The Battle of the Labyrinth

and weapons. The back of the room was a huge library crammed with old scrolls and leather-bound books and paperbacks. There was an architect’s drafting table with a bunch of rulers and protractors, and some 3-D models of buildings. Huge old war maps were plastered to the ceiling. Sets of armor hung under the windows, their bronze plates glinting in the sun.
    Annabeth stood in the back of the room, rifling through old scrolls.
    “Knock, knock?” I said.
    She turned with a start. “Oh . . . hi. Didn’t hear you.”
    “You okay?”
    She frowned at the scroll in her hands. “Just trying to do some research. Daedalus’s Labyrinth is so huge. None of the stories agree about anything. The maps just lead from nowhere to nowhere.”
    I thought about what Quintus had said, how the maze tries to distract you. I wondered if Annabeth knew that already.
    “We’ll figure it out,” I promised.
    Her hair had come loose and was hanging in a tangled blond curtain all around her face. Her gray eyes looked almost black.
    “I’ve wanted to lead a quest since I was seven,” she said.
    “You’re going to do awesome.”
    She looked at me gratefully, but then stared down at all the books and scrolls she’d pulled from the shelves. “I’m worried, Percy. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked you to do this. Or Tyson and Grover.”
    “Hey, we’re your friends. We wouldn’t miss it.”
    “But . . .” She stopped herself.
    “What is it?” I asked. “The prophecy?”
    “I’m sure it’s fine,” she said in a small voice.
    “What was the last line?”
    Then she did something that really surprised me. She blinked back tears and put out her arms.
    I stepped forward and hugged her. Butterflies started turning my stomach into a mosh pit.
    “Hey, it’s . . . it’s okay.” I patted her back.
    I was aware of everything in the room. I felt like I could read the tiniest print on any book on the shelves. Annabeth’s hair smelled like lemon soap. She was shivering.
    “Chiron might be right,” she muttered. “I’m breaking the rules. But I don’t know what else to do. I need you three. It just feels right.”
    “Then don’t worry about it,” I managed. “We’ve had plenty of problems before, and we solved them.”
    “This is different. I don’t want anything happening to . . . any of you.”
    Behind me, somebody cleared his throat.
    It was one of Annabeth’s half-brothers, Malcolm. His face was bright red. “Um, sorry,” he said. “Archery practice is starting, Annabeth. Chiron said to come find you.”
    I stepped away from Annabeth. “We were just looking at maps,” I said stupidly.
    Malcolm stared at me. “Okay.”
    “Tell Chiron I’ll be right there,” Annabeth said, and Malcolm left in a hurry.
    Annabeth rubbed her eyes. “You go ahead, Percy. I’d better get ready for archery.”
    I nodded, feeling more confused than I ever had in my life. I wanted to run from the cabin . . . but then again I didn’t.
    “Annabeth?” I said. “About your prophecy. The line about a hero’s last breath—”
    “You’re wondering which hero? I don’t know.”
    “No. Something else. I was thinking the last line usually rhymes with the one before it. Was it something about—did it end in the word death ?”
    Annabeth stared down at her scrolls. “You’d better go, Percy. Get ready for the quest. I’ll—I’ll see you in the morning.”
    I left her there, staring at maps that led from nowhere to nowhere; but I couldn’t shake the feeling that one of us wasn’t going to come back from this quest alive.

FIVE

NICO BUYS HAPPY MEALS FOR THE DEAD
    At least I got a good night’s sleep before the quest, right?
    Wrong.
    That night in my dreams, I was in the stateroom of the Princess Andromeda . The windows were open on a moonlit sea. Cold wind rustled the velvet drapes.
    Luke knelt on a Persian rug in front of the golden sarcophagus of Kronos. In the moonlight, Luke’s blond hair looked pure white. He wore an ancient Greek chiton and a white himation , a kind of cape that flowed down his shoulders. The white clothes made him look timeless and a little unreal, like one of the minor gods on Mount Olympus. The last time I’d seen him, he’d been broken and unconscious after a nasty fall from Mount Tam. Now he looked perfectly fine. Almost too healthy.
    “Our spies report success, my lord,” he said. “Camp Half-Blood is sending a quest, as you predicted. Our side of the bargain is almost complete.”
    Excellent .