InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 5: Phantasm ❯ Unraveling the Mysteries ( Chapter 19 )

~~Chapter 19~~

~Unraveling the Mysteries ~

 

Gunnar groaned softly as he rolled his head from side to side and pushed against the raised footrest on the reclining chair. `This . . .' he thought, scrunching up his shoulders to dispel some of the stiffness that had set in overnight, `sucks ass—a lot of ass . . .'

 

Glancing around the quiet room, he blinked in surprise as his eyes lit on the bed. Bas and Sydnie were completely tangled up together, and if his cousin's ribs were still bothering him, Gunnar couldn't tell. Lying on his side with his body wrapped around the cat-youkai, he looked like he was shielding her from something, and Sydnie, who had started out curled up in a little ball on the far edge of the bed, didn't seem to mind being nestled so closely to Bas, despite her obvious upset with him.

 

He couldn't figure them out.

 

Bas had given her the plate of food where she still lingered in the closet. Half outside, half in, she hadn't taken the food he'd offered until he set it on the floor in front of her. She was a curious creature, Gunnar thought. Too full of pride for her own good, she had stubbornly refused to come to the table until midway through the meal, and even then, she'd spent a long time, scooting closer and closer while Bas had pretended not to notice at all . . .

 

And the milk thing . . . now that was strange. For reasons that Gunnar didn't really understand, Bas was the only one she'd allow to give her the drink when it was quite apparent that she had an affinity for it. Bas had taken a shower shortly after dinner, and while he was in there, Gunnar had refilled Sydnie's glass. She sat at the table staring at him in a strange sense of confusion and had simply refused to touch the glass. When Bas had emerged from the bathroom about fifteen minutes later, she'd looked at him, nodded at the still untouched glass, and had informed Bas that Gunnar had filled it for her. Bas had stood still for a minute; as though he were trying to figure out what it was she wanted him to do. In the end, he'd picked up the glass and offered it to her, and only then would she drink it. Strange, indeed, if you asked Gunnar . . .

 

Perhaps the most perplexing thing, though, was Bas' behavior. In the number of years that he'd known Bas, he couldn't remember even one time when he'd actually heard Bas apologize. He'd come close before, certainly, but to actually say the words, `I'm sorry'? Nope, Gunnar couldn't remember that one; not at all. Even then, Bas wasn't exactly known for his patience, yet there he'd been, coaxing Sydnie out of the closet and trying to make amends. Bas wasn't known for his finesse with women, either, and yet he'd somehow known just what to do with her. Maybe Bas didn't understand Sydnie. Maybe he never really would. Thing was, he seemed to want to, and Gunnar had to wonder if Bas had any inkling, just how it looked to an innocent bystander. The way Bas cared for Sydnie . . . it was the way one mate cared for another.

 

Bas groaned quietly, opening his eyes and yawning as he pulled Sydnie a little closer. She uttered a whimper of protest, tucking her head further into the crook of Bas' neck. “Sleep okay, kitty?” Bas mumbled, voice still bleary and tired.

 

“Mmm,” she agreed. “Warm . . .”

 

Bas yawned again then grimaced. Obviously his ribs were still quite sore. Sydnie stretched out her legs, rolling onto her back as she stretched. Bas' arm had been tucked around her waist. His palm rested on her belly, and he grunted something unintelligible as she slowly sat up. She blinked a few times and looked around, seeming more than a little surprised when her eyes lit on Gunnar. “Morning, puppy,” she greeted.

 

Bas sat up with a wince, stifling a growl as he remembered a moment too late that they weren't alone. “Get dressed, cat,” he growled.

 

Sydnie stood on her knees and crawled toward the edge of the bed but stopped to peer over her shoulder at him. “Something the matter, Bas the Hunter?” she challenged.

 

Bas broke into a low growl. Gunnar coughed indelicately and forced himself to look away since he had a good idea what, exactly, was bothering his cousin. Sydnie had taken off her skirt before crawling into the bed, and her tiny black g-string panties didn't provide as much in the way of coverage as they provided in the way of eye candy . . .

 

“Just do it,” he grumbled, swatting Sydnie's backside to make her get moving.

 

“Mee-ow,” she nearly purred, bending over slightly to stick her rear out at Bas.

 

Gunnar didn't have to look to know that his cousin's face had to be crimson. He coughed again, covering his mouth with his hand to hide his amusement at Bas' expense.

 

“Now, Sydnie,” Bas demanded.

 

Sydnie giggled and slipped off the bed. Gunnar didn't raise his eyes until after he heard the bathroom door close. “Holy dogs, Bas,” Gunnar began. “You sleep with that?”

 

“Shut it, Gunnar, I'm warning you . . .”

 

“You need to get some of that pussy; I swear to kami you do.”

 

With a low growl, Bas rolled to his feet and advanced on his cousin. Gunnar couldn't help but laugh at the acute embarrassment coupled with the obvious irritation that veiled Bas' eyes. Cracking his knuckles in warning, he stomped over to stand in front of the chair. Gunnar held up his hands in mock surrender but couldn't help but laugh a little louder.

 

“It'd improve your mood,” Gunnar quipped, ducking to the side as Bas' fist set the chair to rocking.

 

“My mood's just fine, asshole.”

 

“She'd let you, I think,” he added, leaning the other way to avoid another flying fist.

 

“Gunnar—”

 

Gunnar slid off the chair and rolled to his feet to elude his cousin. “Bet she tastes as good as she looks, and she looks downright pussylicious in that teaser she calls panties, don't you think?”

 

Bas tried to corner Gunnar, who was smart enough to stay way from any corners in the hotel room. “Stand still, you little fucker,” Bas growled.

 

“Oh, right, so you can pound me with those ham hocks you call fists? No, thanks . . . but you know, I noticed yesterday when she licked my cheek . . . she's got a bit of a textured tongue.”

 

“Shut the fuck up, damn it!” Bas snarled as he threw another punch that Gunnar easily evaded.

 

“Bet she gives damn good head.”

 

“That's it,” Bas ground out, grabbing for Gunnar's shirt and missing. “As soon as I get my hands on you, I swear to God I'll kill you . . .”

 

“You won't kill me,” Gunnar taunted, ducking another swing directed at his face. “You like my mother, remember? She's your favorite auntie.”

 

“I like your mother just fine,” Bas agreed. “They can have another son since you were a fucking accident, to start with.”

 

“Oh, now that's just cold,” Gunnar complained with a mock grimace.

 

“Cold but true,” Bas shot back.

“Admit it: you want Sydnie—unless you're gay . . . you're not, are you?”

 

“I'm about as gay as you are, you moron,” Bas gritted out.

 

“You tell her yet that she's your mate?”

 

Bas stopped short and stared at Gunnar as even more color deepened the color in his cheeks. “Don't be stupid,” he grumbled, letting his fists drop as he quickly turned away. “It's not like that.”

 

“Really? Strange . . . the two of you act like it's a done deal, or didn't you know?”

 

“Shut up, Gunnar,” he grumbled, stomping over to the telephone to order a gallon of milk for the cat.

 

Gunnar remained quiet while Bas made the call. “Tell me, then, Bas . . . if she's not your mate, why are you bending over backward for her?”

 

“I'm . . . not.”

 

“Ri-i-i-ight.” Sufficiently sure that Bas wasn't going to try to kill him again, Gunnar dropped into a metal chair at the cheap little table. “For the record, you could do a lot worse than her. You're right, you know. She's not a murderer.”

 

Bas shot him an inscrutable look then shrugged. “No, she's not.”

 

“Gotta tell you, though . . . if you screw it up with her, I'll be more than happy to take her off your hands.”

 

“Don't make me regret letting you live.”

 

Gunnar laughed. “You know better than anyone that I don't put much stock in the whole idea of mates. I mean, come on . . . do you really want to wake up with one woman for the rest of your life?”

 

Bas rolled his eyes. “You're a little stupid, aren't you?”

 

Gunnar shrugged. “Your father had it right, Bas . . . waiting almost three hundred years before finding a mate . . . I think he's my hero.”

 

“You'll be waiting longer than that. I don't think there's a woman alive—youkai, hanyou, human—who will put up with your ration of bullshit, so the discussion of mates in conjunction with you is moot.”

 

Gunnar grinned unrepentantly. “Why tie yourself down to one if you don't have to? Granted, if I had to pick one, I'd definitely pick a kitten like Sydnie . . .”

 

“Do you have some sort of death wish?” Bas grumbled.

 

“Come on, Bas . . . she's damn fine, you know.”

 

Bas broke into a low growl.

 

Gunnar relented. “Okay, okay . . . women are a touchy subject for you, right?”

 

A knock on the door kept Bas from answering, and Gunnar wisely hid his amusement as his cousin took the milk from the bellhop and made short work of filling a glass for Sydnie since Bas was liable to light into him again if he pointed out just how it looked . . .

 

Gunnar stood up and grabbed the keys for the rental car off the table. “I'm going to go exchange the car,” he told Bas. “We need to get out of Shreveport today.”

 

Bas grunted in response as he headed over to tap on the bathroom door while Gunnar headed out.

 

As much as Bas would likely hate traveling by car for any length of time, Gunnar thought it would be best to distance themselves a little. It was bad enough that they'd stayed in the same place two nights in a row. Gunnar also had little doubt in his mind that the bounty hunters would find them sooner or later, and he only hoped that they could delay the next attack until Bas was recovered enough to fight.

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

The dull clunk of footsteps echoed against the black marble floor in the dimly lit passage. The building was empty, the hour late, and he didn't miss a beat as he strode toward the dim circle of light that siphoned from the doorway at the end of the hall. Squeezing the corner of his worn leather jacket, double checking to make certain that the mini-DVD was safe, he didn't miss a step.

 

He'd followed his orders to the letter. He hadn't been seen, and to his knowledge, he hadn't been sensed. He had been surprised, though—very surprised. He hadn't been sure what to expect, but the fight he'd witnessed . . . He gritted his teeth, a harsh growl slipping from him as he approached the doorway. Lessa and Tom had been good fighters, and that hunter, whoever he was, hadn't had much trouble dispensing with the both of them.

 

Raising his hand, he knocked on the doorframe. He couldn't see Jeb since the door was only partially open. He sensed his boss nearby, however, and he waited for the terse reply before he stepped inside the office.

 

“Come.”

 

Glave Minor slipped into the room, locating Jeb in the shadows of the thick curtains that were drawn away from the windows. He appeared to be staring out at the lights of the city twinkling below. Glave knew better. Jeb was deceptive, and the perceived inattention had been the downfall of many a youkai over the years.

 

“Lessa and Tom failed, didn't they?”

 

The question sounded more like a statement. Glave strode over to the desk and dropped the mini-disc onto the PC tablet. “Yes.”

 

Jeb nodded, jamming his hands into his pockets though he didn't turn around. “He is formidable, this hunter.”

 

Glave clasped his hands together before him. “Yes.”

 

“Did you recognize him?”

 

“No.”

 

“No,” Jeb repeated as he slowly turned to face Glave. “Weaknesses?”

 

Glave shook his head. “Not many to speak of.”

 

“Everyone has a weakness,” Jeb bit out tersely.

 

Glave shrugged. “When they found him, he was . . . kissing the target.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Took a hard hit from Lessa because of it . . . It wasn't enough, though.”

 

“I see.”

 

“He is dog-youkai,” Glave supplied as Jeb wandered over, lifted the mini-DVD, turning the case over in his fingers.

 

“Hmm . . . Dog-youkai . . . now that is interesting, wouldn't you say?”

 

“My instructions?”

 

Jeb shook his head without taking his eyes off the disc. “Just wait . . . I want to see this hunter for myself.”

 

Glave nodded.

 

Jeb dropped the case onto his desk and finally met Glave's gaze. “That's all for now.”

 

Glave turned to go without a word, leaving the cougar-youkai alone with his thoughts—and the mini-DVD that Jeb believed would answer his questions.

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

Sydnie turned the spoon from side to side, staring at the newest addition to her State spoon collection before slipping it into her purse for safekeeping as Gunnar pulled the minivan out of the truck stop parking lot. Bas grimaced when Gunnar hit a deep pothole. Stretched out on the bench seat behind her, he looked comfortable enough despite the discomfort from riding in a vehicle. He'd said that his ribs were feeling better, though in Sydnie's estimation, they didn't look like they were healing very quickly.

 

She crawled out of her seat, along the narrow opening to carefully crawl onto the seat beside Bas' bent knees. “Thank you for the spoon,” she said, her tone hesitant but friendly enough.

 

Bas lifted his arm—he had draped it over his eyes—and offered her a wan little smile. “You're welcome.”

 

“How much further are we going?” she demanded, raising her voice so that Gunnar could hear her.

 

“Not that far,” he told her. “We're almost at Morgan City.”

 

“Morgan City,” she repeated. “Is that where we're stopping?”

 

“Sure,” he agreed. “I know the owner of a hotel there. We'll be safe enough, at least for a day or two—until Bas can pull his own weight, that is.”

 

“You can suck it, Gunnar,” Bas grumbled mildly.

 

“Not me, Bas . . . maybe Sydnie . . .”

 

Bas erupted in a low growl. Sydnie giggled. He caught her amused gaze and blushed, mumbling something about moronic cousins who should have been drowned at birth. Sydnie giggled louder. Bas wrinkled his nose and took her unopened bottle of milk, popping the seal for her before handing it back and chucking the cap at Gunnar's head.

 

Sydnie drank the milk quickly; tilting the bottle back to make sure she got all of it before licking her lips and smiling at Bas, who was staring at her with a strange sort of expression on his face. He looked fascinated—like he had just before he'd kissed her in the park, and she swallowed hard, her pulse racing wildly, as a hint of a blush rose in her cheeks.

 

“So tell me about the fight. Was there anything that either of you remembered? Even if it seems insignificant, the smallest detail might help for me to figure out who's after you.”

 

Bas blinked and quickly forced his gaze away. Sydnie stifled a sigh as the moment passed.

 

“I already told you everything,” Bas grumbled.

 

Sydnie wrinkled her nose at the memory of the wind-youkai and her penchant of staring at Bas. “They didn't say anything else . . .” she trailed off and bit her lip as she played the altercation back in her head.

 

The bat-youkai's words . . . “So sorry, hunter. Nothing personal, but the boss' orders, you see? Alive, maybe, but the boss didn't say we couldn't rough you up a bit, first.”

 

She rubbed her arms as a distinct shiver ran up her spine. “They were supposed to . . . kill me and bring in Bas alive,” she murmured.

 

“What was that?” Gunnar demanded, having not quite heard Sydnie's quiet admission.

 

She cleared her throat, casting Bas a surreptitious glance. He scowled at the back of the bench seat before him, as though he were pondering Sydnie's words, too. “I said that they were told to kill me and bring Bas in alive.”

 

Gunnar's amber eyes met hers in the rearview mirror. She couldn't see any other part of his face, but she didn't have to. He looked alarmed—very alarmed. “I see,” he drawled slowly. “Alive . . .”

 

“I forgot about that,” Bas admitted.

 

“Fuck,” Gunnar muttered. “Sounds like you pissed someone off . . . what exactly did they say?”

 

Bas shrugged. “Just said something about their boss wanting me alive.”

 

Gunnar shook his head. “That can't be right . . . bounty hunters know the potential risks; the dangers. Anyone who does a job like that has to realize that if they screw up, the penalty can be death . . .”

 

“Yeah, well . . .”

 

“So he wants you alive . . .”

 

“Over my dead body,” Bas snorted.

 

Sydnie set the empty milk container in the cup holder beside her before carefully pulling Bas' duster open to examine his bruised ribs. He grimaced but didn't try to stop her. She bit her lip, telling herself that she was just being silly despite the foreboding that she couldn't quite brush aside. She hadn't stopped to think about why the bounty hunters would have said such a thing, but she didn't have to be brilliant to know, too, that bringing Bas in hadn't originally part of their contract.

 

Gunnar shook his head. “I don't know, but I'd say that you got their attention.”

 

“Shut it, Gunnar,” Bas grumbled as he caught Sydnie's hand and gently squeezed her icy fingers. She glanced up at him, her eyes wide, her cheeks pale, and he offered her a hesitant, if not reassuring, smile.

 

Gunnar started to argue but must have thought better of it. He sighed and turned his attention back to the road once more.

 

“It's okay, Sydnie,” Bas mumbled.

 

Sydnie shrugged. “I know.”

 

“They're not going to hurt me, and I'm not going to let them hurt you, either.”

 

She tried to smile, but it must not have worked because he grimaced. “I know.”

 

“Do you trust me?”

 

“I . . .”

 

“It's alright, you know. It's okay to trust someone.”

 

She pressed her lips together and jerked her head in a nod. “I . . . trust . . . you.”

 

He smiled, nodded, squeezed her fingers again. “Good.”

 

Blinking quickly, she turned her face away, dashing the back of her hand over her eyes as she heaved a heavy sigh. `They won't hurt Sebastian,' she told herself sternly. `I . . . I won't let them . . .'

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

Jeb slouched in the black leather chair, scowling at the widescreen television. “Back,” he growled loudly enough for the voice sensor to pick up on the command. The image stilled then rewound. “Play.” The video stilled once more before resuming the playback. Gaze narrowing as the hunter wheeled around, cutting down Tom Fulton, the bat-youkai, Jeb didn't hear the slight hiss that escaped him.

 

He'd watched the footage countless times. The hunter possessed an efficacy in his movements, a deceptive grace despite his huge physique. Aside from the first hit that he hadn't seen coming until too late, he hadn't been caught off-guard, taking hits only when he couldn't avoid them, and taking them in an effort to shield the cat-youkai from the attacks . . . `Damn him . . .'

 

The flash of golden eyes . . . the bronze hair . . . the hunter was tall, broad, obviously well-trained, and entirely too recognizable—at least, to those in the know. Just what was the Zelig thinking, sending his heir off on a mission such as that?

 

`Fool . . . sending the next tai-youkai out on a hunt? Not very wise, Zelig . . . not wise at all . . .'

 

It was a good way to get killed . . . or perhaps it was simple arrogance. After all, who would dare defy the next tai-youkai? Then again, the Zelig was known for his propensity to guard his personal affairs. The artist might well be tai-youkai and famous for his work, but he also tended to be somewhat reclusive, as well. In fact, Jeb might not have known exactly who the hunter was had it not been for the uncanny looks he possessed. The Zelig was remarkably tall; `golden' was how he'd been described by those who had seen him. There wasn't another clan of dog-youkai who looked like that. No, there was no mistaking the son of the Zelig . . .

 

A whisper of movement drew Jeb's attention. “Stop. Power off,” he muttered, triggering the soft hiss as the flat-panel television slowly folded back where it stored itself flush against the ceiling before turning to glance at his mate. Serena Christopher slipped into the study with two mugs of coffee. She handed one to Jeb without a word and slowly sat on the sofa, leaving the chair beside Jeb conspicuously empty. “I'm busy, Serena,” Jeb grunted, lifting the fragrant brew to his lips.

 

Serena stared at the empty chair, her eyes uncannily bright. “She's ready to die,” she stated simply, the slight catch in her voice the only hint of emotion in Serena's dull tone.

 

Jeb nodded. “It's only a matter of time.”

 

Serena sighed, shaking her head as she gripped her mug in both hands, fingers trembling, her claws clattering against the enamel cup. “But the baby—”

 

Jeb grunted, cutting off his mate's sentence. “Knock it off, woman! The kit won't have a chance without her anyway . . . best to let them both die.”

 

Serena choked back a sob. “Jeb . . .”

 

“There's nothing I can do about it now,” he gritted out. “Not. A. Thing.”

 

“I could take care of the baby,” she pleaded, though she didn't seem to know if she were pleading with her mate or with herself. “It's been done . . . it can be done . . .”

 

“Be realistic, Serena . . . Beth isn't even three months pregnant . . . there's no way she could hold on that long.”

 

Serena flinched, shoulders slumping as she conceded Jeb's point. “I know,” she whispered.

 

Jeb sighed. “Damn it . . . he said he was ready . . .”

 

Dark brown eyes lifted to glare at him, narrowing dangerously as a hint of redness crept into her sallow cheeks. “Why did you send him? Why? It's your fault! Damn you, Jeb!”

 

His own glare was fierce, defiant . . . and yet tinged with remorse. “Enough! Do you think I haven't cursed myself a thousand times? Do you think that it's easy for me? It was my order; my command!”

 

“And Cody never wanted to let you down!”

 

“I know that!”

 

She set the mug aside with a shaky exhalation of breath, tucking an errant lock of dull yellow hair that had escaped the low knot at the nape of her neck behind her ear. “I want him dead, Jeb! The one who did this . . . He deserves to die!”

 

He nodded slowly. “Yes, he does, Serena. Yes, he does.”

 

Son of the tai-youkai or not, this hunter . . . he deserved to die.

 

 

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A/N:

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Reviewers

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MMorg

Kurisu no Ryuujin ------ OROsan0677 ------ Ranuel ------ Simonkal of Inuy ------ Inusbabe ------ concreteangel ------ animeloca

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Final Thought fromBas:

I should just kill Gunnar … I don't think his parents will miss him thatmuch …

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Blanket disclaimer for this fanfic (will apply to this and all other chapters in Phantasm): I do not claim any rights to InuYasha or the characters associated with the anime/manga. Those rights belong to Rumiko Takahashi, et al. I do offer my thanks to her for creating such vivid characters for me to terrorize.

 

~Sue~