Partners in Crime || PJOxHP || Marauders' Era

Wine and Pinochle

Jessica had weird dreams full of barnyard animals. Most of them wanted to kill her. The rest wanted food.

She must've woken up several times, but what she heard and saw made no sense, so she just passed out again. She remembered lying in a soft bed, being spoon-fed something that tasted like buttered popcorn, and hot chocolate. 

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

***

The eagle and the horse were fighting again at the beach... something was laughing, egging them on.

"Stop!" Jessica yelled. "Stop!"

Her eyes snapped open. Panting, she looked around.  She 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 her legs, a pillow behind her neck. To her side was that boy, the one that she had killed the monster with. She got a good glimpse of him. He had jet black hair that lay smoothly on his head, and he trembled every moment, until his eyes opened slowly, and he sat straight, trying to grasp what was going on. He had sea green eyes, and the moment they met Jessica's blue ones, his face turned weary.

Knowing that she probably caused him to remember the crazy night's ordeal where he lost his mom, Jessica looked away.

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

Her hand was so weak she almost dropped the glass once she got her fingers around it.

"Careful," a voice said.

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

"Did you find Tobias?" Jessica asked.

Grover's eyes turned dark. "No," he replied. "But satyrs never truly die. In his place, we found a rose." He seemed to be holding back tears. He looked at Jessica, "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 on her lap.

Inside was a small rose shrub, a pink bud already grown. Jessica's heart broke. She sniffled, a tear falling onto the soil. Grover placed another box on the boy's lap. He took out a large horn.

"The Minotaur," he said.

"Urn, Percy, it isn't a good idea—"

"That's what they call him in the Greek myths, isn't it?" Jessica demanded. "The Minotaur. Half man, half bull."

Grover shifted uncomfortably. "You've been out for two days. How much do you remember?"

"My mom. Is she really..." the boy began.

He looked down.

"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 his Converse hi-top came off. The inside was filled with Styrofoam, except for a hoof-shaped hole.

"Oh, Styx!" he mumbled.

Thunder rolled across the clear sky.

Jessica turned to the boy. "I'm sorry," she said kindly. "She looked like a good woman."