Percy Jackson belongs to Rick Riordan, not me. I only have the rights to Atlanta Jackson.

Chapter Four: Our Mother Teaches Us Bullfighting

We tore through the night along dark country roads. Wind slammed against the Camaro. Rain lashed the windshield. I didn't know how our mom could see anything, but she kept her foot on the gas.

Every time there was a flash of lightning, I looked art Grover sitting next to me in the backset and I wondered if I'd gone insane, or if he was wearing some kind of shag-carpet pants. But, no, the smell was one I remembered from kindergarten field trips to the petting zoo-lanolin, like from wool. The smell of a wet barnyard animal.

Atlanta turned around in the front seat, looking at Grover with eerie calm. "So, you and our mom…know each other?"

Grover's eyes flitted to the rearview mirror, through there were no cars behind us. "Not exactly," he said. "I mean, we've never met in person. But she knew I was watching you two."

"Watching us," I asked.

"Keeping tabs on you. Making sure you and Atlanta were okay. But I wasn't faking being your friend," he added hastily. "I am your friend."

"Um…are you… what I think you are?" Atlanta asked.
"That doesn't matter right now."

"It doesn't matter? From the waist down, our best friend is a donkey-"

Atlanta made a face that said, "You shouldn't have said that".

Grover let out a sharp, throaty "Blaa-ha-ha!"

I'd heard him make that sound before, but I'd always assumed it was a nervous laugh. Now I realized it was more of an irritated bleat.

"Goat!" he cried.

"What?"

"I'm a goat from the waist down."

"You just said it didn't matter."

"Blaa-ha-ha! There are satyrs who would trample you underhoof for such an insult!"

"Whoa. Wait. Satyrs. You mean like…Mr. Brunner's myths?" I asked.

"Were those old ladies at the fruit stand a myth, Percy? Was Mrs. Dodds a myth?"

"So you admit there was a Mrs. Dodds!"
"Not the point Percy," Atlanta said, though she seemed to agree with me.

"Of course."

"Then why-"

"The less you and Atlanta knew, the fewer monsters you'd attract," Grover said, like that should be perfectly obvious. "We put the Mist over the humans' eyes. We hopes you'd think the Kindly One was a hallucination. But it was no good. You both started to realize who you are."

"Who we-wait a minute, what do you mean?" Atlanta asked.

The weird bellowing noise rose up again somewhere behind us, closer than before. Whatever was chasing us was still on our trail.

"Atlanta, Percy," our mom said, "there's too much to explain and not enough time. We have to get you two to safety."

"Safety from what? Who's after us?" I asked.

"Oh, nobody much," Grover said, obviously still miffed about the donkey comment. "Just the Lord of the Dead and a few of his blood-thirstiest monsters."

"Grover!"

"Sorry Mrs. Jackson. Could you drive faster, please?"

I tried to wrap my mind around what was happening, but I couldn't do it. I knew this wasn't dream. I had no imagination. I could never dream up something this weird. Atlanta had an unfocused look on her face. She was calm, like this was familiar to her. Our mom mad a hard left, forcing Atlanta back into the seat. We swerved onto a narrower road, racing past darkened farmhouses and wooded hills and PICK YOUR OWN STRAWBERRIES sign on white picket fences.

"Were are we going?" Atlanta asked.

"The summer camp I told you about." Our mother's voice was tight; she was trying for mine and Atlanta's sake not to be scared. "The place Percy's father wanted to send him."

"The place you didn't want us to go." Atlanta said.

"Please, dear," our mother begged. "This is hard enough. To understand. You're both in danger."

"Because some old ladies cut yarn."

"Those weren't old ladies," Grover said. "Those were the Fates. Do you know what it means-fact they appeared in front you two? They only do that when you're about to…someone's about to die."

"Whoa. You said 'you're'," I said.

"No I didn't. I said 'someone'," Grover said.

"You meant 'you'. As in Percy and me," Atlanta said.

"I meant you, like 'someone'. Not you, you," Grover said.

"Kids!" Our mom said.
She pulled the wheel hard to the right, and I for a glimpse of a figure she'd swerved to avoid-a dark fluttering shape now lost behind us in the storm.

"What was that?" I asked.

"We're almost there," our mother said, ignoring my question. "Another mile. Please. Please. Please."

I didn't know where there was, but I found myself leaning forward in the car, anticipating, wanting us to arrive. Atlanta reached out, placing her hand on my knee. I grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze.

Outside, nothing but rain and darkness-the kid of empty countryside you get way out on the tip of Long Island. I thought about Mrs. Dodds and the moment when she'd changed into the thing with pointed teeth and leather wings. My limbs went numb from delayed shock. She really hadn't been human. She'd meant to kill me.

Then I thought about Mr. Brunner…and the sword he had thrown me. Before I could ask Grover about that, the hair rose on the back of my neck. There was a blinding flash, a jaw-rattling boom!, and our car exploded. Atlanta let out a piercing scream of pain.

I remember feeling weightless, like I was being crushing, fried, and hosed down all at the same time.

I peeled my forehead off the back of the driver's seat and said, "Ow."

"Percy, Atlanta!" our mom shouted.

"I'm okay…"

I tried to shake off the daze. I wasn't dead. The car hadn't really exploded. We'd swerved into a ditch. Our diver's side doors were wedged in the mud. The roof had cracked open like an eggshell and rain was pouring in.

Lightning. That was the only explanation. We'd been blasted right off the road. Atlanta was clutching on to her chest, breathing in panic. She's terrified of lightning. She turned to me, and I saw how pale she'd gotten. Next to me in the backseat was a big motionless lump. "Grover!"

He was slumped over, blood trickling from the side of his mouth. Atlanta and I shook his furry hip, thinking, No! Even if you are half barnyard animal, you're our best friend and I don't want you to die!
Then he groaned "Food," and I knew there was hope.

"Atlanta, Percy," our mother said, " we have to…" Her voice faltered.

I looked back. In a flash of lightning, through the mud splattered rear windshield, I saw a figure lumbering toward us on the shoulder of the road. The sight of it made my skin crawl. It was a dark silhouette of a huge guy, like a football player. He seemed to be holding a blanket over his head. His top half was bulky and fuzzy. His upraised hands made it look like he had horns.

I swallowed hard. "Who is-"

"Percy, Atlanta," our mother said, deadly serious. "Get out of the car."

Our mother threw herself against the driver's-side door. It was jammed shut in the mud. Atlanta and I tried ours. Stuck too. I looked desperately at the hole in the roof. It might've been an exit, but the edges were sizzling and smoking.

"Climb out the passenger's side!" our mother told us. "Atlanta, Percy-you have to run. Do you see that big tree?"

"What?" Atlanta asked.

Another flash of lightning, and through the smoking hole in the roof I saw the tree she meant: a huge, White House Christmas tree-sized pine at the crest of the nearest hill.

"That's the property line," our mom said. "Get over that hill and you'll see a big farmhouse down in the valley. Run and don't look back. Yell for help. Don't stop until you reach the door."

"Mom, you're coming too," I said.

Her face was pale, her eyes as sad as when she looked at the ocean.

"No!" Atlanta shouted. "You are coming with us. Help us carry Grover."

"Food!" Grover moaned a little louder.

The man with the blanket on his head kept coming towards us, making his grunting, snorting noises. As he got closer, I realized he couldn't be holding a blanket over his head, because his hands-huge meaty hands-were swinging at his sides. There was no blanket. Meaning the bulky, fuzzy mass that was too big to be his head…was his head. And the points that looked like horns…

"He doesn't want us," our mother told me. "He wants you and Atlanta. Besides, I can't cross the property line."

"But…" I said.

"We don't have time, Atlanta, Percy. Go Please."

I got mad, then-mad at our mother, at Grover the goat, at the thing with horns that was lumbering toward us slowly and deliberately like, like a bull.

I climbed across Grover and pushed the door open into the rain. "We're going together. Come on, Atlanta, Mom."

"I told you-"

"Mom! We're not leaving you. Help us with Grover," Atlanta said.

We didn't wait for her answer. I scrambled outside, dragging Grover from the car, as Atlanta crawled after me, pushing Grover with her. He was surprisingly light, but I couldn't have carried him very far if our mom hadn't come to my aid.

Together, we draped Grover's arms over our shoulders-Atlanta staying by my side- and started stumbling uphill through wet waist-high grass.

Glancing back, I got my first clear look at the monster. He was seven feet tall, easy, his arms and legs like something from the cover of Muscle Man magazine-bulging biceps and triceps and a bunch of other 'ceps, all stuffed like baseballs under vein-webbed skin. He wore no clothes except underwear-I mean, bright white Fruit of the Looms-which would've looked funny, except that the top half of his body was so scary. Coarse brown hair, started at his belly button and got thicker as it reached his shoulders.

His neck was a mass of muscle and fur leading up to his enormous head, which has a snout as long as my arm, snotty horns-enormous black-and-white horns with points you just couldn't get from an electric sharpener.

I recognized the monster, all right. He had been in one of the first stories Mr. Brunner told us. But he couldn't be real.

I blinked the rain out my eyes. "That-"

"Pasiphae's son," our mother said. "I wish I'd known how badly they wanted to kill you both."

"But he's the Min-" Atlanta said.

"Don't say his name," Mom warned. "Names have power."

The pine tree was still way too far-a hundred yards uphill at least.

I glanced behind me again.

The bull-man hunched over our car-looking in the windows-or not looking exactly. More like snuffling, nuzzling. I wasn't sure why he bothered, since we were only about fifty feet away.

"Food?" Grover moaned.

"Shhh," I told him. "Mom, what's he doing? Doesn't he see us?"

"His sight and hearing are terrible," she said. "He goes by smell. But he'll figure out where we are soon enough."

As if on cue, the bull-man bellowed in rage. He picked up Gabe's Camaro by the torn roof, the chassis creaking and groaning. He raised the car over his head and threw it down the road. It slammed into the wet asphalt and skidded in a shower of sparks for about half a mile before coming to a stop. The gas tank exploded.

Not a scratch, I remembered Gabe saying.

"Opps," Atlanta said, not sounding sorry at all.

"Percy, Atlanta," our mom said. "When he sees us, he'll charge. Wait until the last second, then jump out of the way-directly sideways. He can't change directions very well once he's charging. Do you understand?"
"How do you know all this?" I asked.

"I've been worried about an attack for a long time. I should have been expected this. I was selfish, keeping you both near me."

"Keeping us near you?" Atlanta asked. "But-"

Another bellow of rage, and the bull-man started tromping uphill.

He'd smelled us.

The pine tree was only a few more yards, but the hill was getting stepper and slicker, and Grover wasn't getting any lighter.

The bull-man closed in. Another few second and he'd be on top of us.

Our mother must've been exhausted, but she shouldered Grover. "Go Percy, Atlanta! Separarte! Remember what I said."

I didn't want to split up, but I had a feeling she was right-it was our only chance. I grabbed Atlanta's hand and we sprinted to the left, turned, and saw the creature bearing down at us. His black eyes glowed with hate. He reeked like rotten meat.

He lowered his head and charged, those razer-sharp horns aimed straight at mine and Atlanta's chests.

The fear in my stomach made me want to bolt, but that wouldn't work. We couldn't outrun that thing. So Atlanta and I held our ground, and at the last moment, we jumped to the side. At least I managed to.

Atlanta's prosthetic arm was empaled by one of the bull-man's horn. As the bull-man stormed past like a freight train, ripping Atlanta away from me. Atlanta let out a scream as the bull-man stormed past like a freight train, trying to throw Atlanta off his horn. Her arm was embedded too deep on his horn and all his swinging around, and it must have gotten stuck again, because Atlanta was hitting it, and kicking at his hairy chest trying to get it off.

Atlanta had become a horn-ornament.

With one more swing, the bull-man bellowed with frustration, turned, and throw his head back and Atlanta's prosthetic arm finally came off. Atlanta went into the air, landing on his back, hanging on to his neck. The bull-man's attention wasn't on her or me. It was on our mother, who was setting Grover down in the grass.

We'd reached the crest of the hill. Down the other side I could see a valley, just as my mother had said, and the lights of a farmhouse glowing yellow through the rain. But that was half a mile away. We'd never make it.

The bull-man grunted-Atlanta now forgotten on his horn- pawing the ground. He kept eyeing my mother, who was now retreating slowly downhill, back toward the road, trying to lead the monster away from Grover.

"Run Atlanta, Percy!" she told us. "I can't go any farther. Run!"

But Atlanta and I just stayed where we were, frozen in fear, as the monster charged at her. She tried to sidestep, as she'd told us to do, but the monster had learned his lesson. His hand shot out to grab her by the neck, but Atlanta had managed to pull her self up-and somehow ditched her green rain jacket at some point, hang down from his horn and kicked him hard in the face. The bull-man-forgetting she was on him, stumbled to the side missing our mother.

I snapped out of my fear and ran to her. I grabbed her hand and ran towards Grover. She helped me pick him up and I put him on her shoulders again.
"Mom you have to get Grover away and get help!" I said pulling her towards the hill.

"Percy I told you I can-" She said.

"Mom, you have to go!"

I pulled Mom closer to the tree as I heard the bull-man stomping around, trying to threw Atlanta off him again. I pulled Mom- while she kept trying to drag her feet and stop me, but I finally managed to pull her past the big pine tree. Her face seemed shocked, like she was supposed to be able to walk past a tree from some reason. Pushed her a little down the hill and told her to get help. I ran back up the hill to see Atlanta get thrown off him again, this time she landed on her back. The bull-man bore down on her, as she scooted back trying to get away. The monster hunched over snuffling her, as if he were about to left her up and do what he tried to do to our mother.

I couldn't allow that.

I stripped off my red rain jacket.

"Hey!" I screamed, waving the jacket, running to one side of the monster. "Hey, stupid! Ground beef!"

"Raaaarrrrr!" The monster turned towards me, shaking his meaty fists.

I had an idea- a stupid idea, but better than no idea at all. I put my back to the big pine tree and waved my red jacket in front of the bull-man, thinking I'd jump out of the way at the last moment.

But it didn't happen like that.

The bull-man charged too fast, his arms out to grab me whichever way I tried to dodge.

"Percy!" Atlanta yelled waving her hand towards us. Time slowed down.

My legs tensed. I couldn't jump sideways, so I leaped straight up, kicking off from the creature's head, using it as a springboard, running midair, and landing on his neck. I saw Atlanta fall to her knees, her face paler then I'd ever seen, breathing heavily.

How'd I do that? I didn't have time to figure it out. A millisecond later, the monster's head slammed into the tree and impact nearly knocked my teeth out. How did Atlanta manage this?

The bull-man stagged around, trying to shake me. I locked my arms around his horns-avoiding Atlanta's prosthetic arm- to keep from being thrown. Thunder and lightning were still going strong. The rain was in my eyes. The smell of rotten meat burned my nostrils.
The monster shook himself around and bucked like a rodeo bull. He should have just backed up into the tree and smashed me flat, but I was starting to realize that this thing had only one gear: forward.

Atlanta had started to stand up, stumbling over a couple of times. I wanted to yell at her to run, but the way I was getting tossed around, if I opened my mouth I'd bit my own tongue off.

"Percy!" Atlanta yelled.

The bull-man wheeled toward her pawed the ground again, and got ready to charge. I thought about how he had tried to kill our mother, tried to hurt my sister, and caused the wreck that hurt our best friend, and rage filled me like high-octane fuel. I saw an angry look on Atlanta's face, her eyes flashing gold and I knew she felt the same as me.

I got both my hands around one horn and pulled backward with all my might. The monster tensed, giving a surprised grunt, following my pulling. Atlanta ran up to us, grabbing on to the horn I didn't have and pulled, tugging his head towards her at the same time I pulled towards me. The bull-man grunted more, then snap!

The bull-man screamed and flung Atlanta and I through the air. Atlanta and I landed flat on our backs. My head smacked against a rock, when I sat up, my vision was blurry, but Atlanta and I had horns in our hands, two ragged bone weapons the size of knives.

The monster charged.

Without thinking I rolled to one side and came up kneeling, Atlanta standing beside me. As the monster barreled past, Atlanta and I dove the broken horns straight into his sides, right under his furry rib cage.

The bull-man roared in agony. He flailed, clawing at his chest, then begun to disintegrate- like crumbling sand, blown away in chunks by the wind, the same way Mrs. Dodds had burst apart.

The monster was gone.
The rain had stopped. The storm still rumbled, but only in the distance. Atlanta and I smelled like livestock and my knees were shaking. My head felt like it was splitting open. I was weak, scared and trembling from adrenaline. Had Atlanta and I really just done that? Atlanta's knees gave out, collapsing to the ground shaking. I wanted to join her, but I wanted to go to our mother and hug her tightly, like I use to do after a nightmare. I managed to help Atlanta up to her feet, staggering down into the valley, towards the lights of the farmhouse. Atlanta and I were crying for our mother, holding on to each other.

The last thing I remember was a group, led by our mother came running up. Atlanta and I collapsed into her open arms hugging us tightly to her, the stern face of a familiar-looking bearded man and a pretty girl, her blonde hair curled like a princess's. They both looked at us, and the girl said, "They're the one. they must be must be." "Silence, Annabeth," The man said. "They're both still conscious. Bring them inside."