THE BATTLE OF THE LABYRINTH Percy Jackson ... - No one's invited.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Rachel frowned like she didn’t want me with her. That made me feel kind of bad, but I followed her
down to the parking lot anyway.
She headed toward a big black car parked at the edge of the lot. It was a chauffeured Lexus, like the
kind I always saw driving around Manhattan. The driver was out front, reading a newspaper. He wore a
dark suit and tie.
“What are you going to do?” I asked Rachel.
“Just wait here,” she said miserably. “Please.”
Rachel marched straight up to the driver and talked to him. He frowned. Rachel said something else. He
turned pale and hastily folded up his magazine. He nodded and fumbled for his cell phone. After a brief
call, he opened the back door of the car for Rachel to get in. She pointed back in my direction, and the
driver bobbed his head some more, likeYes, ma’am.Whatever you want.
I couldn’t figure out why he was acting so flustered.
Rachel came back to get me just as Nico and Annabeth appeared from the gift shop.
“I talked to Chiron,” Annabeth said. “They’re doing their best to prepare for battle, but he still wants us
back. They’re going to need every hero they can get. Did we find a ride?”
“The driver’s ready when we are,” Rachel said.
The chauffeur was now talking to another guy in khakis and a polo shirt, probably his client who’d
rented the car. The client was complaining, but I could hear the driver saying, “I’m sorry, sir.Emergency.
I’ve ordered another car for you.”
“Come on,” Rachel said. She led us to the car and got in without even looking at the flustered guy who’d
rented it. A minute later we were cruising down the road. The seats were leather. There was plenty of
legroom. The backseat had flat-panel TVs built into the headrests and a mini-fridge stocked with bottled
water, sodas, and snacks. We started pigging out.
“Where to, Miss Dare?” the driver asked.
“I’m not sure yet, Robert,” she said. “We just need to drive through town and, uh, look around.”
“Whatever you say, miss.”
I looked at Rachel. “Do you know this guy?”
“No.”
“But he dropped everything to help you. Why?”
“Just keep your eyes peeled,” she said. “Help me look.”
Which didn’t exactly answer my question.
We drove through Colorado Springs for about half an hour and saw nothing that Rachel considered a