Beware the Fox - Attn: Patrick/Sable

[OOG: Continued from The Hound is a Fox]



It wasn’t easy, but Sable got a passed out Patrick Veleski up the path and down into the basement of the deserted house. This was once Rayleigh’s house, the one she’d bought just before she died. After Arek was killed, she convinced the DeSalay Corporation to keep it. No one questioned the prodigal daughter of a Fortune 500 company so no one questioned why she wanted another house. That was fine with her. She got to transform it into the perfect kidnappers hideaway.

The basement was large, cut in half by a wall to make it two rooms. A one sided mirror had been installed above a long bench. The reflection made the room seem bigger but it didn’t matter either way to the man who was now bound to a chair in the centre. Sable left the room proper and set herself up on the other side of the mirror. This room was smaller than the other was but not by much. It was almost a miniature apartment, equipped with a fridge, a bed, a sofa and a television. Grabbing a can of coke from within the fully stocked fridge, Sable sighed, changing her clothes before heading back out into the room.

Patrick Veleski sat alone in the dark and Sable watched him. Around the gag and blindfold, he wasn’t that bad looking. His jaw line was smooth, his neck solid. His broad shoulders were obviously strong beneath a shirt that fit a little too well. Overall, he was too gangly for her taste and not confident enough to try to be. Sure, he had a cocky swagger that said he was used to getting his way always, but she could see that fear in his eyes. It was a fear that plagued all socialites eventually, I should know.

“This won’t always be our life.” Marco ordered another drink while still trying his damnedest to get into her pants.

“It can be ours for a little longer.” At 18, Adri was enjoying a rare night off, making the most of her mother’s offer, demand, to babysit and partaking in the bright Melbourne nightlife.

“Not that much longer.” Marco might have been full of it but he was also one of the next CEO’s of Spain’s biggest business corporation. “We’re rich because our families are. We’re beautiful because of good genes,” Adri raised an eyebrow, looking over at Marco’s twin sister and her abnormally large and perky chest. He laughed, “Or good doctor’s. People want to be us because we have everything except responsibility. Eventually, we’ll be given that and that’s when we get old. We’ll become obsolete because others will get what we have. Young Paris Hilton and company will be old enough to drink underage without too much of a problem and all we’ll have to worry about is if the family business is holding it together because that guy in IT is looking where he shouldn’t.”

The words seemed to resonate within her heart. For some reason they made sense. “It’s the socialite curse, Adriannah. It’s the fear that, eventually, we won’t matter.”

Pulling her gloves off, Sable hopped off the bench, the heels of her new boots making a soft sound as she slowly walked toward Patrick. He pulled on his bindings, trying to find a weakness. Unfortunately for him, she wasn’t new to kidnapping and he wasn’t the first sorcerer she’d bagged. I just can’t decide whether I’m disappointed or not because I can’t kill him. He was like a new toy that had been put just out of reach. Pouting she resisted the urge to cross her arms and stomp a foot. Instead, she just moved behind him to remove the blind fold.

His head jerked around, searching for something. She didn’t really care what he was searching for but rather than stand back and watch him fret, she walked around so that he could see her. His eyes narrowed on her when she appeared. Sable had changed since she brought him here. The dress was gone, replaced by black jeans and a sleeveless high-necked sweater. She’d even put her holster on for the first time in months, the feel of her gun under her right arm almost forgotten. Jumping back onto the bench, she sat and watched him for a second. He looked back at her with angry eyes and she smiled.

“Oh, come on. Don’t be angry.” Looking down at her nails, she leant back against the wall. “You had to realise that something was going on. I’ve read about you, you’re not that stupid.” She looked up at him, really looking into his eyes. She was sure he was trying his hardest to curse her without words or without his hands. Good luck, you don’t have that much juice. “Maybe you are.” His eyes flashed, “Hey, just saying because, well, you were there tonight too. Something had to occur to you.”

“So, do you have a name or do I have to use a cheesy pick-up line to get it?” His eyes searched her body, as though he could see through the flimsy material of her dress, if this get up could be called a dress. He followed her to the bar and he flagged down a bartender. “What do you want?” There was a confident smile on his voice. She wanted to slap him on behalf of every woman ever born.

“The bar knows what I’m drinking.” She stepped up beside him as the barman approached.

“I’ll get rum and coke and a drink for the…” he didn’t get to finish. A martini glass was placed on the bar and Sable took a sip, this was so much more fun when I wasn’t drinking water in front of the mark. She looked over the rim at the barman, his eyes acknowledging what she’d asked him to do earlier. It wouldn’t happen right away. She wanted some fun first.

Brushing a hand across the young Veleski’s shoulders, Sable turned his back to the bar. “Hmm, you know what’s amazing?” She reached around him and grabbed his drink, handing it to him, “Everyone here.” Sable motioned to the crowd as they carried on with their menial lives in oblivion. She led the way through the crowd to the back of the room where a lounge chair was conveniently empty. An almost miss-able guard disappeared into the crowd, his eyes warning her. A message from his bastard of a boss? I really hate Cabals.

“I still don’t know your name.” He tried hard to look as though he didn’t care but he did. He cared a lot.

“Sable,” unluckily for you.

“Hmm, ummm, hummph.” Patrick mumbled through his gag. She probably could have guessed what he wanted to say, or do to her. Sitting there, Sable watched him glare. There was a lot of knowledge in those eyes. He was trying to work her out. Trying to figure out when she had him.

“Don’t be a bad sport now.” She waggled a finger while reaching over to turn on the white lamp above him. The bright light cut through the gray, biting into his skin. He blinked a few times, continuing to glare at her. “You were headed to that very seat the second you decided to go to Evolution.”

From the floor, she picked up a large box, bringing it up beside her on the bench. One by one, she pulled out the box’s contents. A large car battery, jumper cables, a large bottle of water and a bucket, she left the rest of the paraphernalia in the box. She didn’t need it yet.

“Please don’t try any of your little witch boy tricks. Not only am I armed and willing to shoot you, but I’m also quite versed in various forms of information retrieval and persuasion.” Standing, she drew a knife from her boot, flipping it around in her hands. “I also don’t need these to electrocute your sorry ass,” she pointed to a small window high on the wall with the knife, “just that window.”

It was only a small window, one of those that looked directly out onto the neatly cut grass and a large backyard. Rain spattered against the glass, the presence of clouds that weren’t her doing making her feel a little better about holding a sorcerer with some power in the basement. So long as she kept him where he was, it wouldn’t be too difficult to call up a sharp slice of lightning to fry his whiskers. She hadn’t really used her demon half in a while so it shouldn’t be that difficult. Here’s to hoping.

“Someday your penis is going to get you in over your head.” I can only hope so. It must have been that time. Bi-weekly since he had been about twelve, Patrick Veleski received “The Talk” from his father/ “You just don’t think first. You rush in to everything with no consideration to how it will affect anyone else, least of all your family or our concerns.” That’s right, your concerns, not mine. Nobody cares about my concerns, so why should I care about yours?

It was version of “The Talk” that was running through Patrick’s head now. He just knew his father would get a kick out of seeing him in this mess, all trussed up and gagged because he had been thinking with the wrong head. Of course, the real irony of the situation, Patrick knew, was that it was his family’s “concerns” that had most likely gotten him in this mess. Sure, he had let it happen to himself, but the worst repercussion of his own actions was likely to be a paternity suit or something similar. Sitting here drugged, abducted, and held hostage could only be the result of someone being pissed at his father. Maybe it was Philip, not Patrick, Veleski who needed to be more considerate of his son than the other way around.

Finally his captor removed his blindfold, and there she tood, smug look on her face. Sure enough, it was the bitch from Evolution. She was dressed differently now, more utilitarian than seductive, but it was definitely her. Patrick guessed it could have been an identical twin sister, but what were the odds of that?

Patrick glared at her and said, “You’re officially not hot anymore.” Of course, his gag was still in, so what came out was “Hmm, ummm, hummph.”

Then, like a model on The Price is Right, she revealed the tools of her trade: battery, cables, knife, water. Patrick had seen enough spy movies to know what went where and how that would most likely feel. He was immediately ready to tell her whatever she wanted to hear. All of a sudden, Patrick regretted not actually knowing anything.

Her next revelation was that everything she had just shown him was just that, for show. “I also don’t need these to electocute your sorry ass,” she said, pointing to the top of the wall next to him. “Just that window.” The answer to that riddle jumped straight to his mind like he was doing math flash cards. Tempestras. And she at least wants me to think she’s a pwoerful one.

She reached into her box and pulled out the knife. “Of course, a lightning rod is always helpful in situations like this. Wouldn’t want to accidentally set the house on fire.” She flipped the knife a couple times in her hands as Patrick followed it with his eyes. Then in one fluid motion she mebedded it hilt deep in his thigh, never showing any effort or emotion on her face.

Patrick screamed into his gag, disheartened by how feebly it came out. She just looked at him and smiled. What do you want?