The Titan's Curse

“That’s the Erymanthian Boar,” Zoë said, trying to stay calm. “I don’t think we can kill it.”

“It’s a gift,” Grover said. “A blessing from the Wild!”

The boar said “REEEEEET!” and swung its tusk. Zoë and Bianca dived out of the way. I had to push Grover so he wouldn’t get launched into the mountain on the Boar Tusk Express.

“Yeah, I feel blessed!” I said. “Scatter!”

We ran in different directions, and for a moment the boar was confused.

“It wants to kill us!” Thalia said.

“Of course,” Grover said. “It’s wild!”

“So how is that a blessing?” Bianca asked.

It seemed a fair question to me, but the pig was offended and charged her. She was faster than I’d realized. She rolled out of the way of its hooves and came up behind the beast. It lashed out with its tusks and pulverized the WELCOME TO CLOUDCROFT sign.

I racked my brain, trying to remember the myth of the boar. I was pretty sure Hercules had fought this thing once, but I couldn’t remember how he’d beaten it. I had a vague memory of the boar plowing down several Greek cities before Hercules managed to subdue it. I hoped Cloudcroft was insured against giant wild boar attacks.

“Keep moving!” Zoë yelled. She and Bianca ran in opposite directions. Grover danced around the boar, playing his pipes while the boar snorted and tried to gouge him. But Thalia and I won the prize for bad luck. When the boar turned on us, Thalia made the mistake of raising Aegis in defense. The sight of the Medusa head made the boar squeal in outrage. Maybe it looked too much like one of his relatives. The boar charged us.

We only managed to keep ahead of it because we ran uphill, and we could dodge in and out of trees while the boar had to plow through them.

On the other side of the hill, I found an old stretch of train tracks, half buried in the snow.

“This way!” I grabbed Thalia’s arm and we ran along the rails while the boar roared behind us, slipping and sliding as it tried to navigate the steep hillside. Its hooves just were not made for this, thank the gods.

Ahead of us, I saw a covered tu

“Follow me!”

Thalia slowed down—I didn’t have time to ask why— but I pulled her along and she reluctantly followed. Behind us, a ten-ton pig tank was knocking down pine trees and crushing boulders under its hooves as it chased us.

Thalia and I ran into the tu

“No!” Thalia screamed.

She’d turned as white as ice. We were at the edge of the bridge. Below, the mountain dropped away into a snow-filled gorge about seventy feet below.

The boar was right behind us.

“Come on!” I said. “It’ll hold our weight, probably.”

“I can’t!” Thalia yelled. Her eyes were wild with fear.

The boar smashed into the covered tu

“Now!” I yelled at Thalia.

She looked down and swallowed. I swear she was turning green.

I didn’t have time to process why. The boar was charging through the tu

Thalia and I skidded to a stop. We were both breathing hard. I was cut up and bleeding. Thalia had pine needles in her hair. Next to us, the wild boar was squealing and struggling. All I could see was the bristly tip of its back. It was wedged completely in the snow like Styrofoam packing. It didn’t seem to be hurt, but it wasn’t going anywhere, either.

I looked at Thalia. “You’re afraid of heights.”

Now that we were safely down the mountain, her eyes had their usual angry look. “Don’t be stupid.”

“That explains why you freaked out on Apollo’s bus. Why you didn’t want to talk about it.”

She took a deep breath. Then she brushed the pine needles out of her hair. “If you tell anyone, I swear—”

“No, no,” I said. “That’s cool. It’s just . . . the daughter of Zeus, the Lord of the Sky, afraid of heights?”

She was about to knock me into the snow when, above us, Grover’s voice called, “Helloooooo?”

“Down here!” I shouted.

A few minutes later, Zoë, Bianca, and Grover joined us. We stood watching the wild boar struggle in the snow.

“A blessing of the Wild,” Grover said, though he now looked agitated.

“I agree,” Zoë said. “We must use it.”

“Hold up,” Thalia said irritably. She still looked like she’d just lost a fight with a Christmas tree. “Explain to me why you’re so sure this pig is a blessing.”

Grover looked over, distracted. “It’s our ride west. Do you have any idea how fast this boar can travel?”

“Fun,” I said. “Like . . . pig cowboys.”

Grover nodded. “We need to get aboard. I wish . . . I wish I had more time to look around. But it’s gone now.”

“What’s gone?”

Grover didn’t seem to hear me. He walked over to the boar and jumped onto its back. Already the boar was starting to make some headway through the drift. Once it broke free, there’d be no stopping it. Grover took out his pipes. He started playing a snappy tune and tossed an apple in front of the boar. The apple floated and spun right above the boar’s nose, and the boar went nuts, straining to get it.

“Automatic steering,” Thalia murmured. “Great.”

She trudged over and jumped on behind Grover, which still left plenty of room for the rest of us.

Zoë and Bianca walked toward the boar.

“Wait a second,” I said. “Do you two know what Grover is talking about—this wild blessing?”

“Of course,” Zoë said. “Did you not feel it in the wind? It was so strong . . . I never thought I would sense that presence again.”

“What presence?”

She stared at me like I was an idiot. “The Lord of the Wild, of course. Just for a moment, in the arrival of the boar, I felt the presence of Pan.”

THIRTEEN

WE VISIT THE JUNK YARD OF THE GODS

We rode the boar until sunset, which was about as much as my back end could take. Imagine riding a giant steel brush over a bed of gravel all day. That’s about how comfortable boar-riding was.

I have no idea how many miles we covered, but the mountains faded into the distance and were replaced by miles of flat, dry land. The grass and scrub brush got sparser until we were galloping (do boars gallop?) across the desert.

As night fell, the boar came to a stop at a creek bed and snorted. He started drinking the muddy water, then ripped a saguaro cactus out of the ground and chewed it, needles and all.

“This is as far as he’ll go,” Grover said. “We need to get off while he’s eating.”

Nobody needed convincing. We slipped off the boar’s back while he was busy ripping up cacti. Then we waddled away as best we could with our saddle sores.

After its third saguaro and another drink of muddy water, the boar squealed and belched, then whirled around and galloped back toward the east.

“It likes the mountains better,” I guessed.

“I can’t blame it,” Thalia said. “Look.”

Ahead of us was a two-lane road half covered with sand. On the other side of the road was a cluster of buildings too small to be a town: a boarded-up house, a taco shop that looked like it hadn’t been open since before Zoë Nightshade was born, and a white stucco post office with a sign that said GILA CLAW , ARIZONA hanging crooked above the door. Beyond that was a range of hills . . . but then I noticed they weren’t regular hills. The countryside was way too flat for that. The hills were enormous mounds of old cars, appliances, and other scrap metal. It was a junkyard that seemed to go on forever.