Indigo Eyes

Chapter 28

"S'okay," he grunted as he rubbed his nose with one hand.

"Ambrosia?" Cressida asked, having stuffed the plastic bag with the few squares of ambrosia left into her boot.

"No," he said. "Save it. We're definitely going to need it later."

"One step at a time. We're almost there," she encouraged, and Percy nodded.

It seemed like an eternity later when they hauled their bodies over the edge onto the top of the cliff.

Percy made an intelligible sound.

"Ouch," moaned Annabeth.

"That's just to get us on the island. We still gotta - find Grover, get the Fleece and escape with our lives," Cressida pointed out.

"Hey, Grape Girl. Shut up," Percy snapped.

"Garrr!" Bellowed another voice and they all shot p bolt right. If they hadn't been so tired, they probably would've jumped rather than sat up. Annabeth clamped her hand over Percy's mouth and she pointed.

The ledge they were sitting on was narrower than they'd realized. It dropped off on the opposite side, and that's where the voice was coming from – right below them.

"You're a feisty one!" the deep voice bellowed.

"Challenge me!" Clarisse's voice, no doubt about it. "Give me back my sword and I'll fight you!"

The monster roared with laughter.

The three demigods crept to the edge, below them stood Polyphemus and Grover who was actually dressed in a wedding dress - even if Percy had told them about it, Cressida didn't really believe it until now. Clarisse was tied up, hanging upside down over a pot of boiling water, and as much as they tried, they just couldn't find any sign that Tyson survived.

"Hmm," Polyphemus pondered. "Eat loudmouth girl now or wait for wedding feast? What does my bride think?" He turned to Grover, who backed up and almost tripped over his completed bridal train.

"Oh, um, I'm not hungry right now, dear. Perhaps –"

"Did you say bride?" Clarisse demanded. "Who – Grover?"

"Oh, for once in your life, La Rue, shut up," Cressida urged.

"Shut up. She has to shut up," Annabeth agreed.

Polyphemus glowered. "What 'Grover'?"

"The satyr!" Clarisse yelled.

"Oh!" Grover yelped. "The poor thing's brain is boiling from that hot water. Pull her down, dear!"

Polyphemus's eyelid narrowed over his baleful milky eye, as if he were trying to see Clarisse more clearly.

The Cyclops was an even more horrible sight than he had been in Percy's description. Partly because his rancid smell was now up close and personal. Partly because he was dressed in his wedding outfit – a crude kilt and shoulder wrap, stitched together from baby-blue tuxedoes, as if he'd skinned an entire wedding party.

"If I get close enough, I can blind him for good," Cressida said.

"No," Percy protested.

"It's the only chance he has," she replied.

"What satyr?" asked Polyphemus. "Satyrs are good eating. You bring me a satyr?"

"No, you big idiot!" bellowed Clarisse. "That satyr! Grover! The one in the wedding dress!"

Even if Cressida had started making her way down to Polyphemus, she could've been too late because of Clarisse's big mouth as Polyphemus turned and ripped off Grover's wedding veil – revealing his curly hair, his scruffy adolescent beard, his tiny horns. Polyphemus breathed heavily, trying to contain his anger.