Page 13 of Minding the Minotaur
I brace for a smack on the snout. I almost got myself out of this mess, but then I had to make sure I had the last word. I’ve always been like that. Never known when to shut my mouth and give up the fight.
Which is maybe why I won’t give up on my human.
It’s crazy, but I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want to see her again.
Luckily, Otis seems to think better of smacking me in the nostrils and backs off. I can see him reining in his temper as he grits out through tight lips, “Well, I guess there’s one way to find out.”
He strides over to his chair, picks up the cape and flicks it inside out, so that the iridescent rainbow lining is on show. He unzips a pocket I had no idea existed, wiggles in a finger and hooks out a tiny scrap of shiny metal.
“What’s that?” I can’t help craning my neck closer.
Otis pincers it between finger and thumb and holds it up with a superior smile. “A chip,” he says.
To me, chips are crispy fried pieces of potato. This is not a chip. I don’t argue though. I watch intently as he unlocks a drawer and brings out what appears to be a large flat book, bound in a shiny silver cover. He flicks it open, and I realize there’s a keyboard on the inside. It’s kind of like a typewriter, but not. I scratch a horn as I stare at it.
“What’s that thing then?”
“A com-pu-ter.” Otis enunciates the word in a way that makes me feel like a dumb ass. “More precisely, a laptop.”
“Where’d you get it from?”
“The Vault. Let’s see if it works, shall we?”
He puts the tiny chip thing into the side and presses a key on the front. The screen springs to life with words and numbers.
I gasp. It reminds me of a television screen. Like the one I purchased for a vast amount of coin and use to watch pirated human movies on in my snug.
I go and peer over Otis’s shoulder.
Monster code: 4579.Shit. That’s me. That’s my code. It’s tattooed on the inside of my bicep, but I had no idea that it could be… spat out on a tiny little screen. Then a photo appears; it’s the same one as on my ID. A mug shot, head up, horns visible, the nose ring gleaming between my nostrils.
Another line of information comes up so fast I blink.
Illegal migrations. With dates and times next to them.
And places.
My jaw drops as I see the address of the diner on Opal Boulevard last month on a Wednesday at 7 pm, Belle’s beautyparlor at Emerald Plaza , the freakin’ pharmacy on Pearl Street. And finally, the parking lot below DeVines this afternoon at 2.30 pm.
Holy cow.
Otis slams shut the device. “Only one trip, eh? Just to the Periphery, you say.”
I scuff my hooves on the stone floor and avoid his glare.
When he speaks, his tone is low and calm, which frankly, is more of a worry than his ranting.
“Are you fucking insane, Arlo?” he says softly. “Or just plain dumb?”
That irks me. I may not have gone to university like Otis, but I’m streetwise. I’ve found ways to make more money than most monsters ever have, enough to give me hopes and dreams…
I jut my jaw. “I wanted to see who we’re all busting our asses for. That’s all.”
Truth is, it was more than curiosity. When you shoot your precious cum into a bottle once a week, which then gets turned into fertility treatments for humans, a species that lord it over monsters yet need a special enzyme from minotaur cum to help them procreate—well, you get to thinking these humans are not as powerful as they make out. And if that’s the case, then… the daydreams of roaming through great swathes of green grass under a radiant sun, of hearing birds sing, the buzz of bees and insects… of picnicking on a blanket with a golden-haired girl with eyes the color I imagine a summer sky to be… Maybe these dreams are attainable for our kind after all…
This is what goes through my mind, but I don’t say it out loud.
“That’sall.” Otis derides. “That’sAll.Have you had a knock to that thick skull of yours that’s addled your brain? Have you forgotten the words of the Covenant?”
