InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ A Purity Short: Cacophony ❯ Unsettled ( Chapter 9 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

“Ms. Hendricks . . .”

Blinking as she started slightly, leaning away when the nondescript white envelope appeared directly under her nose from over her shoulder, Kelly hesitated for a moment before taking it.  “What’s this?” she asked, craning her neck to look up at Peter Watkins, the casino manager.  The middle-aged man wore his usual broadcast-smile—the one that showed most of his teeth without showing the dental work in his molars.  However, for a middle-aged man, he was in pretty good shape—something he liked to show off, wearing very tailored shirts and slacks.

Mr. Watkins stepped away, digging his hands, deep into his pockets, affecting his casual stance that, to her, seemed entirely rehearsed and not at all naturally graceful.  He was a decent looking man, of course—well groomed, very friendly-looking—but he struck her as the kind of man who had always lingered, just a few steps away from ‘cool’, kind of like she always had.  “It’s your invitation to the casino gala.  You are coming, aren’t you?”

Frowning as she turned the envelope over in her hand, she bit her lip.  A formal gala?  Yeah, that didn’t really sound like a good time to her, either, given that she really didn’t want to have to spring for a dress that she’d only wear one time, and finding one that would cover all of her that she wanted to be covered?  ‘Good luck,’ she thought to herself with a decisive snort.  “Oh, uh, I don’t know,” she hedged.  “I’ll have to see . . .”

Mr. Watkins chuckled.  “You have to be there,” he told her, rubbing his chin as though he were trying to decide if he needed a shave or not.  “As the new cashier manager, you want to promote a healthy work environment, right?”

“R . . . Right,” she muttered, setting the envelope aside.  “Absolutely, sir.”

“Oh, please!  Just call me Peter.  You’re management now, after all.”

He didn’t wait for a response from her as he turned and strode away, leaving her in the quiet of her office once more.

It wasn’t a big office, but it was comfortable.  Kelly had one little African violet that she’d brought in after finding it, sitting outside of a trash bin behind the florist’s shop a block from her apartment.  It was rather pathetic, listless and wilted, shriveled and browning on the leaves, and for some reason, she’d wanted it.  She’d taken it home, given it some plant food, made sure that it stayed hydrated, and, slowly, it had come back to life.  When she’d gotten the promotion to cashier manager, she’d brought it in, and now, it sat on the desk.

With a sigh, she slit the envelope open with the tip of a claw and tugged the invitation free.  ‘You are cordially invited to the Lucky Starr Casino Open Tables Gala,’ it said.  As far as she knew, it was strictly for employees of the casino and its sister hotel, The Starr Oasis Hotel that was right next door.  It was being held for the employees and their families, with a portion of the winnings of the night, going to charity, but there would also be a dinner as well as dancing and a few door prizes given out, stuff like that.  She’d heard it being talked about, but she couldn’t say she’d paid much attention.  After all, it wasn’t something that interested her, and if she could get out of it, she certainly would.

‘Except you’re management, even if you’re not upper management, which means that you probably will have to attend.’

Wrinkling her nose at the sound of her youkai-voice’s cryptic commentary, Kelly stifled a sigh.  Sitting around all night, making small talk with people she didn’t know and didn’t rightfully care about?  It didn’t sound even remotely fun; not in the least.  It might have been something she’d have looked forward to before, but these days?  Something like this meant that she’d have to shop for something suitable to wear, and clothes shopping was never, ever high on her list of things she wanted to do.  It was hard enough to find things that covered her in a way that allowed her to feel at least a little less conspicuous, but when it came to formal or semi-formal evening wear?  It sounded like a nightmare, actually . . .

‘Kelly Hendricks and Guest,’ it read.  RSVP, of course.  She did sigh this time.

The chime of her cell phone drew her out of her bleak thoughts, and she snatched it up, only to see Cartham’s name pop up on the screen, and she slid her thumb over it to unlock it.

‘I bought you a gun,’ the text message said.  She blinked and stared at the picture he’d sent.  Oh, it was a gun, all right: a small handgun that was all black except for the grip that happened to be hot pink.  Hot pink.

She shook her head.  ‘Yeah, that’s cute,’ she texted back.  ‘I don’t think I need a gun, though.’

‘Don’t be goofy.  Of course, you need one.  You’re a single woman, living alone in a potentially dangerous place.  You need a gun.  Will drop it off and teach you to shoot next time I’m in Vegas.’

‘I’m not paying for a gun, Cartham,’ she warned.

‘Don’t worry about it.  It’s a gift—and it’s for your own safety.’

‘When I think of gifts, I think of flowers or music or candy or something.  A gun is not a gift, and if you think that it is, then you need to seriously reassess your gifting habits.’

His reply was an emoji with a grin and the tongue stuck out.  She snorted.

She blew out a deep breath, strong enough to lift her bangs off of her forehead, as she sat back and dropped the phone onto her desk, ignoring the unbidden sense of anticipation at the idea of him, alluding to the next time he was in town.  She had no business, feeling that, now did she?

She sighed.

‘At least he cares about your safety,’ her youkai pointed out reasonably.

‘Yeah . . . I wonder if Cain told him to buy that,’ she mused darkly.

‘Don’t be stupid.  Cain’s not the type to encourage gun use, you know.  Otherwise, don’t you think he’d have insisted that Belle learn how to use one?’

The phone sounded again, and she picked it up, almost nervous about whatever message he’d sent this time.  ‘I looked up ranges near you.  There’s one not too far, maybe twenty minutes away.  Website looks good.’

‘You know, I think that gun’s a little too pink for me,’ she tapped in.  ‘Guns shouldn’t be precious, should they?’

‘You don’t like pink?  ‘Kay.  They have purple and light blue, too.  You could get one of each.  You know, color coordinate with your outfits and all that.’

“Color coordin—Ugh,” she muttered in disbelief.  Biting her lip, she frowned.  ‘I don’t really need a gun,’ she wrote back.  ‘Even if I did, do you think I could really shoot someone?  Because I don’t see that happening.’

‘You know, you really shouldn’t have to shoot anyone.  Usually, just making sure that someone sees it is enough to get them to back down.  Of course, you’ll have to learn how to shoot it because you have to know how to handle it, and, in the event that you run into someone who doesn’t get the hint just from seeing it, well . . .’

Kelly scowled.  Firing a gun?  Nope, she had to admit that it wasn’t really on her bucket list; not even close.

Her youkai-voice laughed.  ‘Yeah, but have you stopped to consider it?’

‘Consider what?’

The voice made a sound that told Kelly that if it had a body of its own, it’d be rolling the eyes.  ‘Just think about it, Kel.  He’s worried about your welfare, right?  And that’s a good thing, you know.’

She made a face, mostly because it seemed awfully counter-intuitive, as far as she was concerned.  Putting a weapon into someone’s hands that could potentially end another life?  How was that protective?

‘Went ahead and registered us and booked a few hours for this weekend since you mentioned that you’re off.  I’ve got a hunt to take care of, but it shouldn’t be a big thing.  Cool?’

Kelly blinked as she read Cartham’s latest text, smashing her hand over her belly as an unbidden brigade of butterflies erupted inside her.  It was the first time that he’d mentioned in advance that he would be in town, and for some reason, the idea almost made her feel . . .

Before she could finish that thought, though, she deliberately slammed the door on it.  Something about it . . .

Something about it scared her—and thrilled her, too.


‘You bought her . . . a gun . . .’

Frowning thoughtfully as he gazed down at the weapon in question, nestled in the protective case that had come with it, Cartham picked it up, gave it a good look-over.  He’d exchanged the pink one for the purple since Kelly hadn’t seemed to be too impressed with that, and he’d already checked it out, having already spent the morning, testing it out on some hay bales set up behind the house.  It wasn’t bad, as far as precision went.  A Rinhaus 650 Slimline Elite, the very latest model from a relatively new company. As far as it went, it was just a modified 9mm Short—the three-eighty ACP.  It was tiny but decently powerful, compact enough to easily be carried in a purse or bag, though if he had his way, she’d wear it in a holster at all times.

‘If you honestly think she’s going to do any such thing, you’re loopy.’

‘Eh, once she figures out that she’s safer with it, then she’ll want to wear it.  It’s for her own good, and she’ll realize that, too, once she gets comfortable with it.’

‘Dream on, Cartham.  That’s just wishful thinking.’

‘It’s for her own safety, and she’ll see that, too.’

The tap on the door drew him out of his reverie, and he stood up to answer it.

“Here’s the kit,” Cain said, holding out a nondescript black bag when Cartham opened the door.  He took it and grunted something semi-intelligible as he turned away from the door and dropped the bag onto the table nearby.

“You’re not going to check it?”

“I’m sure you already did,” Cartham remarked.

“That . . . is a very purple gun, Cartham,” Cain said, frowning at the gun in the case on the table that was still sitting, open.  “I’m going to assume it isn’t for you.”

Cartham grunted.  “It’s for Kelly.”

“. . . For Kelly.”

“Aiyuh.”

Nodding slowly, Cain seemed to think that it was an acceptable answer, and he assumed his normal casual stance.  “Okay . . . Anyway, the intel we have is that your target’s going to be flying into Dallas late tomorrow, so it’d be easiest if you’re there to intercept him, follow him, and take care of him then.  I went ahead and made the arrangements for your flight.  It leaves at five tonight, so you’ve got plenty of time to get to the airport.”

Cartham gave a curt nod since it should be an easier hunt than the norm, given that they had the jump on him.  That aside, however, he frowned.  “I tell you I got a gun for Kelly, and you blow it off like it’s yesterday’s news?”

Cain blinked, looked from side to side in mild confusion for a moment, before shaking his head slowly.  “I didn’t . . . I just assumed you’d take the time to teach her about them, so, I’m not worried.  Should I be . . .?”

“No,” he replied.  “I mean, yeah, I was going to do all that . . .”

Cain shrugged.  “I figured.  Still, do you really think Kelly’s going to be okay with a gun?”

“What do you mean?”

Cain pushed the lid down till it clicked before leveling a dark look at the hunter.  “I mean, we’re talking about Kelly, and she might not be perfect, but she’s also not necessarily the kind who would be comfortable, packing heat or however you say it.”

Opting not to comment on Cain’s choice of words, Cartham made a face.  “It’s for her own good,” he insisted.  “Vegas is a dangerous place.  I read the papers, and it’s always about muggings and robberies and crime . . . Attacks on people, especially women . . .”

“Yeah, but carrying a gun, accepting the idea that you could physically hurt someone, maybe even kill them . . .?  I’m not entirely sure that a girl like Kelly could or would even want that kind of responsibility.”

Cartham frowned since he’d already thought as much.  Even so, more and more often of late, he’d stayed awake, well into the night, as his imagination had laid out scenario after scenario of Kelly in danger, of her, left completely unprotected where he couldn’t get to her to help her in time . . .

“It doesn’t matter,” he insisted stubbornly.  “That girl . . . She’s out there alone, got no one, and if she wants to be independent, great, but if that’s how she wants it, then she needs to know how to protect herself, too.”

Cain blinked, leaned back slightly, arms crossed over his chest as he stared at Cartham, blue eyes, clouding in slight suspicion.  It was the classic tai-youkai look, if ever Cartham had seen it, and he’d seen it pretty often over the years.  It meant that Cain was either very close to figuring something out or he thought he was, anyway.

“I see,” Cain said, nodding slowly, as though something made perfect sense.

Cartham smothered a growl.  “I don’t know what you think you see, Zelig, but all I’m saying is that she needs to have some way to protect herself.  That’s all.  That’s it.  There’s no other reason, so—”

“’The lady doth protest too much, methinks’.”

Cartham grunted.  “You calling me a lady?”

Cain rolled his eyes.  “It’s a quote, and you know it.  Now you’re just trying to deflect me, and it’s not going to work.  If it matters, though, I’m glad you care about her.  She’s a good kid.  Kind of brings out the dad feelings, huh?”

Cartham snapped his mouth closed on the retort that had been forming, even as hot color exploded in his cheeks, and he turned away before Cain could get a good look at his face.  Fatherly feelings?  He almost snorted out loud, but managed to stop himself before he uttered the sound.  “Yeah, something like that,” he muttered, pacing across the floor, scowling out the window.

Cain chuckled.  “Well, I’m going to get going.  You probably need to get your gear ready and take off, too.  Be careful, hunter.”

Cartham nodded and waved over his shoulder as Cain turned to leave.  A minute later, the front door opened and closed, and he sighed.

Fatherly feelings?

He frowned.  He wasn’t entirely sure, just what kind of feelings he had for Kelly Hendricks, but he knew well enough that ‘fatherly’ didn’t really cover it.

‘Are you sure you don’t know?’

He grunted, but didn’t answer that.  In truth, he really wasn’t sure, how to answer that.

Except that he didn’t think of Kelly as a little girl at all.

And he wasn’t entirely sure that he was ready to try to delve deeper into it.

Not yet, anyway.


Kelly let out a deep breath as she settled back on the bed and held the cell phone in her hands.  It was almost eleven pm, which meant that it might be somewhere around three in the afternoon in Tokyo time.

Funny how her hands were shaking just a little as she stared at the device.

She’d had a dream the other night.  She’d dreamt that Belle was searching for her which was entirely silly, given that Cain knew well enough, just where she was.  Even so, there was a sadness around Belle that felt too real, too clear, even in a dream, and she’d been thinking about it all day.

She missed her, and, more importantly, she really should try to explain because Belle . . . Well, none of Kelly’s feelings had ever been Belle’s fault.  She hadn’t done anything wrong, had only really ever been just a very best friend.  It was Kelly’s own depression that had created the divide that still existed.

She didn’t know whether it was necessary or not.  In a way, she couldn’t help but to feel guilty because Belle really had gone out of her way to help her, and she most certainly had not deserved to be pushed away, and yet, she’d be lying if she didn’t know that there was a certain part of her—a part of her that had absolutely needed that space that she’d created, too.  It was the part of her that she despised, wasn’t it?  That she could be so callous as to push away her best friend—the best friend she’d ever had or ever would have—and now . . .

And now, taking that step to bridge that gap?  It was hard, so hard . . .

The phone chimed in her hand, and she gasped softly, even as Cartham’s name appeared, and she slid her thumb over the screen to answer it.  “Hey.”

“Yeah, you okay?” he asked without preamble.  Something in his tone . . .

She frowned at the words, and bit her lip.  “I’m . . . I’m fine,” she said.  “Why?”

Cartham grunted.  In the background, she could hear a lot of commotion, almost as though he were in a public place, even if she had no idea, where he was.  “I . . . I dunno.  I just felt like you . . .” He let out a deep breath that wasn’t exactly a sigh, but it wasn’t exactly not one, either.  “I thought maybe you were, uh, upset . . .”

“Oh, well . . . I mean, I guess . . . I was just . . . Just thinking about calling . . . Belle . . .”

“Oh, I see,” he replied.  He sounded somewhat relieved.  “You want to call her?”

“Yeah . . . and no . . .”

“Aight . . . You wanna explain?”

She sighed, scooting down in the bed, pulling up her blankets as she settled in.  “I . . . I kind of pushed her away.  I mean, you know about that.  That’s why Cain sent you out here the first time, right?  And . . . And I didn’t mean to.  It just . . .”

“Just happened.”

She nodded, not that he could see it, because he couldn’t, of course.  “Yeah, and . . . She didn’t deserve that.  I shouldn’t have . . .”

Clearing his throat, Cartham uttered a sound that was akin to an agreement.  “I’m pretty old, you realize.”

Blinking at the abrupt change in topics, Kelly tucked a long strand of hair behind her ear.  “Okay?”

“I learned, you know?  Sometimes, we do things because they’re what we need at a given time.  You . . . You needed the space, didn’t you?  Part of why you took off from Maine, right?  So, maybe you’re ready to close the distance that you needed then because you, uh, don’t need it now.”

She thought that over, contemplated her mild surprise that he had just put into words what she’d been struggling to do all day.  She wasn’t sure how he’d done that, but it was comforting to know that someone else understood what she felt—and a little frightening, too.

“What you felt back then?  I get it,” he went on, his rumbling tone, taking on a slightly philosophical lilt.  “Back when my parents died . . . I didn’t know how to deal with that, either.  I was sent to live with my old man’s sister and her mate, and . . . and I pushed them away—well, never really let them in, I guess.  I was angry, and maybe you weren’t, maybe you were, too . . . But I understand it.  Sometimes, you gotta do what you gotta do to get through the day.”

She sighed, caught somewhere between the will to smile, and the inexplicable tears that suddenly choked her as they filled her eyes but didn’t spill over.  “How?” she croaked out and then cleared her throat.  “How do you know this?  Know me?”

He sighed.  “I-I wasn’t trying to be presumptuous,” he muttered, sounding almost as though he might well be embarrassed.  “It’s just . . . I see you, and then, I remember . . .”

She sniffled, hurriedly dashed her hand over her eyes.  “Cartham?”

“Yeah?”

“I . . . I’m glad you called tonight.”

He grunted something that made no sense before adding, “I, uh . . . I gotta go.  I’m kind of in the middle of a job right now, but I’ll see you in a couple days.”

“Okay,” she replied.  “Be safe.”

“Aiyuh.”

The connection ended, and yet, Kelly smiled to herself as she set the phone aside on the night stand.  She’d call Belle soon.  Maybe she’d wait till after Cartham’s visit.  Maybe she’d have even better perspective by then, and besides, she’d like to consider things a little while longer before she tried to put her emotions into words for Belle’s benefit.

Leaning over to flick off the lamp, she then settled in, closing her eyes as the smile on her face widened just a little.  How was it that Cartham had managed to calm her thoughts so much and so easily?

She didn’t know, but she was content that he had.


“You know, Las Vegas is entirely unnatural.”

Raising her eyebrows as she glanced up from the strawberry milkshake she was sipping as they wandered down the busy boulevard near the park that she seemed to favor, she pinned Cartham with a droll kind of look.  “How’s that?”

He shrugged, digging his hands into the pockets of his jeans, scowling slightly at the very bright sun that was blasting down on them.  “Eighty-eight degrees in the middle of September?  That’s unnatural,” he said.

Kelly rolled her eyes, but laughed softly.  “Yeah, but if it was cooler, then you wouldn’t like this as much,” she said, shoving the shake under his nose so abruptly and so close that he jerked back to avoid getting the straw shoved, right up his nose.

He took it and sucked down a few swallows.  He couldn’t say he was a big fan of sweet things like that, but this one?  It was frothy and creamy and really, really flavorful without being too saccharine.

‘You also aren’t a fan of sharing , well, anything,’ his youkai-voice pointed out.  ‘You never, ever drink after anyone else, but here you are, trading sips with Kelly . . .’

He grunted at that assessment, but he didn’t argue it, either.  “Back home, it’s already starting to cool off.  Trees are all colorful and that . . . The palm trees here are still green.”

Kelly sighed.  “I do kind of miss fall,” she admitted with a little shrug.  “But I . . .”

Cartham nodded.  “You’re doing good here,” he finished for her.  “You . . . You really are, aren’t you?”

She gave another shrug, and he had to wonder, just what she was thinking.  The dry breeze lifted her light brown hair that was hanging free.  In the sunlight, he could see the golden streaks that only really showed in certain lighting, and the smell of it, like the gentlest rain in the springtime, wafted to him.  Staring down at her hands, clasped demurely before her, she was thinking about something, and, while she didn’t seem entirely unhappy, she did seem to be pensive.  “When I was in Maine, I just kept . . . kept thinking that I was stuck, like everything was too familiar, too . . . stifling . . .”

“And you don’t feel that way here,” he said.  It wasn’t a question.

She bit her lip, lifted her chin to stare off into the distance.  “I needed this,” she admitted.  “I needed it more than I ever thought I did.  I can . . . I can breathe here.”

That made sense.  Though it was true that he really didn’t know what she’d gone through, he had a feeling that it had a lot to do with her own overwhelming sense that her world had been skewed, even as far back as the date of that fire, and maybe she hadn’t run away as much as she’d gotten the courage to go out and look for her new reality.

‘And you wanna be a part of that reality, don’t you?’

Something about that question gave him pause.  What was it about it that scared him more than anything else ever had?  Even when he was a boy, after he’d lost his parents, he’d never felt that sense of fear, not then.  He supposed, looking back, that he’d been too angry to care, and that anger had masked any other emotion that he might have felt.  But the strange sense of fear now?

‘It’s because this one is important, Cartham.  You know it, and I know it.  We don’t have to put a name on it or try to explain it yet.  It’s enough that she’s vital to us, and if you’re afraid, that’s why.’

He blinked away his reverie when she pulled the shake out of his hand.  “I . . . I haven’t called Belle yet,” she finally said.  “I’m going to,” she went on with a shrug. “I figured I’d wait till after you leave again.”

He wondered if she realized that she’d sighed after the mention of him, leaving, but he didn’t remark upon it.  “No rush,” he said, brushing that aside.  “Just do it when you feel like it’s the right time.”

“Well, it’s not that,” she admitted, casting him a small and rather sheepish grin.  “It’s more that, when we talk, we tend to talk for hours.  Oh, and, here . . .”

She pulled an envelope out of her purse and handed it to him.  He took it and stashed it in the inner pocket of his jacket without bothering to check the contents.  “Thanks.”

She rolled her eyes.  “Cartham!  That’s the last of what I owe you—well, except for the cell phone.  Go ahead.  Count it.”

“I’m not counting it while we’re walking around out here,” he told her.  “I believe you, but you really didn’t have to rush.”

“I wanted to pay you back,” she countered.  “Does this mean I’ll never see you again since I don’t owe you anymore?”

Cartham grunted.  She’d tried for a nonchalant tone of voice.  He hadn’t missed the slight surge in her youki, however—the almost nervous palpitations that he could feel.  “I dunno,” he replied, affecting a casual demeanor.  “I . . . I kind of like Las Vegas . . . Certain things around here, anyway . . .”

He could feel her gaze upon him, but he was careful to keep his averted.  “Do you?” she finally asked in an almost bemused intonation.  “Did . . .?  Did Cain send you out here this time?”

“Nope,” he admitted, which was the truth.  “The hunt was in Texas, so it never came up.  I just figured, you know, close enough.”

She stopped abruptly, and he did, too.  She had a strange kind of expression on her face, her eyebrows, drawn together as she bit her lip and stared at him.  It was almost as though she were trying to read his mind, and he shrugged.  “Texas was close enough to Vegas?” she asked slowly, almost as though she were in complete disbelief.

He shrugged again.  “Closer than Maine.”

She stared at him for another long moment, eyes narrowing slightly at his offhanded answer.

And then, she laughed.