I decided the biggest threat would be Malcolm Pace. You can never be too careful with children of Athena. Surprisingly, though, he’d paired himself with Sherman Yang. That didn’t seem like a natural partnership, unless Malcolm had some sort of plan. Those Athena children always had a plan. It rarely included letting me win.

The only demigods not participating were Harley and Nyssa, who had set up the course.

Once the satyrs judged we had all spread out sufficiently and our leg bindings had been double-checked, Harley clapped for our attention.

“Okay!” He bounced up and down eagerly, reminding me of the Roman children who used to cheer for executions at the Colosseum. “Here’s the deal. Each team has to find three golden apples, then get back to this meadow alive.”

Grumbling broke out among the demigods.

“Golden apples,” I said. “I hate golden apples. They bring nothing but trouble.”

Meg shrugged. “I like apples.”

I remembered the rotten one she’d used to break Cade’s nose in the alley. I wondered if perhaps she could use golden apples with the same deadly skill. Perhaps we stood a chance after all.

Laurel Victor raised her hand. “You mean the first team back wins?”

“Any team that gets back alive wins!” Harley said.

“That’s ridiculous!” Holly said. “There can only be one winner. First team back wins!”

Harley shrugged. “Have it your way. My only rules are stay alive, and don’t kill each other.”

“O quê?” Paolo started complaining so loudly in Portuguese that Connor had to cover his left ear.

“Now, now!” Chiron called. His saddlebags were overflowing with extra first-aid kits and emergency flares. “We won’t need any help making this a dangerous challenge. Let’s have a good clean three-legged death race. And another thing, campers, given the problems our test group had this morning, please repeat after me: Do not end up in Peru.”

“Do not end up in Peru,” everyone chanted.

Sherman Yang cracked his knuckles. “So where is the starting line?”

“There is no starting line,” Harley said with glee. “You’re all starting from right where you are.”

The campers looked around in confusion. Suddenly the meadow shook. Dark lines etched across the grass, forming a giant green checkerboard.

“Have fun!” Harley squealed.

The ground opened beneath our feet, and we fell into the Labyrinth.

Bowling balls of death

Rolling toward my enemies

I’ll trade you problems

AT LEAST WE DID NOT LAND IN PERU.

My feet hit stone, jarring my ankles. We stumbled against a wall, but Meg provided me with a convenient cushion.

We found ourselves in a dark tunnel braced with oaken beams. The hole we’d fallen through was gone, replaced by an earthen ceiling. I saw no sign of the other teams, but from somewhere above I could vaguely hear Harley chanting, “Go! Go! Go!”

“When I get my powers back,” I said, “I will turn Harley into a constellation called the Ankle Biter. At least constellations are silent.”

Meg pointed down the corridor. “Look.”

As my eyes adjusted, I realized the tunnel’s dim light emanated from a glowing piece of fruit about thirty meters away.

“A golden apple,” I said.

Meg lurched forward, pulling me with her.

“Wait!” I said. “There might be traps!”

As if to illustrate my point, Connor and Paolo emerged from the darkness at the other end of the corridor. Paolo scooped up the golden apple and shouted, “BRASIL!”

Connor grinned at us. “Too slow, suckers!”

The ceiling opened above them, showering them with iron orbs the size of cantaloupes.

Connor yelped, “Run!”

He and Paolo executed an awkward one-eighty and hobbled away, hotly pursued by a rolling herd of cannonballs with sparking fuses.

The sounds quickly faded. Without the glowing apple, we were left in total darkness.

“Great.” Meg’s voice echoed. “Now what?”

“I suggest we go the other direction.”

That was easier said than done. Being blind seemed to bother Meg more than it did me. Thanks to my mortal body, I already felt crippled and deprived of my senses. Besides, I often relied on more than sight. Music required keen hearing. Archery required a sensitive touch and the ability to feel the direction of the wind. (Okay, sight was also helpful, but you get the idea.) We shuffled ahead, our arms extended in front of us. I listened for suspicious clicks, snaps, or creaks that might indicate an incoming flock of explosions, but I suspected that if I did hear any warning signs, it would be too late.

Eventually Meg and I learned to walk with our bound legs in synchronicity. It wasn’t easy. I had a flawless sense of rhythm. Meg was always a quarter beat slow or fast, which kept us veering left or right and running into walls.