Clarke twisted the key in the lock as quietly as possible, despite her conviction that Gabriel wouldn't have bothered to leave a man posted outside her room.
Why should he when she was so securely locked in?
Still, life had taught her to be wary and it was a lesson she had learned well.
But when she cracked the door open, she found she'd been right. No one outside her door. She swung her head left and right. No one anywhere in sight.
She dropped the key back into her pocket and slipped silently into the corridor.
And paused. Now what?
She'd been so overjoyed when she remembered that key that she'd rushed to the door with no idea about what to do next. No plan. Convinced only that she needed to help Bellamy, that if she didn't hurry he'd be in grave danger. But she knew rushing around without thought would not only be fruitless but probably more risky than doing nothing at all.
And then her hand closed over the key again, her fingers rubbed the smooth metal, and she wondered why the hell she was being so dense. Between them, she and Bellamy had everything they needed not only to get her away from this place but to completely foil Gabriel's plans for a coup.
She was exceedingly grateful for the mental map she'd made of the house when she recalled the narrow back staircase that ran from one end of the unused bedroom wing down to the short corridor where the office was located. It would allow her to reach the main floor while still avoiding the central staircase, and any of Gabriel's men who might be lurking there.
The bedroom wing was completely silent, and although the cleaning trolley was in evidence, the housekeeper herself was nowhere in sight. Clarke slipped quietly past the cart, hurried down the hallway, and practically ran down that back stairway.
She halted there briefly, but eventually decided that with Gabriel otherwise occupied his office was more than likely empty.
Clarke quickly unlocked the office door, closing it noiselessly behind her, and rushed across the room to the wall safe. With confident fingers, she once again typed in Gabriel's rather fanciful code—
E
— and depressed the lever, watching as the door swung open soundlessly.
She knew what she was looking for this time, immediately reaching past the papers and the cash to the back of the safe, fishing around for the flash drive. But her hands hit something else instead. Something larger and heavier and entirely unexpected that she'd somehow missed the first time around.
A gun.
She pulled it out with shaking fingers, and gaped at it. Firearms were not common in Eligius, and she and Bellamy had been happy they'd buried their own cache of weapons long before they reached the city. They were - all of them - sick of war, and had agreed they wouldn't retrieve the weapons without a damn good reason.
Clarke was pretty sure that Gabriel turning the city into his own little kingdom would probably have qualified.
But that wasn't going to happen. Not if she could help it.
The gun in her hands was made of some sort of non-metallic material. Ceramic, she thought, or maybe a hard resin. It looked fairly new, and when she clicked back the slide and checked the chamber, she found that it was in good working order and fully loaded.
Damn! She couldn't believe her luck, because this was a weapon she knew how to use. The last thing Clarke had wanted was to ever again have shoot anyone, but she knew she'd still do it if it meant freeing herself. Or protecting Bellamy. Or stopping Gabriel.
She slid the the gun into her left pants pocket, and although it weighed her down a bit, it was a comforting, reassuring weight. Than she quickly found the flash drive and took that, too. Within seconds, she'd closed the safe, slipped carefully out of the room, and locked the door behind her, sliding the key in next to the flash drive in her right pocket.
In the two days she'd been there, Clarke had observed only four different men in Gabriel's gang of revolutionaries. No doubt there were others in different locations - those traitorous guards Gabriel had mentioned, for instance - but unless he had another place to feed or house them nearby, only those four were stationed at the house.
As she came around the corner toward the main hall, she could see only one of them - the same weaselly-looking asshole who'd whisked her upstairs earlier. She supposed there could be another inside the sword room, but somehow she doubted it. It wouldn't do for Gabriel to be seen as needing a personal guard with someone as lightweight as Bellamy Blake. A man who had proven himself useful only as a sperm donor.
In fact, Clarke suspected Gabriel viewed all the new people with that same degree of contempt, seeing them as weak and ineffectual. The result, she was sure, of their decision to keep as low a profile as possible.
She couldn't help her tiny smirk when she imagined that he would soon find out how wrong he was.
Just as soon as she could get rid of the man in the hall.
As she mulled the problem over, Clarke glanced up casually... to find that the gray-haired housekeeper was at the top of the stairs, and was staring straight into her eyes.
Fuck! How the hell could she have been so careless? She reached into her pocket, felt the heavy weight of the gun, knew she'd have only seconds to react after the woman gave her away. But then...
"Jacko, could you come upstairs and give me a hand, please? I got the cord all tangled up around the vacuum and I can't get it untangled."
Clarke muffled her gasp of surprise as she moved further into the shadows.
"I don't know, Grace. I mean, I'm supposed to stay here and keep watch."
"What are you watching for? Has something happened?"
The woman sounded bewildered, but Clarke knew it had to be act. She'd already seen her.
"You didn't hear the commotion? The guys on the drive thought we had an intruder."
"An intruder? Here?" Grace sounded shocked.
"Yeah, well it was all a mistake. Turned out to be a... ah... visitor."
"Well, then?"
"You're right, it's stupid to just be standing around here. Whaddya need?" Jacko had begun to climb the stairs.
Hmph. It appeared that Jacko the asshole wasn't always an asshole, and that he had a soft spot for Grace. And goddammit if it didn't also appear that Gabriel's housekeeper was some kind of... turncoat.
Clarke wondered if she knew who Clarke was, had maybe even been at the meeting, or the gala. Perhaps the woman truly believed in the prophecy's child and was afraid for Clarke.
Or maybe she just despised her employer. Clarke was more than willing to give full marks to that possibility.
Either way, while her immediate problem was solved, she knew she had to move quickly.
The sword room was so large that there was a door at either end, and both led into the main hallway. When she put her ear to the door nearest the staircase, the voices were muffled but still loud enough to tell her that the men were at that end of the room. She locked that door from the outside as quietly as possible and moved to the door further down the hall.
Clarke recognized this moment as the one that would either make or break her, and she sent up a silent prayer to any god who might be inclined to listen before slowly turning the knob. While every little click of the latch sounded like thunder to her ears, her entrance seemed to have gone unnoticed by the others in the room.
Breathing a silent sigh of relief, Clarke carefully locked the door behind her and tucked herself into the shadows of a tall cabinet to listen, and to wait.
Bellamy and Gabriel were standing next to the far wall, their bodies angled in such a way that Clarke didn't have a full view of their faces. But she could see their movements and hear their voices clearly.
"This is an impressive collection," Bellamy was saying admiringly, as he clumsily hefted a sword in his hand. "Even larger than the one in the government offices."
Clarke smirked at the deference he was paying to Gabriel, a man she knew Bellamy despised. But he seemed it be pulling it off nicely.
Gabriel snorted derisively.
"That was originally my father's collection. He spent years gathering together many of the weapons that had come from Earth with the first Eligians."
Bellamy nodded. "So... why did they bring the swords with them when they made the journey here? The things weren't exactly commonplace on 21st century Earth."
Gabriel shrugged. This was clearly a point in which he had little interest.
"No one's sure, but my father always said that Bill Cadogan - my great-uncle who stayed behind - had some kind of fascination with them. Thought everyone should have his own sword because they were the only pure weapon."
"Pure weapon?"
Gabriel shifted his head just enough for Clarke to glimpse the patronizing smile. "Just you and the sword, Blake. Takes a lot of skill to wield the things properly, but they can do a lot of damage." He paused, adding pompously. "I've been training with them for years."
Listening from the shadows, it was impossible for Clarke not to make the connection between Bill Cadogan and all those grounder swords back on Earth. She figured Bellamy had to be thinking the same thing.
But he merely nodded and said, "And your father left his collection to the city?"
"Yes. When he should have left it to his only son." Gabriel couldn't quite keep the bitterness out of his voice. "He thought it was more important to "'preserve the city's history'."
Clarke heard the disdain, and was certain that phrase must have been exactly how his father had justified his choice. And equally certain the man's rationale had been soundly rejected and his actions passionately resented by his son.
"But I've spent years building my own collection," he continued, the pride oozing out in every word, "and now it surpasses anything my father ever dreamed of. It's bigger, more varied. And I keep it in better condition. Every edge is razor sharp."
Bellamy merely nodded, glancing around at the vast array of weapons, asking casually, "And will you leave your collection to the city, too? Make it a family tradition?"
Clarke silently saluted Bellamy's cleverness. The question was so innocuous that the needle was well-hidden.
Gabriel immediately bristled.
"Not a chance. I'll be leaving my collection to my son."
"Ah, I hadn't realized you had a son."
The remark was so utterly banal that if Clarke hadn't known better she might almost have believed it to be just an innocent comment.
"Or a wife," Bellamy added after a moment, his tone still deceptively bland. As though it were an afterthought.
Gabriel laughed. "I have neither at the moment. But I'm working on changing that."
"Oh?"
He gave Bellamy a sly smile. "Of course, I wouldn't mind knowing what she's like in the sack before I commit myself. So... maybe you can give me a hint or two."
There was a short silence, and Clarke saw Bellamy's back stiffen. His head shifted slightly toward Gabriel as he asked in a tone curiously devoid of expression, "Are you talking about Clarke?"
Gabriel smirked. "No matter what kind of bullshit Oriana puts out, Blake, we both know that you and Clarke aren't really together. So, okay. Took you a while but you got the job done. Now you can move on to some other woman and leave a tasty morsel like Clarke Griffin to someone a little more... into her. And then, after she has this damn prophecy child, she can have mine. My son. But..." he shrugged, "I wouldn't mind hearing about what I have to look forward to. A little preview of what's between those gorgeous legs."
Gabriel was practically leering at him, and even from across the room, Clarke fancied she could feel Bellamy's loathing rolling off him in waves. Or maybe it was just her own, reflected back at her.
"I'm not really a kiss and tell kind of guy," he said finally, his voice tight.
Clarke was proud of Bellamy's restraint, considering how much she knew he hated the man. And the trash talk. Now if she could only figure out a way to let him know she was there without alerting Gabriel, then maybe...
But it seemed Gabriel Cadogan wasn't quite done making an ass of himself.
"Oh, come on, Blake! I don't need a lot of details, I just want to know if that pussy is really as sweet as I think it must..."
Gabriel's voice ground to a halt, the sharp point of the sword at his throat suddenly interfering with his ability to speak.
It had happened so quickly that across the room Clarke gasped audibly in surprise, but the men were too preoccupied to notice.
"Where is she?" Bellamy's voice was biting now. Harsh.
"Wh-what?"
"Clarke. What the fuck have you done with her?"
"I don't know what you're talking about! And if you have any hope of leaving this house in one piece, you'll get that thing out of my face!"
"Cut the shit. Clarke's been missing for three days and I know she's not on any damn retreat."
Gabriel shrugged, his body language clearly denying any knowledge of her whereabouts. At the same time, his eyes darted about, searching for a way out.
And then he found it.
In a movement Clarke was unhappily surprised to see him pull off, Gabriel leapt away from Bellamy's sword, and within seconds had grabbed a weapon from the wall and thrust it in front of himself in a classic defensive stance. For a moment, the two men paused to study one another, taking each other's measure.
Gabriel's lip curled disdainfully. "You must have some kind of death wish, Blake. Because you have no idea what I'm capable of."
Bellamy moved his own sword to a defensive position, cocking a brow and asking quietly, "Do we really need to do this, Cadogan? You took Clarke and now I want you to give her back. That's it. These fucking things are dangerous, so let's not do something stupid."
"It's a little late for that. You stuck that blade in my face, and now I want to see if you have the balls to finish what you started."
Clarke was shocked at how out of control the situation had suddenly become. She moved a little way out of the shadows, desperate for a better view. Watched as the two of them circled one another, Cadogan arrogant, Bellamy wary.
When Gabriel finally lunged, Bellamy was ready. He sidestepped easily, avoiding the blow, whirling away so quickly that even Clarke was astonished at his agility. As for Gabriel, his surprise at having his opponent escape his attempted strike seemed only to intensify his resolve to teach Bellamy Blake a lesson.
He lunged again, and this time Bellamy was able to block the blow with his sword, using the momentum to push Gabriel back with such force that he very nearly lost his footing and slammed into the wall.
From her spot in the shadows, Clarke could almost feel Gabriel's shock, his disbelief that this weakling from another planet, this man who could be told who he had to sleep with, was not going to be easily bested after all. And the shock seemed to turn his arrogance to anger.
Even Clarke knew you couldn't let anger control you in a fight.
Gabriel's thrusts became steadily wilder as his stamina waned and his strength began to fail. And when a few ineffectual blows landed on Bellamy's shoulders and arms, she knew he must be tiring, too, if only from the strength of will it had to be taking not to answer those blows in kind.
Clarke knew it couldn't go on much longer.
When she saw Gabriel rear back, seeming to gather what was left of his strength, she knew he was making a final desperate effort to disarm Bellamy, win the fight, and save his pride. But his lunge was wildly inaccurate, his aim too wide, and his thrust too weak to reach its mark.
And Bellamy, it appeared, had reached the end of his patience.
This time, he not only sidestepped the blow but whirled quickly around Gabriel, striking heavily at his shoulders and back with deadly accuracy. Gabriel went down hard, winded and flailing, but still stubbornly clutching his sword.
But when Bellamy kicked him in the torso, he fell back with a grunt, finally loosening his fist as the sword clattered to the floor. Bellamy kicked it away, breathing heavily himself, his own sword digging lightly into Gabriel's chest.
"Are we done?"
Disarmed and furious, Gabriel began to bluster.
"I can have one of my men in here in seconds!"
Bellamy shrugged.
"Maybe you can and maybe you can't. But it won't matter to you because you'll be dead before that door finishes opening."
"How the hell do you think this is going to end, Blake?" Gabriel's face was distorted with fury. "Are you really that stupid? If you hurt me, my men will kill you before you leave the room. And you'll never be able to find Clarke," he taunted, finally admitting that he had taken her.
Clarke figured she knew a cue when she heard one.
"I don't think it'll actually be that hard," she said, stepping out of the shadows and moving across the room towards them, gun drawn and trained on Gabriel.
"Clarke!" The relief in Bellamy's voice was palpable.
Gabriel eyed her in outraged disbelief. "You can't be here!"
"And yet, here I am."
"It's great I won't have to look for you," Bellamy said, never taking his eyes off Gabriel, "but you got any ideas about how we're gonna get out of this place?"
"Still working on that. But first we gotta find something to tie him up with."
Bellamy's eyes widened in surprise. "So he can't follow when we leave?"
Clarke shook her head. "Nope. He's coming with us."
"The hell I am!" Gabriel swore, his face tight and angry, but his protests were less strident in the face of both sword and gun.
"Shut up!" Bellamy said sharply, adding a gentle kick to the solar plexus to emphasize his point.
After a frustrated Gabriel finally decided to content himself with a hostile glare, Bellamy side-eyed Clarke curiously.
"I get that you must have your reasons for this, Clarke, and you can tell me what they are later. But if we have to take him along, we're gonna gag this asshole first, because I've had just about enough of his bullshit."
Clarke sighed. "You have no idea."
She still had no plan for getting them out of the house and back to Bellamy's vehicle, especially with a hostile Gabriel in tow. But Clarke couldn't worry about that. Right now it was more important to find a way to eliminate any threat from Gabriel Cadogan. And to shut him the hell up.
First things first.