Fiction of the Wolf: Chase 03: Persuasion

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Chase 03: Persuasion

by Red Wolf

A London cab pulled up outside the church, the driver nodding to Declán who was still conferring quietly on his mobile.

"Right, Ricky, on your feet, your carriage awaits." Wolf took Ricky's elbow firmly, guiding him to the cab and settling him inside.

She met her brother's eyes as he opened the door on the far side of the vehicle, smiling as Declán mouthed the gist of the call. They shared a look of acknowledgement and entered the cab to flank Ricky, closing the doors in unison.

As the vehicle pulled away from the curb Ricky started to fidget. "I don't know anything." He nervously twisted the edge of his jacket in his hands.

Declán closed his eyes, relaxing back into the seat and looking, for all the world, as if he was asleep. Wolf watched the damp London night pass by the window, occasionally following the path of raindrops as they beaded and ran with the vehicles passage. Both ignored their prisoner's increasing shrillness and he eventually subsided into loud sobs.

Ricky squeaked as Wolf unexpectedly turned her attention to him. She experimentally prodded his arm, handling it as she would a choice cut of meat and licking her lips in a most disturbing manner. He pulled away and scooted as far away from her as possible, almost ending up in Declán's lap. "What's she doing?"

Declán sighed and gently returned Ricky to his seat. "If you can't tell us anything, you're not much use now, are you?" Wolf sniffed in the direction of Ricky's thigh, causing him to jerk his legs out of her reach. "She hasn't eaten for a while."

Ricky giggled, an edge of panic in his voice. "You're having a lend. Right?" He looked from Declán to Wolf and for the first time noticed that their eyes were glowing green as they reflected the dim streetlights outside. He was pretty certain that human eyes weren't supposed to do that. Swallowing loudly, he told them all he could about the painting that had been smuggled in from Rome.

15 Minute Ficlets — word #57: tender

Published Babble Horde — 02.06.2004
Published FictionPress — 02.06.2004

Comments

...almost ending up in Declán's lap.

::Moon dissolves into happy fantasies:: "Oh, gee, Mr. Dec! Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?" she purred, pressing closer and gazing adoringly into his glittering eyes.

::pant, moan, drool::

Ahem! ::cough, cough:: Excuse me, drifted away for a minute there. Heh, heh. Don't know what could have come over me! ::nervous laughter::

Er, you were saying? :) — via LiveJournal — posted by Moonbeam at 03.06.2004 15:03 AEST |

Thought you'd like a more Declán-centric piece — via LiveJournal — posted by Red Wolf at 03.06.2004 15:04 AEST |

Who, me? What ever gave you that idea? ::whistles innocently::

Thanks! :D — via LiveJournal — posted by Moonbeam at 03.06.2004 15:04 AEST |

He was pretty certain that human eyes weren't supposed to do that.

I hate it when that happens!

Mmm, yes I think I'd have told them everything too — via LiveJournal — posted by Grandmum at 03.06.2004 15:05 AEST |

You just need to know how to ask people the right way. And it seems Ricky has a phobia about things, that are possibly not people, looking at him as if he were lunch — via LiveJournal — posted by Red Wolf at 03.06.2004 15:08 AEST |

*laughs* The scene inside the cab was amusing. Declán and Wolf have a great professional relationship — so very effective when questioning prisoners. There's nothing like the thought of being someone's main course to get Ricky to tell all. Bon appetite — via LiveJournal — posted by Chessie at 05.06.2004 11:43 AEST |

Wouldn't be the first time they've played good cop / bad cop. Although in that scenario you generally don't have to worry about being eaten — via LiveJournal — posted by Red Wolf at 05.06.2004 11:45 AEST |

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