Percy Jackson The Complete Collection (36 page)

BOOK: Percy Jackson The Complete Collection
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Tyson was trembling. He stepped back and accidentally snapped a twig. Immediately, all seven heads turned towards us and hissed.

‘Scatter!’ Annabeth yelled. She dived to the right.

I rolled to the left. One of the Hydra heads spat an arc of green liquid that shot past my shoulder and splashed against an elm. The trunk smoked and began to
disintegrate. The whole tree toppled straight towards Tyson, who still hadn’t moved, petrified by the monster that was now right in front of him.

‘Tyson!’ I tackled him with all my might, knocking him aside just as the Hydra lunged and the tree crashed on top of two of its heads.

The Hydra stumbled backwards, yanking its heads free and wailing in outrage at the fallen tree. All seven heads shot acid, and the elm melted into a steaming pool of muck.

‘Move!’ I told Tyson. I ran to one side and uncapped Riptide, hoping to draw the monster’s attention.

It worked.

The sight of celestial bronze is hateful to most monsters. As soon as my glowing blade appeared, the Hydra whipped towards it with all its heads, hissing and baring its teeth.

The good news: Tyson was momentarily out of danger. The bad news: I was about to be melted into a puddle of goo.

One of the heads snapped at me experimentally. Without thinking, I swung my sword.

‘No!’ Annabeth yelled.

Too late. I sliced the Hydra’s head clean off. It rolled away into the grass, leaving a flailing stump, which immediately stopped bleeding and began to swell like a balloon.

In a matter of seconds the wounded neck split into two necks, each of which grew a full-size head. Now I was looking at an eight-headed Hydra.

‘Percy!’ Annabeth scolded. ‘You just opened another Monster Doughnut shop somewhere!’

I dodged a spray of acid. ‘I’m about to die and you’re worried about
that?
How do we kill it?’

‘Fire!’ Annabeth said. ‘We have to have fire!’

As soon as she said that, I remembered the story. The Hydra’s heads would only stop multiplying if we burned the stumps before they regrew. That’s what Heracles had done, anyway. But we had no fire.

I backed up towards the river. The Hydra followed.

Annabeth moved in on my left and tried to distract one of the heads, parrying its teeth with her knife, but another head swung sideways like a club and knocked her into the muck.

‘No hitting my friends!’ Tyson charged in, putting himself between the Hydra and Annabeth. As Annabeth got to her feet, Tyson started smashing at the monster heads with his fists so fast it reminded me of the whack-a-mole game at the arcade. But even Tyson couldn’t fend off the Hydra forever.

We kept inching backwards, dodging acid splashes and deflecting snapping heads without cutting them off, but I knew we were only postponing our deaths. Eventually, we would make a mistake and the thing would kill us.

Then I heard a strange sound – a chug-chug-chug that at first I thought was my heartbeat. It was so powerful it made the riverbank shake.

‘What’s that noise?’ Annabeth shouted, keeping her eyes on the Hydra.

‘Steam engine,’ Tyson said.


What?
I ducked as the Hydra spat acid over my head.

Then from the river behind us, a familiar female voice shouted, ‘There! Prepare the thirty-two-pounder!’

I didn’t dare look away from the Hydra, but if that was who I thought it was behind us, I figured we now had enemies on two fronts.

A gravelly male voice said, ‘They’re too close, m’lady!’

‘Damn the heroes!’ the girl said. ‘Full steam ahead!’

‘Aye, m’lady.’

‘Fire at will, Captain!’

Annabeth understood what was happening a split second before I did. She yelled, ‘Hit the dirt!’ and we dived for the ground as an earth-shattering
BOOM
echoed from the river. There was a flash of light, a column of smoke and the Hydra exploded right in front of us, showering us with nasty green slime that vaporized as soon as it hit, the way monster guts tend to do.

‘Gross!’ screamed Annabeth.

‘Steamship!’ yelled Tyson.

I stood, coughing from the cloud of gunpowder smoke that was rolling across the banks.

Chugging towards us down the river was the strangest ship I’d ever seen. It rode low in the water like a submarine, its deck plated with iron. In the middle was a trapezoid-shaped casemate with slats on each side for cannons. A flag waved from the top – a wild boar and spear on a blood-red field. Lining the deck were zombies in grey uniforms – dead soldiers with shimmering faces that only partially covered their skulls, like the ghouls I’d seen in the Underworld guarding Hades’s palace.

The ship was an ironclad. A Civil War battle cruiser. I could just make out the name along the prow in moss-covered letters: CSS
Birmingham
.

And standing next to the smoking cannon that had
almost killed us, wearing full Greek battle armour, was Clarisse.

‘Losers,’ she sneered. ‘But I suppose I have to rescue you. Come aboard.’

11    Clarisse Blows Up Everything
 

‘You are in so much trouble,’ Clarisse said.

We’d just finished a ship tour we didn’t want, through dark rooms overcrowded with dead sailors. We’d seen the coal bunker, the boilers and engine, which huffed and groaned like it would explode any minute. We’d seen the pilot house and the powder magazine and gunnery deck (Clarisse’s favourite) with two Dahlgren smoothbore cannons on the port and starboard sides and a Brooke nine-inch rifled gun fore and aft – all specially refitted to fire celestial bronze cannonballs.

Everywhere we went, dead Confederate sailors stared at us, their ghostly bearded faces shimmering over their skulls. They approved of Annabeth because she told them she was from Virginia. They were interested in me, too, because my name was Jackson – like the Southern general – but then I ruined it by telling them I was from New York. They all hissed and muttered curses about Yankees.

Tyson was terrified of them. All through the tour, he insisted Annabeth hold his hand, which she didn’t look too thrilled about.

Finally, we were escorted to dinner. The CSS
Birmingham
captain’s quarters were about the size of a walk-in closet, but still much bigger than any other room on board. The table was set with white linen and china. Peanut butter and
jelly sandwiches, potato chips and Dr Peppers were served by skeletal crewmen. I didn’t want to eat anything served by ghosts, but my hunger overruled my fear.

‘Tantalus expelled you for eternity,’ Clarisse told us smugly. ‘Mr D said if any of you show your face at camp again, he’ll turn you into squirrels and run you over with his SUV.’

‘Did
they
give you this ship?’ I asked.

‘Course not. My father did.’


Ares?

Clarisse sneered. ‘You think your daddy is the only one with sea power? The spirits on the losing side of every war owe a tribute to Ares. That’s their curse for being defeated. I prayed to my father for a naval transport and here it is. These guys will do anything I tell them. Won’t you, Captain?’

The captain stood behind her looking stiff and angry. His glowing green eyes fixed me with a hungry stare. ‘If it means an end to this infernal war, ma’am, peace at last, we’ll do anything. Destroy anyone.’

Clarisse smiled. ‘Destroy anyone. I like that.’

Tyson gulped.

‘Clarisse,’ Annabeth said, ‘Luke might be after the Fleece, too. We saw him. He’s got the coordinates and he’s heading south. He has a cruise ship full of monsters –’

‘Good! I’ll blow him out of the water.’

‘You don’t understand,’ Annabeth said. ‘We have to combine forces. Let us help you –’

‘No!’ Clarisse pounded the table. ‘This is
my
quest, smart girl! Finally
I
get to be the hero, and you two will
not
steal my chance.’

‘Where are your cabin mates?’ I asked. ‘You were allowed to take two friends with you, weren’t you?’

‘They didn’t … I let them stay behind. To protect the camp.’

‘You mean even the people in your own cabin wouldn’t help you?’

‘Shut up, Prissy! I don’t need them! Or you!’

‘Clarisse,’ I said, ‘Tantalus is using you. He doesn’t care about the camp. He’d love to see it destroyed. He’s setting you up to fail.’

‘No! I don’t care what the Oracle –’ She stopped herself.

‘What?’ I said. ‘What did the Oracle tell you?’

‘Nothing.’ Clarisse’s ears turned pink. ‘All you need to know is that I’m finishing this quest and you’re
not
helping. On the other hand, I can’t let you go…’

‘So we’re prisoners?’ Annabeth asked.

‘Guests. For now.’ Clarisse propped her feet up on the white linen tablecloth and opened another Dr Pepper. ‘Captain, take them below. Assign them hammocks on the berth deck. If they don’t mind their manners, show them how we deal with enemy spies.’

The dream came as soon as I fell asleep.

Grover was sitting at his loom, desperately unravelling his wedding train, when the boulder door rolled aside and the Cyclops bellowed, ‘Aha!’

Grover yelped. ‘Dear! I didn’t – you were so quiet!’

‘Unravelling!’ Polyphemus roared. ‘So that’s the problem!’

‘Oh, no. I-I wasn’t –’

‘Come!’ Polyphemus grabbed Grover around the waist and half carried, half dragged him through the tunnels of the cave. Grover struggled to keep his high heels on his hooves. His veil kept tilting on his head, threatening to come off.

The Cyclops pulled him into a warehouse-size cavern decorated with sheep junk. There was a wool-covered Lay-Z-Boy recliner and a wool-covered television set, crude bookshelves loaded with sheep collectibles – coffee mugs shaped like sheep faces, plaster figurines of sheep, sheep board games and picture books and action figures. The floor was littered with piles of sheep bones, and other bones that didn’t look exactly like sheep – the bones of satyrs who’d come to the island looking for Pan.

Polyphemus set Grover down only long enough to move another huge boulder. Daylight streamed into the cave, and Grover whimpered with longing. Fresh air!

The Cyclops dragged him outside to a hilltop overlooking the most beautiful island I’d ever seen.

It was shaped kind of like a saddle cut in half by an axe. There were lush green hills on either side and a wide valley in the middle, split by a deep chasm that was spanned by a rope bridge. Beautiful streams rolled to the edge of the canyon and dropped off in rainbow-coloured waterfalls. Parrots fluttered in the trees. Pink and purple flowers bloomed on the bushes. Hundreds of sheep grazed in the meadows, their wool glinting strangely like copper and silver coins.

And at the centre of the island, right next to the rope bridge, was an enormous twisted oak tree with something glittering in its lowest bough.

The Golden Fleece.

Even in a dream, I could feel its power radiating across the island, making the grass greener, the flowers more beautiful. I could almost smell the nature magic at work. I could only imagine how powerful the scent would be for a satyr.

Grover whimpered.

‘Yes,’ Polyphemus said proudly. ‘See over there? Fleece is the prize of my collection! Stole it from heroes long ago, and ever since – free food! Satyrs come from all over the world, like moths to flame. Satyrs good eating! And now –’

Polyphemus scooped up a wicked set of bronze shears.

Grover yelped, but Polyphemus just picked up the nearest sheep like it was a stuffed animal and shaved off its wool. He handed a fluffy mass of it to Grover.

‘Put that on the spinning wheel!’ he said proudly. ‘Magic. Cannot be unravelled.’

‘Oh … well…’

‘Poor Honeypie!’ Polyphemus grinned. ‘Bad weaver. Ha-ha! Not to worry. That thread will solve problem. Finish wedding train by tomorrow!’

‘Isn’t that … thoughtful of you!’

‘Hehe.’

‘But-but, dear,’ Grover gulped, ‘what if someone were to rescue – I mean attack this island?’ Grover looked straight at me, and I knew he was asking for my benefit. ‘What would keep them from marching right up here to your cave?’

‘Wifey scared! So cute! Not to worry. Polyphemus has state-of-the-art security system. Have to get through my pets.’

‘Pets?’

Grover looked across the island, but there was nothing to see except sheep grazing peacefully in the meadows.

‘And then,’ Polyphemus growled, ‘they would have to get through me!’

He pounded his fist against the nearest rock, which cracked and split in half. ‘Now, come!’ he shouted. ‘Back to the cave.’

Grover looked about ready to cry – so close to freedom, but so hopelessly far. Tears welled in his eyes as the boulder door rolled shut, sealing him once again in the stinky torch-lit dankness of the Cyclops’s cave.

I woke to alarm bells ringing throughout the ship.

The captain’s gravelly voice: ‘All hands on deck! Find Lady Clarisse! Where is that girl?’

Then his ghostly face appeared above me. ‘Get up, Yankee. Your friends are already above. We are approaching the entrance.’

‘The entrance to what?’

He gave me a skeletal smile. ‘The Sea of Monsters, of course.’

I stuffed my few belongings that had survived the Hydra into a sailor’s canvas knapsack and slung it over my shoulder. I had a sneaking suspicion that one way or another I would not be spending another night aboard the CSS
Birmingham
.

I was on my way upstairs when something made me freeze. A presence nearby – something familiar and unpleasant. For no particular reason, I felt like picking a
fight. I wanted to punch a dead Confederate. The last time I’d felt like that kind of anger…

Instead of going up, I crept to the edge of the ventilation grate and peered down into the boiler deck.

Clarisse was standing right below me, talking to an image that shimmered in the steam from the boilers – a muscular man in black leather biker clothes, with a military haircut, red-tinted sunglasses and a knife strapped to his side.

My fists clenched. It was my least favourite Olympian: Ares, the god of war.

‘I don’t want excuses, little girl!’ he growled.

‘Y-yes, Father,’ Clarisse mumbled.

‘You don’t want to see me mad, do you?’

‘No, Father.’


No, Father!
Ares mimicked. ‘You’re pathetic. I should’ve let one of my
sons
take this quest.’

‘I’ll succeed!’ Clarisse promised, her voice trembling. ‘I’ll make you proud.’

‘You’d better,’ he warned. ‘You asked me for this quest, girl. If you let that slimeball Jackson kid steal it from you –’

‘But the Oracle said –’

‘I DON’T CARE WHAT IT SAID!’ Ares bellowed with such force that his image shimmered. ‘You
will
succeed. And if you don’t…’

He raised his fist. Even though he was only a figure in the steam, Clarisse flinched.

‘Do we understand each other?’ Ares growled.

The alarm bells rang again. I heard voices coming towards me, officers yelling orders to ready the cannons.

I crept back from the ventilation grate and made my way upstairs to join Annabeth and Tyson on the spar deck.

‘What’s wrong?’ Annabeth asked me. ‘Another dream?’

I nodded, but I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to think about what I’d seen downstairs. It bothered me almost as much as the dream about Grover.

Clarisse came up the stairs right after me. I tried not to look at her.

She grabbed a pair of binoculars from a zombie officer and peered towards the horizon. ‘At last. Captain, full steam ahead!’

I looked in the same direction as she was, but I couldn’t see much. The sky was overcast. The air was hazy and humid, like steam from an iron. If I squinted real hard, I could just make out a couple of dark fuzzy splotches in the distance.

My nautical senses told me we were somewhere off the coast of northern Florida, so we’d come a long way overnight, further than any mortal ship should’ve been able to travel.

The engine groaned as we increased speed.

Tyson muttered nervously, ‘Too much strain on the pistons. Not meant for deep water.’

I wasn’t sure how he knew that, but it made me nervous.

After a few more minutes, the dark splotches ahead of us came into focus. To the north, a huge mass of rock rose out of the sea – an island with cliffs at least thirty metres tall. About half a mile south of that, the other patch of darkness was a storm brewing. The sky and sea boiled together in a roaring mass.

‘Hurricane?’ Annabeth asked.

‘No,’ Clarisse said. ‘Charybdis.’

Annabeth paled. ‘Are you crazy?’

‘Only way into the Sea of Monsters. Straight between Charybdis and her sister Scylla.’ Clarisse pointed to the top of the cliffs, and I got the feeling something lived up there that I did not want to meet.

‘What do you mean the only way?’ I asked. ‘The sea is wide open! Just sail around them.’

Clarisse rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t you know anything? If I tried to sail around them, they would just appear in my path again. If you want to get into the Sea of Monsters, you
have
to sail through them.’

‘What about the Clashing Rocks?’ Annabeth said. ‘That’s another gateway. Jason used it.’

‘I can’t blow apart rocks with my cannons,’ Clarisse said. ‘Monsters, on the other hand…’

‘You
are
crazy,’ Annabeth decided.

‘Watch and learn, Wise Girl.’ Clarisse turned to the captain. ‘Set course for Charybdis!’

‘Aye, m’lady.’

The engine groaned, the iron plating rattled, and the ship began to pick up speed.

‘Clarisse,’ I said, ‘Charybdis sucks up the sea. Isn’t that the story?’

‘And spits it back out again, yeah.’

‘What about Scylla?’

‘She lives in a cave, up on those cliffs. If we get too close, her snaky heads will come down and start plucking sailors off the ship.’

‘Choose Scylla then,’ I said. ‘Everybody goes below deck and we chug right past.’

‘No!’ Clarisse insisted. ‘If Scylla doesn’t get her easy meat, she might pick up the whole ship. Besides, she’s too high to make a good target. My cannon can’t shoot straight up. Charybdis just sits there at the centre of her whirlpool. We’re going to steam straight towards her, train our guns on her, and blow her to Tartarus!’

She said it with such relish I almost wanted to believe her.

The engine hummed. The boilers were heating up so much I could feel the deck getting warm beneath my feet. The smokestacks billowed. The red Ares flag whipped in the wind.

As we got closer to the monsters, the sound of Charybdis got louder and louder – a horrible wet roar like the galaxy’s biggest toilet being flushed. Every time Charybdis inhaled, the ship shuddered and lurched forward. Every time she exhaled, we rose in the water and were buffeted by three-metre waves.

I tried to time the whirlpool. As near as I could figure, it took Charybdis about three minutes to suck up and destroy everything within a half-mile radius. To avoid her, we would have to skirt right next to Scylla’s cliffs. And as bad as Scylla might be, those cliffs were looking awfully good to me.

BOOK: Percy Jackson The Complete Collection
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