In this week's episode: Velma recalls discovering her dominant streak, while Daphne finds one of her own.
Cold Open:
Velma had never understood why Fred always insisted on splitting up. To be fair, she understood even less why they still let Fred make any decisions at all. Usually his leadership resulted in one of three outcomes; Daphne is captured, Velma is captured, or Daphne and Velma are both captured. So there was more than a healthy feeling of schadenfreude, watching the witch load Fred's unconscious body into a wheelbarrow.
Velma had been alerted by a startled yelp, and spotted Fred through the trees of the marsh just as he had crumpled to the ground. The witch had emerged from behind a thicket of hemlock, and surveyed the area to see if anyone had noticed. Luckily, Velma had just recovered from slipping face first into the bog, and her normally bright orange jumper had become a soggy...well... bog colored jumper instead. The witch had looked right past her, and, satisfied she was alone, had returned to the bushes and wheeled out the surprisingly modern looking wheelbarrow. Sitting Fred up against it, she had managed to wrestle him in, and set off.
Following from a distance, Velma trailed the hunched figure as the witch wheeled Fred along a nearly invisible path, emerging into a clearing with a small barn-red carriage house, complete with an antique wagon wheel leaned against the wall. Beyond the carriage house was a rough road leading up to a quaint cottage with steel colored wooden shingles and black trim, next to which was parked a certain green van and...
"Sonofabitch! Is that our freaking cabin???" Velma balked as she suddenly recognized the back deck of the rental they had checked into literally 8 hours earlier.
Suddenly all of the magic puns from the rental advert carried a new weight.
"I promise an enchanting experience."
"A magical place to stay."
"You'll be bewitched."
"Is '5 stars Sabrina the Superhost' the Witch of Sheepshead Marsh?!" Velma was floored. Sabrina had appeared more likely to sell crystal wellness products on social media than be involved in a haunted marsh. She had greeted the gang in a baggy camel sweater and sweeping linen pants, looking more fit for a Brooklyn cafe than a desolate marsh, but had seemed friendly enough.
"No wonder she had been so interested in what we were doing there!" Velma thought. Fred had gently interrupted an interminable briefing on local farmers' markets to explain that they were just there to investigate the marsh, and she had then proceeded to pepper them with questions about their tactics for solving such a case for several minutes.
Sabrina the Superhost/part-time witch rolled Fred into an outdoor shower, stripping his muddy clothes and spraying him off. By Velma's eye she seemed to particularly enjoy this. Fred wasn't at all Velma's type, but she supposed if you were haunting a desolate bog you weren't going to be particularly discerning in your catch.
Satisfied that her victim wasn't going to track mud into her house, she rolled Fred through a wide barn door on the end of the house and dumped him out onto the antique wood floor, turning to close and bar the door behind her before kicking off a pair of boots.
Velma sneaked up to a window on the back of the carriage house and watched enthralled as Sabrina buckled heavy leather cuffs onto Fred's wrists, clipping metal cables to a thick D ring on each one, and then walking to a control panel on the wall for a ceiling mounted hoist. Pressing a button, Sabrina and Velma watched from opposite sides of the glass as Fred's naked body was pulled up until only his toes touched the ground.
Her heart pounding, Velma could not believe what she was seeing, and how she was responding. She suddenly gasped, having been so deeply engrossed that she had been holding her breath. "Ok, Velma...cool your jets. It's just Fred in there," she thought to herself, trying to stay focused.
Sabrina placed matching cuffs on Fred's ankles and clipped similar cables to each leg, walking over to anchors on the floor on each side of her victim and pulling them tight. Fred was now suspended just off the floor, his body pulled taut into an X. Despite a cold rain beginning to pelt her, Velma's hands had begun roaming under her soaked clothes, with heat blossoming from under their path. Finally noticing a chill creeping into her fingers, Velma looked for a way in, settling on a white door on the wall opposite Fred. Now she just had to wait for her chance.
With Fred secured, Sabrina approached a table on the far side of the room covered in a wide array of leather, metal, and wood bondage accessories and deposited what Velma was sure was a taser, before grabbing a thick panel gag and returning to Fred's limp form. She buckled the gag on, reached up to check Fred's hands, momentarily holding his fingers, and satisfied, began stocking a wood stove in the corner of the room. As the fire roared back to life, the witch began warming her own hands.
Velma was reassured. If you were planning to do something terrible to someone, you probably wouldn't check their circulation when you dangle them from cuffs in your living room. Velma examined Fred's body as he hung. With his arms up and suspended, his dad gut had receded considerably. While still not a hunk by any stretch, he at least looked a bit leaner. She was generally lukewarm on the male anatomy, but grudgingly determined that despite Fred being understandably underrepresented at the moment, with a little attention he would certainly be able to get the job done.
Having thoroughly objectified her coworker, she turned her attention back to the witch. Sabrina had clearly gone all in on her costume for the role. A filthy brown cloak and a floor length burlap robe draped over her body, a dirty veil over her face, and some sort of leather tricorn festooned a mat of tangled gray hair. Velma supposed it was more subtle than a pointy witch's hat, but still, she was laying it on pretty thick.
Sabrina left the room, and Velma heard the sound of a shower echo through the open space of the carriage house. Seizing her opportunity, Velma tried the back door, and finding it unlocked tiptoed inside. Momentarily panicking as she realized she hadn't chosen anywhere to hide, Velma breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of a ladder to the loft next to the open bathroom door. Deciding to risk crossing the doorway, she darted over to the base of the ladder and paused against the wall to make sure the witch was occupied.
"I GOT A BLACK MAGIC WOMAN AND SHE'S TRYING TO MAKE A DEVIL OUT OF ME." The off key singing reverberated off the tile in the bathroom. She was either unaware of Velma's presence, or she was really selling it.
