Great Hexpectations, A Paranormal Romance / Urban Fantasy

by H. P. Mallory

  The Minotaur janitor stood at eight feet tall or thereabouts and its fur was a dark brown, starting at its navel (it wasn’t wearing a shirt) and disappearing under its pants. Its cloven hooves peeked out from beneath its rolled up pants and clanked against the asphalt as it busied itself with cleaning duties.

  I needed to avoid the Minotaur at all costs. Since it was known for its violent temper, it only stood to get more violent when it came to sex. Given the fact that I was like a walking aphrodisiac, that wasn’t a situation I wanted any part of. I already had to defend myself against the advances of the freaking Cyclops. I really didn’t want to add bull-man to my list of conquests.

  Holy Hades, the sooner I could get out of this damn place, the better.

  It appeared I was going to be given the chance to enter the building in a matter of minutes because the Minotaur was in the process of tying four bags of trash closed and once he finished that little task, he lifted the bags—all of which were easily the size of me—and headed for the trash bins which were all the way across the parking lot.

  Now he was actually singing the words to “Hound Dog” and when I looked closer, I noticed ear phones covering his ears, the cord of which was attached to a Walkman in the waist of his jeans. He wouldn’t be able to hear me when I bee-lined for the open door… Perfect, wonderful, praise Hades!

  Once the Minotaur was halfway to the trash bins with his back was towards me, I made my move and sprinted the thirty feet separating me from the doorway. Once through the door, I noticed a staircase leading upstairs. I happened to also notice the Minotaur’s shirt hanging over the side of the railing, complete with a logo proclaiming the name of the janitorial company for which he worked. It was a bright green and screamed “uniform!” which was perfect for my needs. I grabbed it and took the stairs two at a time as I unzipped my jacket and reached inside my holster for the Op 7. I pulled the gun out and checked it, relishing the fact that I was armed and ready to take on whomever. I reached the top of the stairs and found myself in front of a door.

  But I was expecting to reach a door because I’d studied Gabe’s map and planned for everything that had happened so far…well, with the exception of the janitor’s shirt—that had just been pure luck. Once through the door at the top of the stairs, I’d make a right turn and at the end of the corridor, I’d be greeted by a restroom. I’d have to get into that restroom and put the janitor’s shirt on before planning my next course of action.

  I glanced through the two foot square window at the top of the door, checking both sides of the hallway for any traffic. Finding the hallway clear, I pushed the door ajar and squeezed through the small opening, being careful not to let the door slam behind me. Then, with my gun in low ready, I turned right and sidled down the wall as I approached the bathroom.

  Not meeting with any resistance, I opened the door to the restroom, immediately dropping down on my knees to ascertain if anyone was in any of the four stalls. I encountered no one. I immediately ran to the furthest stall, locking it behind me and climbed up on the toilet. I threw off my sweatshirt and replaced it with the Minotaur’s shirt. It covered my wings effortlessly since it was so much larger than I and even though it, too, looked like a dress, I decided it was less suspicious to be dressed like a cleaning woman than a thug in a hooded, black sweatshirt.

  And as to the Minotaur discovering his shirt was gone? I just had to take my chances. Minotaurs weren’t known for being especially intelligent and I figured I’d just have to play my lucky card on that one, hoping that this Minotaur was especially dumb or, at the very least, forgetful.

  Once I was dressed, I slid the Op 7 into the waistline of my pants, with my thoughts on Knight. Whenever we’d worked together in the past, Knight always put his gun in the line of his pants. We joked that one day, if he kept up that habit, he might end up a eunuch. I felt a smile tug at my lips as the memory swallowed my concentration.

  I’m going to get you out of this shithole, Knight, I promised him and myself… again.

  I pulled out the folded map from my pocket and glanced at the black lines that detailed the second floor of the building. There was a staircase on my right that should take me to the third floor where I planned to take another break in the men’s restroom located at the top of the stairs, in exactly the same position as this restroom.

  Easy peasy.

  I folded the paper again and shoved it back into my pocket, taking a deep breath as I stepped down from my perch on the toilet seat. Before opening the door, I bent down to ensure no one else had entered the restroom. Granted, I hadn’t heard anything, but you can never be too sure.

  Finding the coast clear, I opened the stall door and gasped when I saw my reflection in the mirror, my brain immediately reacting as if it were someone else. Calming my frantic heart down, I started for the door and opened it just a crack, glancing out to make sure the hallway was clear. There was no sign of anyone.

  I opened the door and stepped out, immediately turning to my left where the green glowing “Exit” sign pointed to a staircase that was just beyond yet another door. Glancing around myself again to make sure I was alone, I started for the door, pulled it open and disappeared behind it.

  Once in the stairwell, I paused to listen for voices or footsteps and then started up the cement steps, silently thankful that most people are lazy and wouldn’t be caught dead taking the stairs if the elevators were available. That and it was nighttime so most employees were already at home with their families.

  I took the steps, two at a time and paused just before the door once I reached the top. This one, too, had a two by two window so I glanced through it, scanning both sides of the hallway. This was the third floor, the one where I’d find the head of the Netherworld so I had to be more careful. For all I knew, he might be wandering the hallway, on the way to the break room for coffee or maybe to the restroom.

  But checking the hallway now, it looked empty so I opened the door and stepped into the corridor. I started for the men’s restroom to my left and went around the corner. I hugged the wall as I did so, pulling the Op 7 from my waistline and into in a low ready stance as I reached the bathroom door. Pushing it open with my foot and drawing the gun, I pivoted on my toes until I faced the empty bathroom.

  Bending down, I made sure the stalls were empty and, finding them clear, I started for the stall at the very end. Stepping inside of it and locking it behind me, I stood on the toilet again as I fished for the map in my pocket. Unfolding it, I followed the highlighter pen that Gabe used to show me exactly where the head honcho’s office was, in proximity to the restroom. It was buttressed by two smaller offices on either side. And it was one of those smaller offices that I was targeting. Figuring I couldn’t just walk in on him, with security cameras all over the place, I came up with another idea.

  Eyeing the ceiling, I immediately noted the air vent that that led to all the vents on the third floor. Perfect! This would be the easiest way to get into one of the adjacent offices.

  The ceiling vent was located above a stall in the center of the restroom which was good because it meant I could hide behind the stall door and stand on top of the toilet. But that wasn’t going to be enough to allow me to reach the ceiling.

  “Dammit,” I whispered to myself as I put the Op 7 back into the waistline of my pants, stepping down from the toilet. I leaned over and searched the perimeter of the bathroom to make sure no one had entered. No one had. I opened the stall door and searched for something I could use as a step stool. My eyes paused on my reflection in the mirror, where it looked like I had a hunchback, owing to my wings which were trapped beneath my shirt.

  My wings…

  I tore the shirt over my head and dropped it on the floor so I was standing in nothing but my bra and jeans. But I could’ve cared less. Instead, my focus was reserved for my wings as I begged them to start working.

  But nothing.

  Please work, stupid wings, please work, I silently implored them.

&nbs
p; Much to my relief and surprise, the ridiculously useless things actually started to flutter, as if responding to my request. They weren’t exactly beating at this point, just fluttering futilely as if to say they thought I said something but they hadn’t quite heard it

  Fly, I commanded them. Get your asses going so I can float up to that air vent, dammit!

  They started beating madly, and I sounded like an enormous bee. For the first time since arriving to this hellish place, I could honestly say that having wings wasn’t such a bad thing.

  I started to float off the ground, little by little, gaining mere inches in the minutes that passed. I could tell my wings were straining to keep me airborne and I had to wonder if maybe I had more in common with a chicken than a hummingbird where flight was concerned.

  Once I was about halfway to the ceiling, I felt inside my pocket, fingering the Swiss army knife Gabe had given me and, pulling it out, selected the Phillips screwdriver. After I secured it in my mouth, I glanced up at the air vent which was now mere inches from me.

  Keep going, I thought to myself, offering my wings a little support and positive reinforcement. You’re almost there!

  When I could reach out and touch the air vent, I felt immense relief flood me. I pulled out the screwdriver and started to work immediately, not stopping to think that the opening wasn’t exactly large. Good thing for me, that neither was I…

  I got the first two screws loose and put them in my pocket as I started on the third. My little wings beat frantically to keep me airborne and I could feel the exhaustion setting in. I loosened the fourth screw and placed it in my pocket. Then using both hands, I popped the vent off and, turning it sideways, pushed it back into the vent and out of the way. Then I held onto the vent with both hands and lifted myself up which wasn’t too hard, considering my wings were finally helping.

  It was a tight fit but thank Hades I was little because I barely slid in. Once I could get my waist through the opening, I felt my head hitting the top and had to pull my knees into my chest as I pushed myself into the narrow space. I couldn’t even sit all the way up and had to inchworm my way along. But I was in.

  Things were looking up.

  I continued inching my way through the vent, feeling like I was about two seconds away from an attack of claustrophobia. But I forced the thoughts right out of my head and focused, instead, on Knight. I encouraged myself by thinking that what I was doing right now could mean Knight’s release, and ultimate safety.

  I reached another grate and glanced through the slats, finding the break room just below me; the microwave was a give-away. I had to be close because according to the map, the break room was just two rooms away from the head of the Netherworld’s office.

  I was nearly there.

  I continued creeping forward, feeling like I was getting nowhere quickly but thoughts of Knight and memories of the last time I’d seen him spurred me on. I wouldn’t be beaten, I wouldn’t be taken down. I was going to do this, I was going to see to it that Knight was released, whatever the consequences. And I knew in my heart of hearts that he would do the same for me. Hell, he was already doing the same for me.

  I reached the second grate and glanced down, noticing I was hovering over someone’s desk, complete with picture frames and a bottle of lotion, probably the head’s receptionist or secretary.

  I paused to take a deep breath, and reached down into my pocket for the Swiss army knife again. No, I wouldn’t be able to unscrew the screws from the reverse side to let myself out but what I could do was cut through the thin metal screen using the serrated blade from Gabe’s knife.

  Before doing so, though, I peered down through the slats, listening for voices or typing or anything that would alert me to someone’s presence. I heard nothing so I pushed the blade through the thin metal and started sawing. The blade sawed through pretty effortlessly and, before I knew it, I cut around the perimeter of the vent. I picked it up and placed it in the vent just to the side of the now gaping hole I’d left in the ceiling.

  I pushed my head through the hole, looking for any sign of life but not finding any, dragged my legs out of the hole and, supporting myself by holding onto the edges of the vent, I lowered myself down until I was about four feet from the ground. I released my hands and dropped just as my wings began to beat frantically, allowing me to land on my toes like a stealthy cat.

  I grabbed my Op 7 from the waistline of my pants and held it out before me in low ready as I moved to the wall and faced the door leading to the head of the Netherworld’s office. The door was closed and as soon as I reached it, I took a deep breath before I put my hand on the doorknob with the other hand gripping the Op 7. Yes, I realized I was about to pull a fast one on the Head of the Netherworld wearing only my bra and jeans but I couldn’t say I cared.

  I started counting to three.

  On three, I pivoted, threw the door open and aimed the gun directly before me. I immediately found myself aiming at the back of someone’s head who sat in a black, leather chair, bouncing back and forth as he talked on the phone. Apparently he hadn’t heard me enter.

  “Hang up, asshole,” I said in an angry voice.

  It felt like minutes ticked by as I watched him slowly swivel around until he was facing me.

  “Quillan?” I asked, in shock as I started to drop the gun but remembering myself, held it back up again. “What the hell…”

  “I should be asking the same of you, Dulce,” he smiled as he took in the fact that I wasn’t exactly dressed.

  “Are you… the head of the Netherworld?” I asked, my voice small as the thought hit me.

  He chuckled and stood up but I followed him with my gun, coming closer until only a step separated us. “No, no, far from it.”

  “Then you are working with him?” I said and suddenly felt sick to my stomach as I realized the extent of the double-dealing went all the way to the Head of the Netherworld. Apparently, the bastard had been in on it all along.

  Ha ha, I guess the joke was on me.

  “Bingo.” I heard a voice from behind me but rather than turn my gun on whomever had just entered the room, I lurched for Quill and brought the Op 7 to his temple. Then I turned to face the other person in the room, who I had to imagine was the Head of the Netherworld, himself.

  “Don’t try anything or I’ll shoot him,” I said in a steely voice.

  The other man glanced at me with a laugh and held his hands up as if to say he wasn’t armed. But I knew better. He probably had a quiver of security agents at his disposal. If that were the case, I had already lost because even if I took Quillan out (something I wasn’t planning on) the Head of the Netherworld would still be alive and Knight would still die in the morning.

  Somehow I had to trade Quillan for the man facing me.

  “So you didn’t take that portal for Earth, did you?” the man asked with a smile as he took in my lack of clothing. “But it appears perhaps your blouse did?”

  The man was an elf and he was handsome, though older, probably in his late fifties if I had to guess. His hair had once been a dark brown but was now speckled with grey to match his greying moustache. He wasn’t very tall—maybe five foot seven or so but he had beautiful green eyes that sparkled out at me. He bent over a wooden cane and when he walked, he did so with a limp.

  I hated him.

  “I guess you could say I escaped,” I answered in a tone that warned I wasn’t in the mood for long-winded conversations. How I was going to get him at the end of the barrel of the Op 7 was anyone’s guess. Even though he appeared to be unarmed, there was just something about the situation that told me not to believe it.

  “Well, that actually works out quite well, doesn’t it, Quillan?” the man asked as he faced Quill with a smile.

  Quill swallowed hard and I wasn’t sure if it was because he was at the end of my gun or he was nervous about the situation. “Dulcie, put the gun down.”

  “Fuck you,” I seethed as I pushed it into his temple so he could kn
ow just how serious I was.

  He took a deep breath. “All he has to do is touch a button on the end of that cane and you’ll be overwhelmed by security.”

  “I will not press the button, young lady, if you agree to drop your gun,” the Head of the Netherworld said, offering me a sincere smile. “I doubt you would want to harm your friend either.”

  “He is no friend of mine,” I spat back.

  “Please, Dulcie,” Quill said, his shoulders sagging.

  I faced the other man. “I want Knight Vander released and then I’ll agree to whatever you want.”

  The man chuckled deeply. “Is that what this is about? You’ve risked your life for that of the Loki?” I nodded and he wore his surprise. “Interesting,” he finished.

  “I want you to call Caressa Brandenburg right now and insist she release Knight and take him to the portal to Earth immediately,” I continued. “Once that’s done, I’ll let Quillan go.”

  The man nodded but made no motion to do anything. “What do you say we make a little deal?”

  “Deal?” I repeated as I narrowed my eyes.

  The man nodded and took a seat on an expensive and uncomfortable looking black leather couch. “I was rather hoping Caressa would not send you back to Earth.”

  “I thought she was ordered to?” I demanded.

  “That was her plea bargain, not mine. I ordered you to be brought here but, alas, that woman seems to have a mind of her own.” He shook his head and there was an expression of fondness on his face as he thought about her. Good ol’ Caressa seemed to get underneath everyone’s skin.

  “What do you want from me?” I insisted, not interested in hearing his smooth talk anymore.

  “I want you to agree to work for me,” he said plainly.

  “What?” I demanded as shock and anger strove to churn up my gut.