SORRY! School has been crazy busy, but I am back and I am so excited for the story to move forwards from here! Please leave a comment and enjoy!

Chapter 11

New York City, USA
December 2017

"Please get up, Strange!"

Golden sparks of energy cracked around him.

Yelling could be heard in the distance, more sounds of magic being blasted and conjured.

"PLEASE!"

Strange woke with a gasp, red eyes darting around his room. Panting, Strange placed a hand on his heart, trying to calm the beat. Uneasiness settling.

"It was a bad dream…" Strange mumbled to himself as he placed his feet on the ground. Looking at his clock on his nightstand, Strange groaned as he only got 2 hours of sleep. After arriving in the Sanctum after Mordo's manhunt of Cleo through New York, Cleo went immediately to bed. She was exhausted from opening the portals all around New York and from fighting him all on her own. Strange had more trouble falling asleep since he had badly bruised his chest, back and arms, which were almost fully healed after Cleo healed him in the alley and from applying the ointment.

Groaning, Strange got up and made his way to his shower, still trying to still that uneasiness in him. Turning the lights on, Strange could see the toll of the lack of sleep had on him. Dark bags under his eyes, blue and black bruises littering his pale skin. Sighing, he shed his clothing and started to heat his shower until the mirror fogged his reflection away. Stepping into the hot water, Stephan sighed, relaxing the tense muscles.

'Cleo… we cannot fight him like this…'

'Doesn't mean we cannot try.'

Shame filled Strange as he began to shampoo his hair. She was ready to fight. She kept him at bay when I was not even able to stand. Strange thought as he began to wash his body. I promised her mother that I would take care of her and protect her, but she has been the one to protect me.

Strange thought back to Mordo's dark smile as he had trapped them in the alley. Sadness washed over him as he shut off the water, thinking of how Mordo was before. If only I knew where he was, maybe I could talk sense into him, Strange thought as he dried himself, carefully patting at the bruises. From a concerned once friend.

Giving up on trying to sleep, Strange made his way to the library. Exiting his room, he paused in front of Cleo's room debating on whether to check up on her or not. Deciding that it was probably best to let her sleep, Strange began to think of a way to locate Mordo.

Cleopatra could hear Strange's footsteps as he paused in front of her door and as they continued down the hallway. She was hidden beneath her covers, curtains pulled tight and lamp on. She felt foolish for acting so childish but she was frightened. She was unable to sleep, constantly tossing and turning, still feeling the ghost of Mordo's fingers around her neck. Once inside the Sanctum, Cleo had rushed to her room, claiming that she was exhausted. Running to her bathroom, Cleo inspected her neck, finding dark bruises. I almost died Cleo thought horridly, as she winced as she touched her neck. All the adrenalineof the night had begun to wear off and the pain and exhaustion had finally settled in.

She became worried that every dark corner of her room held the murderer, with his gleeful smile and insatiable eyes. Fear and shame flooded her body as Cleo thought of her Mother, her bravery and selflessness. I am sorry, I am not you. I can never be you, Cleo thought as she wept into her pillows for the millionth time that night. Images of her strong Mother were replaced by Mordo gripping her Mother's neck. The same bruises that littered the High Priestess' neck were now on Cleo's.

Not knowing how or when, Cleo fell into a dreamless sleep.

Countless books were scattered across the floor and tables, the Sanctum's library looked as if it were raided. Crouching over a book the thickness of a watermelon, Strange's eyes darted across the pages. Eyes resting on a passage, hope began to fill Strange, finally he had found something on locating sorcerers.

In locating an individual, sorcerer or mystical beings, the sorcerer must obtain
a strand of hair from the individual and then cast the proper incantations.
If the hair is not obtain the spell will not be effective….

Groaning and slamming the book closed, Strange stretched out his back, wincing as he did so. Frustration continued to build within him.

"I do not have Mordo's hair and I cannot get Mordo's hair unless I find Mordo…" Strange growled out to no one in particular. Intense eyes piercing the book as if it insulted him. He had the Eye of Horus but he did not have the Book of Wadjet to access to Eye! No book had the location of the Book of Wadjet and if his suspicions were correct it would have turned to dust in the House of Life.

Sighing, he got up off the floor and checked his watch. Eyes wide, he had been searching for 12 hours! Flicking his wrists all the scattered books were stacked neatly on the table. Probably best to check in on Cleo, Strange thought as he made his way to her room.

What do I tell her? Hey, sorry I was absolutely useless against Mordo, hope it doesn't happen again! Strange thought sarcastically. Shame once again filling his tired form as he stopped outside of her door for the second time that day. Lifting his hand he knocked lightly.

No answer. Strange paused and knocked again, this time louder. No answer again. "Cleo… hey, I just wanted to check on you." He called out. No response.

Deliberating on whether it was appropriate to walk into her room uninvited, he decided that he would take the awkwardness and yelling.

Turning the handle open, Strange pushed the door open to a bright room with the curtains drawn. Seeing a figure under the covers in the bed, Strange went to it and sat on the edge of the bed, lifting the covers up.

What met him made his heart hurt. Under the mountain of covers was a sleeping Cleo, black bags under red and puffy eyes. "Oh Cleo…" Strange said under his breath as he saw her neck, and he thought his bruises were bad. Cleo's neck had two distinct large black and blue bruises in the shape of hands. Mordo's hands. She didn't say that he had injured her, Strange thought as he inspected her neck closer, noticing how deeply she took her breathes. Since she had not treated her bruises, they had developed into a darker colour, contrasting dramatically with her skin tone.

Anger flashed before Strange's eyes. How could he? Strange thought, growing angrier by the moment. First he destroyed her house, killed her mother and now this. That madman needs to be stopped. His resolve to find Mordo strengthen ten folds.

"Cleopatra." Strange spoke shaking her shoulder.

Long eyelashes slowly opened. Looking up at Strange, Cleo quickly moved the blankets to cover her neck, looking anywhere but Strange, embarrassed. "Cleo…" Strange spoke, waiting for her to speak up about her injuries.

"It's nothing." she said, voice gone and raspy. Strange noticed, "The added pressure on your neck and vocal cords would result in a loss of voice, do not strain yourself." Letting his doctor persona come through.

Cleo slowly looked at Strange, eyes still red from crying all night. "Does it hurt?" Strange asked as he brought a hand out to pull the covers down. Cleo nodded her head. Strange brought a shaky hand to her neck and pressed gently on a bruise, Cleo took in a sharp breath and Strange withdrew his hand immediately. "Sorry" He said weakly, still fuming with anger and shame. "Why didn't you tell me?" He asked, making eye contact with Cleo.

Cleo looked away again, shrugging her shoulders. "I didn't want to seem weak to you." She said in the quietest voice, Strange having to lean in to hear her properly. Pulling back Strange looked at her with wide eyes.

"Weak to me?" Strange asked, as Cleo nodded her head in confirmation. "You are anything but weak Cleo! When I was subdued in an instance, you were the one who faced Mordo and fought, saving me in the process. You opened a portal without having practiced with a sling ring before! You saved me when you could have easily had ran away. For crying out loud you casted a perfect replication spell when I was too weak to even stand on my own two feet! You are not weak, Cleopatra. I am the one who should be ashamed and weak. You saved me and for that you have my greatest respect. I am so proud of all that you have achieved and have yet to conquer. I am sure your Mother would have been proud of you."

Strange finished his rant, feeling a weight come off his shoulders. As he spoke, Cleo's eyes were tearing up again, silent tears falling down her face. A moment of silence was shared between the two. Cleo moved forwards, hugging Stephan in a tight hug. "Thank you, Stephan. You are not weak, I look up to you." She said into his chest. Patting her back, Strange's own eyes began to sting.

All of the emotions, tension and fear from the previous night had begun to fade away as the duo found solace within one another. Sharing the moment, Strange tightened his hold around her as Cleo tried to even her breathing. After what seemed like an eternity, Cleo pulled away, wiping away the remaining tears and letting out a small laugh, "We're both a mess."

"Speak for yourself." Strange responded with a smile, hand on Cleo's knee. Her smile growing, Strange laughed and got off the bed and offered a hand to her. Taking it, he pulled her up to her feet and continued to inspect her neck. "You will need to put medication on it to help with the pain and bruising. You might find it difficult to eat or drink, so we can make soup for you to also help with your sore throat." He said, tilting her head to both sides. "Also, try to limit your speech for the time being, no need to make it worse than it already is." Meeting his eyes, Cleo nodded. "Good, freshen up and I will make you a late lunch. All of your classes will be suspended until you are healed, meet me in the kitchen after, I will have made a new ointment for you." Strange concluded as he left Cleo in the room, making his way to the kitchen, a lightness in his steps that wasn't there in the morning.

Once arriving in the emerald kitchen, he quickly went to work in making the ointment and soup, waving his hands towards the cupboard, all of the ingredients floated gently down to the island as he began to measure the medication.

His movements were second nature, as he was lost in thought. I need to report to Wong on the events of yesterday. I need to know how to use the Eye but the Book of Wadjet is lost to me. What if there is no way for me to locate Mordo? Strange paused in front of the boiling soup, ointment chilling in the fridge. What then? Have I failed Cleo? Will all of earth's sorcerers be subjected to a genocide? Strange let the bitter thought linger for a moment, imagining the death of all of Kamar-Taj and the rise of Mordo.

"Strange…" a quiet voice emerged in the doorway, pulling him from his thoughts.

"Yes, Cleo?" he asked, turning to face the freshly showered scribe.

Cleo made her way to the highchair on the island, eyes focused on Strange. "Don't worry about Mordo," she said, hoarseness evident in her little voice, "we can and will defeat him. Together."

Strange let out an exhausted sigh, "I appreciate the vote of confidence, Cleo, but I don't know how to locate him. I neither have his hair nor do I have the Book of Wadjet to access the Eye of Horus. There is no telling of where he is or how to trap him. He is one step ahead of us."

"He does not have to be…" Cleo whispered.

"What do you mean?" Strange asked, focusing more on what Cleo was saying.

"I mean," she paused to cough into her arm, "We have the Eye of Horus, he doesn't have to be one step ahead of us…" Strange cut her off, "But we don't have the Book."

Cleo smiled at him, "Not yet. I know where the Book of Wadjet is."

Forgetting about the soup, Strange leaned on the counter in front of Cleo in disbelief.

"Where?"

"In the Egyptian Museum of Cairo."