The Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan Read Free Book Online

not leaving you. Help me with Grover.”
    I didn’t wait for her answer. I scrambled outside, dragging Grover from the car. He was surprisingly light, but I couldn’t have carried him very far if my mom hadn’t come to my aid.
    Together, we draped Grover’s arms over our shoulders 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 about 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 had a snout as long as my 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.
    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 of my eyes. “That’s—”
    “Pasiphae’s son,” my mother said. “I wish I’d known how badly they want to kill you.”
    “But he’s the Min—”
    “Don’t say his name,” she 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.
    Oops.
    “Percy,” my 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’ve been worried about an attack for a long time. I should have expected this. I was selfish, keeping you near me.”
    “Keeping me near you? 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 steeper and slicker, and Grover wasn’t getting any lighter.
    The bull-man closed in. Another few seconds and he’d be on top of us.
    My mother must’ve been exhausted, but she shouldered Grover. “Go, Percy! Separate! Remember what I said.”
    I didn’t want to split up, but I had the feeling she was right—it was our only chance. I sprinted to the left, turned, and saw the creature bearing down on me. His black eyes glowed with hate. He reeked like rotten meat.
    He lowered his head and charged, those razor-sharp horns aimed straight at my chest.
    The fear in my stomach made me want to bolt, but that wouldn’t work. I could never outrun this thing. So I held my ground, and at the last moment, I jumped to the side.
    The bull-man stormed past like a freight train, then bellowed with frustration and turned, but not toward me this time, toward my 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