The Last Olympian

child of Ares is destined to kill it!”
    Through her war helmet, I could only see her eyes—but I could tell something was wrong. Her blue eyes shone with fear. Clarisse never looked like that. And she didn’t have blue eyes.
    “ARES!” she shouted, in that strangely shrill voice. She leveled her spear and charged the drakon.
    “No,” I muttered. “WAIT!”
    But the monster looked down at her—almost in contempt—and spit poison directly in her face.
    She screamed and fell.
    “Clarisse!” Annabeth jumped off the monster’s back and ran to help, while the other Ares campers tried to defend their fallen counselor. I drove Riptide between two of the creature’s scales and managed to turn its attention on me.
    I got thrown but I landed on my feet. “C’MON, you stupid worm! Look at me!”
    For the next several minutes, all I saw were teeth. I retreated and dodged poison, but I couldn’t hurt the thing.
    At the edge of my vision, I saw a flying chariot land on Fifth Avenue.
    Then someone ran toward us. A girl’s voice, shaken with grief, cried, “NO! Curse you, WHY?”
    I dared to glance over, but what I saw made no sense. Clarisse was lying on the ground where she’d fallen. Her armor smoked with poison. Annabeth and the Ares campers were trying to unfasten her helmet. And kneeling next to them, her face blotchy with tears, was a girl in camp clothes. It was . . . Clarisse.
    My head spun. Why hadn’t I noticed before? The girl in Clarisse’s armor was much thinner, not as tall. But why would someone pretend to be Clarisse?
    I was so stunned, the drakon almost snapped me in half. I dodged and the beast buried its head in a brick wall.
    “WHY?” The real Clarisse demanded, holding the other girl in her arms while the campers struggled to remove the poison-corroded helmet.
    Chris Rodriguez ran over from the flying chariot. He and Clarisse must’ve ridden it here from camp, chasing the Ares campers, who’d mistakenly been following the other girl, thinking she was Clarisse. But it still made no sense.
    The drakon tugged its head from the brick wall and screamed in rage.
    “Look out!” Chris warned.
    Instead of turning toward me, the drakon whirled toward the sound of Chris’s voice. It bared its fangs at the group of demigods.
    The real Clarisse looked up at the drakon, her face filled with absolute hate. I’d seen a look that intense only once before. Her father, Ares, had worn the same expression when I’d fought him in single combat.
    “YOU WANT DEATH?” Clarisse screamed at the drakon. “WELL, COME ON!”
    She grabbed her spear from the fallen girl. With no armor or shield, she charged the drakon.
    I tried to close the distance to help, but Clarisse was faster. She leaped aside as the monster struck, pulverizing the ground in front of her. Then she jumped onto the creature’s head. As it reared up, she drove her electric spear into its good eye with so much force it shattered the shaft, releasing all of the magic weapon’s power.
    Electricity arced across the creature’s head, causing its whole body to shudder. Clarisse jumped free, rolling safely to the sidewalk as smoke boiled from the drakon’s mouth. The drakon’s flesh dissolved, and it collapsed into a hollow scaly tunnel of armor.
    The rest of us stared at Clarisse in awe. I had never seen anyone take down such a huge monster single-handedly. But Clarisse didn’t seem to care. She ran back to the wounded girl who’d stolen her armor.
    Finally Annabeth managed to remove the girl’s helmet. We all gathered around: the Ares campers, Chris, Clarisse, Annabeth, and me. The battle still raged along Fifth Avenue, but for that moment nothing existed except our small circle and the fallen girl.
    Her features, once beautiful, were badly burned from poison. I could tell that no amount of nectar or ambrosia would save her.
    Something is about to happen. Rachel’s words rang in my ears. A trick that ends in death.
    Now I knew what she meant, and I knew who the hero was who had led the Ares cabin into battle.
    I looked down at the dying face of Silena Beauregard.

SEVENTEEN

I SIT ON THE
HOT SEAT
    “What were you thinking?” Clarisse cradled Silena’s head in her lap.
    Silena tried to swallow, but her lips were dry and cracked. “Wouldn’t . . . listen. Cabin would . . . only follow you.”
    “So you stole my armor,” Clarisse said in disbelief. “You waited until Chris and I went out on patrol; you stole my armor and pretended