Disclaimer: The title is a lyric from Fifth Harmony's Bo$$.

CHAPTER 4: 'Cause That's What My Momma Taught Me

Bang! Bang! Bang!

For a second I thought that another monster was trying to break in, that is, before a series of nervous bleats caught my ear.

Seriously, Grover? Now?

Mom apparently recognized him too, because the next minute there was a wheezing satyr in the middle of my living room. You know half-goat, half-man. My best friend is a satyr. A satyr… Why not? Perfectly normal. Mhm.

"Chiron- says- it's- time," he said panting.

Mom didn't seem confused. In fact, she looked grim, like she expected it. She turned to me and opened her mouth to say something, but I cut her off.

"In the car."

We headed down with Grover on our tails. He was sniffing the air and his eyes were unfocused.

"You okay, G-man?" I was no longer angry at him. He was one of my loyal-est friends. And he seems to always have my back- cover stories for when I am not in school, homework help (Dyslexia is a bitch.) and those are just a few.

"Oh, Perci," he moaned. He leaned on my shoulder. "What've you gotten yourself into."

We got in the car. And I guess mom and I have something against speed limits.

"I guess it's time for an explanation, Mom," I reminded her once we were on the highway. "It has something to do with dad. Right?"

"Right" One of the many things I love about my mother is that she doesn't beat around the bush. "He was...special. And with everything that happened today, I think you know who he is."

I nodded. I knew my father wasn't normal. Lost at sea, not dead. It's not a common occurrence, and neither is my apparent affinity for liquids.

My father was a god. A goddamned greek Olympian god. And I have a pretty firm idea on who exactly he is.

"You figured it out," Grover said shakily from the backseat.

"Yes…," I nodded and raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Satyrs," he said pointing at his shaggy hindquarters. "We are empathetic."

Well, that explains a whole lot of shit. "And…?"

"Your scent became ten times stronger. And not that it wasn't strong before," he elaborated.

"Dude, what the fuck." I ignored mom's 'Language' and sniffed myself. And sure enough, I still smell like my lavender shampoo and my natural beachy scent, if not a little sweaty. But that is trucking justified, okay. "I do not stink."

"No, not like that," he hastily corrected. I glared. He yelped. "Your aura. It's strong, a bit too strong for your own good."

Mom seemed to notice my agitation, 'cause she interrupted me saying, "Monsters are attracted to auras. And your's is especially strong. Your scent to them is like blue cookies to you."

Shit. So I'm a monster-snack. Lovely.

"And now we are going to a place where people like you are safe from them-"

"Wait, wait, wait. Time-out," I cut her off. "Remember that little tidbit of info where the Lord of Dead is going to be after you. I sure as fuck am not leaving you."

"Perci-"

"Mom, no!" And for the second time today, I lost my cool. "There is no way in Uncle Sam's hat that I am leaving you. And you know I don't give a flying fuck about creatures being after me. I can hold my own. And my chances are significantly higher if you are there. Now, we are going to Montauk first. It's ten minute from here. We are going to get the rest of the stuff there and then you are going with me to that safe haven."

Mom's smart enough to know a losing battle when she hears or sees one.

Ten minutes of tense silence later, we were in our cabin in Montauk.

Yes, our, we own it. Under an alias of course. If anyone asks, I'm Rihanna Johansson, daughter of Seraphina Johansson.

Anyway, back to the present. I love Montauk. The place does wonders to my Mom. She looks younger and her blue eyes sparkle like when the sun hits the sea. (I am so poetic.) It's where she met dad. And our annual summer destination. Ah, the memories.

But no time for nostalgia now. There were more important problems at hand.

Mom and I had Grover helps us, with his goat hooves, to break the floorboards. We don't have enough time to focus on the too-many-to-count locks and safe codes now.

Mom handed me the silver briefcase lying innocently on the end of the many safes.

Grover was jumping around holding his hooves, repeating 'ow, ow, ow.'

"Oh, man up, Grover."

"I don't remember you breaking through titanium and steel with your own bare feet!"

"Technically, they're hooves."

I could feel his glare trying to penetrate my hoodie. I skillfully ignored it. An angry Grover is worse than a Grover on reed pipes.

As I was stuffing the briefcase in my duffel inside the car's trunk, one hell of a roar broke the monotone of the thunderstorm.

Mom herded us back to the car, and drove like our lives depended on it. Which it did.

"I'm not going to ask about that roar, 'cause my gut says I'll know soon enough and I'm not in a hurry. But," I said over the sound of the thunder and rain. "Why are we going to Long Island Sound?"

"It's where the haven is," Grover answered for my Mom. "A bit faster Ms. Jackson, please."

My mom smirked, and I heard Grover gulp and whimper. I chuckled as I enjoyed the exhilarating speed.

Now, normal people would need an hour and thirty minutes to get from Montauk to Long Island. We, however, are not normal. Before Grover told mom to go faster, we would've reached Long Island in forty minutes, now it'll be twenty minutes give or take.

I love our black and blue Bugatti.

Another earth-shattering roar. I looked back, and if I didn't know better I would've have thought it was Arnold Schwarzenegger on steroids in his normal steroid, good old days.

But I knew better.

"They sent the motherfucking Minotaur after us," I exclaimed. Like, what. The. Fuck.

"Language," my Mom replied calmly. At times like these, I appreciate her ability to keep calm and focus. "And it's Pasiphae's son. Names have power."

Ah, Pasiphae, scarred for life Pasiphae. Poor mortal wife of bitch-ass king Minos, who thought it's smart to get a bunch of pissy gods angry. Said gods then made aforementioned wife fall in love with and fuck a sacred bull. Also, said bitch-ass put his stepson in a maze to execute people where he conveniently put a genius, genius' son, and, later, genius' nephew in the middle of the maze, just because.. And, when bitch-ass dies he becomes a judge in the Underworld. The gods' rationality and justice everyone.

"Are you expecting me to go around calling everyone You-Know-Who and You-Know-What, because names have power," I asked her incredulously. "Have you met me woman?"

"Come on, just one more mile," Grover was pleading with the car. "Please. O Zeu kai alloi theoi."

"Grover, language!" Mom and I said at the same time. Hehe, I'm a hypocrite. They both looked at me like they had the same thought. I smiled cheekily back, making sure my dimples were prominent.

But just as we passed the Delphi Strawberry Services' Pick Your Own Strawberries sign, simply put, we got struck by lightning.

Yup, lightning. I do not advise it. It is highly uncomfortable and there are chances of it being lethally fatal. And there is a possibility you'll end up in a ditch. Like us. Thank you.

So, after mom and I argued abit- which I won- when we got out of the car relatively unhamed, we grabbed an unconscious Grover and hauled him with us to the tall pine tree. That thing is huge.

"The Minotaur," I began and ignored my Mom's glare. "How do we fight it?"

"And what makes you think I know?"

I raised an eyebrow. Really, Mom, really?

We both ignored the roaring closing in behind us and focused on climbing the hill.

She sighed, "The thing's a dimwit, but a strong dimwit. It has one gear: forward. And- didn't we already go over that when we were in Spain?"

"Yup. But distracting you is a good idea now."

It was, until we abruptly had to split up when the stink-shit barrelled between us. Seriously, he stinks. I could almost imagine the maggots from rotting meat crawling on his furry torso.

Mom threw Grover a bit further up the hill.

I had Kýma in my right hand an a black knife in my other. Normal weapons wouldn't have worked anyway. The guns are there for back-up, like when police cars were following us down the highway. I shot their tires. Very effective for getting the police of your tail. Bye-bye police.

Anyway, Mom held two glowy-bronze daggers.

We surrounded beefshit. He was only distracted for a second between our slashes. He swung his arms wildly after mom pierced an eye and me following with the other. We were dodging his arms while slashing at the fucker. I cleaved his gigantic pointy horn off. Kýma is awesome like that. And the wonders of adrenaline.

Mino Jr. didn't appreciate it. And what is it with monster and loud noises? My ears were ringing from that last roar.

Mom was slashing at his knees when the bastard made a wild swing and grabbed her neck. She plunged her knife in the monster's ear, while cutting off the hand holding her in the air just as she exploded in golden light.

I was angry. In fact, I was so angry I drowned out everything around me. I ignored the increased downpour of the rain. I ignored the thunder booming. I even ignored Grover's bleary bleats for food.

The Minotaur now had my undivided attention.

Poor, poor bastard.

I ran at him without a sound, proving that I am my mother's daughter. He was running in circles. Mom and I did a lot of damaging to his senses. I jumped over his hulking frame of seven feet and landed on his beefy neck.

One of my hand grasped his remaining horn while the the other ripped his giant gold ring out of his nose.

He bellowed and threw his head backwards. I flew away with a crack.

Well, two cracks. The Bastards horn and my head on a rock.

Have I mentioned the benefits of adrenaline and ADHD in situations like this? It's hella good.

I staggered to my feet in time before Minobeef ran me over and had me for dinner. The scent of my blood mixing with the wind and rain put him in a frenzy. Good, he's overwhelmed, disoriented and fucking angry.

I held the horn in one hand and Kýma in the other. And the next time he came he had his own horn in his heart and his bull head of his shoulder.

He turned to dust soon after, his severely disfigured and mauled head rolling at my feet. It didn't turn to dust. It just looked at me with blank and bloody, gouged out eyes. A guilty sense of satisfaction and ugly pleasure filled me as looked at the bloody thing in front of me.

Grover's bleat brought me back. He was looking at me, really looking at me.

We didn't say a word as we dragged each other to the big blue farmhouse and passed the pine tree. Kýma was washed off by the rain and securely in my waistband. My spoils were on top of the hill.

I was coming down from my adrenaline high, fast. The blood loss was getting to me. The pungent smell of eau de wet Minotaur with the bonus of Minotaur innards and gore was making me dizzy. More than I already am. I barely held myself from barfing up the cookies I ate this morning.

My face was bloody and caked with grime except for the tear tracks running down my face.

It stopped raining and I could see the brilliant night sky as I collapsed in front of the big farmhouse's porch.

Just as I was dragged into unconsciousness, I spotted the face of my Latin teacher. My voice was barely above a whisper, but I have no doubt he heard.

"You have a hell-lot of explaining to do, Brunner."

Then, nothing.