THAT'S HOW THE SAYING GOES, RIGHT? No? Oh well. That's how it went in this case. 

Clarisse "kindly" "gave us" (read: forced us into) a tour of her ship. To Tyson's disappoint it was a Civil War ironclad, not a steam boat. It was run down – covered in moss and rust – but it was all in working order. There was a coal bunker, a suspiciously loud engine and boilers, a pilot house, and – Clarisse's favorite – the gunnery deck. Personally I wasn't listening to half of what she was saying. This place looked like a giant iron lung and it made me uncomfortable.

Ghostly soldiers were scattered all throughout the ship. It looked like someone had just grabbed a handful from various different armies throughout time and place. From Ancient Greek to modern day, and all across the globe. They reminded me of Hades's ghoul guards. Except they were even more decked out. 

Tyson was terrified of them. Throughout the tour, he insisted that Annabeth hold his hand. Which (thankfully, because I think Tyson was going to cry if she didn't) she accepted. 

Our last stop was dinner in the CSS Birmingham's captain's quarters. While it was bigger than all the other rooms on the ship, it definitely wasn't big enough for all of us. At least not comfortably. About the size of a walk-in closet. 

The table was set with white linen and china. Which was a lot fancier than the food options – peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, potato chips, and Dr. Pepper – really need. Not that I don't like those things, and I very happily accepted the offer when it was given to me, but come on. Why am I eating potato chips off what looks like some grandma's fancy chinas? 

"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."

"Graphic," I muttered. 

"It's not that bad," Veerle insisted placatingly. "Once Chiron's back, I'm sure he'll convince Mr. D to let you back in."

Pat was busy trying to chug Dr. Pepper, but he nodded as well. 

"Did they give you this ship?" Percy accused. 

"'Course not. Our father did," Clarisse said. 

"Ares?"

Clarisse sneered. "You think your daddy is the only one with sea power? The spirits on the losing side of every war ow a tribute to Ares. That's their curse for being defeated. I prayed to our 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. His glowing green eyes studied us with a hungry look. "If it means an end to this infernal war, ma'am, peace at least, we'll do anything. Destroy anyone."

That definitely sounded like someone Ares would hire. It also explained something I'd noticed earlier: despite being a Civil War ship, there was no confederates. Knowing Ares had sent them, it felt intentional. Veerle, she's Native American – Mohawk specifically – and while Ares was a jerk, he probably wasn't enough of a jerk to stick her with a bunch of racists. 

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

"Ooo!" Pat had finished a bottle of Dr. Pepper. He made a sound in the back of his throat, like he was going to throw up, before burping instead. "Do we get to fight them, too?" 

"I'm sorry, why is he here?" I demanded. I'd been wondering this we'd seen him, but only just got to bring up. "Pat's only been a demigod for a week, and this quest is dangerous." 

"It was the same time as you," Pat said. 

I blinked. I don't know what confused me more – the fact he knew about our first quest or the slight defensiveness in his voice. 

"We filled him in," Veerle said, but the way she said it made it sound more like Clarisse has been complaining. She shrugged sheepishly. 

Pat sniffed, and I tried to look apologetic. I wasn't trying to insult him or anything. It was just...you know...he had only been a demigod for a week. Like I said. And Pat didn't exactly look prepared. The knee–length jean shorts, crew socks, and floral button up he was wearing made him look more like someone's dad on a cruise than a demigod on a quest.

They had given him a sword, at least, even if it looked it was supposed to be used for fencing instead of fighting (Veerle keeps telling me it's called a "smallsword" and also that I should "be more respectful to the art of fencing." This is my personal apology to Fencing, I guess.)

It was Annabeth that brought us back to the point. "You don't understand. 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." 

"So, what, did you chose Veerle and Pat because they wouldn't one up you?" Percy accused. 

I elbowed him in the side. While Percy was only trying to insult Clarisse, he'd clearly hurt the other two as well. Pat's face went as red as his hair and Veerle suddenly became very interested in her switchblade. I knew he was trying to imply Clarisse had chosen people on passivity instead of skill but...well, it sort of came across like he was saying they weren't good enough. 

"Sorry," Percy mumbled to them.  

Veerle relaxed a bit. "We volunteered. No one else..." 

"No one else wanted to come," Pat said. Clarisse shot him death glares. "I dunno why, this place is great."

To emphasize this, he flicked the cap off another Dr. Pepper bottle. It shot across the table and landed in the eye socket of one of Clarisse's ghost guards. It looked only vaguely annoyed. 

"I let them stay behind. To protect the camp," Clarisse insisted. 

Veerle winced, which only drove home the fact that Clarisse was covering her butt. It made me feel bad for her. 

Let me explain. Many cabins were a bit...isolated? Is that the right word? They liked to do everything within their group. The Ares cabin was even more so, wanting to bring as much glory as possible to their family. The fact that Pat was here meant that they literally couldn't find a third sibling willing to help. 

Which was the feel bad part. Why wouldn't Clarisse's siblings help her out? Was it some kind of competition thing? If they couldn't be the center, the leader, did they just decided they wouldn't be involved at all? 

"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. 

"What? What did the Oracle tell you?"

Clarisse's ears turned pink. Before she could say anything, Veerle cut in. "It doesn't matter what Tantalus wants. We're going to find the Fleece." 

"And you are not helping!" Clarisse declared. 

"We can't just ditch them," Veerle pointed out. "and they could be helpful. Annabeth's smart, Percy and Attie are sure to have some sailing ability, and Tyson would be good for the mechanical stuff." 

Tyson raised his hand, as if waiting to be called on to speak, then quickly lowered it again. I couldn't decide if he'd be more scared of the zombie soldiers or excited to have something to work on. I suspected the first. 

"You'll be guest. For now," Clarisse decided. She propped her feet up on the table and opened another Dr. Pepper (seriously, how much Dr. Pepper did these people drink?) "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."

♆

IT WAS HARD TO SLEEP. First of all, I had no where to put my glasses. I ended up putting them with the rest of my surviving things in a sailor's knapsack and hoping nothing would happen. Second of all, on the sleeping part – it was the definition of uncomfortable. The hammock was like giant sack. I sunk so deeply into it I was slightly afraid I'd be wrapped up entirely and smothered. And it swung with each shift of the boat, just enough to keep me up. It didn't help that I could faintly hear the boilers going, sounding like they were seconds away from exploding at any moment. 

Which is to say, I was only half asleep when alarm bells rung through the ship. It was still loud enough to startle me out of the hammock. A gravelly voice was yelling for all hands on deck. Guessing that this counted me, I grabbed my glasses and weapon and sprinted up stairs. 

Only Percy, Clarisse, and Veerle were missing when I arrived on the spar deck. My brother appeared soon after I did, knapsack swung over his shoulder and looking troubled. 

"What's wrong?" Annabeth asked me. "Another dream?" 

Percy nodded. I was certain it had been about Grover, but he didn't say anything. 

Clarisse stormed up the stairs a few seconds later. Veerle trailed after her, scowling and flexing her hand like she really wanted to punch something. While Clarisse went to grab a pair of binoculars from a zombie officer, Veerle came to stand by us. 

"You good?" I asked. 

"Ares decided to show up," Veerle said. Percy suddenly became very interested in his shoes, and I realized he must have known something about it. "I get he's trying to help, but he can be a real..."

"Jerk?" I offered. 

"One way to put it, I guess," Veerle grumbled. She fiddled with her switch blade. "You've met him. He doesn't change just 'cause he's trying to be supportive."

I nodded. Looking out in front of us, I couldn't see much. The air was hazy and humid, both from the natural weather and the fact that Pat was using his powers to keep the winds around us calm. After a bit of squinting I was able to make out some dark, fuzzy splotches. Through the powers of nautical senses, I could tell we were somewhere off the coast of norther Florida, so we were moving faster than any mortal ship should've been able to move. 

And we started moving faster. The engine ground. 

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

"You're right. It's a Civil War era ironclad, used mostly for river and costal defense. How'd you know that?" Veerle said. 

"...Dunno?" 

Veerle studied Tyson for a moment. After a moment she nodded to him and gave an approving, if weak, smile. 

The dark splotches started to come into focus. To the north was a massive rocky island, with cliffs at least a hundred feet tall. About a half mile south of that, the other path of darkness appeared to be a storm. The sea was roaring, swirling and bubbling like a giant, violent drain. 

"Hurricane?" Annabeth said. 

"No," Clarisse said. "Charybdis."

Annabeth paled. "Are you crazy?"

"Who's that?" Pat asked at the same time. 

"Charybdis is a giant sea monster that sucks in everything around her," Veerle explained. "She and her sister, Scylla, guard the entrance of the Sea of Monsters."

"Ooo." Pat studied the churning water. "Yeah, we can't fight that. Can't we just go around?"

Clarisse rolled her eyes. "Don't you know anything? If we 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..."

"More importantly, the ship isn't fast enough to make it through the rocks," Veerle added, a much more reasonable explanation. 

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

The captain did as she said. The engine groaned, the iron plating rattled, and the ship began to pick up speed. Maybe the undead crew didn't care about how suicidal this plan was, but I definitely did. 

"Wait, we're just going right at her?" I asked. 

"You got a better idea, punk?" Clarisse sneered, sounding more like her dad than I was comfortable with. 

"What about Scylla?" Percy asked. "Everybody goes below deck and we chug right past."

"No!" Clarisse insisted. "If Scylla doesn't get her east meat, she might pick up the whole ship. Besides, she's too high to make a good target. My cannons can't shoot straight up. "Charybdis just sits there at the center of her whirlwind. We're going to steam straight toward her, train our guns on her, and blow her to Tartarus!"

She was so pleased with her idea that I wanted to believe her, just for her sake. Unfortunately, I wasn't stupid. 

Pat cleared his throat. He and Veerle had been studying the water in front of us while we talked. Now they had turned back to us, having clearly come to a consensus. Hopefully it involved a plan that was less likely to get us killed. 

"We should go through the middle. Skirt around Charybdis without getting too close to Scylla," Veerle said.

That didn't sound particularly...possible. Obviously I didn't know how far Scylla could reach, but Charybdis's whirlpool seemed to reach almost halfway between them. I'm sure the undercurrent went even further. That sounded like a recipe for having to face both monsters, instead of just one. 

But, as Veerle and Pat explained their plan, it did sound a little less strained. We would have to sail at the very edge of Charybdis's whirlpool. Between Percy and I controlling the seas and Pat's ability to summon wind, they hoped that they could hold us steady just enough not to be pulled in. 

"How do we know we won't go too far?" I asked. 

"Trust me," Veerle said, gravely. "You aren't pulling us out. We just need to keep from going in."

And also Clarisse could fire cannons at the monster. That was enough to get her on board. The rest of us agreed reluctantly. By now the boilers were heating up so much the deck was getting warm beneath my feet. At this point I was just hoping we could get through before we got blown up. 

The closer we got, the more skittish I was getting. Charybdis was incredibly loud – a wet roar like we'd been stuck in the world's biggest washing machine. Every time she inhaled, the shit shuddered and lurched forward. Everything she exhaled, we rose in the water and were buffeted by ten-foot waves. There was almost a schedule to it. Every three minutes, Charybdis would finish inhaling. As I expected, there was no way to avoid her without putting ourselves in Scylla's Definitely Can Chomp zone. 

Annabeth stood next to us, gripping the rail. "You still have your thermos full of wind?"

"You have a thermos full of wind?" Pat asked. 

"Long story. Hermes gave it to us," Percy said. He nodded to Annabeth, but added, "It's too dangerous to use with a whirlpool like that. More wind might just make things worse."

Pat stared at nothing for a moment. Then, he asked, "How controlled is it?"

"Uh...not particularly," I admitted. "Why?"

"I just...yeah, it won't work." Pat waved his hands dismissively. "Unless you could get it to give you an exact velocity in an exact direction, it's too dangerous. Either you'll just push yourself closer to Chary...char-ee-buh-duh...ugh, the giant wirlpool monster! Or you'll launch yourself straight over to Scylla." 

In our defense, we did try to go through with Pat and Veerle's plan. But every time I tried to focus on the water to control it, I couldn't. Charybdis was too loud. Too powerful. It was like tug of war with an SUV someone was driving down hill – they had all of the support. Pat attempted to control us with waves of wind, but it wasn't enough, especially not on its own. The most it did was get steam curling off the water and the temperature rose.

"Stop," Tyson said suddenly. 

"Pardon?" Pat gave him an incredulous look. 

"Engine's no good," Tyson said nervously. "Pressure. Pistons need fixing. Hot air making it worse."

Before he could explain more than that, Charybdis inhaled. The ship lurched forward so hard we were thrown to the deck. We were in the whirlpool.

"Full reverse!" Clarisse screamed above the noise. The sea churned around us. Waves crashed over the deck, the water steaming when it hit the hot metal. "Get is within firing range! Make ready starboard cannons!"

Dead soldiers rushed back and forth. The propellers grinder into reverse, trying to slow the ship, but we kept sliding towards the center of the vortex. Even with Tyson's warning, Pat was eventually forced to bring back the wind. 

Charybdis was to the south of us, and that directionality clearly affected Pat's powers. A gale force wind blasted in so quickly I was nearly sent stumbling back in surprise. The boat rocked. It wasn't enough to put us on a new corse – most of the boat was under water, so there wasn't much to push – but it kept us from being sucked in. 

It wouldn't last, though. In seconds Pat was pale and shaking. I knew the feeling. Untrained and the child of a minor god, he didn't have the stamina to get us out of this. Not alone. 

A zombie sailor burst out of the hold and ran to Clarisse. His uniform was smoking and his beard was on fire. "Boil room overheating, ma'am! She's going to blow!"

"Well, get down there and fix it!" Clarisse ordered. 

"Can't!" the sailor yelled. "We're vaporizing in the heat."

Clarisse pointed the side of the casemate. "All I need is a few more minutes! Just enough to get in range!"

"We're going in too fast," the captain said grimly. "Prepare yourself for death."

I promptly decided I was not going to prepare myself to for death. Imagine – child of Poseidon dies on a boat because the stupid captain decided to drive directly into the mouth of a sea monster. I refused. 

"No!" Tyson bellowed. "I can fix it."

Clarisse looked at him incredulously. "You?"

"He's a Cyclops," Annabeth said. "He's immune to fire. And he knows mechanics."

"Go!" Clarisse yelled. 

"Woah, woah, wait," I interrupted. "Tyson's never even worked on a boiler before!" 

Not that I didn't trust him, but there was a big difference between helping create weapons with instructions and fixing a Civil War ship boiler. Especially one that could blow up any second. 

"It's too dangerous," Percy agreed. 

Tyson patted our shoulders. I was surprised by how confident he looked, especially since he'd been terrified through the rest of the quest. "Only way. I will fix it. Be right back." 

I got the sinking feeling that I wouldn't. But there was nothing I could do, so I shook it off as he followed the sailor down the hatch. 

The ship lurched. We were so close that we could see Charybdis. In the middle of a maelstrom, a reef had grown on massive, slimy lips. Water swirled down into the mouth as if sucked into a drain. Moss was growing on teeth the size of rowboats. They also had...braces? What might have been braces – bands of corroded metal with pieces of fish, drift wood, and floating garbage stuck between them. 

As a braces-haver, those things were criminal. Scarier than the actual monster (well, almost. You get the point.) 

"Lady Clarisse," the captain shouted. "Starboard and forward guns are in range!"

At this point, I didn't care about Clarisse's stupid plan. We were so close, our only hope was to try to Charybdis. Even that was impossible. Three rounds were shot. Only one did any damage to the monster, breaking off the edge of an incisor. Another disappeared down her throat and another bounced off the bands on her teeth and was launched back at us. It snapped the Ares flag off its pole. 

"Again!" Clarisse ordered. 

The gunners reloaded, but I wasn't sure how it would do anything. Charybdis was too big. We would never do enough damage to get her to dissolve. 

Then the vibrations in the deck changed. The engine was no longer frantic and flittering. It had begun to steady out and quiet, returning to a healthy tone. The ship shuttered and started pulling away from the mouth. 

"Tyson did it!" Annabeth said. 

"Wait!" Clarisse said. "We need to stay close!"

"We need to go forwards," Veerle interrupted.

I expected Clarisse to protest, as she always did when someone corrected her. But there must have been something about the hard anger creeping into Veerle's tone that shut her up. Tyson had given us a chance to get out of here. If we were quick, we might even get into the Sea of Monsters. Might even be able to fix the boilers and engines. 

Suddenly, the mouth snapped shut. Everything died in an instant. Water washed over Charybdis. 

"Did –" Pat started. 

And it was all he managed to get out. As quickly as it closed, the mouth burst open. Water exploded out like a geyser. Everything inedible came with it, raining down around is. The swallowed cannonballs included – one of which slammed into the side of the CSS Birmingham. I was almost relieved to see it only left a dent. 

Almost. Relieved. Because what followed was a forty foot wave, which slammed into us and sent the boat spinning out of control. Percy and I tried to control the wave, but all we could do was keep the boat from capsizing. Nothing could stop it from being launched to the opposite side of the strait. 

Another smoldering sailor burst out of the hold. He stumbled into Clarisse, and it was only Pat's well placed burst of went that kept them from tumbling overboard. "The engine is about to blow!" he warned. 

"Where's Tyson?" Percy demanded. 

"Still down there," the sailor said. "Holding it together somehow, though I don't know for how much longer."

The captain said, "We have to abandon the ship."

"No!" Clarisse yelled. 

"At least once we get in," Veerle pleaded. "It's not safe with Scylla –" 

As if summoned, something brown and green shot out of the sky. It snatched up the captain, and lifted him away. 

"Scylla!" a sailor yelled, just in time to also be snatched away. It moved so quickly I couldn't even make out its face. Just was just a flash of reptilian skin and teeth. 

"Everyone get below!" Percy yelled. 

"We can't!" Clarisse said. "Below deck is in flames."

The conversation devolved into shouting. Some of the undead sailors were trying to uncover one of the two emergency rowboats while Scylla's head picked them off. 

Everyone scrambled for their weapons. I was tempted to join them. But there was no way I was going to hit anything except maybe another person. The heads moved too fast to be aimed at and Scylla was too high up – where ever she was – for me to reach. The most I would be doing was making myself a sitting duck. 

So instead I followed Annabeth to the second rowboat. We struggled to pull the heavy cover off. At the same time, I willed the ocean to force the boat forwards and into the Sea of Monsters. It worked now that Charybdis wasn't sucking up all of the water, but my attention was too split for it to do much. There was three things for me to focus on. I kept getting distracted. 

For example: In a matter of seconds I felt air rushing towards me, hot breath, and then heard a heavy thud behind me. I startled and turned to see what happened. 

Veerle was stood behind me. At her feet was a snake head as big as I was. My stomach rolled as the implications hit – if Veerle hadn't decapitated it, I probably would have been dragged up the cliff with the rest of Scylla's victims. 

Veerle looked equally disturbed. Then she swallowed hard and turned to us. 

"We need to go," she said. 

"What about the others?" I asked. 

"We need to go."

Before I could ask again, Veerle hauled me into the boat. Once Annabeth was in she cut us loose and we went sliding into the water. With how short the ironclad was, there was barely a drop. As soon as we were in, I focused on forcing the water  to push as far from the CSS Birmingham as possible. I could see the other lifeboat fleeing. Faintly I could make out Pat and Clarisse and...

And Percy was in the air. 

While I wasn't looking, Scylla had caught him by the knapsack on his back. Percy got himself loose, but now he was falling from a hundred feet. 

He'll hit the water, I thought desperately. He'll be fine. 

I had only a split second to realize that I didn't know where Tyson was, and that he was probably still in the boiler room. Seconds later, the CSS Birmingham exploded with a roar. Chunks of ironclad and flames exploded from both sides. A wave rocked us back, but I knew it wouldn't be long. Only moments later the boat began to sink, dragging the water around it – and us – down with it. 

Annabeth fumbled with the thermos. She was trying to loosen the lid just a bit, but in the panic opened it just a bit too far. 

Air exploded in all directions. The three of had to grab the edge of the boat as we were sent spinning away from the wreckage. The other lifeboat was blasted away from us, and even Percy above us was sent out of his free fall and across the ocean. 

It was barely by luck that I had managed to note where he fell while keeping us from capsizing. When the wind died down, I pushed the boat towards the spot. We found Percy floating unconscious. His knapsack had been ripped in half and items scatters around him. While Annabeth and Veerle hauled Percy into the boat, I coaxed the items close enough to grab. As I did, I stared at the sinking Ironclad behind us. 

I couldn't see the other lifeboat. I couldn't see the other lifeboat, and I couldn't see Tyson.

Author's Note: I don't get into it because they're not the POV character, but I kinda re–wrote Ares's relationship with his daughters. I get what Rick was going for, stereotypical manly man is sexist, but caring about his daughters is one of Ares's biggest (positive) traits! 

Instead I went with more of him being super supportive, but like... in an extraordinarily intense way. Ares is hard on them not because he thinks they're less than, but because that's just...how he parents. (war god, art thee surprised?) Clarisse's conflict is still the same in the sense she wasn't to make him proud and fears embarrassing him, but in the way that applies to most demigod kids. 

Author's Note: I made the executive decision to have the Birmingham manned by a variety of military sailors instead of specifically confederates. Ares is a jerk, but he's not a "stick my indigenous kid on a ship full of racists" jerk.