Zephyr's Promise

7

Zephyr. Atlas Zephyr. The very man I never wanted to meet. If I died before meeting him it would still be too soon.

When Cristiano spoke of him over the phone I could hear his fear. The tremble in his voice, the pause he took before uttering his name. If we were privy to his reaction I don't doubt he would have looked over his shoulder just to make sure he didn't pop up behind him.

Atlas Zephyr is who you fear to meet when the lights go out. A monster. The boogeyman. Bloody Mary, whichever you prefer least is him.

Damn it. I didn't account for Axel and him to be as close as they are. Clearly I misjudged Axel's position and the weight that it holds.

"You both know his name?" Sheepishly we both nod at Axel's question. Words are becoming impossible to form at the moment. Initially we did not discoids the full phone conversation between Christianity and Augustus. Only the important details. "How?"

As if God has heard my pleas two strong knocks sound on the door.

Axel gives a look that implies this conversation is absolutely nowhere near over. One could only hope to avoid his interrogation so easily. At least the disruption can serve a purpose in giving us more time to digest what we know and what to reveal.

Axel harshly looks towards the door though he does not respond.

Atlas' gaze never wavers from me. From the minute he sat down at the head of the table he has analyzed me. Criticized each of my movements.

Cold blue eyes watched me as a lion would its prey. Though Atlas never pounced when he was satisfied. He just kept watching me openly, even when his vision or words weren't explicitly directed at me he still kept his attention on me.

Each inhale and exhale he cataloged, anticipated almost. I would be lying if I didn't say half of my breaths were stolen simply because of his presence. Not the fear of what it meant. Well, not entirely. Also the jarring attractiveness that he held.

Rugged looks that were polished in a sense. He wore his dress shoes and slacks but that couldn't cover what truly laid underneath his clothes.

His features are strong and succinct. Not soft or delicate, his features screamed at you the second he appeared. They impose on you the same way that his height and frame do. Well over six feet he towered over me and his men, who had an impressive height themselves. Still he held inches over his advisors, not one to be outdone by any man.

I deduced this from his walk. It called the attention of bystanders regardless of whether that was the intent or not. He walked as if he owned the world, that the rest of us were orbiting around him. Whatever his wants and desires should be the concern of those around him. Anything other than that is only a blip in his solar system.

Again two knocks ensue followed by a voice that I somehow have heard before. "May I come in?" The semi-recognizable voice asks.

Numbness takes over. My mind is whirling and reeling.

"No." My voice is hoarse with the demand.

Atlas' arctic eyes peer at my earth colored ones. Peering into my eyes he stares for what feels like a century. My eyes beg for a modicum of mercy. A crumb of trust.

Please.

"We're busy Erik." Atlas answers before Axel can.

"Of course." Erik speaks. Then he shouts at someone on the other side. That voice is oddly familiar.

We hear footsteps retreating and my only thought is that these two have got to get us out of here. Recognizing a voice here is not a positive sign. There's only one reason I would have ever heard any of these men's voices. That is the night of the stake out. Meaning the person previously on the other side of the door is a traitor.