𝙎𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙨 𝘿𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙈𝙚𝙚𝙩 𝙗𝙮 𝘼𝙘𝙘𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙩 - 𝙋. 𝙅𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙨𝙤𝙣

A ship blows up

"Do you feel ashamed
When you hear my name?"

"You are in so much trouble," Clarisse said.

They'd just finished a ship tour they didn't want, through dark rooms overcrowded with dead sailors. They'd seen the coal bunker, the boilers and engine, which huffed and groaned like it would explode any minute. They'd seen the pilot house and the powder magazine and gunnery deck (Clarisse's favorite) 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 they went, dead Confederate sailors stared at the four, their ghostly bearded faces shimmering over their skulls. They approved of Annabeth because she told them she was from Virginia. They liked Novalie since she mentioned she liked drawing skeletons, some of them even asked if she could draw them. They were interested in Percy, too, because his name was Jackson – like the Southern general – but then he ruined it by telling them he was from New York. They all hissed and muttered curses about Yankees.

Tyson was terrified of them. All through the tour, he insisted Novalie hold his hand, which she didn't like the idea of having to hold someone's hand but was fine with it after a few minutes. Novalie noticed Percy glaring at their two hands interlocked together.

Finally, they 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.

"Tantalus expelled you for eternity," Clarisse told them 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?" Percy 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. "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 three will not steal my chance."

"Where are your cabin mates?" Percy 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?" Novalie arched a brow.

"Shut up, death girl! I don't need them! Or you!"

"Clarisse," Percy 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.