Chapter 15 – Brothers, Beasts, and Buffoonery
Clarisse La Rue had never asked for a brother.
She'd been just fine being the angry little war machine in her neighborhood, thank you very much. Bullies? She broke their noses. Teachers? She glared them into giving her Cs instead of Ds. Her mom said she had anger problems. Her classmates said she had demon problems.
Clarisse thought they were just lucky she didn't actually have a spear back then.
But then came the monsters. The weird ones. Ones that didn't bleed right or scream normally. The ones with too many eyes or no face at all. They hunted her, cornered her, and right when she thought she'd die in the alley behind her school gym, he showed up.
Her father
Ares.
Leather-jacket, biker-booted, shades-at-night-wearing, motorcycle-rumbling god of war himself.
He walked into the alley like he was expecting her, punched the monster's head clean off, lit a cigar off the corpse, and said, "You hit like a freight train, kid. I like it."
He told her his identity.
Then, He told she was his daughter.
She punched the brick wall next to her and left a dent, in joy.
She knew she wasn't ordinary.
A child of war.
She would rise, glorious and brutal, a champion worthy of Olympus.
And then Lionel showed up.
Not like, dramatically. Not even cool.
He was on a skateboard.
He crashed it immediately. Into Ares's motorcycle.
Clarisse remembered the silence after the scrape. The god of war had looked at the smoking chrome and muttered, "You've gotta be kidding me."
Lionel popped up with a bloody nose and yelled, "CAN YOU GIVE ME A RIDE ON YOUR BIKE, PLEASE !"
Clarisse had never wanted to disown someone so fast in her life.
Their mom hadn't told either of them they were demigods. Maybe she didn't know. Maybe she was scared. All Clarisse knew was one day she was punching a kid named Trevor for saying girls couldn't be good at dodgeball, and the next she was watching her dumber twin try to powerbomb a minotaur while screaming about Quick Time Events.
He brought a PlayStation to Camp Half-Blood.
On his first day.
And then spent two hours trying to name his celestial bronze sword "Blade of Chaos Fanboy Edition."
Clarisse wanted to strangle him.
Still kinda did.
But now, now something was changing.
He was changing.
Lionel wasn't just swinging wildly anymore. He trained. He bled. He kept quiet sometimes, which was wild in itself. And when she left him on the ship for this mission, he didn't have a temper tantrum like he used to.
He was annoyed but got over it.
And went to train.
That scared her more than anything.
Because if Lionel figured out how to actually use that insane brain of his for more than video game moves and jokes about button-mashing life… he might actually become what he always talked about.
A warrior as strong as the god slayer, Kratos.
Clarisse shuddered. "Please no," she muttered under her breath.
"Clarisse!" Percy called ahead, waving her down from the edge of the cliff.
They were halfway across Polyphemus's island now, thick jungle pressing around them. Behind them, the broken remnants of the raft they'd used to sneak ashore bobbed in the tide. Ahead, the mountain path led up toward a plume of smoke.
The cyclops's lair.
The fleece.
Showtime.
"Where's Tyson?" Grover asked nervously, hopping from one goat leg to another.
"He's doing the infiltration thing," Clarisse muttered.
Annabeth narrowed her eyes. "You mean, you sent the literal baby brother of the creature we're stealing from… to pretendhe's his son?"
"Hey, it's the Sea of Monsters," Clarisse said with a shrug. "We make do."
"Tyson's going to get eaten," Grover moaned.
Percy didn't look thrilled either, but he stayed quiet. That was the one thing she appreciated about him. He got it. Sometimes, you just had to send a cyclops to trick another cyclops.
"I left him with a plan," Clarisse said. "He'll get Polyphemus out of the cave. Once he's gone, we go in, grab the Fleece, and bolt."
"You left him with a plan?" Annabeth asked incredulously. "What plan?"
Clarisse paused. "...He was gonna wing it."
"Oh gods," Grover whimpered.
They huddled behind a ridge overlooking the cave entrance. It was huge, skull-lined, with bones and rotting sheep carcasses everywhere. The air smelled like burned socks and despair. There was a massive spit roast outside with something... probably not a goat... turning slowly.
Then they saw him.
Polyphemus.
Thirty feet tall, a walking boulder with a single yellow eye. He scratched his belly with a tree trunk and grunted, "I SMELL HEROES."
Annabeth went pale.
"Relax," Clarisse hissed. "Tyson should be—"
"HELLO DAD!" Tyson's joyful voice boomed from behind a pile of sheep.
Everyone turned.
Tyson, beaming with hope, holding up a sheep like a gift, was waddling toward Polyphemus.
"I AM YOUR SON! FROM… UM… CYCLOPS SCHOOL!"
Clarisse buried her face in her hands. "I told him to say he was lost. Not... that."
Polyphemus blinked slowly.
Then leaned down, sniffed Tyson once, and grinned. "MY BOY?"
Tyson nodded rapidly.
Polyphemus raised his club.
"YOU SMELL LIKE DRAKON POOP!"
Tyson's face fell. "No… I showered…"
And the club came down.
Tyson leapt back just in time, scrambling over sheep and screaming. "THE PLAN DID NOT WORK!"
Clarisse jumped to her feet. "Go go go go go!"
They bolted, sprinting down the slope toward the cave as the Cyclops bellowed in rage. Tyson led Polyphemus away, crashing through trees and screaming about betrayal.
Annabeth shouted, "Let's be fast, in and out—"
"We're stealing from a cyclops!" Percy yelled. "There's no fast!"
Grover tripped on a bone and nearly went face first into a ribcage. "I hate this quest!"
Clarisse led the charge, shoving bones and sheep skulls aside. Inside the cave, the golden fleece glowed on a pedestal, draped over a massive rock. The atmosphere hummed with power.
Annabeth stared at it, awe in her voice. "That's it. That's the fleece…"
"No time for fanboying," Clarisse barked. "GRAB IT!"
Percy snatched it down and stuffed it in his bag. "Got it!"
From outside, Tyson screamed, "HE KNOWS I'M NOT HIS SON!!"
Annabeth looked at Clarisse. "You think?!"
Clarisse growled, grabbed Percy by the shirt, and pulled. "MOVE!"
They bolted from the cave, crashing through jungle just in time to see Tyson barreling toward them, covered in dirt and sheep bites.
"HE'S THROWING BOULDERS!"
Everyone ducked.
Boulders were indeed flying.
Polyphemus had found the high ground and was using it like Donkey Kong in rage mode. One stone hit a tree five feet away and split it like a toothpick.
Clarisse spun. "Back to the ship!"
"But the raft—" Grover started.
"Screw the raft!" Percy shouted. "We swim!"
"I DON'T SWIM!" Grover bleated.
"I'LL CARRY YOU!" Tyson roared, snatching Grover up.
"NOOOOOO!" Grover wailed.
They hit the beach, just as a fresh boulder splashed into the surf.
The ghost ship was still anchored, sails flapping.
"GHOST CREW!" Clarisse screamed. "WE'RE COMING IN HOT!"
The skeleton captain poked his head out from the deck and saw the mountain-sized cyclops charging. "NOPE," he muttered, slapping the sails into action.
"WAIT—" Clarisse reached the rope ladder and started climbing.
Tyson tossed Grover up like a football. "I BELIEVE IN YOU!"
Clarisse grabbed him mid-air and pulled.
Percy and Annabeth scrambled up next.
Polyphemus roared, now knee-deep in the sea, hurling boulders like dodgeballs.
One hit the hull.
The ship rocked.
Clarisse pulled her sword. "GHOST CREW, GET US OUT OF HERE!"
The captain muttered, "You're not my supervisor," but the ship groaned and turned.
Clarisse gripped the mast, heart hammering.
Then the ship began to move.
Faster. Faster.
The wind caught the sails.
The boulders kept coming.
One smashed into the water right behind them, spraying everyone.
"HE'S STILL CHASING US!" Grover yelled.
"WE'RE IN A SHIP! HOW?!" Percy asked.
"CYCLOPSES ARE THE CHILDREN OF POSEIDON LIKE YOU, IDIOT" Annabeth screamed.
Tyson clung to the mast, smiling. "I HAD FUN!"
Clarisse growled, still catching her breath.
She looked back at the island—Polyphemus roaring in the waves, the golden fleece now pulsing in Percy's bag, the smell of chaos fading into the wind.
She looked down at her sword.
Then back toward the door below deck.
Lionel was sleeping.
Dreaming of herding groups of golden sheep.