Home for Horny Monsters Ch. 021

Hey all! Annabelle here with the next chapter of Home for Horny Monsters!

As always, your support overwhelms me! I appreciate all the comments and emails (I read them all, even if I don't respond). Your support during this lull in my schedule over the last couple of months has been amazing and I had several nights plagued with self-doubt where I would come here and read what you had to say. Your encouraging words helped keep me on the path, kept me writing, and I will keep working hard for you, my readers!

When you are done with this chapter, please don't hesitate to leave a rating or a review. It's a wonderful way to support me (emotionally), and it really does help! If you are new to this series, it is written in novel format, with Book One starting in Ch. 01 and Book Two starting in Ch. 13.

Enough from me. It's time for Mike to reunite with one of his monsters.

*****

Caught in the trap

Water flowed through a crack in the wall. On the other side, Mike could hear the river. Placing his hands against the hard stone, he could feel the vibrations through it. Cupping his hands, he collected a mouthful of water and drank it. It was cold with a slight metallic taste, but Blue had informed him that it was safe enough to drink.

"Is it good?" Blue asked from her perch on his shoulder.

"It tastes like water," Mike responded, sucking down huge mouthfuls. Wiping his mouth, he turned away from the wall. Blue had led him away from where the fairies had found him, citing safety concerns about the potential arrival of the minotaur. The river acted as a natural barrier, but Blue had informed him there was a single bridge that the minotaur could cross if it needed to.

In the distance, he heard the minotaur cry out. It sounded different from earlier, but Mike was no expert on monster shouts. If Mike had to venture a guess, it sounded like the minotaur had found a bag of gold or a shiny new axe.

"Lucky boy," he muttered to himself.

"What?" Blue asked.

"Oh. Nothing. Thinking out loud." He contemplated the paths before him. There were three, and each one looked equally suspicious. Blue had informed him that they were in the inner circle in relation to the river and that the passageways had been booby-trapped. They had only walked for about ten minutes, and Blue had pointed out at least three traps that Mike could have triggered that would have killed him.

Mike leaned against a dry section of the wall, closing his eyes and letting the rhythmic vibrations of the river lull him into a meditative state. His clothes, dried by Blue with fairy magic, still retained a mystical warmth.

He had asked Blue about the traps. The Labyrinth wasn't just a random maze, he had informed her, and the fact that someone would put in a giant maze with killer traps and a minotaur meant that the Labyrinth must have a secret or a treasure worth protecting. Blue had shrugged away his answers, being deliberately evasive. She also wouldn't speak to the fact that she and the others were trapped, which was also a piece of the puzzle.

Why would a maze be designed to keep people out, but then never let them leave? His eyes closed, he sank deeper into a state of relaxation, tiny lights flickering behind his eyelids.

The world of darkness receded, chased away by glowing beams of light streaming through his windows. He walked through his house, humming a song to himself that he didn't recognize. A large table had been set up in the family room, with an equally large game board.

"Every room has its purpose, every monster has its place," he sang out loud, but it wasn't his voice. It was Emily's, but that wasn't quite right either. It almost sounded like Emily's voice mixed with Naia's. The game board in front of him reminded him of Clue - it was a layout of his house. On the board, he saw that several pieces were scattered through the house. He picked up a sultry figurine that was standing in the fountain, immediately identifying Naia. Setting it back down, he picked up another one on the front porch. This one was Cecilia. Even Lily was there, her figurine currently in the back yard with Naia and Zel.

There were other pieces on the board, pieces he didn't recognize. When he held them up, they were blurry, his vision unable to see any detail. Frowning, he stared at the board. Where was the Labyrinth?

He touched the spare bedroom, tracing his fingers over to the closet. The board shimmered beneath his touch, and unfolded another section, revealing the enormous structure somehow in the walls of his house. The pieces were on the board, standing in various locations. He found his own piece, picking it up to inspect it. Setting himself back down, he spotted the minotaur with a couple of other pieces.

Beth and Abella. Fuck. He set these backdown. He saw the other fairies, their figures very tiny, and even Sofia. Her figurine scowled at him somehow. In the center of the Labyrinth was a pair of figurines. One was Tink, but the other one was blurry. Holding the piece in his hands, he tried to identify it by feel.

"Mike!" His eyes snapped open, and he stood up. Had that been a dream or a vision?

Green was hovering in front of him, glitter shedding off her wings.

"What is it?" He asked.

"I found one of your friends," Green informed him. "She needs your help?"

"Who did you find?" Mike asked.

"The one with one eye." Green's face twisted up. "She is really mad."

"Is she okay?"

"For now." Green turned into a ball of light. "Follow follow!" She whizzed away, stopping at the entrance to the corridor on the right. Mike followed close behind, Blue sitting on his shoulder. Green moved at a pace consistent with a fast walk - she was easy to keep up with but would zip farther ahead if Mike tried to catch up

Mike was already lost, but Green led him through a series of twists and turns that made it so that he knew he wouldn't be able to find his way back to the river. He looked up, marveling at how his brain couldn't even identify a landmark in the dark ceiling up above.

"Duck!" Blue shrieked in his ear. Mike threw himself flat, and a large stone on a rope swung where his head had been. He was going to stand up when he heard the creaking of a second rope. Crouching down, he moved forward, the second rock crashing into the first one. His ears rang, and the pile of rubble buried the passageway behind him under a few feet of stone.

'Holy shit," he muttered.

'You're telling me." Blue squeezed out from under his collar, where he had crushed her. Her chitinous shell readjusted itself, her wings tucking back beneath them. She smoothed out her antenna, and rubbed her left shoulder.

"Sorry." Mike stood up. "I'm glad you saw it in time."

"Part of that is thanks to you," she said, her antenna twitching playfully. "My senses haven't been this sharp in years!"

"Have you guys really been stuck here that long?" Mike asked.

"A woman named Emily banished us to the Labyrinth over a misunderstanding," Blue told him. "She thought we did a bad thing, and told us we could live here or leave the house."

"And you chose to live here?" Mike looked around. "Why not go live and be free?"

"Fairies like us are almost extinct, you know." They had started walking again, and Blue spoke softly into his ear from her perch on his shoulder. "The human world isn't as friendly as it used to be. Our fields and forests got torn up, and fairies learned long ago never to trust humans."

"You trusted me." Mike pointed out.

Blue shrugged. "We had been down here for quite some time and figured if you weren't the Caretaker, then something had happened to the House. We could smell Naia's magic coming off of you." Her voice then lowered to a whisper. "It also didn't help that we were all so horny."

"Well, if we get out of here, we can discuss your current living arrangement. I want to hear more about this 'bad thing' some time."

"Step around that," Blue told him, pointing at the floor. Mike knelt down, finally seeing the seam in the stone from up close. He was able to scoot by easily, wondering what sort of trap that would have set off. They continued walking, and Mike noticed the trap frequency had increased dramatically.

"I have no idea how the others made it through here," Mike said.

"They didn't come this way," Green told him from up ahead. "This is a short cut, so the number of traps is really high."

"A short cut to where?" Mike asked. Neither of the fairies answered.

Their pace slowed dramatically with the appearance of trip wires and pitfalls painted to look just like an ordinary floor. Mike nearly fell in one of these, but a quick thinking Green bounced herself off of him hard enough in the chest that he tipped back onto the path instead of falling forward. The way forward was perilous, and Mike moved only a few steps at a time at the fairy's insistence. It had been a long time since the minotaur had called out, which made him nervous. If he were to come across the beast now, it would become a battle of luck as he ran away.

"Whoa." They came to a three way intersection and Mike stopped to survey the other two paths. Whoever had come through here before him had set off several traps down the other corridors. Spikes from the ground and wall were evident everywhere, and a few piles of rock could be seen in the distance. Mike followed Green, who was moving a bit faster now.

"Most of the traps have been sprung already," Green told him. "Except for a couple of the nastier ones, so watch your step."

"What could be nastier than spikes?" Mike wondered aloud. To answer him, Green flew ahead and grabbed onto a small wire near the floor, pulling it backward. Jets of fire filled the hallway for several yards. The whole area became hot enough that Mike broke into a sweat.

"You made your point," he announced. Green's twinkling light hovered by his face, doing lazy figure eights.

"The fire jets are the worst," Blue told him. "Even if you trip the trap, you can't get out of the way. There's one part of the Labyrinth where there aren't any traps except for that one. It's a giant pressure plate that takes up the whole floor for about ten feet, so you can't avoid it. It scorches everything for a couple hundred feet in either direction."

"It pisses off the minotaur when it goes off," Green added with a smile on her face. "It leaves scorch marks that he has to remove, otherwise people will realize that one is there."

"How often do you guys set that one off?" Mike asked.

"About once a year." Blue giggled. "Then we all jump out when he shows and yell 'Happy Birthday!'."

Mike laughed. "You three are a riot."

"It passes the time," Green said. "Especially because she won't let us leave."

"She who?" Again, silence from both of them. "Why won't you tell me who is running the Labyrinth."

"Because we can't," Blue whispered. "It's part of the Labyrinth's magic."

"I don't understand why it matters who runs the Labyrinth," Mike said.

"She doesn't want people to know she is here." Blue told him. "She's protecting something important. It's why she is down here."

Mike mulled over the possibilities. "Is the Labyrinth separate from the house, or an extension of it?" He asked, thinking about the vision he had.

"We don't know," Green told him.

"We ended up here by accident," Blue added. "At the house. Emily let us stay because she liked how we sparkled."

"But she changed."

"And it wasn't a good change."

"After the thing with Garrett." Mike said. "When he attacked the house."

"No." All of the sparkle had gone out of Blue's voice. "This was way after."

"So what happened?"

The fairies were quiet. Mike was about to ask again, but they turned a corner, entering a chamber full of columns covered in thick, leafy vines. In the middle of the room, something large was hanging from ceiling, vines wrapped around a figure that slowly spun in place. The creature rotated slowly until her face came into view. Her eye narrowed.

"It's about fucking time," Sofia said.

-

Dana looked at herself in the mirror. She felt the same, or at least she thought she did. Touching the ceramic sink below the mirror, she realized that she couldn't tell if it was hot or cold. This had been true of everything else she had encountered so far, a strange numbness that only applied to temperature.

Her sense of touch had been muted, but her sense of smell had received a boost. Even now, she could smell the corpse of her landlady in the basement, and Daryl's breath in her bedroom. Daryl the necromancer had let her out of the basement to roam about, announcing that he intended to take a nap. He had warned Dana that any attempt to flee would permanently ruin her chances of returning to the Afterlife, and he would do worse things to her if he ever caught her. His driver, a bulky man in a suit, stood guard in the driveway. He had motor oil on his jacket from retrieving her broken bike and casually throwing it in the garage.

She didn't know what to do or think. Her emotions were similar to sitting through Alex's funeral. She knew they were there, but they were being tossed into the void quicker than she could feel them. Wandering from room to room, she thought about what Daryl had told her.

Mike apparently had something that Daryl thought he wanted. All Dana had to do was to go in his house and either get Mike to let Daryl in, or figure out what Mike was hiding and bring it to Daryl. She had asked what it was he was looking for, but Daryl informed her that she would know it when she saw it. He had also tasked her with creating a cover story, a reason for showing up unannounced. No matter what she had asked him, he either shrugged or changed the subject.

"Lazy fucker," she muttered under her breath. Wandering through the house, she found herself staring out the door, looking at the back of the driver. He somehow made standing guard look casual, and the few neighbors who passed by didn't seem to notice.

Dana let herself out, crossing over to the garage. She stepped into her home, wondering if it was the last time she would ever do so. Was it even her home now? After all, she was dead.

She walked over to her toolbox, searching for the boxcutter she kept there after a failed job stocking boxes at night. With a little digging, she found it. Moving quickly, she slashed the back of her forearm, digging the blade in deep.

Nothing happened. She didn't even bleed, and it didn't hurt. She had been convinced that Daryl had drugged her, and now she was left with a nasty looking wound on her left arm.

"Fuck," she muttered, storming up the stairs to her room. It wasn't until she was upstairs that she realized that the motorcycle on the garage floor was missing its motor. Leaning over the railing, she surveyed the mess below.

Behind her, the clock chimed. Rolling her eyes, she walked toward it, sitting on her bed and staring it down.

"What?" She hissed. "What the fuck do you want?"

The clock was silent. Frustrated, she stood up and looked out the window to see if the zombie goon had heard it, and was coming inside. Mr. Tall and Stupid remained at his post, surveying the street. When Dana turned back around, the clock was gone. Instead, a large, ornate typewriter had appeared on her desk.

"Yeah, sure, this helps me," she muttered, standing up and staring at it. "So are you an autobot or a decepticon?"

The typewriter dinged at her, shifting back and forth. A few keys hammered the blank roller, and Dana rolled her eyes. She pulled a piece of notebook paper from under her desk and stuck it in the back. Immediately, the typewriter spooled itself, pulling the paper through.

"You're a magic clock that can't even provide its own paper," Dana muttered. "I don't suppose you can bring me back to life?"

The paper had finished spooling, and two keys hammered against the paper. She didn't have to lift it free to read it.

No

"Oh, great. Awesome." She watched the typewriter move again. In the back of her mind, she felt like she should feel surprise or shock seeing such an event, but she just couldn't be bothered to care. She didn't know how much of that was being a zombie, and how much of it was being denied an eternity with Alex.

What happened?

"That man who came for me killed me, that's what happened." Dana held up her ruined arm. "I'm dead, and he wants me to go to the house where you came from and steal something or con the owner into letting me in."

Several seconds passed, and the typewriter started moving again.

You should go there. You can get help.

"Oh really? Who's gonna help me? You? The guy who lives there?"

Someone will help, it told her. This man will not help you.

"What do you know, you're just a magic clock. Speaking of which, what are you exactly? Why did you come here?"

I needed fixing, the clock told her.

"Why did I have to fix you?" Dana stood up and walked over to her dresser. She opened up her drawers and began pulling out clothes. "I bet Mike could have hired someone. Dude seems like he has plenty of money."

It had to be you. The typewriter paused for several seconds, then spooled the paper up to make room for more text, dinging as it reset itself. You had the spark.

"I had the spark?"

You are dead now. I'm sorry.

"You're gonna be sorry when I toss you out that window." Dana spread out her clothes, picking a pair of low cut jeans and a tank top. "And why did I have to fix you? What are you exactly?"

I am a mimic, the typewriter answered. My heart was broken. I could no longer transform.

"I didn't see a heart when I was in there," Dana muttered. "You were all busted gears. And what the fuck is a mimic?"

My heart changes to match my appearance. And mimics are creatures that mimic things.

"Gee, that explains everything." Dana picked out a jacket to go over her tank top. "I don't suppose you know what Daryl wants from the house?"

I don't. And you should not help him. Help Mike.

"I've got my own problems."

I will help you.

"Help me how? You're a fucking typewriter."

I am whatever I need to be. I can change shape when nobody is looking.

"What about when I was inside you? I could still see you, and you grew legs or something."

That was different, the typewriter wrote. Watch.

Dana jumped when the typewriter grew a pair of long, metallic arms with razor blades at the end. It whipped them back and forth for emphasis, then retracted them. Dana squinted her eyes, but couldn't see the seam where they had disappeared.

"How is that not transforming?" Dana asked.

Not transforming. Part of the form. Hidden when I change. The typewriter stood up on a pair of metal legs. Legs were already here.

"No deal. I refuse." Dana looked back out the window. It looked like the driver was staring into the sun. "I'm just going to do what he asks. No offense, but I want to see Alex again."

I understand. The typewriter sat quietly for several moments, then started typing again. Take me to Mike. Use me to get in the house.

"That... would work, actually." Dana frowned. "You would do that for me?"

I owe you. Turn around. The typewriter spat out the paper with a final ding. Dana picked it up and closed her eyes instead. She could hear the strange shifting of wood on metal, and opened her eyes to see that the typewriter was now an ornate desk clock. Picking it up, she inspected the surface, looking for hidden limbs.

"Are you really in there?" Dana asked. In response, an unseen flap opened, and a cuckoo bird jumped out at her, announcing the top of the hour. "Okay. Well, I guess we are just waiting for sleeping beauty to wake up."

The clock chimed again.

-

"Are you going to keep staring at me or what?" Mike had watched Sofia swing away from him and back again, still unmoving. He wasn't entirely certain whether to laugh or not, but two things had suddenly occurred to him.