The Battle of the Labyrinth

body of a huge lion and the head of a woman. She would’ve been pretty, but her hair was tied back in a tight bun and she wore too much makeup, so she kind of reminded me of my third-grade choir teacher. She had a blue ribbon badge pinned to her chest that took me a moment to read: THIS MONSTER HAS BEEN RATED EXEMPLARY !
    Tyson whimpered. “Sphinx.”
    I knew exactly why he was scared. When he was small, Tyson had been attacked by a Sphinx in New York. He still had the scars on his back to prove it.
    Spotlights blazed on either side of the creature. The only exit was a tunnel right behind the dais. The mechanical spider scuttled between the Sphinx’s paws and disappeared.
    Annabeth started forward, but the Sphinx roared, showing fangs in her otherwise human face. Bars came down on both tunnel exits, behind us and in front.
    Immediately the monster’s snarl turned into a brilliant smile.
    “Welcome, lucky contestants!” she announced. “Get ready to play . . . ANSWER THAT RIDDLE!”
    Canned applause blasted from the ceiling, as if there were invisible loudspeakers. Spotlights swept across the room and reflected off the dais, throwing disco glitter over the skeletons on the floor.
    “Fabulous prizes!” the Sphinx said. “Pass the test, and you get to advance! Fail, and I get to eat you! Who will be our contestant?”
    Annabeth grabbed my arm. “I’ve got this,” she whispered. “I know what she’s going to ask.”
    I didn’t argue too hard. I didn’t want Annabeth getting devoured by a monster, but I figured if the Sphinx was going to ask riddles, Annabeth was the best one of us to try.
    She stepped forward to the contestant’s podium, which had a skeleton in a school uniform hunched over it. She pushed the skeleton out of the way, and it clattered to the floor.
    “Sorry,” Annabeth told it.
    “Welcome, Annabeth Chase!” the monster cried, though Annabeth hadn’t said her name. “Are you ready for your test?”
    “Yes,” she said. “Ask your riddle.”
    “Twenty riddles, actually!” the Sphinx said gleefully.
    “What? But back in the old days—”
    “Oh, we’ve raised our standards! To pass, you must show proficiency in all twenty. Isn’t that great?”
    Applause switched on and off like somebody turning a faucet.
    Annabeth glanced at me nervously. I gave her an encouraging nod.
    “Okay,” she told the Sphinx. “I’m ready.”
    A drumroll sounded from above. The Sphinx’s eyes glittered with excitement. “What . . . is the capital of Bulgaria?”
    Annabeth frowned. For a terrible moment, I thought she was stumped.
    “Sofia,” she said, “but—”
    “Correct!” More canned applause. The Sphinx smiled so wide her fangs showed. “Please be sure to mark your answer clearly on your test sheet with a number 2 pencil.”
    “What?” Annabeth looked mystified. Then a test booklet appeared on the podium in front of her, along with a sharpened pencil.
    “Make sure you bubble each answer clearly and stay inside the circle,” the Sphinx said. “If you have to erase, erase completely or the machine will not be able to read your answers.”
    “What machine?” Annabeth asked.
    The Sphinx pointed with her paw. Over by the spotlight was a bronze box with a bunch of gears and levers and a big Greek letter Êta on the side, the mark of Hephaestus.
    “Now,” said the Sphinx, “next question—”
    “Wait a second,” Annabeth protested. “What about ‘What walks on four legs in the morning’?”
    “I beg your pardon?” the Sphinx said, clearly annoyed now.
    “The riddle about man. He walks on four legs in the morning, like a baby, two legs in the afternoon, like an adult, and three legs in the evening, as an old man with a cane. That’s the riddle you used to ask.”
    “Exactly why we changed the test!” the Sphinx exclaimed. “You already knew the answer. Now second question, what is the square root of sixteen?”
    “Four,” Annabeth said, “but—”
    “Correct! Which U.S. president signed the Emancipation Proclamation?”
    “Abraham Lincoln, but—”
    “Correct! Riddle number four. How much—”
    “Hold up!” Annabeth shouted.
    I wanted to tell her to stop complaining. She was doing great! She should just answer the questions so we could leave.
    “These aren’t riddles,” Annabeth said.
    “What do you mean?” the Sphinx snapped. “Of course they are. This test material is specially designed—”
    “It’s just a bunch of dumb, random facts,” Annabeth