Disclaimer: I do not own the Percy Jackson series or any songs, names, or places that belong to anyone else.

AN: Thank you for the 10 reviews, 33 favorites, and 38 follows :)

Here's the next chapter.

Title: Waiting For the End

Main Pairings: Percy/Apollo, Percy/Hermes, Percy/Ares, Percy/Dionysus, Percy/Hephaestus, Percy/Luke

Other Pairings: Silena/Beckendorf, Annabeth/?, Grover/Juniper, Clarisse/Chris, Zeus/Hera, Poseidon/Sally, Hades/Persephone

Warnings: Language, violence, sexual themes. Set in pre-Lightening Thief all the way to my versions of the Heroes of Olympus, some Hera and Aphrodite bashing. Fem! Percy. Powerful! Percy. Demi-titan! Sally.

Chapter 2: Wake Me Up When September Ends

Seph would be lying if she said she wasn't used to odd events. She had a whole fourteen going on fifteen years' worth of stories. But this ongoing fantasy she was experiencing was really starting to piss her off. What made it worse was that the other students seemed to be reading her mind and playing on that fantasy. All of them weren't budging on Mrs. Kerr- a way too perky for normal blond woman who seemingly recycled Mrs. Dodds hatred for Seph- being their Algebra 1 teacher since Christmas. Seph honestly thought the woman was on drugs. Nobody could be that happy all the time.

And just to see if she couldn't break someone, Seph would stare at some of her mousier classmates with wide eyes when she'd ask about Mrs. Dodds. All that came out of that was the other kids having nervous breakdowns and Seph getting enough detention to last until college.

After her latest detention, Seph had started wondering if Mrs. Dodds really wasn't a part of her imagination.

There was just one problem.

Grover Underwood had to be the worst liar Seph had ever met. His knees would shake like a maraca, his hands would twist together, and he would count every single floor tile in the room before he'd look her in the face. It made her slightly angry that even her best friend would lie to her, but she figured Grover must have his reasons. The older students could be bullying him into lying.

But Seph hardly had time to think about him though, her orders having increased due to a kid's upcoming birthday. She had to order eleven games, three boxes of some fancy cookies from France, and a single box of the best champagne chocolates in New York. Normally that wasn't a problem, but they wanted her to plan the whole damn party in only a week. She would have flat out refused if it wasn't for the large sum of money they had offered her.

That was how she spent her days. Her nights were worse. They were filled with nightmares. Nightmares that surrounded the apartment she'd soon have to go back to. The man she'd have to go back to. There were some nights that she'd wake up, gasping for air as she remembered what he had nearly done to her the last summer she'd been home.

Meanwhile the odd weather raged on. Seph didn't mind the gloomy weather at all, at least until a particularly bad thunderstorm busted her windows to the point of nearly breaking. Of course no one believed her when she said she hadn't done it.

Seph noticed that she had started feeling more irritable than she usually did. The slightest things made her snap quite viciously at whoever was close by. Just last week she had made Molly Andrews go crying to the dean. That had earned her quite the long detention. And the week before that she had gotten into a fight with one of Ashley York's friends after a backhanded comment about her fashion sense. The girl had been sent to the nurse's office after Seph broke her fancy new nose job.

Then something a few days after Ashley's friend happened. She had been in English class, a migraine pounding away at her skull from the reading prompt they just did, when Mr. Nicholl started to ask her (right in front of the class mind you) why she wasn't smart enough to follow along. She had slammed her hands on her desk as she stood up, and told him to go fuck himself.

But the final thing that made her snap was when she went to one of her frequently increased sessions with her counselor, Ms. Keaton.

Ms. Keaton was a divorced woman in her mid-thirties with a couple of kids Seph's age. She was slim and trim with the typical rich-woman look: nicely-groomed blond hair, makeup-enhanced blue eyes, and a white smile encased with harlot red lipstick. She was from the bayous in New Orleans, and had a thick accent to go along with it. In Seph's personal opinion, she was the epitome of a stereotypical dumb blond.

Seph had been with the woman almost immediately since she transferred to Yancy Academy, and hadn't been able to get rid of her since. She couldn't stand Ms. Keaton and her stupid ideas on how her mind worked. The girl had a feeling that the only reason the blond got the job was because she was messing around with the dean.

Either way, it had started off as a normal session. Ms. Keaton did the lame-brained 'how are you feeling today?' and 'have you been having trouble controlling your temper lately?' and even 'let's try a few breathing exercises'. Seph didn't know how much more she could take. Then she finally snapped after one particular session.

"Persephone, I want to ask you a few questions," Ms. Keaton said. Seph resisted the urge to curl her lip at the woman. She knew about her issues when it came to her full name.

"Fine," she barely got out between gritted teeth. "Ask away."

Ms. Keaton crossed her legs in her short blue skirt. She picked up her note pad and clicked her pen so she could write.

"I've heard that you've been having problems lately in classes," she started. "Would you care to talk about it?"

'No, you nosy bitch.' she wanted to snap. Instead, she said, "I'm just a little tired is all."

Ms. Keaton hummed as she jotted down her response. "I also heard that you were hallucinating about a teacher named Mrs. Dodds a few weeks ago. What was that about?"

"I was not hallucinating," Seph tried to stay calm. "It must have been some dreams I was having." Miss Blondie-Blonde would be stupid enough to believe that.

More scribbling. "I have also received some reports from a few hall monitors that you have been sneaking into the boys dorms lately. You know that is against school rules."

Seph wanted to snap at her that there were girls in the school who snuck in and spent the night, unlike her, who just went in, gave the guys there games and stuff they'd ordered, then got the hell out of there. She had never stayed in there for more than a couple of hours, and even then it was just to be polite when the guys would ask her to play video games with them.

"I go to see my friend, Grover. And that rule only applies for after curfew. I've never gone in later than five."

Ms. Keaton looked up at her for the first time since this whole screwed up questionnaire started.

"Persephone, I do believe I know what is going on with you," the blond said seriously. Seph wanted to snort. Like this bitch understood a thing about her. "Your grades are dropping, you're having wild mood swings, and you're sneaking into the boys dorms. I want you to be honest with me, Persephone. I ask this as a friend, are you pregnant?"

Seph felt her jaw physically drop. Did she just ask what she thought she'd asked?

Ms. Keaton continued on, an understanding and sympathetic look on her face. "I remember what it was like being your age, Persephone. I remember how boys started noticing me because I was more developed than other girls my age. And I'll admit that I acted on a few of my teenaged hormones, but I always made sure to always use protection-"

Seph let the blonde ramble on, barely registering what she was saying. She thought she was pregnant. This dumb bitch thought that she was pregnant? Oh no. Oh hell no!

"-and we will need to inform your mother as soon as possible," Ms. Keaton kept going, not knowing that her patient was about to explode. "I will say this now, Persephone. If I were you, I wouldn't be too surprised if she abandoned you. She won't want to raise her fourteen-year old daughter's child. But then again, she did have you young, didn't she?"

Alright, that was it. Seph stood up so fast her chair flipped back onto the floor with a loud 'thud'. The angry teenager leaned over the desk and got right in the blonde's face.

"Let's get something straight, you dumb bitch," she hissed between her teeth. "We are nothing alike. You may have been a whore when you were my age, but I haven't spread my legs for no one and I have no plans to any time soon. Secondly, you do not talk about my mother. You try pulling that shit again, you're going to get your silicone ass kicked to hell and back, ya understand?"

She didn't wait for an answer and instead walked to the door. When she turned around to look back, she saw that Ms. Keaton's face was red from the roots of her platinum hair to the tops of her breasts that showed through her low-cut top. Seph gave her a broad grin.

"Have a nice life, dumbass!"

It was after a fierce scolding from the dean, the assistant dean, and the secretary that the call was made. It was official: Seph would not be returning to Yancy Academy the next semester. Seph said fuck it. She wanted her mom. She wanted her small apartment on the Upper East Side, and would gladly go to public school if it meant no more Ms. Keaton and Ashley York. She was even ready to take on Gabe and his drunken tirades at this point.

But even with that train of thought, she knew she would miss some things about Yancy. The kick-ass dodge ball games, the sound of little kids squeaking when they saw who they ran into, the business she made off the rich kids. She would miss Grover, too. He had his odd quirks about him but so did she. That's what made them such great friends. And even though she wouldn't admit it to anyone . . . she was going to worry about Grover. She didn't know how he was going to make it the next year without her there to beat up the people who tormented him.

She would miss science class a lot, Latin too. Mr. Arnez's crazy Albert Einstein hairdo with the demented Frankenstein's doctor laugh always made her day more interesting. Mr. Brunner's awesome tournament days would be greatly missed as well.

'Okay question eleven. How many milligrams of a metal containing 45% nickel must be combined with 6 milligrams of pure nickel to form an-'

"Fuck, this makes no sense!" Seph groaned in aggravation. "Whoever thought numbers should mix with letters and symbols should burn in hell."

She was going to flunk, plain and simple. She was in no way going to be able to remember all of the formulas and equations that came with Algebra. She would proudly take the F she was sure to get if only so she could say fuck you in the middle of the test. It wasn't like they could do anything. She already knew she wouldn't be returning the following year.

She flopped back on her pillow, eyes staring at the plain white ceiling. She felt cold and itchy; goose bumps had begun to rise on her skin.

She thought about Mr. Brunner and his serious outlook on her school work. You cannot just try in my class, Persephone Jackson. You need to work hard in all of your classes.

Then she thought about Mr. Arnez. Your other classes? Meh, just stick with science. Now this is the way to make a proper stink bomb. . .

Seph let out a groan. Mr. Brunner 1, Mr. Arnez 0.

She pulled on a pair of her combat boots and grabbed her dorm keys. She didn't want to go ask a teacher for help, it just wasn't in her nature to accept help from others, but maybe Mr. Brunner could give her some pointers on how to remember formulas. She gave her math book a loathing glare.

"I hate you, you sick bastard," she scowled, picking it up.

She exited her dorm room. Glancing around in the dark hallway, Seph made sure there were no teachers patrolling the halls before walking over to the stairwell. She went down several flights of stairs to where the teachers' quarters were.

There weren't many lights on in the hallway, but thankfully the moon was shining bright enough to let her see where she was walking. She strolled silently down the hall and peeked through the first lighted window. She barely held back the vomit that wanted to spew out.

'Mrs. Rodney and Coach Hash? They're like eighty years old!'

Shivering a little she continued onwards. When she came to the next highlighted door, she was thankful to see Mr. Brunner's name scrawled across the top in chipped gold lettering. She had started to reach for the door handle when she heard voices coming from the inside.

'Is Mr. Brunner getting some too?' she was surprised. She couldn't imagine her prim and proper teacher doing the nasty where someone could easily walk in. All of those thoughts flew out of her mind when she heard a voice that was definitely Grover's.

". . . Seph, sir."

Her hand froze midair.

Okay she wouldn't label herself as an eavesdropper (that was the other Yancy girls job), but she would be shocked if someone didn't listen in when you heard your best friend talking about you to an adult.

She stepped closer.

"I don't want her to be alone this summer," Grover was saying. "A Kindly One attacked her in public. They're starting to come after her-"

"Grover, I know you care for Seph, but she doesn't need to be thrown into this," Mr. Brunner said. "If she couldn't handle this then she'll be lost forever."

"She doesn't have time, sir! The deadline-"

Seph was surprised at the anger in Grover's voice. Whatever was wrong with her, he apparently didn't like it.

"We can find a solution without her, Grover. She can enjoy her obliviousness for a while longer."

Seph silently bristled at his words, but kept quiet.

"Sir, she saw her. . . ."

"She'll think it's her imagination," Mr. Brunner insisted. "The Mist over the students and staff will be enough to convince her of that."

"Seph is stubborn, sir," Grover said. "She doesn't give up easily . . . sir, I . . . I can't fail her." Grover's was starting to choke up. "She's my best friend."

"You won't fail, Grover," Mr. Brunner said kindly. "I could sense her power as soon as we met. We should have started to prepare her sooner. But we won't dwell on that right now. Now our main concern is keeping Seph alive until fall-"

She couldn't help it. Her breath hitched. Seph let out a mental curse when she didn't hear their conversation continue.

She kept her breathing even and slowly started to walk backwards. The second she saw the too tall shadow she knew that something was wrong. Quietly, she opened a nearby door before continuing to back away. She rounded the corner just as she saw an archer's bow extend from the doorway.

Right after she had rounded a corner, she heard the sound of an arrow being let loose and a split second later she saw it firmly planted in the corkboard a few feet away from her. She heard an odd sound, like a large animal sniffing before she heard a door being thrown open. Seph slowly reached down towards her right boot, letting her fingers graze the black handle of the hunting knife she kept stored there. If this thing was going to come after her, she wasn't going to go down without a fight. Thankfully, it didn't.

She heard a tired sigh.

"I'm sorry for scaring you, Grover," it was Mr. Brunner. His voice sounded close, and Seph shrunk into the shadows as a large body walked past her. "I've been on edge since the winter solstice."

She saw the creature (as that was the only name she could think of) pluck the arrow from the corkboard before heading back down the hallway. Seph made sure to stay absolutely still, seeing that the creature still had the bow clutched in one hand.

"It's alright," she heard Grover say tensely, if not in slight annoyance. In any other situation, Seph would have snickered. She knew that Grover hated surprises.

"You better get some sleep," Mr. Brunner said. "You've got a long day of exams tomorrow."

"Thanks for the reminder," Grover mumbled under his breath.

She saw the light disappear. Seph waited tensely in the dark, just waiting for the creature to come back and discover her. After a few minutes, she finally let go of the knife. She looked around the corner to make sure no one was in the hall before practically running to the stairwell. A few minutes later she was unlocking the door to her room. She let herself drift back to the conversation.

Mr. Brunner and Grover had been worried about something, something about her. They thought she was in danger.

"Danger from what?" she whispered in frustration. Whatever that thing was in the hall? Horny teenage boys? What?

Seph glanced at the new clock on her nightstand. The blue letters glowed back that it was nearly midnight. Letting out a sigh the fourteen-year old shook off her boots and lied down on the bed. She was tired, and like Grover, she had a long day of exams to look forward to. She'd figure this all out in the morning, but for now, she just wanted to sleep.

Seph winced as she flexed her hand.

'Three hours. How can they come up with enough questions that would take three hours to answer?' she thought, grabbing her bag and heading towards the door. She began running math equations through her head when Mr. Brunner asked for her to come back.

A voice whispered in her head that he had found out about her late night visit, but that wasn't the case.

"Seph," he said. "I am sorry that you will not be returning next year. It was a joy to teach you."

Seph knew it was not said in unkindness, but she felt anger flash within her. He was whispering, but she knew other kids could hear them. Ashley York gave her a sickly sweet smile before tittering to the friend beside her. Seph glared at her and wished with all her heart that she could have flipped her off without Brunner seeing.

She muttered, "Whatever."

"I mean . . ." Mr. Brunner wrung his hands in his lap, not looking her in the eye. Seph wasn't used to him being this timid. "You shouldn't be here. Somewhere else would be better suited for you."

Seph bit the inside of her cheek, hard.

One of her most favorite teachers was confirming that she was an outcast. That she hadn't been enough for the prestigious Yancy Academy and was surely to be kicked out. Mr. Arnez had sobbed for the whole test period about how he was losing his most creative and devious student. It had been a warm, heartfelt moment.

"Right," she said, lips tightening and fists clenching. She let anger replace any sadness.

"No, no, no," Mr. Brunner said, sensing her change in mood, brown eyes widening in panic. "Oh, I can't believe I'm fumbling over this. I'm trying to say that you're oddly unique and-"

"Gee, thanks," she snapped in a harsh tone. "Nice to know everyone here thinks I'm such a fuck-up."

"Seph-"

But he was talking to her back.

It was the last day of term, and Seph happily packed away her things. She put any of few her electronics or spare candy and wallet into her messenger bag.

She was dressed in all black. Black Disturbed tank top, black jeans with a chain hanging from the pocket, and her ever permanent combat boots.

She got out to the school yard and she saw some of her more frequent customers there. They were all laughing with each other, bragging about where their families were going on vacation that year. Where they talked about sounded like Narnia to Seph, but to them it was like going to the park. Most of Yancy was filled with little delinquents and future tabloid headers, but unlike her, they were rich little delinquents and future tabloid headers. They had mommies and daddies who were executives, or celebrities, or high up in the law. She was practically dirt underneath their five-hundred dollar shoes.

As she gave them their last orders, they asked her what she'd be doing this summer and she told them she was staying in the city.

What she didn't tell them was that she'd been staying in the city with her mom and stepfather. Her mom who would be working more than half the time to make ends meet, and her stepfather would be too busy hosting his poker parties to give a rat's ass about her. At least until he got drunk.

"Oh," one of the guys said. "That's cool."

They must have thought not going anywhere was sad because instead of the three-fifty that all six boys were supposed to give her, she wound up with a solid thousand, all in hundreds. That along with the money she had saved up for something big to buy, she had a total of eight thousand nine hundred fifty-three dollars and eighty-two cents.

It had paid having customers who didn't know that their alleged sixty-dollar game was actually twenty at GameStop. Plus with that party she planned, she'd made a bundle this year.

After her payment, they went back to their conversations, completely ignoring that she was there. Seph didn't care.

The only person she didn't want to say good-bye to was Grover, but to her surprise, that wasn't the case.

Seph glanced up from the random doodle she'd been drawing on her arm and saw Grover looking up-and-down the bus aisles yet again. It was a habit of his, she had noticed early on in their friendship. Even if he was a bit too timid, she had to hand it to Grover for being observant. If the angry little girl two rows before them pulled a Betsy Wetsy out on the bus occupants, she hoped he would warn her to duck and cover.

A mischievous feeling overcame Seph and she leaned over to whisper in Grover's ear, "That bald dude up front might be a Kindly One, don't you think?"

Grover jumped sky-high, making the bus driver give them an odd look through the rearview mirror.

"What did you say?" he whisper-yelped.

Seph rolled her eyes before reluctantly admitting to the Nancy Drew move she pulled the night before exams.

Grover was twitching like a Chihuahua. "What exactly did you hear?

"Oh a little of this, a little of that," Seph looked at her fingernails nonchalantly, the way most females do when they know something. "So what's this summer solstice deadline?"

The boy shifted uncomfortably. "Seph . . . I'm worried for you, you know? Fantasizing about Satanic teachers . . ."

"Grover-"

"I tried telling Mr. Brunner that it was probably because of all the video games you play and your ADHD, because there isn't a Mrs. Dodds, and . . ."

With a blank face, she said, "Grover, sweetheart, you're a horrific liar."

Her friend's whole face flushed a deep pink.

He fumbled with his jean pocket before finally pulling out a plain white business card. "Will you take this? It will make me feel better and maybe if you want to talk . . ."

Seph took one look at the writing before letting out a string of curses, smacking Grover upside the head while she was at it. "Ugh Grover, you little bastard. You know I'm dyslexic."

Grover rubbed the back of his head as he grumbled out an apology. Why did she have to hit so damn hard?

It took a few minutes, but she finally made out:

Grover Underwood
Keeper

Half-Blood Hill

Long Island, New York
(800) 009-0009

Seph blinked in confusion. "What the hell is-"

"Don't say the name," her friend said quickly. Neither noticed how the other bus occupants had left about five rows empty between themselves and the two teens during their conversation. "It's my summer address."

'So Grover's a rich brat too,' she mentally sighed. 'So much for us being one in the same.'

"You better have a badass game room in you mansion," she muttered under her breath. "And to think I didn't charge you when I'd give you some imported candy. . ."

Grover nodded, relieved that his friend had gone in that direction. "Yeah, we can play the new Grand Theft Auto. But it's really so you can call me if you needed me."

"And I would need you why?"

It sounded bitchy to Seph and she muttered a quiet apology.

Grover squirmed in his seat before looking into her pretty green eyes. "Seph, you're the best friend I ever had. I love you like a sister," a determined look grew in his eyes. "And I'll be damned if I won't be there to protect you."

Seph lifted an eyebrow.

If there was one thing people had established in their friendship, it was that Seph protected Grover. Not the other way around. The one getting punished by the dean- for breaking and/or bruising some part of someone's body- was Seph. But here was Grover, trying to act like the mighty little brother. She didn't know whether to feel annoyed or amused.

"Uh huh," she decided to bite. "And what exactly is it my little Grover is trying to protect me from?"

It was then that the bus decided to make things harder. A sound that reminded Seph of Grover's stomach on Enchilada day echoed throughout the bus. Thick black smoke started filling the front and the sickening smell of rotten eggs came through.

"That shit stinks," she hissed, covering her nose with her sleeve. Grover seemed to agree and did the same thing as the driver pulled the Greyhound to the side of the highway.

It was a few minutes later after some clumsy looks at the engine compartment the driver cheerfully announced they would have to get off. Some people dressed in expensive looking clothes groaned at that, not wanting to be late for their meetings and not wanting to melt outside. Seph and Grover shoved their way out.

"Stupid people not waiting for their turn to get off," Seph grouched under her breath after as someone knocked into her from behind. "Impatient assholes."

The two teens finally got off. Seph raised a hand to shield her eyes from the blaring sun. They had broken down in a relatively traffic-less road. At least the maple trees provided some form of shade. She looked across the highway and saw a fruit stand. It was common for her to see them in Manhattan, but she was surprised that there was one way out there in the middle of nowhere.

She casually took out her camera, snapping a picture of the fruit stand and the beautiful nature behind it. The stuff for sale was making her mouth water: heaping boxes of blood red cherries and apples, walnuts and apricots, jugs of cider in a claw-foot tub full of ice. But what was really odd was the three older ladies sitting in rocking chairs in the shade of a maple tree, knitting the Guinness Book of World Records-sized socks.

The lady on the right knitted one of them. The lady on the left knitted the other. The lady in the middle held an enormous basket of electric-blue yarn.

All three women had that classic 'aging with grace' that was so hard to manage, with pale faces that held soft wrinkles, silver hair cut in a short style that oddly reminded Seph of Jamie Lee Curtis. They kind of dressed like her too . . .

What was really creeping her out was that they were looking right at her with their pale silvery eyes.

She glanced at Grover, feeling cautious about taking her eyes away from the staring contest with the older women. She had a feeling there was a gun hidden somewhere in that knitting basket. Grover was pale, she noticed, too pale for normal. His nose was twitching, like a dog's did when it picked up a scent.

"Gro?" Seph asked through the corner of her mouth. "Hon, are you okay-"

"Are they looking at you?"

"That's what I was just thinking about." She continued to eye the three women. "Grover, if you see them reach for the basket, duck and weave. It can't be coincidental that those socks are the size of body bags."

"That's not funny, Seph. Not at all."

Seph was wrong. Instead of a gun, the Jamie Lee look-alike in the middle took out a large pair of scissors- gold and silver, long-bladed, like shears. They were starting to remind Seph of something, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. Beside her, Grover stopped breathing.

"Get on the bus," he told her.

"What?" Seph asked in confusion. She was a little annoyed with Grover's trying to boss her around. "Grover, it's hotter in there than it is out here."

"Will you just listen to me for once?" He was trying to pry open the door, so Seph stayed back. The more she eyed the ladies, the more she was considering buying some cider, now that she knew they didn't have a gun to shoot her with.

Across the road, the old ladies were still watching Seph. Atropos smiled a little as she looked at the daughter of Poseidon. She would be entertaining, that much she knew from her two sisters, Clotho and Lachesis. But first thing was first. She needed to get rid of a little hindrance. She cut the yarn, and the fourteen-year old felt a shiver go up her spine. She saw the one in the middle give her a wink as the other two rolled up the socks.

"Body bags," Seph mumbled. "They're definitely body bags."

Back at the bus, the driver let out a whoop as the engine started up again.

The passengers cheered.

"Hell yes!" yelled the driver. He gave the bus a loving pat. "That a girl, Betty! Everyone get in."

It was once they started up again did Seph start feeling weird. For a moment she was worried that she had her period, but she didn't feel any cramps. That would have been embarrassing. She felt sick, nauseated, like she was ready to hurl at any moment.

Grover looked worse for wear. His skin was paler than a ghost, and he was shivering like he was cold.

"Grover?" Seph looked at him. She noticed how his hands were shaking.

"Yeah?"

"You're hiding something from me."

He put his arms around himself. "You saw something back at the fruit stand."

"Yeah, those old ladies freaked me the fuck out. You got that vibe too? Wait . . . are they like Mrs. Dodds?"

His expression was made of stone, something Seph wasn't used to, but she got the unsaid message that the old women were much worse than Mrs. Dodds ever was. He said, "What did you see?"

"I'm not too sure," Seph admitted. "It looked like she just cut the cord

He said, "So you saw her cut it?"

"Yes," she said slowly. Internally, she knew that something big was happening.

"No," Grover whispered. His pupils were blown, and he looked as if someone had just killed his puppy. "Not again."

"What?"

"They never reach sixteen."

"Grover, are you okay, hon?" Seph asked, because he was really starting to freak her out. "Is something wrong?"

"I need to walk you home from the bus station. Promise me."

Seph wanted to snap that she wasn't some fragile little girl, but she let out a reluctant promise.

"Grover, be honest with me. Is this some kind of cult or something?"

No answer. Seph felt a bad feeling settle in her chest, and she felt it magnify when she realized where she recognized the three ladies from.

"Grover is someone going to die?"

His eyes watered, but he stayed silent as he gripped her hand tightly.

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AN: Reviews are more than welcomed :)