Page 12 of Minding the Minotaur
With a groan, I slide onto the floor, limbs splayed out like a newborn calf.
My collapse doesn’t stop his tirade. “Tell me how you got hold of this?”
He bends over me, grabbing me by the scruff around my neck. He’s so close I can see the vein on his forehead pulse, feel the heat of his breath on my skin. His temper doesn’t flare often, but when it does, beware. And even though he’s only four years older than me, Otis can be an authoritarian prick at times. Guess I don’t really blame him. After all, the guy doesn’t even want to be in this role. He inherited the job of sheriff when his dad got killed in a wolf pack skirmish on level three.
Truth is, Otis is an inventor, a scientist. He’d rather be quietly dreaming up prototypes for weird machines than leading a motley crew of monsters. He’s shut down his brilliant brain and devoted himself to doing his duty these past few years.
I guess he’d prefer it if his duty didn’t include dealing with difficult pricks like me.
But right now, I don’t have time to empathize with Otis. My head is pounding, and his bellowing is doing nothing to help me regain my equilibrium.
“You’ve got ten seconds before I throw you in the equalizer.”
I stiffen. The equalizer really messes with you. It’s a sharp, short punishment, a way to teach transgressing monsters a lesson. Being churned inside that tub sure curdles your blood for a couple of days. The after-effects of portal travel are a walk in the park compared to the equalizer.
Even so, I won’t drop my best mate in it. I remain mute.
“It was Brody, wasn’t it?” Otis guesses.
I open my mouth, but nothing but a strangled gargle comes out. I don’t seem to have the air in my lungs right now to argue the point. My silence will drop Brody in the shit, buttruth is, there’s really nowhere to go with this. I’ve been caught red hooved, and Otis knows someone had to have given me the cape. It’s kept in the Vault, under lock and key. Where bear-shifter Brody just happens to work as security. Not exactly rocket science to figure it out.
Otis mutters, “How much did you pay him?”
I stay silent. We both know how much Brody’s family need money.
Otis reads the silence again. “You stupid fucking idiot. Too much coin and no common sense,” he huffs. “So, where’d you go?”
“Only got as far as the Periphery,” I lie.
Otis appraises me shrewdly. “Is this the first time?”
I nod, keeping my expression blank. He drapes the cape carefully over the back of his office chair, where it winks and sparkles, as if taunting me.
I stare at it balefully, wondering how I will be able to use it again after this. Brody will be in trouble too now, and Brody was easily my best contact in the Vault.
A coil of longing hits my gut as I remember the girl, her hair, her smile. Her tits. Her ass.
I have to get back there. Soon. I have to find her again.
Sudden energy surges back into my body. I bunch up onto my haunches and power up through my thighs. I’m eye to eye with Otis now, and that gives me more confidence. I fold my arms across my pecs and brace my legs in a power stance.
Try to outglare him. Or at the very least, not to let my eyes waver from his fire-red orbs.
Orcs in a rage, I tell you, are fucking scary, even for us minotaurs.
I resist the urge to bow my head. Otis and I grew up together, and our parents were close friends, so our families hung out a fair bit. While he was at university working on weird equations and mucking around with bits of old junk in his spare time, I was trying out new karate kicks and lockinghorns with other younglings. Even though Otis and I have little in common, we hung out often enough. We went on family picnics to One Moonbeam Lake most weekends. Otis would come clambering up on the rocks to stare at the stars through the crevice. It was the only time I recall him looking truly happy.
So no, the fucker is not going to intimidate me.
I decide to try a different approach. “C’mon Otis, it was only the once. And it was really underwhelming.” I push away an image of those big baby blues blinking up at me. My heart clenches. “Punish me. But don’t punish Brody. He’s just trying to look after his family since his dad’s accident. You know that.”
Otis curses softly. His expression softens momentarily, a rare glimpse of the big heart that lies under all that green muscle. But then he turns his wrath back on me, digging a meaty green digit into the center of my chest.
“You know your problem?” Prod. “Since your sperm got picked for that human fertility drug, you’ve had tickets on yourself.” Another prod. “Just remember, you’re doing nothing but squirting into a test tube. No skill required.”
“It’s a pint bottle,” I sneer back. “And it overflows.”
Otis turns a darker shade of green. He curls his fingers into a fist, his huge shoulders menacing, biceps bunched.
