With Fear or Without

56- Third Time's the Charm

Cleo stood in the doorway with her hand glued to the doorknob as she took in the scene.

Two men stood at the far end of the room. One was clearly older than the other, the elder looking like the one in charge. He was also the one Cleo vaguely recognized as the man who walked out onto the stage at midnight just before the trio had made their clever escape. He still wore the tux, but he had lost the jacket along the way. His crisp white shirt had the top couple buttons undone. He regarded the three newcomers like they were expected guests, though his strained smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

The second, younger man barely glanced in their direction. He wore basic black slacks and a deep ruby dress shirt with a short glowing blade hanging from his belt. His light hair was slicked back to reveal a widow's peak. Faint, barely visible scars criss-crossed his jaw, one reaching up just below his eye like a tear mark. His glare was focused solely on the third person in the room.

Maedrian Silver. She stood with her back against the left wall. Her hands were bound together by a rope of deep ruby light, secured to the wall as if magnetized. She struggled against it, pulling her body forwards, but the bindings held fast. She was breathing absolute fire at the two men, perhaps hoping that her glare would be enough to burn them to cinders.

Cleo didn't move. Her friends were forced to squeeze past her into the room and they stood shoulder to shoulder in a defensive line.

The older man raised a hand and flicked his wrist dismissively, rosy tendrils appearing and fading from his fingertips. The door slid out of Cleo's grasp and clicked closed behind her. Her heart ached once more for Nolan, who sat alone just outside.

Cleo attempted to catch Maedrian's eyes, but she refused to look in their direction. Instead she dropped her eyes to the floor, her head hanging in something like defeat and her eyes searching the floor.

The first man clasped his hands behind his back, lifted his pointed nose slightly as he looked at Cleo, then Andy, then Charlie. His eyes swept over them like a metal detector, although Cleo felt he was searching for something very different then metal. She felt the black case grow heavier in her hand.

"I'm impressed," he said steadily, his eyes flickering down to the case in Cleo's hand. "This is the closest you've gotten, Silver," He said the name in a sneer, like it was poison in his mouth. "You may have even succeeded this time if it wasn't for one mistake."

Cleo shifted her weight, gulping down air through her dry throat. The man's words didn't make sense.

"Although, I must ask," he continued, tilting his head in something like pity. "Why children? Do you believe them easier to manipulate? Expendable?" At the last phrase he snapped his head to Maedrian, his tone growing accusatory and sharp as cut glass.

Maedrian was still, eyes boring into the floor. Cleo could only guess what she was feeling. Shame? Rage? Disappointment?

"Who-" Andy started, clearing her throat and starting again, "Who are you? What are you talking about?" She had stepped forwards just a bit, a brave face covering everything except her wary eyes that flickered over the man's face.

"You've been lied to," the man told them, turning away from Maedrian's silence. "Led to believe this little band of rebels is good. And that you were the one who would save us all. Do you truly believe you were the first they recruited to do their dirty work?"

"This time was different."

At the grumbled words, every eye went to Maedrian. Her shoulders crept up towards her ears, her whole body tense. It was unsettling to see her this way, the usually calm and authoritative figure shaking in rage.