not lost on me. On his platform base, there is a small bronze plaque. It is very old yet still in pristine condition and I press it firmly, until I hear a click. It slides to the side and reveals a thumb pad. I place my thumb upon it and an infrared reader slides over it, reading my identity. A green light flashes, granting approval to enter.
Hades stares down at me knowingly as the statue raises slightly, exposing rollers from beneath. It rolls smoothly and noiselessly backward, revealing a hidden staircase below. I can see the marble steps descending into darkness and I step inside with Grendel at my heels.
There are only two living people in the world who know that this exists. I am one of them.
I punch at a button on the wall on the way down and simultaneously, lights come on in the tunnel and Hades slides back into place above me. I am hidden from the world now. And that is the sole purpose of this secret place. I begin to feel a coming sense of relief. I will make it. I am so close.
One hundred and twenty four marble steps later, we have reached the bottom. This landing leads to a hallway branching off into both directions. One direction leads to underground tunnels that go straight to the house and emerge in my study and in the basement. The other leads in the opposite direction to a small living area. It is soundproof from the world above.
No one from above would ever guess that this underground fortress is here. It was built by my great-great-grandfather, back when this type of technology was cutting edge; at least, it was cutting edge here in Malta. The ancient Egyptians were utilizing hidden rooms and tunnels and sliding, trick doorways a couple of thousand years ago for their tombs. But then again, ancient Egyptians were ahead of their time in many ways. They created their underground fortresses to protect their dead, to keep them safe from grave-robbers. Mine was created for an entirely different purpose.
To keep me in.
I continue down the hall into a luxurious living space and gaze around. Recessed lights provide a soft, ambient glow. We refer to this place as ‘the cave’. And only two living people know of its existence, myself and Adrian.
It is clean, modern and fully-stocked. Adrian sees to that.
One wall houses an entire rack of wine. The other consists of shelves and shelves of books and has a couple of leather reading chairs situated in front of it. A third wall is covered in expensive, original art; as well as several television screens. Each of them reflects the center of the English Maze from a different angle as reflected by the hidden cameras there. We always know if someone approaches.
The fourth wall is different.
A large bed is pushed against it, secured tightly to the floor so that it cannot be moved.
Chains protrude from the wall, heavy and metal, winding through the iron headboard. Thick padded handcuffs are attached to the chains and are resting right now on the thick pillows.
I know that if anyone happened upon this place, they might draw the conclusion that I am a depraved sex fiend, that this is my sex nest and that I bring women here to commit freakish sexual acts upon them.
That couldn’t be farther from the truth and I know that no one will ever ‘happen’ upon this place. This cave was designed for me, for my great-great-great-grandfather who was just like me. It was designed to be perfectly hidden, completely impenetrable, and to protect the women of Malta from me, from the Minaldi men.
Because I’m a monster, like my father before me and his father before him, and so on.
There is no help for me.
What I told Evangeline was true. She cannot help me.
No one can.
There is a sudden noise behind me and I turn, only to find Adrian approaching with a large box in his hands. He looks as surprised to see me as I am to see him. His blue eyes are at first shocked, then narrow in caution.
Hades stares down at me knowingly as the statue raises slightly, exposing rollers from beneath. It rolls smoothly and noiselessly backward, revealing a hidden staircase below. I can see the marble steps descending into darkness and I step inside with Grendel at my heels.
There are only two living people in the world who know that this exists. I am one of them.
I punch at a button on the wall on the way down and simultaneously, lights come on in the tunnel and Hades slides back into place above me. I am hidden from the world now. And that is the sole purpose of this secret place. I begin to feel a coming sense of relief. I will make it. I am so close.
One hundred and twenty four marble steps later, we have reached the bottom. This landing leads to a hallway branching off into both directions. One direction leads to underground tunnels that go straight to the house and emerge in my study and in the basement. The other leads in the opposite direction to a small living area. It is soundproof from the world above.
No one from above would ever guess that this underground fortress is here. It was built by my great-great-grandfather, back when this type of technology was cutting edge; at least, it was cutting edge here in Malta. The ancient Egyptians were utilizing hidden rooms and tunnels and sliding, trick doorways a couple of thousand years ago for their tombs. But then again, ancient Egyptians were ahead of their time in many ways. They created their underground fortresses to protect their dead, to keep them safe from grave-robbers. Mine was created for an entirely different purpose.
To keep me in.
I continue down the hall into a luxurious living space and gaze around. Recessed lights provide a soft, ambient glow. We refer to this place as ‘the cave’. And only two living people know of its existence, myself and Adrian.
It is clean, modern and fully-stocked. Adrian sees to that.
One wall houses an entire rack of wine. The other consists of shelves and shelves of books and has a couple of leather reading chairs situated in front of it. A third wall is covered in expensive, original art; as well as several television screens. Each of them reflects the center of the English Maze from a different angle as reflected by the hidden cameras there. We always know if someone approaches.
The fourth wall is different.
A large bed is pushed against it, secured tightly to the floor so that it cannot be moved.
Chains protrude from the wall, heavy and metal, winding through the iron headboard. Thick padded handcuffs are attached to the chains and are resting right now on the thick pillows.
I know that if anyone happened upon this place, they might draw the conclusion that I am a depraved sex fiend, that this is my sex nest and that I bring women here to commit freakish sexual acts upon them.
That couldn’t be farther from the truth and I know that no one will ever ‘happen’ upon this place. This cave was designed for me, for my great-great-great-grandfather who was just like me. It was designed to be perfectly hidden, completely impenetrable, and to protect the women of Malta from me, from the Minaldi men.
Because I’m a monster, like my father before me and his father before him, and so on.
There is no help for me.
What I told Evangeline was true. She cannot help me.
No one can.
There is a sudden noise behind me and I turn, only to find Adrian approaching with a large box in his hands. He looks as surprised to see me as I am to see him. His blue eyes are at first shocked, then narrow in caution.
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