by S L Zammit
“I told you,” she shouts over the blaring music, baring her hideous teeth, “once you come to Club Débauche, you never leave.”
She follows them down the corridor screaming, “He got you! He got you! The devil got you!”
“Shut up Celeste,” Rottweiler growls. “Get lost.”
Ignoring him, the woman follows them down the hall to the bathroom door.
“It’s right in here mademoiselle,” the security guard says to Aurora opening the door for her.
Aurora steps into the bathroom and glares at the security guard who is about to step into the room with her. “Do you mind?” she says sweetly. “I need privacy.”
Letting her into the room, the man reluctantly takes a step back. But before Aurora shuts the door on him, Celeste slips into the room with shocking agility and locks him out, surprising Aurora.
Rottweiler immediately starts banging on the door with his fist.
“Get out of there Celeste,” he yells. “Get out now!”
Aurora has no idea what to expect from the deranged woman and is about to shove her aside and barge out of the room, when Celeste grabs her by the arms pinning her to the wall. Aurora opens her mouth to scream, but facing Celeste and looking deep into her eyes, the noise immediately freezes on her lips.
The woman’s eyes seem momentarily transformed. Something human and deeply emotional flashes across her face, and for the first time since their encounter, Aurora feels that she is really facing her mother.
“Get out of here child,” Celeste whispers urgently, moving close to Aurora’s ear. Aurora’s heart misses a beat at the sound of her mother’s voice. “Run away from this place while you still can and never come back!”
Brushing her lips against Aurora’s cheek, Celeste moves back taking in Aurora’s face, her eyes brimming with sadness.
The moment dissipates as suddenly as it had transpired and the guise of total insanity resurfaces across the woman’s features. Springing forward, Celeste wraps her hands around Aurora’s neck, choking and slamming her head against the bathroom wall.
Knocking the door down with one firm kick, Rottweiler bursts into the bathroom, and prying Celeste off Aurora, chucks the deranged woman out of the room.
“Get out of here Celeste,” he yells. Then turning to face Aurora, “I apologize mademoiselle,” he says. “She’s nuts that one. I’ll hold the door up for you if you still need to go.”
Her hands around her sore neck, tears sliding down her cheeks, Aurora nods at the man who backs out of the room. Rottweiler picks up the door from the floor and props it up over the doorway to give her privacy.
Cowering back into the room, Aurora’s head fills with visions of hanging corpses, terrified, naked girls and murdered Minotaurs, the sound of Ariel’s harrowing screams, then his voice saying, ‘your mind might be tricked into thinking this is an illusion, be aware that it’s not’, and her mother’s warning to run away in that instant of lucidity. Voices and images swirling in her head, she splashes water over her face, and staring hard at her reflection in the mirror, plans her next move.
2
Rottweiler props open the door for Aurora to pass through as soon as she knocks from inside.
“Are you all right mademoiselle?” he asks looking concerned. His obvious apprehension an indication of his fear of the boss.
“I’m fine,” says Aurora, her voice raspy.
“The office is this way,” he says leading the way.
He unlocks the door and steers her in. Standing in the doorway, two members of the security detail greet him as they walk down the hall. The men engage him in excited conversation.
“I can’t come right now,” she hears him say, disappointment in his voice. “The boss says to stay with the girl.”
“You can lock me in,” interjects Aurora calmly. “I’ll just lie on the couch and wait for father to come back. I’m exhausted.”
The momentary look of doubt disappears from the man’s face when he hears the word father.
“I won’t be long,” he warns, locking her inside the room.
As soon as she hears the last turn of the key in the lock, Aurora springs into action, rushing to the seamless steel chute door blended into the wall. Moving swiftly, she secures her purse across her torso and hops into the opening of the duct. Shutting the door behind her, she slides down the shaft.
Keeping her arms to her sides, her legs straight and her back pressed against the steel wall of the tunnel, the drop seems less precipitous and definitely less painful this time around.
“Left, right, left, left,” she whispers, “right, left.”
Landing on the cold floor of the meat locker, consciously avoiding eye contact with the hanging meat, Aurora breaths as softly as possible. Her hands tremble as she searches her purse for her phone.
Realizing that the phone is completely dead, she fishes in her purse for her broken heels, and armed with the six-inch spiky stilettos, moves to the back of the room towards the door to the labyrinth.
Discerning a soft, moaning sound, she freezes in her tracks. Beads of sweat gather on her forehead and upper-lip despite the cold as she ponders her next move.
Stilettos held tightly in her fists, poised for attack, she diverts from her path in the direction of the sound. A desire to delay the inevitable problems outside the doors of the locker plays a part in driving her off course.
The situation, reminiscent of the incident she experienced decades ago, brings back expectations of coming across Andras lying in the dark. But moving closer towards the noise, she gasps as she spots Ariel in his boxer shorts, a flagellated, bloodied heap, on the floor.
“I thought they were handing you over to the authorities because of the damage you caused,” she whispers kneeling by his side.
“No such luck,” he mumbles. Then, urgency building in his voice, “Get out of here Aurora, you don’t have much time. It’s too late for me.”
“Nonsense,” she says firmly. “Just lie back. I know exactly what to do.”
Ignoring his pained moans as she pushes his limp form flat onto the ground, Aurora plants her lips firmly on his and breathes into his mouth.
So instinctive her gesture, she surprises herself, but as her mouth fills with his taste, she is taken back to that event in the crypt years before. Blowing hard into his mouth, breath after breath, she feels his chest rise beneath her. His eyes open wide, and she finds herself gazing deep into a bottomless pit of glowing blue-green despite the darkness in the meat locker.
“Very curious,” she hears him whisper. Then he slips his hand under her hair, massaging the nape of her neck, and slipping his tongue in her mouth, pulls her into a deep kiss.
Pulling away from him abruptly, Aurora impulsively slaps him across the face.
“Seriously?” she whispers, blushing profusely. “You think now is a good time for that?”
“Sorry,” he whispers, rubbing his face. “I just got carried away. I guess I deserved that.”
“Seems like you’re feeling much better,” she says mockingly. “We need to get out of here quickly before the security guard discovers my absence.”
She starts out of the room, but noticing that her companion is limping and dropping behind, she stops.
“I’m stiff,” he says softly, “and in so much pain. They beat me to a pulp.”
“I know. I saw them beating you. Put your arm around me,” she says kindly, “I’ll help you.”
“Here take this,” she continues, handing him one of the heels.
“What’s this?” he asks, managing a smile.
“It’s one of my heels,” she whispers. “It’s spiky. I figured we could use it as a weapon.”
“You’re funny,” he says glancing at one of the dangling carcasses, “but it’s a good idea. I don’t think I have the strength to pull down one of those. I feel really weak Aurora and I don’t want to hold you back. I think I should stay.”
“Nonsense,” she insists. “I need you with me. W
ho knows what else is out there.”
Hobbling out into the labyrinth, they find the passage dark and eerily quiet, the music and light from the strobe are gone.
“We need to climb on the ledge,” she whispers, bracing him by the arm, leading the way across the passageway heading left.
She feels him crouching in the darkness towards the center of the corridor, and looking up, her eyes adjusting to the dark, she makes out a large conical growth dipping down from the ceiling inches away from Ariel’s head. He motions her to move on, and clambering up the jagged side of the wall, she helps him up.
Looking down the way, Aurora notices several other growths hanging from the roof of the labyrinth.
“What are those?” she asks quietly.
Motionless in the dark, Aurora perceives a distant sound breaking the silence. An underlying humming noise of such low and stable frequency, she hadn’t noticed it before. But crouching immobile against the wall of the maze, she can now hear it clearly over the sounds of her rapidly beating heart and Ariel’s breathing.
“Hornet nests,” he whispers finally. “Just stay calm. This type smells fear.”
“Great,” mumbles Aurora keeping as close to the wall of the maze as possible, controlling her breathing and willing herself to stay calm.
Crawling laboriously in the dark, the two figures make their way to where the path turns right. Nestling ever closer to the wall, the buzzing of the hornets incremental in her head, Aurora feels delicate crunching under her knees and under the palms of her hands. She tries to retain her composure as her palms land in the viscous puddles resulting from some sort of crushed vermin.
Feeling a repetitive soft brushing of antennae across her cheeks and the scurrying of light insect feet across her skin, Aurora’s chest tightens. She heaves when she hears their characteristic clicking, hissing and chirping sounds. Her nostrils fill with a repulsive smell, the familiar oily stench taking her back to her childhood. That filthy house, where Tony would lie comatose in drunken slumber as cockroaches crawled all over his body.
Closely observing her, and in perfect sync with her movements, Ariel pounces on her back and gently places his hand over her mouth trapping the loud shriek that would have escaped her lips. His free arm across her shoulders, he huddles her against him.
“You have no idea how much I hate cockroaches,” she sobs in his ear. “I can’t do this. I just can’t.” Feeling the vermin crawl off his bare skin onto her, she struggles to break free from his iron grip.
“Relax,” he whispers in her ear, his voice soft. “It’s all in your head.”
Aurora hears the buzzing of the hornets closing in on her and forcibly slows her breathing. Closing her eyes, she diverts her attention to the sensation of Ariel’s bare skin against her, his strong chest and torso against her back, the exquisite sensation his tongue in her mouth had produced, and the deliciousness of his taste.
Considering that she admittedly finds him extremely attractive, she wonders why her primary impulse is to slap him across the face.
Aurora notices that the hornets are buzzing, circling towards the cockroaches, swooping down and injecting venom into their prey. The hornets then drag the paralyzed roaches and fly off the ledge dangling them by the antennae to the nests swaying from the ceiling. Aurora feels her body go limp against Ariel’s.
“Breathe deeply,” he whispers in her ear. “We’re almost there.”
Hardly has he finished the sentence that a pair of glowing, red eyes creep up over the ledge, tentatively peeking at first. Suddenly, the beast rears its massive head inches away from Aurora. Its mouth quivering as it snarls, the dizzying stench of sulfur blows over them, drivel drips off its fangs. The face angry and malevolent as it shakes its horned head and growls, there is definitely nothing docile about its gestures.
Mustering every ounce of strength in her system, Aurora swings at the beast, spiky stiletto in fist and stabs it in the forehead, pushing in until she hits the bone. Grabbing the other heel from Ariel’s hand, Aurora stabs the creature again.
Roaring in pain, the Minotaur stretches up to full height, one heel protruding from its temple, the other from its cheek. The beast rocks its ugly head from side to side and gets one of its huge horns caught in a hornet’s nest.
The buzzing of hornets fills the labyrinth almost drowning the screams of the creature as giant wasps swarm around.
Ariel springs to his feet, and leaping off the ledge, jumps at the next hornet’s nest. Shaking and dislodging it off the ceiling, he flings the nest at the beast’s free horn. Caught in a stinging black cloud of vibrating rage, the beast swings its head attempting to shake off the nests, but only manages to aggravate the swarm even more.
“Jump off Aurora,” yells Ariel amidst the angry buzzing of a cloud of hornets. “Shield your eyes and run as fast as you can.”
Hellhounds materialize in the passageway amidst the commotion, further aggravating the buzzing wasps. Jumping off the ledge, Aurora sprints left then right then left through black clouds of buzzing wasps and barking hellhounds.
Ariel swings from the hornet nests with the agility of a monkey, flinging nests at the howling hounds and the screaming Minotaur who attempt to follow them.
Following the path she had memorized, Aurora runs faster than she ever imagined possible through the black stinging cloud of wasps. Ariel is running straight ahead of her, heading towards the back door of the labyrinth.
Running up to the door, Ariel kicks and pounds at it with his fists. The sounds he’s making have a particular pattern, one he’s heard before while scouting the ongoings of Club Débauche: the distress signal the Rottweilers use when in trouble.
The walls of the maze reverberate with the thunderous ruckus from the howling beasts and the metallic banging on the door. One of Club Débauche’s security guards opens the door a crack and peeks in.
“What’s going on in there,” he yells. “They can hear the noise straight across the street.”
Before he has time to realize his mistake and slam the door shut, Ariel springs at his throat, catching him by surprise, and knocks him to the ground.
Chapter 22
The Grigorian
1
Tearing out into the back alley, Aurora feels she’s being given another chance, a new life. Surging with the thrill of having just escaped certain death or total insanity by a very close shave, she runs until she is clear of the looming, black building by several blocks. She keeps running, her bare feet slapping the cobbled pavement, feeling exhilarated with every breath of air she inhales outside that building.
The more distance she puts between herself and the maze, the more she feels removed from what had transpired, willing away and erasing the disturbing images, like she would those from a horror movie. Feeling her phone buzzing back to life in her purse, she stops.
The streets are almost deserted apart from a few night amblers and some wayward tourists. Glancing at her phone, she realizes that her flight leaves in three short hours. Determined to be on that outgoing flight, Aurora immediately dials the Frenchman who had dropped her off at Club Débauche earlier on.
But like a nightmare, stressing the reality of what just transpired, Ariel, barefoot and bloodied, almost naked apart from his blood-spattered boxer shorts, finally catches up with her.
Impatiently hanging up, she shares her location with the driver. This is Aurora from Malta, she texts rapidly, her expert fingers flying over the screen of her phone. Please come get me.
“Hold on Aurora,” Ariel says, catching his breath. “No one’s following, we can stop running.”
Earnestly wishing to detach herself from the reality of the labyrinth and resolute on a strategy of denial, she regards him with hostility. He had been witness, his very presence confirming the reality of the deadly scrimmage experienced in the club.
“Did he tell you his name?” he asks before she has a chance to utter a word.
Ariel stands tall and handsome in the flickering
neon lights of the stores. His chiseled muscular body the epitome of vitality, apart from the dried blood on his skin, the physical signs of the brutality he has just endured are missing. Examining his colossal frame, Aurora surmises that something is amiss.
“Did the owner of Club Débauche introduce himself?” he asks again.
“No,” she says, realizing that the black-eyed man had never properly introduced himself. “He claims to have my interest at heart but he never told me his name.”
‘And neither did Celeste for that matter,’ she confirms to herself.
“That’s too bad,” says Ariel, disappointment visible on his face.
“Why does it matter that you don’t know his name?” asks Aurora.
“If I don’t know who he is, I won’t know what I’m dealing with,” says Ariel. “We’ve just attracted the interest of a very vile being. It was evident that those around him are very loyal.”
Which reminds Aurora of Celeste’s warning in the bathroom, and makes her believe that there might still be hope for her biological mother.
“Why didn’t you let me leave the maze with those girls earlier?” asks Aurora suspiciously. “Why did you make me go all the way to the center? What were you hoping to accomplish?”
“I had to be sure,” he says softly.
“Sure of what?” asks Aurora gruffly.
“The first time our paths crossed in that office, I sensed something very unusual about you. That hellion was brutally attacking you, assuming the semblance of your mother. But the manner of attack was restrained, indicating its fear of you. I also sensed that you have no guardian and that is unusual,” he says. “Every creation has a guardian of some sort.”
His words remind her of what Andras had said in the crypt many years ago. He goes on, “Then when you were thrown in the locker with me and you slapped me,” he smiles, his hand on his cheek, “you said that I reminded you very much of someone you knew, mentioning Andras.”
He pauses and looking in her eyes continues, “Andras was the first of the eminent primordial Grigori, the protectors of humanity. The last he was heard of was during his final mission, guiding the Knights of St. John in restricting the overpowering might of the Turkish forces. Then he fell off the grid. The great Andras got wound up in his own concerns and lost his way. Immersed in the material, he has made himself impossible to reach. I have often wondered about him.”