CHAPTER FOUR
My Mother Teaches Me Bullfighting
I don't own Percy Jackson.
Percy couldn't feel her hands—she couldn't feel any of her limbs, actually, and she didn't know whether or not it was from the cold or from shock. She had numbly wondered if she were still dreaming, but a quick, painful pinch told her that this was all really happening. Her best friend was actually half-barn animal, and her mother didn't even seem fazed.
The rain was coming down in a torrential downpour as they raced down dark country roads. Wind howled all around them, threatening to overturn the car. It was pitch black, save for the occasional flashes of lightning. Percy wasn't sure how her mother saw anything, but she didn't ever hit the brakes.
When Percy finally spoke, she tried to keep her voice calm. "So you're not human."
"No." Grover's eyes flickered behind them. "But it doesn't matter. We—"
"It doesn't matter?" she demanded, her voice going a few pitches up, slowly losing it. "How does it not matter? My best friend is part-donkey from the waist-down—"
"Blaa-ha-ha!"
Percy cut herself off, staring at Grover with wide eyes. He used to make that noise when they had been at Yancy, but she had always assumed it to be some sort of nervous laugh or something. Now, she realized it was more of an irrigated bleat.
"Goat!" he cried. "I'm part-goat!"
"What? But I thought you just said it doesn't matter!"
"Blaa-ha-ha! How would you like me calling you half-monkey?"
"Children!" her mother interrupted. "Please, I'm trying to get us there safely."
Percy's brain was still trying to wrap itself around this situation. "So you're part-goat from the waist down. Like... a satyr?"
"I am a satyr."
Percy found she had no response to that.
It didn't make any sense. Satyrs didn't exist. They were creatures in myths, and myths weren't real. They were stories to explain how the world worked for ancient peoples, before modern science and stuff, and they might've been a good read, but they weren't real. They couldn't be real.
It seemed like a chant at that point, and Percy wasn't sure if she was trying to convince herself or if she was just assuring herself of a fact.
She looked at him again, still faintly wondering if she were dreaming, or if he were wearing some sort of baggy, furry pants, and this entire thing had been a prank he and her mother had cooked up, but it was going too far to be as simple as something like a prank. Her mother's terror was all too real, Grover was far too innocent and kind to play a prank of this degree, and the smell... it was the smell of wet-barn animal, just like the zoo. With a start, she realized that it was the same smell from the night she had eavesdropped on his conversation with Mr Brunner. Did Mr Brunner, then, know that Grover was a satyr? Was Mr Brunner a satyr?
"So you and my mom know each other?" Percy found herself asking.
Grover glanced behind them again, though Percy wasn't sure what he was looking at, because there was nothing behind them. "Well, we've never met formally. But she knew I was your protector."
"My protector?"
Percy distantly remembered what Grover had told her on the bus—that it was his job to protect her. She had asked him what he was protecting her from, and he hadn't answered, so she thought he was just pulling her leg. Now, however... she was a little afraid to ask.
"Keeping tabs on you," he explained. "Watching you. Making sure you were safe. It's literally in the name. But I wasn't faking being your friend," he added hastily. "I am your friend."
"Protecting me from what? Why?"
"Oh, nobody. Just the Lord of the Dead and a few of his most bloodthirsty minions."
Percy choked. "The what and his what?"
"Grover!"
"Sorry, Mrs Jackson. Could you drive a little faster, please?"
Percy's mind was reeling. Did Grover just say the Lord of the Dead? If he were a satyr—as in a real-life satyr—than the Lord of the Dead was... then the Lord of the Dead was...
Oh god. Hades? That was it. Her brain was officially fried. She couldn't handle it anymore. Why would Hades be after her, out of all people? That was assuming that Hades was even real, and Percy tried to tell herself that it wasn't happening. None of this was happening. It had to have been just a vivid nightmare. She was going to wake up at any moment, in their cabin on Montauk. But even Percy knew she didn't have such an imagination to be able to dream all this up.
"Where are we going?" she asked instead, hands trembling slightly, trying to keep the waver out of her voice to hide the fear that Hades, of all gods, was apparently after her for reasons she knew not.
"It's the summer camp I told you about," her mother answered. "The one your father told me about. Camp Half-Blood."
"Half-Blood?" she questioned, remembering the card Grover had given her. Half-Blood Hill.
"Half-human," Grover supplied helpfully, which meant that it wasn't helpful at all.
"Half-human," Percy echoed faintly, and she wondered distantly as to how her mind hadn't shut down completely yet. "A camp for half-humans. Is this the camp you didn't want to send me to, mom?"
"Yes, honey," her mother said, her voice tight, knuckles as white as death from how tightly she gripped the steering wheel.
"But I've never even met my dad before!" she protested. "Who cares about some stupid summer camp he recommended?"
"Percy," Grover said nervously, "this isn't just 'some stupid summer camp.' It's the only place where kids like you are safe."
"Kids like me," Percy repeated.
Did he mean kids who had ADHD and dyslexia? All piled together in the same summer camp? She wasn't sure who the counselors who ran the camp were, but it seemed like a terrible idea. So her mother was throwing her to a summer camp that was apparently a camp for special kids.
Almost as if he could hear her thoughts, Grover added, "It's not for kids with ADHD and dyslexia." Then he hesitated. "Not really. It's not strictly related to those. There are... other qualifications."
"I don't understand," Percy said after a few seconds of silence, growing frustrated, because she didn't understand and she wanted to. "Why is this summer camp such a big deal? Why are we going there now? Is this all because of Mrs Dodds, and the three old ladies? Nobody even remembered Mrs Dodds anyway, and all the old ladies did was cut some yarn! I don't see the big deal about that."
"Those weren't old ladies," Grover said. "Those were the Fates. Do you know what it means—the fact they appeared in front of you? They only do that when you're about to... when someone's about to die."
Percy froze. "Come again? Did you just say 'you?'"
"No!" he said, far too quickly, which meant he had. "I said 'someone.'"
"Before that," Percy insisted. "You said 'you.' As in you meant me."
"I meant you, like 'someone.' Not you, you."
"Children!" her mother said, voice tight with worry, and Percy was partially glad her mother had stepped in, because that conversation was starting to make her head hurt.
Suddenly, she swerved on the road, resulting in Percy slamming against the door with a squeak of surprise, though it would've been far worse if she hadn't been wearing a seatbelt. Twisting around in her seat, she caught a glimpse of what her mother had swerved to avoid—some sort of fluttering shape that was soon lost in the storm.
Against her will, Percy asked, "What was that?" though she wasn't sure if she wanted the answer.
"We're almost there," her mother said, ignoring her question. "Another mile. Please. Please. Please."
Percy found herself leaning forward, anticipating, wanting them to arrive, and though she didn't know exactly what kind of camp Camp Half-Blood was, if Grover and her mother thought it was safe enough to get her away from Hades, she would gladly go there.
That was, of course, assuming that none of this was a joke, that Grover was really a satyr, that she was really only half-human, that something was chasing them in the dark, and that Hades, one of the most powerful gods in the world, was after them. It was so bizarre that Percy wanted to laugh, but there was a strange logic to it that it was so bizarre that she was sure it must've been real. When she numbly thought back Mrs Dodds and how she had turned into that thing, Percy realized that Mrs Dodds really hadn't been human. She had meant to kill her. Why there were monsters chasing and trying to kill her was beyond Percy's understanding... and there was Mr Brunner, and the sword he had thrown her.
Percy had just been about to ask Grover about that when the hair rose on the back of her neck. She didn't even have time to close her eyes before there was a blinding flash, a jaw-rattling boom!, and the car exploded.
Without warning, the car flipped a couple times, landing upside down. Or, at least, that was what Percy suspected had happened—she had blacked out for a few moments from the force, and when her vision restored, the car was upside down. So the car hadn't really exploded, though it might as well have. It seemed as though lightning had struck it instead, because there was a huge, sizzling hole on the bottom of the car, and they had been blasted off the side of the road. Rain was pouring in, but Percy couldn't get the doors open—they were jammed shut in the mud.
"Mom?" Percy coughed.
"Percy!" Her mother sighed in relief. "You're okay?"
"I'm okay," she confirmed, though she wasn't really sure if she was, but when she turned, she saw a big, motionless lump next to her. "Oh, no. Grover!"
He was unconscious, unmoving, blood trickling from the side of his mouth. Desperately, she grabbed his shoulders and shook him, thinking, No! Even if you're part barn-animal, you're still my best friend and I don't want you to die!
For a moment, nothing happened. And then...
"Food," he moaned, and she knew there was hope.
"My door's jammed," Percy said, panic seizing her.
"Passenger door," her mother said. "Hurry."
Percy latched her arms under Grover's armpits and managed to drag him out of the car. Her mother crawled out the driver's door and landed in a heap on the floor, coughing. For a few moments, Percy forgot about what was supposedly chasing them, and she just collapsed on the road, gasping for breath, trying to get feeling back into her limbs while Grover moaned about food next to them.
"Percy," her mother panted, "see that big tree?" Percy craned her neck just in time to see a giant pine tree be illuminated by a flash of lightning. "That's the property line. You have to cross that, and then you'll be safe. There'll be a big farmhouse. Run and don't look back. Yell for help. Don't stop until you've reached the door."
"But you're coming too, right?"
She didn't say anything, her eyes sad, which was an answer in itself. Percy shook her head in disbelief. "No! I'm not going to let you die! Come on, Mom, help me carry Grover."
She tried to protest, but Percy wouldn't hear it. She grabbed Grover's arms and tried to drag him up the hill (seriously, who even made people run up a hill just to get to a summer camp?), and though he was surprisingly light, she wouldn't have made it very far if her mother hadn't come to her aid. Her mother said nothing as the two of them draped Grover's arms over their shoulders and tried to stagger up the hill. They were moving, but not fast enough, and though Percy was running almost purely on adrenaline, it didn't mean she wasn't terrified.
They were still too far from the tree when a roar shook the forest. Both Percy and her mother went pale.
"Faster!"
They broke into a run, but it didn't really help. Grover wasn't getting any lighter and the hill was getting steeper, the ground slipperier, her grip on him weaker. Rain was still in her eyes and more than once she slipped on the wet grass while trying to blink the water out her eyes. Her mother was having difficulty too, but neither one of them protested as they continued to struggle up the hill. Who knew hills could be so steep?
They were still too far—a hundred yards at least—when it appeared.
It was the largest thing Percy had ever seen, and that was counting Smelly Gabe. Even from this distance, she could smell it, and it smelled disturbingly like Grover—like a barn-animal. She wondered faintly if it were another satyr or something, but judging from how pale and still her mother had gone, she very much doubted it. It had a fuzzy blanket of some sort over her head—maybe it was because it wanted to block out the rain and didn't want to buy an umbrella?—though she wasn't sure why, because the blanket must've made it impossible to see.
It was lumbering around the remains of the car, sniffing and growling, though Percy wasn't sure why, because they were pretty much right in front of it.
"Food?" Grover moaned.
"Shh," Percy said. "Mom, what's he doing? Can't he see us?"
"He goes by smell," she answered. "His sight and hearing are terrible. But he'll find us soon."
As if on cue, it bellowed in rage and picked up the car, throwing it down the road. Percy watched in open-mouthed horror as the vehicle flipped thrice and skidded across the road before it actually exploded, leaving a trail of ash and metal and glass in its wake. One scratch, Gabe had said. One scratch onto this car, and you're dead, got it? Oops.
Then it began stomping up the hill.
It found them.
When the thing got closer, Percy realized it couldn't have been holding up a blanket, because its hands were next to its head, so either it had a great blanket... or the blanket was its head. And those horn-like things on the side of said head...
"Percy." Her mother's voice was deadly calm. "Run."
She didn't need to be told twice.
With a newfound burst of strength, the two of them picked up their pace, but the tree was still too far. They wouldn't make it there alive.
Then another flash of lightning illuminated the thing's face, and Percy wished she could pass out, because it could not be real. Grover being a satyr—sure. Hades being after her—why not? But that... that could not be what Grover meant when he said bloodthirsty minions.
"That's," Percy heard herself squeak, "that's the Mino—"
"Pasiphae's son," her mother interrupted. "Names have power, Percy. I wish I knew how badly they wanted you dead."
"But it can't be real!"
Percy was very-well aware that she probably sounded hysterically mad, but at that point, she honestly didn't care anymore. The thing was at least seven geet tall, with bulging biceps and triceps and a bunch of other 'ceps, all stuffed like baseballs under vein-webbed skin. He wore no clothes except a pair of bright, rainbow underwear, but Percy couldn't even find that funny because the top half of his body was so scary. His neck was a mass of muscle and fur leading up to his enormous head, which had a snout as long as her arm, snotty nostrils with a gleaming brass ring, cruel black eyes, and horns—enormous black-and-white horns with points you just couldn't get from an electric sharpener.
Her mother ignored her. "When it charges, stand still, and then jump out of the way at the last second. He can't change directions very well once he's charging. Do you understand?"
"How do you know all this?"
"I've been worried about an attack for a long time. But I was selfish. I tried to keep you close to me."
"But—"
The bull-man didn't give her a chance to reply. It roared and the two of them were forced to go back to putting all their energy into dragging Grover up a hill, which was getting harder and harder to climb, and the bull-man was closing in on them, fast.
Her mother must've been exhausted, but she shouldered Grover and said, "Go! Separate! Remember what I told you!"
"Mom!"
But her mother had already darted away, and Percy had a feeling that her mother was right. This was their only chance. So Percy, with her legs feeling like jelly and threatening to collapse from exhaustion, sprinted opposite to her mother. But the bull-man didn't seem interested in her mother. Just in her. Eyes glowing with hate, it charged her.
Every muscle in her body screamed for her to run, but she forced herself to stand still. At the last second, she leapt out of the way. Surprised, it barreled past her and crashed into a tree, giving them a bit of breathing time.
They had reached the top of the hill somehow, and on the other side, Percy could see the valley her mother had told her about, and the lights of a farmhouse glowing yellow through the rain. But that was half a mile away. They'd never make it.
"I can't go any further," her mother said, beginning to retreat slowly downhill, back toward the road, trying to lead the monster away from them. "Run, Percy. Run!"
"I'm not leaving you!'
"Percy, you hav—"
"MOM!" Percy screamed as the bull-man grabbed her.
Her mother was kicking and thrashing, but the bull-man had a tight grip on her neck. The thing shook her as she locked eyes with Percy and managed to choke out, "Go!" before the monster squeezed and she disappeared in a flash of golden light.
Time seemed to slow down. For a moment, Percy was too stunned to do anything. And then her fear and shock turned into rage as she took a step toward the bull-man.
"Where did you take my mother?"
The bull-man roared and charged her, hands on either side of its head, ready to grab her no matter which way she turned. What happened next was something she couldn't explain. She should've died, but somehow, she had jumped, kicking off the bull-man's face like a springboard, and, twisting in midair, landed on its neck. How had she done that?
The bull-man didn't give her more time to wonder, because a second later, it had rammed into the pine tree with such force that it left her eyeballs rattling in her skull. Staggering around, it kept trying to buck her off, and it took all of her strength to hold on. At least with the monster distracted, it ignored Grover, who was still moaning, "Food!" every few seconds. She distantly wondered why it didn't just back up and squash her against the tree, but then she realized that this thing must've only had one gear: forward.
But she was running out of time. It was getting harder to hold on, her grip slippery, and she knew she had seconds at best before she lost her grip completely. She blinked the rain out of her eyes as she tried to think back to how Theseus had defeated the Minotaur the first time around. He hadn't been able to bring weapons in the labyrinth, so he had used its horns against it, hadn't he?
It was a long shot, but she had to try.
Wrapping both hands around the horn, she pulled back with all her might. The bull-man roared and charged into the pine tree again, and if Percy hadn't been holding onto the horn so tightly, she probably would've flown a hundred feet and turned into a Percy-sized pancake. As it were, the shock instead almost knocked her teeth out and rattled her eyeballs around in her head... again. If it did that again, she wouldn't be able to hold on any longer.
With a newfound desperation, she pulled with all her strength.
CRACK!
The bull-man screamed as its head jerked back, but Percy, now holding onto nothing, was sent flying back. Her head collided with the base of the pine tree and her vision went black for a few seconds as she crumpled, wondering if she had died. But her vision returned, though slightly blurry, and she realized it had worked. In her hands, she held a ragged horn, roughly the length of a dagger, though this one, much like the bull-man, only had one function—stab.
When the bull-man charged Percy again, she was ready.
She rolled out of the way, and, before it could figure out what was happening, she had already driven the horn right below his furry ribcage. He howled, clawing at the wound, but the damage was done. He was disintegrating, but not like her mother's golden light; he was dissolving into sand, like Mrs Dodds, the wind blowing away the remains. Overhead, the rain had stopped, but the thunder and lightning seemed to have gotten worse.
Staggering to Grover, who was still moaning about food, she grabbed his arm and dragged him down the hill with failing strength and shaking legs. Everything was a blur that night. All she would remember was crying, calling for her mother, yelling for help, and not letting go of Grover under any circumstances.
Somehow, she had found the energy to make it to the large house at the bottom of the valley, though she collapsed on the wooden porch, unable to keep going, and when the door opened, three people were staring down at her in surprise.
One of them was a pretty girl with blonde hair curled like a princess, and even in Percy's delirious state, she noted the strange way the girl's grey eyes were studying her. The other was a blond boy who had already knelt by her side, hands supporting her, eyebrows knitted and a look of concern on his handsome face. The third was a shockingly familiar bearded face.
"She's still conscious," the man said. "Take her inside, Will."
The last thing she remembered was the blond boy picking her up before she blacked out.
I don't particularly love this chapter, but it's rather short compared to my other ones, so at least I updated this quicker than usual? I'm doing so badly in the updating department. It might be because I'm actually writing everything from scratch and changing up the plot unlike before, but still.
Anyway, I'm working on the next chapter, and I really want it to start deviating more drastically from canon or else it'll be too much like Rick Riordan's original text, but I'm still kind of stuck on how to change it that much. I suppose that, since in the original text, it's just Percy waking up, actually meeting Annabeth, and having a conversation with Chiron about how the Greek gods are real, there really isn't that much that I can do, but I still really want my story to begin going down its own path soon or else it'll just be too unoriginal.