Chapter 15
I don’t question my minotaur-instincts.
They are directing me through the confined ceiling and wall spaces.
The journey is slow, and agonizing. My body is ill-suited for these narrow passages, even when it’s not beaten and broken.
But I continue on.
I travel until I reach an intersection of vents.
Voices below me.
I freeze.
Conversation filters through the ducts.
“The Grand Magus is not pleased," a woman says, her tone sharp. “How the fuck both a broken child and a huge man can escape is beyond me. Your incompetence is staggering.”
“Yes, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am. But I have my best men on the hunt.”
“You’d better hope they’re successful. That girl has already been sold on to an interested party,” the woman continues. “He’ll want restitution if the deal falls through. I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes when the accounts are called. Maybe you have a son or daughter who can take their place?”
The man splutters. “Please, ma’am. We’ll find her.”
“You’d better. Regan Grieves is not a man to disappoint.”
Regan Grieves.
Why is the name familiar?
Why does the scent of myrtle snake through my senses at the sound of that name?
The minotaur inside me shifts. I feel his rage.
It matches my own.
"I take it you have men searching the cell airducts?” the woman continues.
“Yes, of course. I’ve half a dozen crawling around in these ceilings.”
I am aware of the guards' attempts to track me.
More footsteps approach.
“What are you doing here?” the woman asks.
“Trying to sort out your mess,” a familiar, cold, cut-glass voice replies. “You, guard. Leave this section to me.”
“But sir, this is restricted personnel only,” the guard replies.
“I assure you, I am on the highest ranking list for every area of this place, now get to work.”
“Yes, sir.”
There’s a pause.
“You can leave as well, Janine.”
“You’re as arrogant as your father.”
“Watch your tone,” the dragon snaps.
There is a huff of breath, then the sound of high-heeled footsteps retreating.
“Where the fuck are you, Ludo?” the dragon mutters to himself.
Is he here to help?
Can I trust him?
Trust.
Really?
Trust.
I will not doubt my minotaur. Lifting an elbow, I strike down on a vent cover in the ceiling. A gasp sounds from below as it swings loose.
I angle my head to peer through the hole and see the devil Drakeward looking up at me.
He regains his composure quickly. “Nice of you to drop in.”
I can’t squeeze my body through the small opening, so I just hold there, staring at him.
“This is a total shit-show,” he says. “How the fuck do we get you out of here?”
That is not my major concern.
What I need to know is that my nymph is safe.
And the child.
But the words that came before, cannot exit my throat now. Not for him.
Even so, I try. “G-g-g…” I choke. I cough.
He angles his head to one side, looking at me quizzically. “You’re very chatty all of a sudden.”
Bastard. “G-g-r-r…”
“The girl?”
Yes. I nod. Difficult in this position.
“I found her above ground. We got her out. Feniks and Theodora have her safe.”
My body relaxes slightly. Then all is well.
Drakeward flexes his fingers, studying the back of his hand for a moment, then returns his attention to me. “Can you access your minotaur?” he asks.
Shake of head.
“My dragon is also in fucking hiding, so we’ll have to jailbreak you old-school.” He looks back along the corridor. “Wait there.”
The next second the dragon is outside my range of vision.
I hear a whistle.
Feet come running. “Yes, sir?”
“Here, I need assistance.”
More movement noises, then a hard thud.
Drakeward is back in my line of sight, and he’s dragging an unconscious body. A guard dressed in black.
“OK, big guy. Get your ass down here and get changed.”
Oh. I am to disguise myself as a guard.
That is a good plan.
Pulling myself forward with my arms, I smash a fist through the ceiling. My vision swims as a broken rib snags on a joist.
Pay it no mind.
The dragon reaches up and helps pull the sheetrock away until there is a space big enough for me to squeeze through.
Unfortunately, it has to be headfirst.
I let go.
The dragon breaks my fall and I land hard, a heavy collapsed heap on his torso.
“Fuck me, you must weigh a metric ton,” he groans, pushing me off, then staggering to his feet. “Hurry up and dress, then we need to hide the body.”
Body.
Ah, yes. The guard who is no longer breathing. I look down at his neck. It is at an angle that nature never intended. I knew the dragon was strong.
I strip the black tactical gear from the cooling corpse.
“Take your time, janitor. No rush or anything,” Drakeward grumbles.
My breath hitches as I slide my arms into the jacket. The uniform is designed for an average man, not a giant with broken ribs. The boots are several sizes too small, so my own workboots will have to suffice.
Finally, I’m completely clothed and pull the heavy, matte-black visor over my face.
“You look like an overgrown EMD kid,” the dragon mutters.
I don’t understand his words but it is of no consequence. Most of what he says isn’t worth paying any mind to.
Together we haul the dead guard into a recessed maintenance alcove.
The dragon leans back against the wall. I watch his eyes flit as thoughts crowd his busy head. “Might be a good idea to muddy the waters,” he says.
I wait.
This world is his, not mine. He understands it in a way I would never want to.
“Anything flammable in there?” he asks, indicating his head to the closet.
I look around.
Stacks of cleaning chemicals are placed against the furthest wall. Now, this is my wheelhouse.
Hmm, adhesive remover. It contains toluene.
Really foolish to store it alongside the pile of cleaning rags.
Rags that look like they’ve been used to mop up oil spills.
I look up and nod at the dragon. His eyes flicker with something that almost looks like excitement. “Then let’s get to work.”
I tilt my head. He follows my gaze as I stare at the ceiling.
At the fire alarm.
At the sprinkler system.
“Yeah, I guess we don’t want to burn the whole place down, yet,” he sighs. “We don’t know how many innocent people are in here, so a moderately controlled blaze will have to be done.”
He steps forward, snaps his fingers and a jet of golden flames appear.
That was unexpected.
And now the closet is a wall of flame.
He goes to the door, checking the hallway again.
“This will work as long as you keep your mouth shut, so I guess no problem there. Just walk a few feet behind me. If anyone looks at you, grunt and point your weapon.” The dragon’s voice has shifted back into that cold, bored drawl.
“Most of these idiots are too terrified of my father to ask questions.”
After three steps, the fire alarms start blaring.
Sprinklers come to life.
Water runs down the visor of my tactical mask, making it hard to see.
The dragon and I stand to one side as a squad of guards, hauling fire extinguishers, come hurtling down the corridor.
“Get a move on,” Drakeward shouts after them. He takes two more turns then we arrive at the elevators. Several people are gathered there, anxiously pressing the call button.
They snap to attention when they notice who’s joined them.
A tall woman clutches a phone, listening intently. “Fine. Will do,” she says, then turns to the dragon. “This shaft is locked down, we are to proceed to the freight elevator.”
“Lead the way,” Drakeward tells her, his voice completely steady despite the chaos.
The stink of chemical fire is filling the hallways, but lessens as we journey deeper into the facility.
“Here,” the woman says, swiping a card. The small group quickly huddles into the cage, and a collective sigh of relief sounds as the lift begins to rise.
With each second we rise, I feel the pressure of the dark magic begin to thin.
My minotaur breathes easier.
The elevator shudders to a halt. I pull open the doors.
Building site floodlights stun my eyes for a moment, then my sight equalizes.
We’re outside.
—Nymph?—