Burke laughed without mirth. It was that mad a moment.
And that dangerous.
For while he might find temporary cover here with Ariadne, in these private quarters beyond the Queen's Megaron, death yet bayed at his heels.
Already, bearded King Minos himself no doubt paced some other palace hall—thirsting for Burke blood; raging in jealous fury that any outlander should dare aspire to his lovely daughter.
That slavering Greek lecher, Theseus, too—it was lucky he lay dead drunk there in the corner. Sober, and confronted with a rival, he'd kill just to salve his wounded ego.
And then, as if that were not enough of peril, there was ... the other.
Involuntarily, Burke shuddered.
What chance did a mere human have, pitted against the dark craft of the alien? Where could he hope to find the strength and skill and insight to win over the strange horror from beyond the void?
Yet with Ariadne's life at stake, Earth's whole future in the balance, how could he turn back?
No; he had no choice but to press on; seek out and challenge the might of that nightmare monster men called the Minotaur.