Specter's Gamble - 5. Chapter 5

Desmond woke up with a muffled moan. He sat up, trying to calm down his wild heartbeat. Damn, those dreams again... He hated them. He got off the couch and went into the kitchen. It was day nineteen of his imprisonment, and by now, Gabriel was convinced enough for him not to do anything dangerous or stupid, so he didn’t cuff him for the night anymore. Desmond was thankful for that. He rummaged through the fridge, and finally found a bottle of beer. He twisted the cap off and was greeted by a soft “Pshhh!” of the open bottle. He lit a cigarette and reached for the window, dying to feel the wind on his face. He remembered about the spell at the last second, and pulled his hand away so quickly that he spilled some beer on his shirt.

“Shit,” he muttered and sat down on the chair.

Those dreams were coming back much more often now. Desmond wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that he was stuck in this damn place. The ‘vacation’ feeling was gone by now. It was replaced by restlessness and annoyance. He hated the fact that he was trapped inside this bloody house; hated the fact that there was absolutely nothing he could do about the situation; he hated feeling so goddamn helpless. Sometimes, he felt like he was about to give up and say that fine, he’d leave the damn kid alone, that he’d tell the tycoon to find someone else (he didn’t even accept the deal yet, to be honest), but every time he was about to say it, he’d just grit his teeth and say nothing. Pride, he thought bitterly. It was that damn pride of his. He would never ask anyone for anything. He would never beg; not even to save his life.

“Shit,” he muttered again and furiously sucked on his cigarette .

The lights in the kitchen went on and he looked up, startled. He realized that he was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t even hear Gabriel walk into the kitchen. That was bad; that meant he let himself to relax way too much during the past few weeks. If his skills get any duller...

“What are you doing?” Gabriel asked with a small frown, blinking at the light.

“Drinking beer and smoking,” Desmond answered evenly. The guy was starting to get on his nerves again, with all his calmness, politeness, and everything else.

“It’s four in the morning,” Gabriel said after glancing at the clock.

“I know,” Desmond nodded. “I woke up.”

“Those dreams again?”

Desmond looked up at him, startled. Gabriel shrugged.

“I can hear you moan in your sleep quite often,” he said. “And not in a good way,” he added.

“A good way?” Desmond snorted and finished his beer. “What the hell would be a good way?”

“Never mind,” Gabriel said a little too quickly and went to the fridge.

Desmond blinked. Did he just hit on him? Moaning in a good way? “Are you kidding me?” he thought. The guy almost cracked his skull open; kept him chained to the goddamn pipe (which he still does occasionally); electrocuted him with some magic shit, and now he is hitting on him?

Desmond looked at him while he was busy with rearranging the fridge, it seemed. It wasn’t that he was bad-looking, Desmond thought. On the contrary, he was quite attractive. Suddenly, Desmond caught himself wondering what his hair would feel like. “Looks soft,” he thought and blinked again, more rapidly. “Oh, hell, no!” He lit another cigarette and looked at the empty beer bottle in front of him. “Bloody hell on ice! I need to get out of here as soon as possible... No, sooner than that! Dammit!”

Suddenly, he felt like he was about to just yank at that window frame, to knock himself out again. He decided against it almost immediately, however. He shuddered the second he remembered that pain.

“How much longer do I have to be here?” he asked sharply, and Gabriel finally straightened up and looked at him, the small frown back on his forehead.

“Until the end of the month,” he said slowly. “I told you that already.”

“Right,” Desmond muttered and stabbed his cigarette in the ashtray. “Good night,” he said and got up.

“Gonna try and get some sleep?” Gabriel asked.

Desmond gritted his teeth. One of those days, he is going to break his neck, he thought. For all this – the imprisonment, the damn politeness, his bloody perceptiveness, and his goddamn soft-looking hair.

“Yeah,” he said and walked out of the kitchen.

He collapsed on the couch and closed his eyes. Sleep was out of the question; he’d just lie here until the sun was up. It’s this whole situation, he thought. That’s what it was. That and the fact that the last time he got laid was quite a while ago. He thought about that. It was some girl that time; she was a green-eyed redhead, and she was very easy. He remembered her saying that one of her boyfriends was a Walker – he could walk between the worlds. Desmond sometimes wondered what that would feel like. Anyway, she said that after his last trip, he told her a wild story about some world, where apparently, same-sex love was frowned upon. Persecuted, even. Desmond remembered telling her, that the world in question was probably under-populated, which made sense. You don’t want the entire race to die out, therefore, you make certain rules.

No, she said back then, her freckled skin smooth against Desmond’s body. Her boyfriend told her that the place was, in fact, overpopulated. Desmond remembered frowning in confusion at that. “Why would they care then?” he asked, and the girl shrugged. “Some say that their God forbids it,” she said, and that confused Desmond even more. “God?” he repeated. “Why the hell would God even care about that? God is a sexless, indifferent, and vengeful bastard; it doesn’t give a damn about humans!”

The girl laughed softly, her warm breath in Desmond’s hair. “Different God, love,” she said. “Their God is different from ours. They call him the Savior or something like that...” The Savior... Desmond snorted. A different God, indeed. The God he knew was anything but a Savior. The whole concept still didn’t make much sense to him. “Why would it matter?” he remembered himself saying. “I mean, a mate is a mate. When you find one, it doesn’t matter what gender they are... It’s the same as...” he thought for a second. “It’s the same as making everyone to have the same hair color...”

“That’s impossible,” the girl sighed. “And stupid...” “My point exactly,” he nodded. “It’s like saying that if you are blonde, you deserve to die...” The girl giggled at that. “Redheads are the best,” she purred, and Desmond laughed. “Well,” she shrugged. “It’s true...! Oh, and they also have some bizarre ritual when it comes to the whole mate thing...” She frowned slightly. “From what he said... Apparently, you have to, like, go through some sort of a process, and you have to sign a piece of paper...”

“Well,” Desmond shrugged. “Rituals I can understand... Maybe it makes everything that much more important and sacred, you know...”

“No,” the girl giggled again. “Noah... My boyfriend... He said that he managed to score with some woman, who was taken...” She frowned for a second. “I forgot what the word was... ‘Marred’ or something like that...”

Desmond just shook his head. Different world, different craziness, he thought. He was thankful, however, that he didn’t have to live in a place like that one. Sure, this world had its problems, but when it came to finding a mate, it was nobody’s business but yours and your mate’s only. Well, the immediate family’s too, he thought. But that was different. Family affairs had nothing in common with God or laws or whatever the hell else could pop up on the horizon.

“Do you have a mate?” he asked, and the girl just rolled her eyes at him. “Would I be here with you if I had a mate?” she asked, and Desmond shrugged. “Everyone is different,” he said. Usually, when you found your mate, you’d stay with that person until the day one of you died. Nevertheless, everyone was different. Some people would have countless liaisons in spite of having a mate. Desmond never understood that. If you think you found your mate, why would you need to screw someone else? Different strokes for different folks, he figured.

“No,” the redhead was saying meanwhile. “I don’t have a mate... When I find one though, I am going to become the definition of ‘purity’!” and she laughed softly. “Do you have a mate, Tony?”

Desmond never told anyone his real name. With his line of work, that would be ridiculous and suicidal.

“No,” he said to the girl. “I don’t have a mate.” “I don’t think I ever will,” he added in his head, but didn’t say it out loud. That seemed to be good enough for the redhead, because her sun-kissed body somehow wrapped around his, and after that happened, Desmond didn’t give a damn about different worlds or crazy traditions.

Desmond sighed deeply and buried his head under the pillow. Dammit, he thought bitterly. Why wasn’t he one of those who only cared about the opposite sex? Up until now, he considered himself to be one of those lucky ones -- the ones who were fine with either gender. The best of both worlds, right? Right... Except, right now, he didn’t feel lucky at all. He muttered, “Shit,” under his breath again, and closed his eyes.

To his enormous surprise, he actually fell asleep, and when he woke up in the morning, he realized that he had a blanket over him. He could not remember getting under a blanket last night. Desmond gritted his teeth and thought that if he kept going at this rate, he was not going to have any teeth left rather soon. He eased up on teeth grinding, and concentrated on the task at hand. Get out. Now.

“I suppose killing him is not the answer,” he thought gloomily. “The damn spell, that’s the problem...” He sighed, and was startled beyond belief, when the phone rang. “Who’s jumpy now?” he thought miserably, and closed his eyes again. He heard Gabriel walk towards the phone and saying, “Yeah,” after he picked it up. Desmond half-heartedly listened to one side of the conversation, thinking about his options. A sudden surprise in Gabriel’s voice made him open his eyes.

“What?” Gabriel said in astonishment.

Huh, Desmond thought. Probably has something to do with the Guardians again. “Wonder why he cares so damn much about them,” Desmond eyed him thoughtfully.

“No!” Gabriel said heatedly, and Desmond slightly narrowed his eyes. Right now, Gabriel looked pissed off. “No!” he said again and threw a quick glance at Desmond. He frowned, walked into the kitchen, and closed the door.

Desmond could move quietly when he wanted to, it was one of his skills. It didn’t matter if the floor was creaky, or even if it were covered with crunchy foil paper – Desmond wouldn’t make a sound. He slid towards the kitchen door and listened intently.

“What do you mean, plans changed?” Gabriel was saying. “I don’t care! I told you before, and I am going to tell you again – I am not killing him! What...? No, that’s not the reason and you know it! Uh huh, so you think that blackmailing me is going to work wonders, right? Well, think again... You know what...” Gabriel hissed suddenly. “You can shove it up your ass! Go lick Salamanders’ boots! They can always use a bitch like you!”

That was a clear indication that the conversation was over. When Gabriel stormed into the room, Desmond was stretched on the couch under the blanket, in the same position as he was in when Gabriel went into the kitchen.

“Trouble?” Desmond asked casually after Gabriel slammed the phone down.

The assassin watched him press both palms into the table, his back rigid.

“I don’t know,” he said finally and turned around. “I need to leave for a few hours.”

Desmond sighed.

“Fine,” he kicked off the blanket. “Let me eat something first.”

Gabriel slowly shook his head, and Desmond felt a prick of annoyed anger beneath his eyelids. “I swear to God, I am going to...”

“I am not going to cuff you,” Gabriel said, and Desmond blinked without finishing his thought. “If somehow, you manage to get rid of the spell, then so be it. I don’t think you’ll be able to though,” he added. “I’ll be back in a few hours...”

Desmond narrowed his eyes. This was new. It seemed that Gabriel didn’t want him to be incapacitated in case if something happened while he was gone. “Who would be able to take off that spell?” he wondered, and then the last phrase of the conversation he heard a minute ago, popped up in his head. “Go lick Salamanders’ boots!” Salamanders? What in the holy hell did they have to do with this whole thing? The Salamanders family was one of the oldest and most powerful families around. Not just in this city, but pretty much all over the world. Desmond felt a very unpleasant cold shiver running down his spine when he realized that the Salamanders would be perfectly capable of getting rid of Gabriel’s spell. Apparently, the Salamanders want him dead, which explained the overheard conversation. Desmond wasn’t surprised. Considering the fact that Specter was the one who successfully wasted Salamander-Senior three years ago...

Desmond still wondered about that case once in a while. He had no idea who hired him. Usually, it was not difficult for him to find out who was hiding behind an anonymous order, but that particular case was nothing but a dead end. Whoever ordered the hit was insanely good at covering their tracks. Desmond got his payment perfectly on time after the job was finished, and when he tried to do his usual research on the client, he came out empty-handed. Finally, he gave up on trying to figure it out. Whoever hired him had their reasons to go to such lengths to remain anonymous. After all, if you hire an assassin to kill off one of the most powerful men in the bloody world, you might want to take certain precautions so nobody finds out that you are the one behind the screen.

Desmond watched Gabriel leave, and after the door was shut, he went into the kitchen to get some food.