Elle was screwed.
Riding on the back of a very large centaur man who was obviously some kind of Island Security, wearing a pair of handcuffs, with all of her gear being carried by another very large centaur who was also part of Island Security, and being observed with surprise by every other person they passed — all that left little room for doubt that she was completely and totally screwed. There were stories of people who’d gone missing on the Island, but nothing was verifiable. Maybe they’d just stayed? Maybe they’d volunteered to be centaurs now? Or maybe they were rotting in a prison, deep underground, and she was about to join them.
She took a deep breath as they finished crossing the fields and started entering the southernmost town. The satellite views showed three small towns, and the southernmost seemed to be the largest, with dozens of faux-Greek white buildings held up by tall stone columns. As they entered the outskirts, she considered that the photos really didn’t do the town justice: The buildings were huge, each forty or fifty feet tall and a hundred feet wide, like suburban office buildings that had been turned into copies of the Parthenon.
Centaurs wandered from building to building, and as they entered the marketplace, Elle took a deep breath: Several satyrs — or were they fauns? — were standing in front of a vegetable stand, and the two-legged goat people turned to watch as she passed by. A woman who clearly had green, live snakes for hair turned to watch her, peering at her over the tops of her sunglasses with yellow eyes.
Elle had no idea that Lakapius had been experimenting beyond the centaurs, but here, standing amidst a crowd of fantastic creatures none of whom were human, she had no choice but to acknowledge the audacity of Lakapius’s efforts to bring to life that which was once relegated exclusively to mythology studies. Centaurs, satyrs, and now a gorgon? What other genetic freaks were hidden away on this island?
There was a large white marble fountain here, and Darryl and Mack turned right, heading down a side street, but they stopped not long after they turned. This building was squatter and sturdier than the others, still built from the same white marble, but it was fortified in ways the others weren’t. The small windows held not just glass but vertical steel bars running through them, and the doors were made of solid, featureless steel, with only rivets and handles to give away their modern origins. Her ride carried her up the stone stairs while a centaur couple in the street watched, and then in through the thick doors they went.
It was not the first time Elle had been in a police station, and despite the oddity of its appearance, this was definitely a police station. There were tall desks, each with a computer and scattered with papers and a very dry-looking centaur man who glared up at her from his work, and a few offices in the back, with tall centaur-sized doors, and another barred door in the corner with a very sturdy lock. Presumably, it led off to jail cells.
Darryl stopped at the front desk, where a dour-looking centaur woman was standing, wearing a solid-gray shirt and a flat-topped black hat. “Lucinda, we caught this one poking around Heron’s Forest,” he said. “Need to take her to the Chief for questioning, and get Glasses to take a close look at her gear.” Mack held up the camera and microphone.
“Hey, careful with that!” said Elle. “That’s mine, and it’s expensive!”
“Speak when you’re spoken to,” said Lucinda sharply, and Elle scowled back at her.
Lucinda frowned at Darryl. “Glasses is busy, but you can drop her stuff here. Chief’s in his office. He’s expecting you.” She nodded at one of the office doors.
Darryl nodded, and turned, and carried Elle up the rows of desks, toward the middle office door.
“Come on in,” said a deep voice, and then it snorted. Elle grimaced.
Darryl opened the door, carried her inside, and Elle gasped. Along the back wall, staring out a window through venetian blinds behind a wide desk was a man who was nearly nine feet tall, and burly enough that she surmised he could likely pick up Darryl and carry him away. Large, curling horns protruded from his shaggy head, and his waist, rear, and strangely-bent legs were covered in reddish-brown thick curly fur. A long, tufted tail swung back and forth, just above a simple gold-striped white cloth that hung from his waist, his only clothing. Slowly, he began to turn, and she could see that his head was not just covered in shaggy hair, but also had a protruding jaw fused with a wide muzzle of a nose, with a large, round, golden ring stuck through it. His awkward wide ears twitched irritably.
“Set her down,” said the minotaur. “In the chair.”
Darryl nodded, and deftly picked her up off his back as if lifting a toy, and set her stiffly into one of the chairs in front of the desk.
The minotaur nodded. Elle blanched. He was even bigger from this perspective. Nine feet tall? Maybe ten was a better guess. His horns and ears barely cleared the ceiling.
“I’ll take it from here. Good job,” he said.
Darryl nodded smartly, turned, and left the room. Elle heard the door swing and click shut behind him.
“Well, then,” said the minotaur, stepping out from behind the desk, his every hoof-clop a hard thud against the stone floor. “Aren’t you interesting. Ellatia Anne Samaras. Hotshot reporter for the New York Star Ledger. I trust you understand just how much trouble you’re in right now.”
Elle glared at him. “And you are?”
He laughed, a guffaw that rattled her bones. “I’ve had a lot of names over the years, but I go by Minos now. You can see why.” He ran a three-fingered hand over the end of his muzzle.
“What happened to you?” she said.
“What do you mean, ‘What happened to me?’” he replied. “I was offered a choice. I took it. Sorry if you don’t like my look, but I don’t really care.”
She glared up at him. “What do you want with me?”
“Ah, you reporters, always asking questions. You really ought to take life as it comes, and less by the horns,” he said, running his hand over his own. “But if you want to take the bull by the horns, I can oblige. You won’t like it,” he added darkly.
“All right, what do you intend to do with me?” she said.
“I intend to throw you in a jail cell until Master Lakapius has had a chance to decide what to do with you,” he said.
“You can’t do that. There are laws — ”
“You’re on a private island in international waters,” he said. “And I’m Chief of Security on this island, so what I say goes. And what I say is that Master Lakapius has built something that you’re not going to tear down. His law is my rule, so you’re going into a jail cell. After you answer some questions of mine, of course.”
Elle snapped her mouth shut.
“What were you doing in Heron’s Forest?” said Minos.
She made a face at him, but said nothing.
“I saw you on the security footage. You’ve been on the Island since 5 AM. What were you doing?”
Elle said nothing.
“All right. We’re taking everything on your camera. We’ll find out.” He sat down on his desk, and while it creaked a little, it seemed to be sturdy enough to hold his weight.
“When do I get my phone call?”
“On my Island? You get what I give you. And right now, I give you nothing.”
Elle glared at him. “This is kidnapping.”
“You came here of your own free will. You broke our laws, and now you’re going to spend some time in a jail cell, and if Master Lakapius judges you worthy, you might get a second chance. Or you might spend a few years in there for your crimes. In the meanwhile, you’ll be well fed. We aren’t monsters here.”
He chuckled, and tapped his horns with a finger. “Well, on the inside, at least.”