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

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
he doing here?”
“Some people wander in by mistake,” Annabeth said. “Some come exploring on purpose and never
make it back. A long time ago, the Cretans sent people in here as human sacrifices.”
Grover gulped. “He’s been down here a long time.” He pointed to the skeleton’s bottles, which were
coated with white dust. The skeleton’s fingers were clawing at the brick wall, like he had died trying to
get out.
“Only bones,” Tyson said. “Don’t worry, goat boy. The milkman is dead.”
“The milkman doesn’t bother me,” Grover said. “It’s the smell.Monsters. Can’t you smell it?”
Tyson nodded.“Lots of monsters. But underground smells like that.Monsters and dead milk people.”
“Oh, good,” Grover whimpered. “I thought maybe I was wrong.”
“We have to get deeper into the maze,” Annabeth said. “There has to be a way to the center.”
She led us to the right, then the left, through a corridor of stainless steel like some kind of air shaft, and
we arrived back in the Roman tile room with the fountain.
This time, we weren’t alone.
What I noticed first were his faces.Both of them. They jutted out from either side of his head, staring
over his shoulders, so his head was much wider than it should’ve been, kind of like a hammerhead
shark’s looking straight at him, all I saw were two overlapping ears and mirror-image sideburns.
He was dressed like a New York City doorman: a long black overcoat, shiny shoes, and a black
top-hat that somehow managed to stay on his double-wide head.
“Well, Annabeth?” said his left face. “Hurry up!”
***
“Don’t mind him,” said the right face. “He’s terribly rude. Right this way, miss.”
Annabeth’s jaw dropped. “Uh…I don’t…”
Tyson frowned. “That funny man has two faces.”
“The funny man has ears, you know!” the left face scolded. “Now come along, miss.”
“No, no,” the right face said. “This way, miss. Talk tome , please.”
The two-faced man regarded Annabeth as best he could out of the corners of his eyes. It was
impossible to look at him straight on without focusing on one side or the other. And suddenly I realized
that’s what he was asking—he wanted Annabeth to choose.
Behind him were two exits, blocked by wooden doors with huge iron locks. They hadn’t been there our
first time through the room. The two-faced doorman held a silver key, which he kept passing from his left