Specter's Gamble - 4. Chapter 4

By the end of the first week of his imprisonment, Desmond was finally able to accept the fact that he was not going anywhere for a while. Until the end of the month, to be exact. He hated the arrangement, but there was nothing he could do about it. He grudgingly accepted the fact that he had finally met his match in Gabriel. The man thought ahead of pretty much everything. He would always keep the spell up whenever he was at home; when he had to leave the house, he would always chain Desmond to the same old pipe before taking the spell down, so he could leave. “Even if you get out of the handcuffs,” he said to Desmond once. “I wouldn’t recommend you trying to escape from the house. Not unless you want to be knocked out again. And I won’t be here to help you, so you’ll be on your own.”

Desmond didn’t know if he indeed was putting the spell up from the outside, but he didn’t dare testing Gabriel’s words. He had no intentions of going through that excruciating pain again. And to endure the whole thing on his own... No, Desmond definitely didn’t plan to try to escape from the house.

To be honest, he didn’t mind Gabriel’s company lately. Yeah, sure, he would still remind him every chance he got that he would kill him the minute he was free, but he had to admit that in some very bizarre way, this was as close to vacation as he'd ever gotten. He didn’t have to do anything; he could read or watch TV for as long as he wanted (unless Gabriel was out of the house and Desmond had to hug that damn pipe); the food was good – Gabriel could cook surprisingly well; and they would talk more and more often. Just talk, without threats or insults (the latter usually came from Desmond), and the assassin actually enjoyed their conversations.

Tonight was day ten of his imprisonment and they were playing cards.

“Raise you twenty,” Gabriel said indifferently.

Desmond stuck his cigarette between his teeth and looked at him intently. Gabriel didn’t even flinch. Desmond was about to fold (“Screw this! I only have a three-of-a-kind...”), when Gabriel started mindlessly pulling on the strand of his hair. Desmond almost grinned. He knew a bluff when he saw one.

“Deal,” he said and threw the cards on the table. “Call.”

Gabriel let go of his hair and his eyelid twitched.

“Dammit,” he muttered and threw his cards face up as well.

Desmond chuckled when he saw just a pair of Jacks.

“Pay up,” he said, and Gabriel sighed and shoved several bills into his hand. Desmond didn’t bother counting the money and put them in his pocket. “For someone so smart,” he said with a grin, “you are really easy to read when you bluff.”

“I’ve been told otherwise,” Gabriel grimaced and Desmond snorted.

“Yeah,” he said. “By someone who kept on winning, right? Now, why do you think they would say that...” he frowned in mock thoughtfulness. That made Gabriel laugh.

“How did you know I was bluffing?” he asked.

“You might wanna leave your hair alone when you are bluffing,” Desmond said seriously. “Whenever you start pulling on your hair, it’s a dead give-away.”

Gabriel blinked as if he never even realized he was doing that. He reached for the pack of cigarettes that was sitting in the middle of the table and pulled one out.

“Have you ever met Claudia?” Desmond asked suddenly. Gabriel glanced at him.

“No,” he said. “Never have. You?”

“Yeah,” Desmond nodded and Gabriel’s eyes widened a little. “Once. I was fourteen.”

“How in the world did you get to meet Claudia?” Gabriel seemed to be genuinely puzzled.

“She came to the town where I lived,” Desmond dragged on his smoke. “To get those two arrogant bastards...” he grimaced. “Just like they thought,” he finished in an annoyed voice.

“What arrogant bastards?” Gabriel stabbed his cigarette in the ashtray.

“Daniel and Nicholas,” Desmond replied. “That was a huge event for our shithole of a town... Claudia just shows up there, in the middle of the day... She looked like she was just some airhead bimbo, you know? Ripped jeans, tight vest, hair down to her ass...”

“Wait,” Gabriel frowned. “Daniel and Nicholas...? You mean, the Earth and the Air?!”

Desmond glanced at him.

“Yeah,” he said. “Them. They didn’t even look too surprised, assholes...”

“You know two out of four Guardians?” Gabriel looked almost stricken.

“Grew up with them,” Desmond nodded. “Hated both of them...” he snorted softly. “They were always together, you know? Announced that they were mates when they were sixteen... Stuff like that never works. I mean, not when you are so young,” he shrugged. “Who knows though... Maybe with them it was different. I mean, them being Guardians and all...”

“Nicholas Pledged to Reagan,” Gabriel said softly and Desmond dropped his cigarette without even noticing it.

“What?” he said finally, and Gabriel nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. “Pick up that cigarette, will you? Before you burn my couch.”

Desmond blinked and looked down. He picked up the cigarette and stabbed it in the ashtray.

“That’s what the phone call was about,” Gabriel said. “When you said I should be one of Claudia’s lapdogs, remember?”

“Uh huh,” Desmond said slowly. “It’s not a joke, right?”

“Not a joke,” Gabriel shook his head.

“Holy hell,” Desmond pulled another cigarette out of the pack. “I always thought he was an arrogant, selfish asshole but... To Pledge to Reagan? Holy hell,” he said again.

“Claudia lost one Guardian,” Gabriel said thoughtfully. “The Air... The hardest one to find.”

“Why did they call you? You don’t control Air,” Desmond frowned.

“He didn’t call to offer me the position,” Gabriel rolled his eyes. “He called because he thought I would be interested. That and...” he hesitated. “Never mind,” he said finally.

“It was the concerned daddy, wasn’t it?” Desmond asked almost indifferently, and Gabriel looked at him with a small frown. “LeVoughn-Senior,” Desmond continued. “Wanted to make sure that everything went smoothly, right?”

“Right,” Gabriel sighed and mindlessly played with the cards that were scattered all over the table.

“What does he have on you?” Desmond narrowed his eyes.

“Nothing,” Gabriel left the cards alone and got up. “I’m gonna make coffee.”

He went into the kitchen without saying anything else, and Desmond smoked in silence for a while.

****

“It should’ve been you! She should’ve gotten you and not those two punks!” Desmond’s Grandmother was furious. She paced around the immaculate kitchen, her white hair flying around her head, her fists clenched tightly. “This is because you didn’t even try!” She turned towards Desmond who stood motionless by the wall. “You didn’t even try!” she repeated in a low dangerous voice.

Desmond shrugged, his expression indifferent.

“I don’t care about the Guardians,” he said, and his Grandmother looked like she was about to explode. “Never have. You are the one who’s been obsessing about them for as long as I can remember.”

He didn’t know what came over him. Usually, he would listen to her rants silently, nodding and agreeing with everything that came out of her mouth. He never dared to disagree with something she said, because he knew if he did, he’d pay for that dearly. Right now, however, he felt like he had finally had enough. The whole ordeal with Claudia herself (the legendary-freaking-leader of all that’s bloody-holy) showing up in the school yard several hours ago just so she could get those two pricks, made him feel irritated, tired, and angry. Not because he was jealous (please!), but because he hated the idea that Daniel was right when he said several years ago that she would do it.

Ever since that rock incident, Daniel ignored him completely. It was as if Desmond didn’t even exist. Nicholas, on the other hand, used every chance he got to do at least something to him. It didn’t even matter what it was, it seemed. Desmond didn’t know why the guy hated him so much, but he didn’t care. He could hold his own just fine, thank you very much. He couldn’t do anything fancy like causing an earthquake (which Daniel did once, or so the rumors said) or calling forth a hurricane (which Nicholas almost did one time after Desmond told him to fuck off. He didn’t do it only thanks to Daniel, who was the only one who could control that psycho, it seemed), but when it came to fighting, Desmond sure knew how to do it well. He didn’t even care if he had to fight dirty. Hell, with someone like Nicholas, you had to fight dirty! How could you not? The guy could call upon a freaking tornado that would suck you in, how much dirtier the fighting could get?

One of those days (a month or so ago, before Her-Holiness showed up), Desmond’s guard was lowered, mostly due to the last night’s severe beating he received from his Grandmother. She got older, but she didn’t get any weaker. She still could work that goddamn belt like she could six years ago. The belt alone was bad enough, but the fact that it had a huge metal buckle, made it even worse. She would always make sure she got Desmond’s back exactly with that buckle. So that particular day, Desmond’s back hurt like hell every time his shirt would rub against the fresh scars. Therefore, he wasn’t paying as much attention to his surroundings as he should have. He realized that after he was shoved into a tree. Not by someone’s hands but by vicious wind. He knew immediately who it was and what was going to happen.

Sure enough, it was Nicholas. Desmond managed to turn around and pressed his back into a tree. The flash of pain immediately informed him that it was a very bad idea.

“You, brat,” Nicholas said in an eerily calm voice. “You’ve been getting on my nerves for the longest time now... I want you to say that you are sorry and...”

That was when Desmond started to laugh hysterically.

“Go screw yourself,” he managed finally and Nicholas’ eyes immediately darkened. “Asshole...” Desmond added for good measure.

He had no idea what was in Nicholas’ head, what was he planning on doing when the wind became even worse and ripped his shirt apart. Maybe he wanted to humiliate Desmond by making him walk home naked; maybe he wanted to beat him into bloody pulp; hell, maybe he wanted to rape him just for the hell of it. Desmond never figured it out. Because after his shirt was ripped off, and after his body whirled around against his will (there was no way in hell he could resist that damn wind), the wind suddenly died off and Desmond could move on his own.

He turned his head and glanced at that blond asshole who was just standing there, staring at the scars on his back. At first, Desmond thought that he saw pity in his eyes, and that infuriated him even more. “I don’t need your damn pity!” he almost screamed, but then he closed his mouth before any sound could escape it. It wasn’t pity, he realized. He couldn’t tell exactly what it was, but it wasn’t pity. It was a mix of shock, some weird fear, and something else... Recognition?

“What are you staring at?” Desmond snapped finally and picked up his shirt from the ground. The blond blinked and looked at him.

“Get the fuck out of here,” he said in an emotionless voice, and then he turned around and left without saying anything else.

Ever since then, Nicholas wouldn’t say or do anything to him. He was almost as indifferent towards him as Daniel. Desmond couldn’t tell if he was relieved or annoyed. On one hand, it felt good to be finally left alone; on the other hand, he hated the idea that his damn scars had something to do with that.

Today was the last straw for him. All the ‘Oooh’s and ‘Aaah’s, all the ‘Oh my God, Claudia is here for our boys!’ infuriated him beyond belief. So when his Grandmother started ranting again, he felt like something had finally snapped in him. He didn’t care anymore.

She stared at him in disbelief.

“What did you say?” she asked dangerously.

“You heard me,” he said as indifferently as before. “I don’t give a damn about the Guardians. I would never become someone like them because I will never serve anyone!”

“You, little shit,” she said and reached for the belt that she always kept nearby.

“Don’t,” Desmond said quietly. He had no idea what he looked like right then, but his Grandmother’s hand froze in midair. “I’ve had enough. I am not going to let you hit me again.”

She stared at him without blinking. Finally, Desmond turned around and walked out of the kitchen. He made it all the way to the front door when he heard her hissing:

“Don’t you dare talking to me this way!”

...and then the buckle bit into his back so hard that he lost his balance and ended up running into the wall face-first.