The Sea of Monsters(40)

It was shaped kind of like a saddle cut in half by an ax. 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-colored 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 center 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 unraveled.”

“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 favorite 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 toward 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.