Chapter 9
Imprisoned—locked in. Locked up.
The knowledge I’m caged enrages me.
When I was too small to fight it happened, but that I should be in the same position now?
No.
At least I am not chained as well.
The fact I am below ground level soothes me slightly.
Rabbits have burrows.
Badgers have setts.
Foxes have dens.
And Minotaurs have labyrinths.
What do foul and evil witches have?
Secret bunkers below the building site.
A low-frequency magic hums around the walls
Whatever spell is embedded into the infrastructure is enough to drain both my unreliable spark and the little Lumina sparkles inside of me.
This makes me very unhappy. Those lilac lights are a gift from my nymph.
Their loss tears at me.
But not as much as the loss of her voice in my head. It’s as though the very essence of her has been torn from my life; a pain far worse than the broken ribs and cracked skull I received from the Conclave guards.
—Nymph?—
I reach out yet again, my mind a bruised and battered thing, but there is only silence.
—Nymph?—
In my imagination I hear her voice, but I don’t think it’s really there.
Just an echo.
Suddenly, there’s a sound in the corridor outside my cell. The first since I awoke.
I get to my feet and move to the small window that’s set into the reinforced door.
Two guards are dragging a limp figure between them.
It is a child.
A girl.
She is perhaps seven years old. Her hair matted and the hospital gown draped over her small body is torn and gaping open.
The child has skin that is translucent, a sickly white.
There is the buzz of a swipe card, and then the door opposite mine is opened. I hear the thud of a small body hitting concrete. The girl doesn't even groan when she hits the floor.
Beep, buzz, and she’s locked inside.
Shut away from my view.
But I still see the guards.
I drill their images into my memory, that way I’ll never forget who I need to kill.
“And another one bites the dust,” the older guard grunts.
The second man is younger, slight. "What’s happening to the boy?” he asks. “That Conclave man took him off.”
The gray-haired guard laughs. “Fuck me, Carl. You’re not that wet behind the ears are you?”
I can see the younger guard’s face. It twists in disgust. “Doesn’t seem right,” he mumbles. “I mean, I get it that the kids need to be used as conduits, but all the shit after…”
His statement raises a wicked laugh from the older guard, making my fists curl. “Carl, Carl, Carl. Best if you don’t think about it too much,” he chuckles. “No room for a weak stomach in this job, Rookie.”
Carl peers through the girl’s window. “Fuck you, Bolton.”
Bolton. I note the name.
They move out of my line of vision. “You really don’t feel bad at all?” the young guard asks.
“Shit no. You can’t think of them as kids, they’re currency. That little girl will turn into thousands of profit when she’s picked up tonight. Helps pad your paycheck, Carl, so stop complaining,” Bolton mutters. I see him glance at his watch. “Fuck, we need to move. Perimeter duty in five.”
A heavy door clangs shut as their words echo into the marrow of my bones.
I have to get the child out of here before the buyer comes.
Before she is sold into hell.
I’ll die before I let that happen.
Die.
Yes, I would be filled with sorrow to leave my nymph with one less protector, but she would understand my choice.
And, I’m certain, agree.
Save the child.
But how?
The concussion I sustained is finally wearing off, so now I must think.
Minotaur? Are you there?
He shifts uncomfortably, needing the nymph, her essence, to exist beyond the confines of my skin.
So for now, my options are limited to my own personal skill set.
And what skills are those?
Ludo the Janitor washes walls and unclogs pipes.
Replaces fuses and changes light bulbs.
Walls.
Pipes.
Fuses.
Light bulb.
Walls.
Pipes.
Fuses.
Light bulb.
Think, Ludo, think.