Page 20 of Minding the Minotaur (Monsters of the Labyrinth #1)

“I’m sorry to hear that. He must really appreciate you being close by.” I send him a sympathetic look, then turn to the lion shifter. “And you, Kazmo?”

“Mechanical engineer. Mostly I maintain equipment on the lower levels.”

“And what about you, Silas?”

“Archaeologist,” Silas supplies quietly.

“Wow,” I say. “You’re both very talented.”

“Silas digs up old shit dating from before the apocalypse. And then I guard all the old shit in the Vault,” Brody scoffs.

The conversation stops briefly as our food arrives, and we tuck in. The tantarillo pickle has a delicious zesty lemony taste with a touch of heat. Nothing like the grappa, thank heavens.

I swallow a mouthful and return to the conversation. “So apart from the portal cape, what else is kept in the Vault?”

“Old useless shit.” Brody smirks sideways at Silas.

“Valuable artefacts,” Silas says stiffly.

Brody shrugs. “Egh, who knows.”

“It will prove its worth some day,” Silas counters.

Brody licks sauce off his fingers. “Silas here thinks there are things in the Vault the humans would love to get their hands on. Like the cape. He reckons it works through runes sewn into the lining.”

I frown. “Runes?”

“Yeah, spells that imbue the cape with supernatural powers,” Silas explains. “But we can’t be certain, because our knowledge of magic is almost non-existent nowadays.”

I lean forward, eager to hear more. “You have magic here?”

“ Had. Once.” Silas corrects. “After the apocalypse, Earth was a melting pot. Mages, sorcerers, and witches co-existed with monsters. From the few texts we have from that era, it’s clear we were on good terms with magical beings.

Their lores and spells helped monsters to prosper after the apocalypse. ”

“And the humans didn’t have access to magic?” I ask.

“Not initially. There were very few humans left, and those who survived lived in small villages, eking out a meager existence. Many were dying from the pollutants they’d spread by their own hands, and procreation was not easy.

Monsters on the other hand, were thriving, totally immune to the toxicity.

We took pity on the humans, helped them build the first domes, and the mages and witches advised them on how to cleanse the air.

For a while we all co-existed, even traded freely.

But then, it’s believed a few mages crossed over. ”

“Malefics,” mutters Kazmo darkly.

I glance at the four guys, who all suddenly look tight-lipped.

“Malefics?”

Silas nods. “It only takes one or two with evil intent to cause immeasurable harm. Perhaps a mage fell in love with a human, or a witch wanted to get back at one of her own by defecting. We don’t know the true story, because humans destroyed a lot of our books after the rebellion.

We do know that dark alchemy was acquired by humans and used to confine monsters to the Labyrinth.

At the same time, they went on a witch hunt, seeking out and killing our white witches and sorcerers, so nowadays only weak links to magic remain in those who managed to mate with other species. ”

“You mean like Tippy?” I ask, remembering her introducing herself as a wixen. “She’s got witch in her ancestry, hasn’t she? Can she still practice magic?”

“If you call her green smoothies magic.” Arlo grimaces.

I rub my tight forehead. “But why would humans do that? After you helped us to survive.”

“Power, greed, envy,” Silas replies. “Monsters may not have magical powers, but we have strength and stamina. We can craft things and build things and dig out precious metals from the earth. And we can breed strong, healthy younglings—something you humans find hard to do.” For the first time, Silas laughs, but it’s humorless.

“Maybe the authorities were scared we’d overrun them, and mate with their women. ”

I fall silent, heat creeping up my neck along with a strange feeling of unease. Finally, I ask in a hoarse whisper, “Could there still be malefics?” No-one answers. “I mean—could they still be interacting with humans?”

Silas shrugs. “Possibly. It doesn’t make sense that the dome authorities can keep us confined without evil at their disposal.”

“We signed the Covenant, we agreed to being confined below ground,” Arlo says glumly. I hate to see my guy looking so dejected, his big shoulders sagging.

“Yes, we did,” Silas replies. “But I’d hazard there’s more than the Covenant holding us here.

How do you explain the hundreds of portals that operate between our worlds?

Portals that work in their favor. A one-way street.

While all we have is the cape, and none of us even know how it really works. Maybe if we could decipher the runes…”

“Werewolves reckon they can,” Kazmo scoffs.

Silas thins his lips. “They’re bluffing. Any excuse to come up to level one and start a fight.”

The guys all nod. I hope I don’t ever come face to face with a werewolf.

“I guess it’s easy for us to blame woo-woo stuff,” Kazmo sighs. “But maybe we’re all just too pathetic to fight back these days.”

“Maybe,” Silas says.

Arlo lets out an expletive. “Guys, c’mon, go easy on the heavy shit. This is Sammy’s first time out and about, I don’t want her to get Labyrinth overwhelm.”

Brody and Kazmo mutter apologies. Silas just blinks, but before I can open my mouth to say I want to hear more, they change the subject to who’s the best poker player, and they all get very animated, even Silas.

Meanwhile, I fall silent. All this talk of dark magic and malefics has got my mind churning.

Sparkle City seems so far away, but the distance makes everything clearer somehow.

The constant consuming and partying that keeps us all from looking deeper and asking questions about the past. The grim streets of the Periphery, and all those workers who toil away behind the swirling mists of the Crossroads.

The masked soldiers with guns trained at hundreds of portals.

And the faceless, nameless dome authorities who oversee it all.

An icy shiver runs down my spine.

I’m beginning to realize that Sparkle’s secrets are far worse than I had ever imagined.

I don’t want to dwell on it, I really don’t… not when for the first time in my life, I’m truly happy.

Luckily, I don’t have to, because a cry of indignation blasts across the room.

“Arlo Ungula, what the hell are you eating?”

Tippy strides toward us, ears flicking angrily, tawny eyes blazing.

“Fuck. Here come the food police,” Arlo mutters as he drops a piece of crispy chicken back onto his plate.