InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Head Over Heels ❯ High Tea in Hell ( Chapter 25 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Ghosts don�t talk. The Dead are silent. This was one of the few things in this life I was certain of. So why was this one talking, and endlessly at that?

Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy / Hentai / Romance | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 07.04.2006 | Pages: 7 | Words: 7.0K | Visits: 409 | Status: Completed

Chapter Twenty Five

High Tea in Hell

Kagura:

The noon day sun shone through my grimy windows reminding me that it'd been months since I'd last washed them. It was ironic that it could be so bright out side and yet this dismal here in my apartment. Sango and I sat in the ruin that was left of my living room. She was still digesting the news about my curse and was, all considered, taking it rather well.

Sango sighed, “It's been a crappy day, wanna talk about it? I know how I'd feel if it were me.”

I realized Sango was talking about Sesshomaru not my extracurricular activities. “Well how the hell am I supposed to feel?”

She shrugged. “I don't know but you were kinda pale when I came in.”

If Sango wanted to beat the proverbial dead horse it was a good sign she was still my friend; but that didn't make this any less irritating. “Maybe I'm glad he's gone.”

Sango rolled her eyes as I stood up. “I honestly thought there was more to him. You know still waters running deep and all of that bull shit.”

I rambled on, “Hell, I'd even seen the hint of his soft gooey, candy center but it was just an act. He has no soul. Our whole whirlwind relationship was built on a solid foundation of lies.”

I slipped my hands into my pockets, “He's a fraud, Sesshomaru gets everything he wants and doesn't care one iota who he hurts.”

Sango nodded as I began pacing, “The man I fell for…” I looked away lest a tear escape the corner of my eye, “He doesn't exist.”

Sango blinked and crossed her legs, “You really liked him.”

My hand balled into a slow fist, digging my nails into my palms, “I loath him. He's a lying son of a bitch dog.”

I studied the worn carpet beneath my feet. “Yeah, I did like him. But that's DID, as in past tense.”

Sango's lips were turned up in a half smirk, “S-O-B huh? Well I guess he ain't top jerk of the dog people for nothing. ”

She shrugged and stood, “There is only one cure for this… distraction. Got any big plans for tonight?”

It was a complete change of subject; she was dancing around the white elephant sitting in the room between us.

I frowned, wondering how she could even think of partying after everything that had happened. The store was closed, my apartment was trashed and my heart had been ripped from my chest and stomped on.

Oh, and let's not forget I'm being stalked by Beelzebub's stinky intern. Well come to think of it why wouldn't I want to get wasted?

I sighed, “I don't know… things are so weird right now.”

She looked over my shoulder at my dirty window. “Yeah that's an understatement but don't you have a calendar? It's New Years Eve.”

I don't own a calendar… well not a real one that isn't covered in pictures of bare sweaty male chests. Hey the Fire Department was selling them to raise funds for… well, something important. It would've been rude not to buy one.

But it was New Years Eve and somehow I'd forgotten. Sango, me and a few dozen other friends never missed the ball drop in Time's Square. It was a tradition.

My head pounded and I didn't feel like standing in a loud crowd but maybe that's what I needed; something loud enough to drown out the bad reception in my skull. Anything was better than rotting here alone.

I glanced at my former front door, “I can't go anywhere until the door's fixed.”

Sango picked my phone book off the floor and flipped through it's ripped pages. “No problem.”

I sat back on the couch, the cushions still warm from where Sango had sat. “Who would come out to fix a door on New Years Eve?” Then I was struck by blind panic. “You aren't calling him are you?”

Sango rolled her eyes, “We ought to. It was his royal dog-ness that made this mess in the first place.”

I shook my head. “Don't.” I never wanted to see Sesshomaru again.

“Chill Kagura, I'm calling the Home Depot, the one out in the Bronx.” Sango reached for my phone.

I'd lived in New York City for nearly six years and still it never fails to surprise me. “They deliver?”

Sango burst out laughing, “Hell yeah! Kohaku's a walking disaster. How do you think our apartment is still in one piece?”

Well I couldn't argue that, truer words have never been spoken. I sat on the couch watching as Sango called, was offered three doors, made a fast decision without consulting me and hung up.

I rested my chin on my hand, “So if it's not here in thirty minutes or less, is it free?” Hey you can't blame me for asking.

She tossed the phone onto the cracked counter. “Oh you SO wish.”

_-_-_-_

I let Sango go, after all Sesshomaru had left my phone in working order and I didn't relish the thought of leaving all of my worldly goods unprotected by the gaping hole that was my front door.

I fed Sushi hoping that I hadn't already fed him today or in fact forgotten to feed him yesterday. He leisurely swam up and munched on his bobbing food.

Hell what's the worst thing that could happen if I was overfeeding him, just cloudy water right? It's not like fish can get fat… can they? I'd never seen an obese goldfish. Well what about the ones with the bulging eyeballs?

At this point I was hunched over with my nose to the glass scrutinizing Sushi for a potbelly. He swam over returning my rude stare, probably finding more fat on me then I on him.

Oh for fuck sakes! He's just a fish.

I sighed and decided to push my couch back against the wall where it belonged. My couch may have seen better days but it's still heavy as all hell.

Once my task was completed I flopped down on it for a break. I lay back staring at the ceiling. Huh… I wondered how long the ceiling paint has been turning that lovely shade of cracked yellow?

I yawned and closed my eyes; perhaps it wasn't too late to have Home Depot send up some brushes and a gallon of white ceiling paint. Soon sleep over took me and I forgot all about impromptu home improvement.

_-_-_-_

I'm not an ordinary girl so why should I have normal dreams? Everything in my life is so screwed up, I should've known better than hope for a refreshing nap.

Instead of counting sheep, I was leaning against the coffee bar counter at the book store, it was intact and back to normal, watching the blurred shadows of our passing customers. Today was busy but no one was ordering coffee. Damn that Starbucks two blocks over, it was slowly killing us.

Sango led some pot bellied man to the self help section; he was looking for a book on how to satisfy a woman. From the looks of his faux diamond pinky ring and ill fitting softer side of Sears suit, he might be better off giving those Queer Eye guys a call first.

Sango paused by the wedding planner section and began pulling out The Complete Idiot's Guide to Being a Groom.

Intrigued I stood on tiptoe for a better look and saw she was now huddled against… Miroku. Dressed in black slacks and a purple sweater, he seemed insulted she thought he needed such a book but Sango laughed and hit him gently over the head with it.

He returned her low laugh and bent down to kiss her. For some reason the intimate moment ate at me so I turned away and found a tiny old woman waiting for service. I hope she hadn't been standing there too long.

Before I could wait on the old lady, Kohaku was at my elbow. His unruly dark hair was slicked back and he was sporting a Ramones black skull t-shirt. I was surprised, I had no idea he listened to the classics.

He pointed to my pocket. “Kagura, your ticket.”

For some wild reason I'd come to work in jeans. I shrugged it off and pulled out something I'd never purchase, a lotto card. It was a ten dollar Jubilee Scratch Off ticket, the new instant win game, supposedly you could win over a million dollars.

Kohaku looked at me expectantly, “Well?”

I sighed, completely ignoring the waiting customer. “Well what?”

He stuck his hands in his pockets, “Scratch it off already.”

Oh for God sakes! “Kohaku, no one ever wins these things. It's more of a voluntary tax for the stupid than anything else.” Still as I lectured I was rubbing the card with a shiny new buffalo head nickel.

Low and behold, I'd won three million dollars, further proof I was dreaming.

Kohaku threw back his head in laughter, “I told ya! Now you owe me a beer.”

Frowning in dumbfounded shock I waved him away, “You're too young to drink!”

I wasn't sure what to do so I slid the card back into my pocket. Kohaku faded away and the old woman took his place.

She was in a long green dress, circa the 1930's that cinched smartly at the waist. Her long white hair was pulled back into a loose bun. The longer I watched the younger she became and soon her hair was slightly curly, thick and dark brown around her shoulders. She was easily forty but still half the age she'd been moments ago.

Okay that was a neat trick. Maybe since I'd just won the lotto she'd share it with me. I blinked and realized it was old Mrs. Disraeli.

Great! My first customer at the coffee bar in ages and it's a frigging ghost.

“So what can I do ya for?” I leaned forward on my elbows expectantly, knowing the dead can't talk much less order the mud that passed for our coffee.

Her accent was the crisp Queen's English.

“One pot of Earl Greyer and two scones.”

She met my shocked expression with a reserved yet stern gaze. “And since I am the grand old dame of this establishment I expect it to be complimentary.”

I whistled low, something else I never do and shrugged. “Umm, I'm sorry but all of our tea is sold by the cup and I'm fresh out of scones.”

She pointed a mauve painted fingernail behind me and I turned. A delicate rose china teapot with gold accents sat piping hot next to a pile of wedge shaped cookie things I took to be scones. Okay this was odd, I made a silent promise to myself that if tea cozies appeared I was making a break for it.

The store faded behind us and soon we were at a table with the tea and pastries. Ghosts don't talk. The Dead are silent. This was one of the few things in this life I was certain of. So why was she talking, and endlessly at that?

“If you served a proper English tea than maybe you wouldn't be losing so much business to that abomination of a bookstore and coffee shop down the road.” She watched me over her delicate china cup.

I shrugged and expected her to admonish me on my posture. “Well, people like that kind of coffee. We don't get many request for pots of tea.” And Starbucks does serve scones but I left that out.

She gave a dignified snort, “People don't know what they like until they are told.”

That was so true, I actually laughed. She took a long drink of hot tea and I wondered if being dead made her immune to the boiling hot liquid. “Oh well I suppose it's too late for that.”

I asked, “Too late for what?”

She looked away and I saw we were sitting in the wet remains of the store. The fire wasn't so bad but the smoke had ruined everything. “Look around, my store is in shambles.”

It wasn't technically her store anymore but to be honest it might as well have been. Miroku hadn't changed it all that much and my heart panged as I thought how it must feel to see one's life work ruined. “Yeah it is.”

She sat down the tiny china cup. “I suppose your boss plans to sell it. In a few months this will be a McDonalds or Walgreen's. The service will be impersonal and the store nothing really special.”

Suddenly I was filled with a suffocating sadness. I liked the store. Sure I hated coming to work, because it was… well work, but I didn't want to see the end of our store.

Disraeli poured more tea. “There's nothing extraordinary in this world these days. People used to thrive on being different or eccentric. Now everyone wants to be a cookie cutter cut out of the latest jaded imbecile on the telly.”

I personally don't watch that much TV, but she did have a point. For a moment I was happy that she died before the invention of reality TV.

She continued, ““My late great uncle, God rest his soul, was Prime Minister to Queen Victoria, twice. He also was a writer, a poet and part Jewish.”

I sat back in the chair praying that I wasn't about to be assaulted by her life story as interesting as it probably was. “A Jewish prime minister? That's really something.”

She gave me an eagle eyed glare, “The Queen was very fond of him after Albert died. So much so there was much speculation about the depths of their relationship.”

I've seen pictures of the Queen and gave an involuntary shudder. To my surprise Disraeli laughed. “That was not an inappropriate response.”

“So doesn't that make you a duchess or lady or something?”

She smiled, “He was made an Earl by the Queen but I passed on all titles, American are too quick to be dazzled and offended by them. I moved here before the Second World War broke out and never looked back.”

I licked my lips and dived in, “This is fascinating but why are you telling me this?”

Her china cup clinked against its saucer. “To show you, this store, this world, your life… it's what you make of it. And you,” She pointed her finger at me, “can make it something extraordinary.”

“Okay?” I was starting to resent our little high tea in hell.

She glanced around us. “If you pass on the world it will pass on you. Decide what's important to you and fight for it. Nothing in this world worth having ever comes easy.”

Understanding flooded my brain. “You want me to save the store.”

She gave a graceful shrug. “Perhaps that is one of my goals, but mostly you've spent the past few years throwing your life away. I had to say something. ”

So she had been doing more than passing through. I was her own little reality TV show. “Well thanks and all but…”

Disraeli cut me off, “Not everyone is afraid of you.”

I frowned, what? I opened my lips to reply when a dull pain broke out just under my rib cage. I pushed my hand over my belly in search of the problem but found nothing. “I didn't think that they were.”

It was a lie. I was secretly terrified I'd wake up and everyone would ostracize me. It was part of the reason I kept to myself.

Disraeli shook her head and I noticed streaks of gray forming in her thick hair. “In case you were wondering, this is your wake up call. Lord girl stop moping around and fix things! This is your Dickens moment.” She chuckled, “I am the ghost of your book store's past.”

It was funny hearing that in her proper English tones. I laughed but it hurt; pressure pushing down on my rib cage making breathing painful. I fought for an easy breath, trying to hide my distress. “Yeah but Dickens always was a wordy bastard.”

She smiled and saluted me with her teacup, “Perhaps.”

Suddenly it occurred to me that she might also be referring to Sesshomaru. “It's funny you know, because right now I'm not worried about wasting my life. Mostly I just feel screwed over, betrayed and good old fashioned lied to.”

She raised both perfectly plucked brows and said nothing so I continued, not really expecting an answer. “I was so naïve. I trusted him, hell I've given him more than anyone I've ever known and we just met two weeks ago.”

My fingers dug into the perfect lace table cloth, Disraeli might not look like an old lady right now, but she still decorated like one. “Damn… I'm such an idiot.”

“You said it not me.” Her tone was soft but curt.

“And I suppose there is something to the old adage; you can lead a goat to water but you can't force her to drink.”

What the hell was she insinuating? I pointed at her, “That's a horse not a goat!”

She blinked, “If you say so dear.”

Now my gut was burning and the pain was sharp. I gasped and Disraeli frowned. “It's going to have to come out you know.”

I pushed on my belly trying to determine the source of my pain; the right side is where all the crucial organs are. That's it, it'd finally happened. My appendix had turned to the Dark Side. “Damnit!”

My ghostly hostess continued, “You can't hide from it, it'll keep finding you. Sometimes we are our own worst enemy.”

She could say that again, this fucking hurt. I pulled my hand away and my fingers were bloody. I looked up and saw the hovering form of the goblin over Disraeli's shoulder. “You will have to confront it. It's only a matter of time.”

Time. That was something I didn't seem to have much of.

Time, it was important. I was forgetting something…

The ball drop, I had to get ready to meet Sango!

_-_-_-_

I woke on the couch, the apartment was quiet and peaceful but my chest was still aching. I looked down and found Horace's obese black cat Kuroneko, sitting on my stomach staring at me with her bright green eyes. I looked over at the fish bowl and was happy to see Sushi seemingly unharmed.

I shoved the cat off me and she fell to the floor with a protesting yowl. “Nyaaa!”

“Get the hell out of here!” I swatted her fat rear with my hand she made a fast break for the door.

A tall man in a white jumper stepped into the doorway and Kuroneko ran out between his feet. “Miss, did you order a door?”

_-_-_-_

This chapter is dedicated to Jeff, it's been a year but I haven't forgotten.

_-_-_-_

“Always forgive your enemies, nothing annoys them so much.” Oscar Wilde.

“There is nothing new under the sun but there are lots of old things we don't know.” Ambrose Bierce, The Devil's Dictionary

_-_-_

Notes:

Yes, the black cat Kuroneko was named for the cat in Trigun.

Benjamin Disraeli was a real person. Mrs. Disraeli is based on Shelly who has surgery tomorrow. God bless her.

Many thanks to the Irrepressible Frimm, who did the beta work on this one.

This story is almost at 27,000 hits (on Fanfiction dot net). Thank you all so much!

I know many of you may not like this chapter but it was important. Believe you me; the crap hits the fan in the next chapter.

Happy Fourth of July! Take a moment to appreciate the freedom we enjoy and the price others have paid for it.