw and a paper parasol stuck through a maraschino cherry.

Percy's hand was so weak he almost dropped the glass once he got his fingers around it.

"Careful," a familiar voice said.

Grover was leaning against the porch railing, looking like he hadn't slept in a week. Under one arm, he cradled a shoe box. He was wearing blue jeans, Converse hi-tops and a bright orange T-shirt that said CAMP HALF-BLOOD. Just plain old Grover.

Not the goat boy.

So maybe he'd had a nightmare. Maybe his mom was okay. We were still on vacation, and we'd stopped here at this big house for some reason. And . . .

"You saved my life," Grover said. "I . . . well, the least I could do . . . I went back to the hill. I thought you might want this."

Reverently, he placed the shoe box in Percy's lap.

Inside was a black-and-white bull's horn, the base jagged from being broken off, the tip splattered with dried blood. It hadn't been a nightmare.

"The Minotaur," Percy said.

"Um, Percy, it isn't a good idea-"

"That's what they call him in the Greek myths, isn't it?" the chair ridden boy demanded. "The Minotaur. Half man, half bull." Grover shifted uncomfortably. "You've been out for two days. How much do you remember?"

"My mum. Is she really . . ."

He looked down.

Percy stared across the meadow. There were groves of trees, a winding stream, acres of strawberries spread out under the blue sky. The valley was surrounded by rolling hills, and the tallest one, directly in front of us, was the one with the huge pine tree on top. Even that looked beautiful in the sunlight.

His mother was gone. The whole world should be black and cold. Nothing should look beautiful. "I'm sorry," Grover sniffled. "I'm a failure. I'm-I'm the worst satyr in the world."

He moaned, stomping his foot so hard it came off. The Converse hi-top came off, not his actual foot. The inside was filled with Styrofoam, except for a hoof-shaped hole.