The Sea of Monsters

claws ripping through the ocean.
    As they neared the beach, the surf burst apart and the heads of three white stallions reared out of the waves.
    Tyson caught his breath. “Fish ponies!”
    He was right. As the creatures pulled themselves onto the sand, I saw that they were only horses in the front; their back halves were silvery fish bodies, with glistening scales and rainbow tail fins.
    “Hippocampi!” Annabeth said. “They’re beautiful.”
    The nearest one whinnied in appreciation and nuzzled Annabeth.
    “We’ll admire them later,” I said. “Come on!”
    “There!” a voice screeched behind us. “Bad children out of cabins! Snack time for lucky harpies!”
    Five of them were fluttering over the top of the dunes—plump little hags with pinched faces and talons and feathery wings too small for their bodies. They reminded me of miniature cafeteria ladies who’d been crossbred with dodo birds. They weren’t very fast, thank the gods, but they were vicious if they caught you.
    “Tyson!” I said. “Grab a duffel bag!”
    He was still staring at the hippocampi with his mouth hanging open.
    “Tyson!”
    “Uh?”
    “Come on!”
    With Annabeth’s help I got him moving. We gathered the bags and mounted our steeds. Poseidon must’ve known Tyson was one of the passengers, because one hippocampus was much larger than the other two—just right for carrying a Cyclops.
    “Giddyup!” I said. My hippocampus turned and plunged into the waves. Annabeth’s and Tyson’s followed right behind.
    The harpies cursed at us, wailing for their snacks to come back, but the hippocampi raced over the water at the speed of Jet Skis. The harpies fell behind, and soon the shore of Camp Half-Blood was nothing but a dark smudge. I wondered if I’d ever see the place again. But right then I had other problems.
    The cruise ship was now looming in front of us—our ride toward Florida and the Sea of Monsters.
    Riding the hippocampus was even easier than riding a pegasus. We zipped along with the wind in our faces, speeding through the waves so smooth and steady I hardly needed to hold on at all.
    As we got closer to the cruise ship, I realized just how huge it was. I felt as though I were looking up at a building in Manhattan. The white hull was at least ten stories tall, topped with another dozen levels of decks with brightly lit balconies and portholes. The ship’s name was painted just above the bow line in black letters, lit with a spotlight. It took me a few seconds to decipher it:
    PRINCESS ANDROMEDA
    Attached to the bow was a huge masthead—a threestory-tall woman wearing a white Greek chiton, sculpted to look as if she were chained to the front of the ship. She was young and beautiful, with flowing black hair, but her expression was one of absolute terror. Why anybody would want a screaming princess on the front of their vacation ship, I had no idea.
    I remembered the myth about Andromeda and how she had been chained to a rock by her own parents as a sacrifice to a sea monster. Maybe she’d gotten too many F’s on her report card or something. Anyway, my namesake, Perseus, had saved her just in time and turned the sea monster to stone using the head of Medusa.
    That Perseus always won. That’s why my mom had named me after him, even though he was a son of Zeus and I was a son of Poseidon. The original Perseus was one of the only heroes in the Greek myths who got a happy ending. The others died—betrayed, mauled, mutilated, poisoned, or cursed by the gods. My mom hoped I would inherit Perseus’s luck. Judging by how my life was going so far, I wasn’t real optimistic.
    “How do we get aboard?” Annabeth shouted over the noise of the waves, but the hippocampi seemed to know what we needed. They skimmed along the starboard side of the ship, riding easily through its huge wake, and pulled up next to a service ladder riveted to the side of the hull.
    “You first,” I told Annabeth.
    She slung her duffel bag over her shoulder and grabbed the bottom rung. Once she’d hoisted herself onto the ladder, her hippocampus whinnied a farewell and dove underwater. Annabeth began to climb. I let her get a few rungs up, then followed her.
    Finally it was just Tyson in the water. His hippocampus was treating him to 360º aerials and backward ollies, and Tyson was laughing so hysterically, the sound echoed up the side of the ship.
    “Tyson, shhh!” I said. “Come on, big guy!”
    “Can’t we take Rainbow?” he asked,