Page 27 of Of Monsters and Mazes

I slid to a stop, but the ground had already refrozen between us.

“Fuck you, Aegaeon!” I pounded my fist into the surface, until the freshly frozen ice started to splinter again.

I should have realized if we stayed still too long, Aegaeon would come for her. No, I specifically knew that, but she was so damn distracting, it was like I’d blanked the real danger of this section. It had been ages since anyone had dilly dallied long enough in the Blue Sector for the hell-forsaken Centimane to show up.

“She’s mine, you bastard.” I growled. Though even if he was capable of hearing me, I knew he wouldn’t care. Give a man a hundred hands, and it’s amazing how quickly he becomes entitled to take, take, take.

I continued to beat on the ice, slamming down my fist harder and harder, until the ground started to break under the force of my blows. My bones hurt and my knuckles cracked from the ricocheting force of repeated punches. I couldn’t see her anymore in the darkness, but I knew exactly where they were going.

Wait.

What the hell am I doing?

My whole mission was to make sure she didn’t make it through the maze in time, so Jericho would win his stupid game and either get another human piñata to murder on Pasiphae’s grave or another sex slave for his bedroom… also to upset Pasiphae. The man was obsessed with the old queen, so it’s not like he cared for Butterfly in particular. If she died here, he’d just get another tribute next year. Then another and another and another.

I idly touched my fingers to my cheek, tracing the deep scars that marred my face with a permanent grin, and it was several seconds before I realized I’d been doing so. I blinked at my own image looking back at me in the reflective surface of the ice.

Every time I saw my face in a mirror, I was reminded of the day Jericho had pinned me down and cut open my mouth from cheek to cheek, because he couldn’t accept the word no. It had taken four millennia before I’d stopped hiding from my own face. If I saved her and kept her caged for long enough to run out the clock, would he do this to her next?

I shook my head to dismiss the thought.

It would be a mercy if I let her drown and freeze. I would be doing her a favor and sparing myself the agony of dealing with the Centimane in the process. There was no reason I needed to risk my neck for the likes of another disposable tribute. No reason at all. Jericho can go grab another human, Aegaeon will be fed and happy for another five minutes, and I can get back to creating nightmares instead of babysitting some snarky brat.

Everyone wins.

And yet…

My fist broke clean through the ice barrier, then I gripped the edge of the sharp, jagged edge and wrenched the sheet upwards. With my broken hand and shredded knuckles, I painted the ice red, and spattered droplets on the walls.

My bones would heal in an hour or two. I didn’t have time to fret on a little pain.

Fuck it. I’d save her and do as I was told. Maybe I’d even help her make a fool of our arrogant king this time around. Jericho could use a little adversity in his life to build character. He sure as Hell hasn’t been growing up and maturing on his own.

“You fucking owe me for this, Jericho.” I snarled, knowing he could hear me. He was always watching and always listening in this place, and I was much more loyal than he deserved.

I didn’t waste another second thinking on him before I plunged into the water.

Chapter 12

The ice shattered beneath me faster than I could register what was happening, and a vice grip clamped down on my ankle. I nearly blacked out from the shock of the frigid water engulfing my body, but I still managed to claw at the ice for leverage, scraping my numb fingertips on the surface in hopes of stopping my descent. I hadn’t even managed to shave frost beneath my fingernails before my head was underwater, and I was flailing like a ragdoll in open blue. I watched in terror as ice froze between me and Theron, the surface became distant and out of reach, and this unknown monster plunged me towards certain death.

Panic was the only emotion left. I was alone, frozen, drowning, and in the grasp of a new evil I had no power to fight against.

Theron wouldn’t save me. Why would he? He didn’t care. There was no vested reason for him to risk himself for some girl he barely knew. Especially not one who was nothing but snippy with him, and was trying to get through the Labyrinth to take on the king of his world. I’d been ungrateful for the help he’d already given me, and my death would surely be a relief.

I was only a burden to him. I hadn’t proven my worth. I didn’t deserve his respect, and I certainly didn’t deserve his sacrifice.

I looked down at the darkest depths, only to see two, three, six, seven—ten hands now dragging me downwards, gripping me up and down my bare legs. My skirt plumed upwards from the downward force, and I felt rather silly when my first instinct before my imminent death was to shove my skirt back down to hide my underwear. Lord have mercy if the army of thumb nails were to see my lacy hip huggers.

The deeper we dived, the darker the shade of water. I couldn’t discern what all these hands were attached to in the hazy visibility. Maybe they weren’t attached to anything. That seemed within the realm of possibilities in a place like this.

Three more grabbed me, now adding restraints all the way up to my waist. They held my skirt down for me, like the considerate kidnappers they were. I might have been disgusted by the feel of their fingers all over my skin, but if not for the little visual I had, I wouldn’t even know they were touching me. I was so absolutely numb from the cold at this point, and once again, I felt like I was losing my senses.

I survived that once, but I didn’t know how. I wondered if Theron had saved me in the forest. I woke up on his table after all. Nightmare or not, he was the face I saw when I came to—not the putrid worms or Jericho. As much as I complained, the Dream Weaver hadn’t actually been the worst companion thus far. He was growing on me. That was probably the trauma, distress, and hope talking—like thinking these sweet nothings might work as a prayer to entice him to rush to my aid—but realistically, I had no reason to think he was a decent person outside the hints he offered and the little mercies he showed me. He probably just stuck around in hopes of getting another chance to emotionally torment me in my dreams. That actually seemed like a likely conclusion. Much more likely than the idea that he cared.

That wasn’t really fair to say. If I got out of this mess, maybe I’d be a little more trusting of the people who weren’t blatantly hurting me. At least of the ones who held my hand to keep me warm.

I swallowed the sob in my throat, and it settled among the squeeze of sadness and dismay constricting in my chest. I couldn’t afford to give up the little air I’d managed to sneak into my lungs before I went under. I needed that as long as I could hold onto it.