InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 10: Anomaly ❯ Unsettled ( Chapter 33 )

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

Mikio frowned as he slowly wandered through Madison’s apartment, inspecting the work that was done with a critical eye.  It all looked good enough.  The contractor had been quite thorough, it seemed.  He’d assured her that he had completely replaced the water webbing and rebuilt the subflooring to prevent any mold from forming since, he’d said, that if he’d tried to cut corners, even the tiniest pocket of moisture could result in tremendous damage over time.  Madison had opted to go with hardwood floors throughout, as well, so it seemed a little barren in some of the rooms, but he figured she’d buy some area rugs to warm certain areas, like the bedroom.  All in all, it looked very good, but he was waiting now as the second inspector did his thing—the one he’d hired to come in and look things over to reassure him that her apartment was done to his expectations.  It had already been looked over by the city’s code inspector, but Mikio had still insisted upon hiring another, one who would be even more meticulous in his duties.  After all, even if the code inspector was good, everyone had a bad day, and if the man was even a little burnt out, he could easily overlook something important, and Mikio wasn’t willing to chance it.

‘Uh huh, except you’re not.  You’re hoping that he’ll find something wrong—something that needs to be fixed before Madison even considered coming back here.’

‘Don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he muttered.

His youkai-voice snorted indelicately.  ‘Oh, please!  You can lie to a lot of people, Miki-chan, but I’m a part of you, and you really can’t lie to me.’

“All right, Mr. Izayoi.  I checked everything out, and it all looks great,” Neil Frontham said as he strode back into the living room.  “Whoever did the work was beyond meticulous.  I’d say you’re good to go.”

“Uh, great,” Mikio replied, sounding a little less enthusiastic than he probably ought to, given the amount of money that had been shelled out to get the work done, in the first place.

Neil smiled, his friendly grey eyes, brightening as he chuckled.  “Hey, you mind if I asked you who did the work?”

Mikio shrugged.  He’d purposefully kept the original contractor’s name to himself, just to make sure that no kind of bias either way could affect the outcome of the inspection.  “Rogers,” he replied.

Neil didn’t seem at all surprised, and he nodded.  “Now, if you’d have said that in the beginning, I could have saved you some money.  Mick Rogers is one of the best.”

“That’s all right.  I wanted an independent opinion, so thank you.”

Neil chuckled.  “No problem.  General inspection is five hundred.”

“Can you take a credit card?”

Scratching his head, he made a face.  “I can’t,” he said.  “I’ll email you a bill, and you can take care of it that way.”

“Okay, thanks,” Mikio replied.  He shook the inspector’s hand and frowned as he grabbed his gear and let himself out of the apartment.

“Have a good one,” Neil called over his shoulder, stepping out the door.

Mikio sighed into the sudden quiet, rubbed his face as he slowly paced the floor.  There was absolutely no reason why Madison couldn’t go home now, and, with the way things were going, he wasn’t entirely sure that she wouldn’t do exactly that.

There was a strange sort of distance that existed between them, ever since that talk they’d had in the kitchen over a week ago.  It wasn’t a cold thing or even anything that could really be pinpointed, and yet, he could feel it, which, he tried to tell himself, was good: just what he needed, given that he really hadn’t changed his mind about his ultimate opinions, even if he had conveniently forgotten them for a very short time.

Madison, though . . . She was warm and friendly, open and caring, and yet, she had taken a step back, as though she were allowing him some space, which might well be the case.  He ought to be thankful for that . . .

‘Except you’re not.  You hate it, you know.  You can’t stand that sense that she’s just a little farther away.’

Mikio grimaced.  To be honest, he really had no idea, just what he really thought.  One moment, he’d remind himself that he wasn’t looking for anything permanent, anything that might last.  The next, he’d be sitting there, wondering just what she might want for dinner, did she want to go out, maybe catch a movie?  Go to a club or something?  And . . .

Rubbing his forehead—he could feel the tell-tale signs of the near-constant headache that always started in around this time, a week or so before his human night, Mikio sighed.  Maybe it was better to let her come back here, especially now, given that his balance issues were only magnified once the headaches, the nausea, kicked in, and the last thing—the very last thing—he wanted was for her to witness even more of that, first hand.

It was something he’d never told anyone, not ever, not even Kichiro since he was pretty sure that his brother would tell their parents, whether by accident or by design.  They all knew he had issues, of course, but no one really knew, just how severe they could be.  More often than once, he’d literally had to drag himself in to work or even simply out of bed while moving as slowly as he dared in order to stave back that intense vertigo that hung around the edges.

The trouble was . . .

‘You don’t get it both ways, you know.  You can’t have her there when you want her, when you’re as okay as you can be, then send her away when you’re not.  You don’t get to do that because it’s not fair, and you know it.  One or the other, Mikio.  Pick one because Madison—she cares.  She cares a lot.’

He knew that.  He knew damn well that Madison cared, and he knew, too, that he cared just as much, maybe more, than she did.  But . . .

‘No buts.  It’s all on you—all of it.  That woman . . . She’s our—’

‘Don’t say it,’ Mikio growled, flopping down on the sofa, burying his face in his hands, unable to deal with the cold, cloying sense of fear that the near-admission had inspired in him.  Hearing the words, even in his own head . . . It made everything just a little too real, a little too . . .

His youkai-voice heaved an irritated sigh.  ‘It doesn’t make it any less true, but you realize what it means?’

‘It . . . It doesn’t mean anything,’ he argued, knowing that he sounded like a petulant child.  ‘What I feel . . . It doesn’t matter.  She . . .’

‘You aren’t nearly that foolish, Mikio.’

‘I don’t . . . don’t matter.  As long as she . . . Well, she . . . She doesn’t feel the same thing.  She . . . She would have said if she did.’

And he knew that, too.  Madison . . . If she felt it, then she really would have said it.  She’d said before that she wasn’t good at playing games, and she wasn’t.

If he were smart, he’d send her home.  After all, everything was fine now; everything was safe.  He should send her home and lose her phone number, forget to answer if she knocked on his door.  If he were smart, he’d wrap up Gavin’s case as fast as he could, get the hell out of the States and back home before he lost what little self-control he had left when it came to her.

If he were smart . . .

And, while he was at it, he ought to forget to think about her all the time, from the moment he opened his eyes till the moment when he drifted off to sleep at night.  He ought to forget the way she smelled, the way she smiled, the sparkle in her eyes whenever she looked at him.  He ought to forget every damn thing about her . . . And then, maybe . . . maybe . . . he should also forget to breathe . . .


Madi son let herself into the penthouse and frowned.  She could tell instantly that Mikio wasn’t there, but when she’d called his cell phone on her way out of the spa, she hadn’t gotten an answer.  Ordinarily, that wouldn’t bother her, but the way the last few days had been . . . Evan would have called it her ‘Spidey Senses’.  Madison really just didn’t know what to think.

She’d told herself after Mikio’s statements the night after the Halloween party that she needed to back off a little, that maybe she was coming on too strong, and as much as she may want things to progress, he really was worth waiting for.  Besides, she really was treading in wholly new territory, as far as the whole process went.  She felt like she was flying by the seat of her pants, as the saying went.

Every so often, she had moments when she kind of wished that she wasn’t youkai, that she was more like the humans around her.  It had often amused and perplexed her by turns, watching as her human girl friends muddled their ways through crushes and first loves, dating while trying to find their Mr. Rights.  If she were, then maybe she’d know what do to, when to do it, how to push through and when to back off.  As it was, she felt like she might be going a little crazy.

She sighed, dropping the spare keycard on the table by the door.  Weird, wasn’t it?  Rubbing her arms as she wandered toward the stairs to go change into something more comfortable, Madison couldn’t quite shake the feeling that she needed to be quiet, that the place that normally felt so welcoming, so inviting, just didn’t feel the same when Mikio wasn’t there.

‘Of course, it doesn’t . . . This isn’t his home, either.  You’re not surrounded by things that he chose, that he selected to create his physical domain.  This place is no more ‘him’ than it is ‘you’.  That’s why.’

Her frown deepened.  She’d never considered something like that, but it made sense.  The penthouse, as beautiful as it was, was the manifestation of Sesshoumaru and Kagura Inutaisho.  It was simply Mikio himself that gave her that sense of peace, of belonging . . .

Opening the closet door, she started to reach for a casual blouse, but she stopped, hesitated, bit her lip.

Her apartment was done, fixed, ready for her to go back.  Sure, Mikio had said that he wanted to make sure that everything was done properly, but he’d texted her a couple hours ago to let her know that his inspector had okayed it for her.  Did that mean that he wanted her to go home?

She didn’t know.  Sinking down on the foot of the bed, she sighed.  “All right, O Wise One.  Don’t bail on me now.”

‘Wow, talking to me out loud, huh?  You’re pretty desperate, aren’t you?’

‘What should I do?’ she asked, ignoring the blatant barb. ‘I mean, if everything’s okay at the apartment, I should go home, right?  But if I do that . . .’

Her youkai-voice sighed.  ‘If you do, then you’ll be allowing him to try to distance himself again.  I’m not saying you shouldn’t, but then, what would it hurt to wait till he comes back?  Get a feel for what he’s thinking?’

It was sound advice, she supposed.  After all, the last time she’d gone home willingly, she’d had to flood her apartment to get back, and, while she wasn’t opposed to drastic measures, having to pay out nearly thirty thousand dollars to fix everything wasn’t exactly something she wanted to repeat, anyway.

‘You know, though, if you had to go to such lengths the last time, maybe that’s his way of trying to tell you . . . something.  You . . . You want him to be The One, and I’m not saying he is or isn’t, but he is sending off mixed signals, don’t you think?’

She grimaced at the implications of that statement.  ‘So, you’re saying . . . he’s not The One?’

‘I’m not saying a thing, one way or the other, really . . . What I’m saying is that . . . Well, honestly, I don’t know.  Most of the time, I think . . . I think he is—or at least, he could be.  Sometimes, though, it’s almost as if he . . . As if he’s resisting us—you—me—whatever.’

That figured, didn’t it?  If her own youkai-blood had no idea, then just what did that mean?  She wasn’t ready to give up on him, and yet, why?  Why in the world did he resist so staunchly?

‘Didn’t you guess the reason that night?  Somewhere along the line, he’s all but convinced himself that he simply doesn’t want a mate—any mate.  So, maybe he just needs a little more time, a little more persuading, but we’re never going to get either of those things if you pack it in that easily.’

‘Who said anything about packing it in?’ she countered.  ‘I’m not . . . I’m just trying to figure out my next move; that’s all.’

‘Okay, then.  Just figure out a way to convince him that he wants you here, Madison.  It’s that simple—and it’s that complex, too.’


“G ot a minute?”

Glancing up from the file in his hand, Bas blinked and nodded, curling his fingers to invite Mikio into his office at the Youkai Special Crimes office.  “Sure.”

Mikio stepped into the room and plopped into one of the two chairs facing Bas’ desk.  “I’m not interrupting, am I?”

Bas made a face.  “Nope, just looking over this file for the millionth time, trying to figure out what I’m missing and still coming up with a blank.  What’s up?”

Mikio sighed.  “What do you know about server encryption?”

“You mean, computer servers?”

Mikio nodded.  “Yeah.”

Leaning back in his chair, the big man looked thoughtful.  “It sort of depends what kind of encryption—what you want to use the server for.  Generally speaking, you’d want to set up the most security you can, especially if you’re dealing with sensitive data, but as far as how to do that, you’d probably be better off to ask Gunnar, as much as I hate to admit that.  It’s more along the lines of the things he does, anyway.  Or Myrna, but she’s out on vacation at the moment.  I can call her at home or give you her number if you need it, though.”

Mikio shook his head.  “No, it’s . . . It’s more like, are there any clues to look for in the data that would indicate the level of a server’s security, is what I meant.”

“You mean like markers in the coding?”

“Yes.”

Bas thought that over for a moment before getting up and rounding the desk, leaning into the hallway.  “Hey, Gun!  Got a question for you.”

A few minutes later, Gunnar strode into the office with his cell phone in his hand as Bas sat back down in his chair behind the desk once more.  He strode behind the desk and leaned over Bas’ shoulder to send the call to the office system with the tap of a few keys on the computer.  The video feed transferred onto the screen on the opposite wall from the wide desk.  “Hey, Mikio.  This first, Bas.  It’s important.  All right, we’re both here.”

“Mikio?  Hi,” Cain Zelig greeted.

Mikio nodded at his brother-in-law, but said nothing else.

“Bas, your phone’s off,” Cain said, the censure in his tone, very obvious.

“It’s not off,” Bas countered.  “It’s broken.  Precious stepped on it.”

“. . . Did Sydnie let the cow in the house again?”

Bas heaved a sigh, which said as much as anyone needed to know, really.  “I called.  They’re going to drop a new phone off here sometime this afternoon.”

Cain grunted, apparently not entirely appeased, but willing to let it go for the moment.  “All right.  Anyway, I just wanted you both to check into something for me.  I just got a call about half an hour ago, and they’re trying to keep it on the down-low, but they’re not sure how long they can or if they can . . . Chad Ryan at the 19th Precinct called to let me know that there’s been another break in and murder, and he has reason to believe that the perp is youkai.  I wouldn’t have called you two, but you’re the closest, and it’s pretty dire.”

“Damn . . .” Bas blurted, rubbing his forehead in one of his huge hands.

Cain sighed.  “It gets worse.”

“Worse than murder?” Gunnar countered.  “That’s possible?  How?”

“It happened in Madison’s apartment building.”

Dead silence greeted Cain’s words.  Mikio sat up a little straighter.  “What?” he demanded sharply.

“Why do they think it’s youkai-related?” Bas asked.

“The girl was attacked inside her apartment, and, from what Ryan said, she was pretty well mauled—claw marks everywhere, he said.  Anyway, he’s trying to keep things hushed as much as he can—at least, until you two can get over there and see if you can’t get any leads.  He said if you have any questions, give him a call.  I told him one of you would get a-hold of him as soon as I briefed you.”

“What about Madison?” Mikio demanded sharply.

“It was an apartment on the top floor—the police think that he got in through the roof.  Ryan says the window was open a crack, so a higher-level youkai could easily have taken on an energy form.  Anyway, Madison should be safe enough, though I did call Cartham, but he can’t get there for a few hours . . . You did mention that she’s got a better security system in place, so she ought to be safe enough, at least—”

“The hell she’s safe!” Mikio growled, shooting to his feet.  “You’d just let her go there, knowing that some monster’s on the loose?  Did you even tell her?  Doesn’t she mean anything to you?”

“Of course, she does,” Cain replied.   “Look, the odds that the guy would hit the same building again, especially right after he just did—”

“She’s not something you can lay a bet on!” Mikio snarled.

Heaving another sigh, Cain relented.  “Can she stay with you, Bas?  Just until we figure things out . . .”

“She’s staying with me,” Mikio stated flatly, shifting his glare from Bas to Gunnar and then, to Cain, as though he were daring them to try to gainsay him.

“Oh, okay.  Sure, that’s fine,” Cain replied.  He looked rather confused by Mikio’s uncharacteristic show of temper, but he didn’t question it.  “I’ll let Cartham know.”

Bas nodded.  “Tell him that we’ll handle it.  He’s got a new pup, so . . .”

“I’ll try, but you know Cartham . . . Not that I blame him.  He’s worried about Madison, too.”

“Then tell him to call me when he gets here,” Gunnar said.  “We’ll fill him in on everything we find out.”

“I’ve already sent the information I’ve got to the secured server,” Cain went on.

Mikio headed for the door.

“Mikio?” Bas called after him.

Mikio didn’t stop as he shook his head.  “I’ve got to go,” he said.  “I’ll call you later, Mamoruzen.”

“All right . . . Don’t let Maddy panic.”

That earned him a dark look.  “That goes without saying.”


Madi son smiled as she stared at the pictures that Kelly had sent her, wishing that she could have stayed longer.  It was depressing, really, given that she’d taken a quick look at her schedule, only to realize that there wasn’t really a good time to go back for an extended visit until the holidays.  Between the shops here in the city and the planning of the one in LA, not to mention the holiday premiere rush that was fast-approaching, free time was something that was growing more and more scarce and had been for the last few years at a constant pace.

It used to be that it only really impacted the time during which she could hang out with Evan on the road.  Back when he first got his start, she traveled with him pretty often, under the guise of being his personal stylist.  As her business grew, though, things had changed in so very many ways . . .

Sometimes, she missed those days.  Everything seemed easier back then: hang out with her friends, come up with ways to spend her time . . . There were so many things that she’d taken for granted, and yet, there was nothing at all she’d change; not really . . . Even so, for as much as things changed, she couldn’t really complain, either.  Things had a way of working out the way it was supposed to, even if it wasn’t the way one wanted it to be at that time.

‘Yeah, it’s nice to think about ault lang syne, sure, but you know, you have bigger fish to fry.’

She sighed at the unwelcome intrusion of her youkai-voice, given that she’d very neatly distracted herself from her bleaker thoughts, at least, for a moment, with the arrival of the pictures.

‘Think about it, will you?  We’ve got to come up with something.  I mean, what if Mikio comes home and tells you he thinks you should go home?’

That was the problem, wasn’t it?  Even if he did tell her she ought to do just that, she was fresh out of ideas about how to convince him that she needed to stay.

‘You’d better come up with something quick, toots.  Time’s running out.’

That didn’t really help, either.  It figured.

She was no closer to coming up with a solution when the door opened, and Mikio strode inside.  He seemed like he was in a hurry as he kicked off his shoes, letting them lie instead of bothering to straighten them out, which was entirely strange, coming from him.

He looked up, only to find her, staring at him, and he sighed.  “Uh, about your apartment,” he said, not bothering to mess around with perfunctory greetings.  “You’re not going home; not yet.”

She blinked.  “I’m . . . not . . .?  But you said that it passed inspection, right?”

“Your apartment is fine.  It’s not about that,” he told her as he nodded, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he shuffled over, as he sank down beside her on the sofa.  “Cain-nii-san called while I was at Bas’ office.  He said that there’s been another break-in . . . and a murder . . .” He grimaced.  “In . . . In your building . . .”

She gasped, and she could feel the blood, draining out of her face.  “What?”

Letting out a deep breath, he hunched forward, dragging his hands through his hair.  “Bas and Gunnar are going over to check it out.  It seems they think there’s a youkai involved.  Anyway, until they catch him, you’re staying here.”

She nodded, unable to find the words she wanted to say.  The very idea that someone in her building was murdered . . .?  She shivered involuntarily.

Mikio sighed.  “I’m not trying to be heavy-handed here,” he went on.  “I . . . I want you to be safe; that’s all.”

Madison let out a deep breath, hoping that he didn’t see the way her hands were trembling.  If she had been home?  If the robber had decided to check other apartments . . .?  Yes, she had a gun, and she knew damn well, how to use it, but that really didn’t guarantee anything.  She kept that gun in a locked box in her bedroom closet, and it was one thing to shoot at a paper target and quite another, to fire the weapon at another living being, wasn’t it?

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said.

Madison cleared her throat, tried to offer him a wan smile.  “You didn’t,” she lied.

He didn’t speak for several long moments.  The expression on his face bespoke the deep thoughts that he was entertaining.  In the end, though, he flinched, shook his head.  “I . . . I won’t let anything happen to you,” he told her.

“I . . . I know.”