Episode 3.32B "That Old Black Magic"

An Avengers Fanfiction

The sixth in a series of adventures designed to bridge the year and a half between broadcast episode 3.26, "Lobster Quadrille" (Cathy Gale, March 1964), and episode 4.01, "The Town Of No Return" (Emma Peel, September 1965)

Disclaimer: Some copyrighted characters have been borrowed

August 1964

Steed is the target. Rita is the weapon.

-oOo-

"The Vessel will attempt to seduce John Steed," Dantalian announced. "It was easy to sway her mind in this direction, because she secretly desires to do so anyway. During the seduction, when Steed is at his most vulnerable, she will strike. Make sure she has access to a sufficiently deadly weapon."

"I am honored by your efforts, Dark One," Gallion replied.

"There is a price," Dantalian continued. "I demand the soul of John Steed."

"Certainly. But is it mine to give?"

"Your Vessel will slay him; that makes his soul your property, to do with as you will. You shall give it to me."

Gallion nodded. "I will have no use for it after the Vessel strikes, much like Steed himself."

"Then we have an agreement."

-oOo-

The air was clear and the grass was swirled by a gentle breeze as two riders galloped through the rolling hills of Essex. The sky was an inverted blue bowl with just a trace of high, wispy clouds. The rapid patter of hoofbeats and the panting of the horses was the only sound, save for a few lazily chattering birds and the low hum of insects. Rita Fox was watching the tail of Steed's horse as it flew before her.

"Come on, Willie!" Rita urged excitedly. She vigorously rubbed her hand on the side of the horse's neck as she bent low to the mane to reduce her air resistance. Looking ahead past one side of Willie's nose, she could see they were approaching a series of fences that cut across the meadow.

The fences were low and easy. Rita saw the bottoms of Frankie's rear shoes as Steed guided his horse over the fence just ahead of her. Willie didn't alter his stride a beat as he sailed over the fence after his stablemate. In spite of the declared "race", Steed let up on Frankie just enough to let Rita pull up beside him.

Rita ventured a sideways glance at John Steed. He was casually dressed in a navy polo shirt and tan polo breeches. His wavy dark hair was only lightly ruffled by the speed, and he moved in unison with his horse, as if it were an extension of his own body. Rita imagined Steed would be quite a formidable player with a polo mallet in his right hand.

She smiled at him. Steed turned his head and smiled back. Rita's heart melted. This weekend with Steed was turning into everything she had hoped for. They had grown steadily closer during the past three months, and now they finally had their first getaway together, alone. She gamely coaxed more speed out of Willie in order to pull ahead of Steed's horse.

Steed allowed Rita to pass him so that he could admire the view. Her backside looked delectably small and round in the khaki jodhpurs. Her red-auburn ponytail whipped from side to side almost in synchronicity with Willie's. The cream satin blouse fluttered as the air rushed past, accentuating her slender, graceful form.

He was glad for this time together with Miss Fox. His investigation into the missing agent here had only taken a few hours; the man had not really been missing, just using last year's code book in his failed efforts to make contact. A stupid mistake in protocol, and one that had required Steed to physically verify the agent's identity and authorize a new code book.

Steed's horse put on an extra burst of speed to pass Rita's as they came in sight of the manor house. The three-year-olds had performed admirably all morning long. Frankie flew past his stablemate to reach the wooden boundary fence first.

"I win," Steed announced slyly as he reined in his horse. "Please hold all tickets until the race is official."

"How did you pass me?" Rita asked in surprise.

"Not your fault," Steed said. "Frankie's the faster horse. When do I claim my prize?"

Rita smiled demurely. "Later tonight, perhaps."

"I can hardly wait," he smiled.

They trotted in circles around the manor house for fifteen minutes to cool down. The horses wanted to canter; they were as exhilarated as their riders after the race. Rita affectionately patted Willie's neck as they finally entered the stable area.

"These horses are fantastic," she exclaimed. "Who trained them?"

"Oh, I've spent a little time with them," Steed said modestly. He made a clicking noise with his mouth, tugged one of the reins, and moved his knees against his horse's flanks. Frankie went into a dressage piaffe, prancing in place. Rita laughed and clapped her hands in appreciation. Steed made a barely discernible movement with his leg and Frankie executed a pirouette.

"Can Willie do that too?"

Steed showed her how to hold the reins and press her leg in, and soon Willie was executing a fair pirouette.

"You're wonderful with horses," she remarked. "Now I know what all those trophies on your sideboard are for. Is Steed your real name, or just a name you took for show?"

"My dear, the Steeds are a long and distinguished line, having made our fortunes in ships, shoes, and sealing wax."

Rita rolled her eyes. "Yes, of course." Her ponytail swung from side to side as she dismounted her horse. She removed Willie's bridle, attached his halter, and led him into the stall next to Frankie. Steed had gone out to get a bucket of water and a sponge, and she nearly ran into him as he came around the corner on his way back.

Rita stopped just in front of Steed. She was only half a head shorter than him, so she didn't have to reach far to bring her small mouth up to his lips. A couple of weeks had passed since she first kissed Steed, but it had lost none of its delicious savor. She slid her hands up to his shoulders as he put down the bucket and rested his hands firmly on her hips.

"Miss Fox! You're trembling."

"It's the excitement of the ride. My heart is racing." She looked at Steed and smiled mischievously. "Here, feel." As she unbuttoned the top two buttons of her satin blouse, he could see she wore nothing underneath. She delicately guided his hand inside.

A loud and panicked whinny sounded from inside the stable.

"Willie!" Rita cried out with concern.

"I'll check," Steed offered, quickly withdrawing his hand.

The stable appeared deserted as Steed entered. He used his foot to cautiously open the doors to the unused stalls, but found no intruders. Puzzled, he searched the corners to see if an animal might have wandered in and disturbed the horses. Willie was still spooked by something.

"What's the matter, boy?" Steed asked pleasantly, patting the horse's flank.

Steed heard a single, stealthy footfall and instinctively ducked. His instincts saved his life. He felt a strong breeze whoosh over his head, followed by a loud thunking sound. Steed rolled to one side and came up in a fighting stance. The stable was empty, and the only sound was the metallic vibration of the blade of a wooden-handled scythe that had been embedded in the post next to where he was standing.

"Miss Fox?" he called out. No one else had been visible in the stable area when they entered.

Rita showed up at the stable entrance and saw the scythe buried in the support.

"Heavens! How did that get there?"

"I was hoping you could tell me," Steed answered coolly.

"I didn't see anyone enter the stable. Do you have any enemies who might want you dead?"

Steed gave her a wry grin. "Do you want the list alphabetically, or chronologically?" He pulled the blade free of the support beam. "I always thought 'the reaper' was just a metaphor." He hefted the scythe to measure its weight. It was light enough to have been swung by a woman.

Rita stroked the horse's nose lovingly. "Thank goodness Willie was able to warn us."

"Yes," Steed said absently. "Thank goodness."

-oOo-

Steed was getting ready for bed when the squall line hit. It came rolling in from over the distant Essex hills, heralding its arrival with low, earth-shaking rumbles of thunder and flashes of lightning that left an afterimage even through closed eyes. Seconds after the storm hit, the power went out.

"Miss Fox?" Steed called down the second-floor hallway. He saw a flickering light appear at a door, and Miss Fox came towards him, a lit candlestick in one hand. She wore a knee-length cotton nightdress, and her hair was still in a ponytail.

"I know this sounds like a little girl talking," she began, "but I'm scared of the storm."

In light of her minimal states of attire during the past few months, Steed found it almost amusing to see her dressed in such a conservative, opaque garment. Rita noticed his attentions and executed a graceful curtsey, holding the hem with her free hand.

"Finally," she said smugly. "An outfit for me that isn't scandalous."

"That looks very warm."

"It needs to be," Rita answered coyly. "I'm not wearing anything underneath." She set the candle on the dresser next to Steed and moved in close.

"Really?" he said, with a trace of a smile.

"Not a stitch," she answered in a voice barely above a whisper. "See?" She intertwined her fingers with Steed's hand and started running them up her inner thigh as she hoisted the hem with her other hand. Her breathing grew deep as she pressed her cheek close to Steed's. Just as Steed's fingers passed over her snakebite scar, the candle blew out, plunging them into darkness.

"I'll get it," Steed volunteered.

"You have your hands full," Rita giggled.

Steed smirked in the darkness and disengaged her hand.

As he took a step towards the dresser, he once again heard a single stealthy footfall. He ducked immediately, but this time it wasn't sufficient. There was a loud crash as a lamp struck him a blow on the left side of his head. He staggered forward and turned, raising his arm to fend off any further attack.

The lights suddenly came back on. Miss Fox was standing exactly where he had left her.

"Steed! Are you okay?"

"You should know," he said accusingly. She didn't notice his tone.

"You must have knocked over the lamp in the dark!" she exclaimed.

"Amazing, since it was on the other side of the room," Steed commented, rubbing the bump on his head.

"Maybe your foot got tangled in the cord."

"Another two inches, and it might have killed me."

"You need to be more careful."

"Indeed."

"I'll stay here with you. It's important for someone to watch you. You might have a concussion." Rita went into the bathroom and returned with a damp cloth. Her hand was shaking as she tenderly ministered to the bump on Steed's head.

"You're more shook up than I am," Steed noticed, softening. "There's a bottle of brandy over on the nightstand." He gently pulled her hand away from his forehead.

Rita walked over and decanted a generous portion into two glasses. Steed hesitated before drinking, waiting for her to drink first. She gulped hers down nervously and poured herself a second glass.

Miss Fox never could hold her brandy, and within minutes, she had curled up on top of Steed's bed and fallen asleep. Her left foot kicked fitfully in the cotton nightdress. She dreams she's chasing rabbits, thought Steed. He reclined in the chair next to the bed, sipped his brandy, and listened to the quiet patter of the rain outside.

-oOo-