Specter's Gamble - 3. Chapter 3

It was several hours later, and Desmond felt like shit. He couldn’t find a comfortable or at least, a semi-comfortable position at all. If he sat down, his arms would be strained above his head and they would start aching after several minutes. If he stood up, it would make his shoulders feel better, but it also made his knee hurt. Desmond remembered the kick that the bastard landed on his kneecap and gritted his teeth for probably a thousandth time within the last couple of hours. He would kill him, he thought. He didn’t know when or how, but he would kill this son of a bitch. The knee was hurting again, so he slid down to the floor, pressing his back against the wall.

Until the end of the month... Desmond frowned thoughtfully. Why until the end of the month? It had something to do with one of Desmond’s assignments, he knew that much. He thought about the cases he had lined up. There was a banker, whose rival contacted Desmond a couple of weeks ago; a woman who was blackmailing a semi-famous novelist; a politician’s son who managed to piss off one of the business tycoons in the city... Could it be one of those? Not the banker, that’s for sure. Desmond discarded the woman as well – the idiotic bimbo thought she was invincible as long as she had those photographs of the writer fucking her in some seedy motel room. Yeah, that would be an interesting one to explain to his mate, Desmond snorted softly.

Desmond himself never had a mate. He didn’t think he ever would. One of the reasons was the fact that his line of work could make him kick the bucket any second of any given day. It would hardly be a smart choice to get deeply involved with someone if you were a kill-for-hire. The other reason was that having a mate would mean having a huge liability. If there is someone or something you care deeply enough about, that gives others a very good leverage against you. There was another reason. The one that outweighed the first two. To have a mate meant that you had to put your complete and utter trust into another person. Desmond didn’t do well with trusting someone. Plus, what if your mate turns out to be someone like the said writer?

He shook his head, making himself to stop thinking about something so futile. It’s not the banker, and it’s not the bimbo. That left the politician’s son. Desmond frowned again. Why would this bastard... Gabriel... Why would he give a shit about some spoiled brat? What was the brat’s name, by the way? Samuel, Desmond remembered immediately. Samuel LeVoughn.

This time, he heard the bastard to come into the room.

“So you are keeping me here because you are taking care of the LeVoughn kid?” he asked casually and smirked when the dark eyes widened in momentarily surprise. “I’ll kill him anyway,” he said with a small smile. “Because now it’s a personal challenge.”

“I don’t care if you kill him,” the bastard said, and now it was Desmond’s turn to blink in surprise. “I have to keep you away from him until the end of the month. What happens after that is none of my concern.”

Desmond narrowed his eyes.

“I see...” he muttered and Gabriel gave him a weary look. Desmond almost shrugged, but at the last second decided against it. His arms were straining above his head; shrugging would feel quite uncomfortable, to say the least. “LeVoughn-Senior thinks that by the end of the month the kid should be safe... He is probably shipping him off to a different continent,” he laughed softly. “Like it would stop me... He’s got something on you, huh? The politician? He’s jerking your chain, so you keep me locked up ‘till he says it’s okay to let go...” He shook his head and slowly got up. Shoulders started to ache again. “Never trust a politician,” he said with a smirk and Gabriel turned away from him.

The shrill ringing of the phone made him look up with a startled jerk. “Jumpy, are you...” Desmond thought darkly, eyeing his capturer through the dark strand of hair that fell on his face. Gabriel crossed the room and picked up the phone.

“Yes,” he said into it. “Yes,” he said again after a minute and glanced at Desmond. “No,” he said with a small frown. “No problems... Correct,” he nodded to himself. “It’s fine...” he frowned deeper. “Why would I care about that? Guardians’ business doesn’t concern me...”

Desmond blinked. Guardians’ business?

“I am aware of that,” Gabriel said into the phone evenly. “They can figure it out on their own. I will,” he nodded again. “Good-bye.” He thoughtfully looked at the receiver in his hand before replacing it in the cradle.

“Why would someone bother calling you about Guardians’ business?” Desmond asked in a low voice and Gabriel glanced at him.

“Because they think I might be interested,” he answered shortly.

“You would make a good Guardian,” Desmond said with a sneer and Gabriel stared at him. This time, Desmond was able to shrug. “Serve the greater good,” he said. “You’d make a great servant... One of Claudia’s lapdogs...”

Gabriel’s mouth twitched a little, and Desmond couldn’t tell if it was because he was annoyed or because he was trying not to laugh.

“There are worse things in this life than becoming Claudia’s lapdog,” he said quietly. “And no, I wouldn’t make a good Guardian. I am too unreliable.”

Suddenly, Desmond didn’t feel like making small talk anymore. He was getting really tired of this whole ordeal. He felt trapped and it was making him mad. It’s been a while since the last time he felt this way, and he hated the feeling.

“I need to take a piss,” he said shortly and Gabriel cocked his head to the left, thoughtful expression on his face. “You gonna make me piss all over myself?” Desmond asked irritably.

“No,” Gabriel said finally. “I won’t.”

Desmond watched him warily as he walked towards him. As he reached for the cuffs, he asked:

“You gonna let me do it by myself or you gonna pull it out for me?”

“You are on your own,” Gabriel muttered. “A word of advice though...” he put his hand on the ring of the handcuffs. “Don’t try anything, okay? Believe me, I am not bluffing.”

“Sounds more than just one word,” Desmond said.

Gabriel shrugged and unlocked the cuffs.

“How do you do that?” Desmond asked suddenly, his curiosity taking over.

Gabriel snapped the cuffs back onto the assassin’s wrists, this time in front of him.

“Metals and me...” he paused. “We are on friendly terms,” he finished with a small smile.

“Great,” Desmond thought gloomily. That made the whole situation that much harder.

“Don’t lock the door,” Gabriel said when Desmond was walking into the bathroom.

Desmond glanced at the metal doorknob.

“That would be useless,” he said indifferently and walked into the bathroom.

He shut the door and immediately went down on one knee. He shoved the fingers of his left hand under his pant leg and slightly frowned, searching underneath the material. Finally, he let out a small, satisfied grunt, and his fingers emerged, holding an oversized paperclip. “Always thought you might come in handy,” he muttered at the paperclip, unbending it swiftly.

It took him less than two minutes to get rid of the hateful cuffs. He set them on the counter and glanced at the door, a thoughtful frown greasing his forehead. Killing this son of a bitch would be excellent, but Desmond did not underestimate the dark-eyed bastard. He knew that right now he was in no shape to fight the guy, and he didn’t have a slightest desire to have all shit beaten out of him again. “I’ll come back,” he thought. “I have no problems with a rain-check.”

He went straight towards the window of the bathroom and snorted softly when he realized it was unlocked. “Cocky bastard, aren’t you?” he thought, reaching for the frame. “Not even worrying that I might be able to...”

He never finished his thought because the minute he touched the window frame, a zap of something that felt like electricity surged through his body and Desmond literally flew backwards. He hit the floor with the back of his head, but his mind barely even registered it. The pain from the zap was overwhelming; Desmond couldn’t even speak. He lay convulsing on the floor, his hands clenched into tight fists, toes digging into the tiled floor, back arching as if he was having a seizure.

The door opened and Desmond didn’t even notice that. “Ah, hell,” Gabriel said and lifted him off the floor. Desmond drew short gasps of air through his clenched teeth, his entire body shaking uncontrollably. He tried to speak, but the only thing he could say sounded like, “Mmgnph...”

“Don’t try to speak,” Gabriel sighed and carried him out of the bathroom. He lowered him on the couch and sighed again. Desmond stared at him blindly, his fists unable to relax, his entire body one screaming bolt of pain.

“Dammit,” Gabriel said and walked away. He came back in less than a minute and Desmond was finally able to draw a deep breath when a cold wet cloth touched his forehead. “It should start easing up in a couple of minutes,” Gabriel muttered, slowly working the cloth over Desmond’s face. “The pain will be completely gone in less than half an hour...”

After several minutes, Desmond realized that the pain was indeed easing up. He managed to relax his fists and blinked several times, trying to get rid of that annoying haziness in his eyes.

“I know how much it hurts,” Gabriel said seriously and Desmond glared at him.

“Like hell... you do...” he managed.

“No, really,” Gabriel nodded. “Before I brought you here, I had to make sure that I secured everything... As I said before...” he hemmed. “I am not suicidal. When everything was in place, I had to make sure that it worked properly...” He shrugged. “I had to test it out myself. So yes, I know how much it hurts,” he finished.

“What in the bloody hell was that...?” Desmond muttered, his body shaking less violently by now.

“A spell,” Gabriel replied seriously. “I put the same one on every window, door, and crawlspace in the house. Even if you manage to break out of these...” he nodded at the handcuffs that he apparently grabbed from the bathroom counter. “You will still be stuck here because I am the only one who can take the spell off, and if you kill me...” he shrugged. “You’ll just starve to death because there is no way you will be able to get out of here.”

“If you had the damn spell up this whole time, then why did you bother with the handcuffs?” Desmond narrowed his eyes.

“Would you really believe me if I told you?” Gabriel hemmed. “Also, you’d probably kill me before I had a chance to tell you about the spell if you woke up without the handcuffs.”

True, Desmond had to admit that. If his hands were free after he came about, the metal-boy here would be if not dead right now, then very close to it, because Desmond would definitely take his sweet time before sending this bastard to hell. He blinked when he realized that the pain was almost half-way gone. Damn magic, he thought darkly. He didn’t like magic; magic was something he could never trust. Not like he could trust much else, but at least he always thought that weapons (hell, even poisons!) could be trusted a hell of a lot more than magic. Magic was unreliable, therefore, it was dangerous. One could never know how a particular spell would turn out. Also, magic had a habit of turning the tables on its user. “Well,” Desmond thought reasonably. “Same with weapons... Those can be used against you as well.”

True, but when it came to weapons, Desmond was crème de la crème. When it came to magic, however, he was a complete and hopeless amateur. The fact that Gabriel knew how to use magic to his advantage, along with his ability to be 'friendly' with metals, only made him that much more dangerous of an opponent. “Who the hell is he, anyway?” Desmond thought. “I’ve never even heard of him...” And Desmond knew people, all right. With his line of work, it was pretty much a requirement. He welcomed the fact that the pain was almost gone and shifted on the couch. To his enormous surprise, he realized that he was hungry.

“Umm...” he said and Gabriel simply nodded.

“I know,” he said. “You are starving, aren’t you?”

Desmond slightly narrowed his eyes. Gabriel sighed.

“I know that because I was about to pass out from hunger after I was done testing the damn thing.”

He wasn't lying, Desmond thought with amusement. He really did test this by himself.

“Yes,” he said in a low voice. “I am starving... But I am not going to let you feed me,” he added and Gabriel nodded once again.

“Figured that much,” he said and got up, leaving the wet cloth on Desmond’s forehead.

He came back five or ten minutes later, and set a plate with steaming food on the table.

“Had to warm it up,” he said apologetically. “Sorry.”

The only thing Desmond said to that was:

“Mmngh!”

...and then he all but dove into that plate. Oh, God, this was definitely the best meal of his entire life. He didn’t even care that he could barely taste it; the fact that he had food, made him almost delirious. Finally, he was satiated enough to be able to let go of his fork. If there were no fork, he would just eat with his hands. Hell, he would let Gabriel to feed him and he would beg for more. He didn’t care if he looked pathetic; he didn’t give a shit if that would make him completely...

“Useless,” his Grandmother said at once.

...ridiculous; he couldn't care less. He felt amazingly good and he didn’t give a flying shit about anything else.

“More?” Gabriel asked, and it wasn’t mocking; he was simply curious if Desmond needed more food, so he could go into the kitchen and warm it up.

Desmond shook his head ‘No’ and Gabriel nodded, as if confirming something he knew the answer to already. Desmond pushed the plate away, his eyelids heavy with satiation and hovering sleep. Once again, he didn’t give a damn about anything in the world, but the fact that he wasn’t hungry anymore, and all he wanted to do right now was sleep.

Gabriel slid the handcuffs onto his wrists, and Desmond just raised his eyebrows. “I can’t get out of the damn place anyway...” he thought sleepily. “What’s the point?”

Gabriel – once again – acted as if he were reading his mind.

“You can’t get out,” he said. “But you are stubborn enough to try it anyway... And I’d much rather keep you preoccupied than being strangled in my sleep...”

That made sense, and to be honest, right now Desmond couldn't care less. He simply mumbled something unintelligible and closed his eyes. He drifted to sleep soon after that; his hands cuffed behind his back; his worries ridiculous, because they had nothing to do with his basic needs; his inner-self completely satisfied with its surroundings. Desmond had been drugged before, so he could recognize the symptoms and effects. This wasn’t exactly chemicals-induced condition, but it felt very similar. “I guess magic is not much different from drugs,” he thought before sliding into dark sleep completely.