InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 5: Phantasm ❯ Sydnie's Game ( Chapter 21 )

~~Chapter 21~~

~Sydnie's Game~

 

Sydnie sighed and cuddled closer, savoring the feel of Bas' arms wrapped snugly around her. Opening one eye, she blinked at the gray, overcast skies. Somehow the world seemed so far away, so insignificant. Something about the feel of Bas' arms chased away the nightmares, the darkness that she'd felt lingering over her heart for so long. He took care of her in a way that no one ever really had, at least not that she could remember. The security he offered her so freely . . . it was humbling and frightening even as it comforted and cosseted her at the same time.

 

She cuddled closer and smiled. He smelled nice, too—really, really nice. `Earth and air and . . . pine trees . . . warm and comfortable and safe . . .'

 

`Sydnie . . . you know, right?'

 

`Know what?'

 

`These feelings you have for him . . . they're . . . nice . . .'

 

`Nice is good. Sebastian is good.'

 

`Good, yes . . . but you know what they mean, right?'

 

`Mean? Hmm, yes . . . they mean that he's my puppy . . .'

 

`Stop being catty . . . there's more to it than that.'

 

`Like what?'

 

Her youkai sighed. `We . . . we could stay with him . . . couldn't we?'

 

`Stay with him? I can't . . . stay with him . . . I can't stay anywhere . . .'

 

`Maybe we could, Sydnie . . . maybe we could. He protects us, doesn't he? And he brings us milk . . .'

 

She sighed again, this one a little more hopeless—as Bas' arms tightened around her. `It doesn't work that way . . . nothing good ever lasts, and Bas the Hunter—Sebastian . . . he's definitely one of those things.'

 

`. . . Maybe we could stay with him till it ends, then?'

 

Sydnie frowned. `Yeah, I suppose . . . So long as he'll keep me . . .'

 

“Morning, kitty.”

 

She arched up to stretch, pushing her arms out straight on either side of his head and drawing her body back before snuggling against his chest once more. He chuckled as she stretched out her fingers and curled them, careful to keep her claws from cutting into his bare chest. “Morning, Sebastian.”

 

He sighed. “Damn . . .”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Never thought I'd like the sound of my name as much as I do when you say it.”

 

“You don't like the name `Sebastian'?”

 

“Not particularly.”

 

“I do.”

 

“I . . . like the name `Sydnie', too.”

 

She grinned, savoring the feel of his hands rubbing her back. “Do you?”

 

“Mmm,” he agreed. “You know, you lied to me.”

 

“About what?”

 

He took his time stroking her hair, smoothing it back off her face. “You do purr.”

 

“I do?”

 

He nodded. “Yes, kitty, you do.”

 

“I wasn't purring.”

 

“You absolutely were . . .”

 

“Did I keep you awake?”

 

“Never slept better.”

 

“. . . Really?”

 

“Yes, really.”

 

“So you don't mind having a kitty sleeping on you?”

 

“Not so much, no.”

 

She smiled. “Can we stay here all day? Like this?”

 

“I think Gunnar wanted to move again.”

 

“But he was human . . .”

 

“Just for the night. I'm sure he's back to his obnoxious self now.”

 

“I like Gunnar.”

 

He snorted. “That figures . . . took you forever to trust me, then Gunnar shows up, and—”

 

“Jealous, puppy?”

 

“Pfft! Hardly . . .”

 

“You sound jealous.”

 

“Not jealous . . . just . . . why do you trust him when you hated me?”

 

“I never hated you.”

 

His grunt indicated that he thought she was lying. “Uh huh . . .”

 

“Shouldn't I trust him?”

 

“Why would you? You didn't know him from Adam . . . you sent him your picture . . . chitchatted with him on the phone . . .”

 

Sydnie leaned up, propping herself on her elbows to look into Bas' eyes. He was scowling, and he turned his face away as a hint of color crept into his cheeks. “You trust him, right?”

 

“Sure,” he mumbled. “Even though he is a little shit.”

 

“Then I should trust him, too.”

 

Bas digested that for a moment as Sydnie carefully stroked his face. “You . . . you trust him because I do?” he asked.

 

“Yes.”

 

He finally grinned—a lopsided little smile that was completely devastating and wholly endearing at the same time. “In that case,” he drawled, wrapping his arms around her waist again. “I guess it's all right . . .”

 

“You're okay . . . for a puppy,” she mumbled, leaning down to nibble the roughened skin of his chin.

 

He shuddered. “Sydnie . . .”

 

“What's the matter, Bas the Hunter? Afraid of a little kitty like me?”

 

He growled low in his throat but let his head fall back. Sydnie gently raked her teeth over the exposed flesh, taking her time as she carefully explored the area. Nibbling her way along the sharp line of his jaw, she flicked her tongue out as his arms tightened then released, tension rippling through his body and into hers. He moaned softly, one hand twining in her hair as he held her close. She kneaded his shoulders, feeling the rising tension that spiraled around them, secreting them away from the rest of the world, even if only for the moment.

 

Ducking his chin to capture her lips, he kissed her gently, sweetly. Lips molding against lips, the smoldering burn of burgeoning desire swelling inside her wrung a whimper from somewhere deep down as the steady pulse of rising need goaded her. His hair—silky strands wrapped around her hands . . . his body—a study of strength and quiet resolve . . . He reached out to her heart, touched her deep inside . . . The unsteady throb of his pulse resounded in her ears. The beat of her heart synchronized with his, and in her bemused mind, she understood what she couldn't voice out loud.

 

He brushed his lips over hers time and again; the tenderness of his actions culminating in a bittersweet ache as she reveled in a powerful warmth, a startling realization that he was the one she needed—the one she wanted. He ran his hands up and down her spine, soothing her rioting senses . . .

 

Sydnie sighed against his lips, the sound captured by his mouth and returned. Maybe he felt it too; the strange yet familiar pull . . . the frightening understanding that he was a part of her, and that she was somehow an extension of him, too. He caught her hand, dragging his mouth away from hers long enough to kiss her knuckles before pressing her hand against his heart. Somehow that one action calmed her, soothed her, wrapped her in a beautiful hope, the wildest wish that maybe—just maybe . . . Maybe the good things that she had always thought weren't meant to be . . . Maybe they could be, after all . . .

 

“Come on, you two! We've got to get moving!”

 

Bas growled in frustration and whipped the first thing he could lay hands on—a pillow—at his cousin's face as Gunnar stuck his head into the room. “Get out, Gunnar,” he snarled.

 

Gunnar chuckled. “Yeah, yeah . . . I'd want to stay in bed all day, too, if I had a kitty like her perched on my chest. Let's go.”

 

Bas snatched the clock off the nightstand and hurled it at Gunnar's head. The cord stretched tight then popped loose from the wall plug, smacking into the wall just left of the intended target. Gunnar laughed and closed the door before Bas got really angry and decided to try to heave the bed at him next.

 

Sydnie giggled and snuggled against Bas' chest again. “I'd rather stay here,” she pointed out.

 

Bas grunted. “I would, too.”

 

She sighed as he hugged her then gently moved her aside. “Come on, cat, before he decides he needs to pester us again.”

 

She wrinkled her nose but complied, rolling off the bed and sashaying over to retrieve her skirt. She'd folded it neatly and set it on the dresser the night before. Bas watched her pull the garment on with a little smile toying at the corners of his lips.

 

“What's the matter, puppy? See something you like?” she teased.

 

“Maybe,” he agreed despite the dusting of pink on his cheeks. “I think I just might have . . .”

 

Sydnie pulled her shoes on and smoothed her skirt over her thighs. “I guess I'm ready.”

 

He made a face but nodded, holding out his hand as he reached for the door.

 

Sydnie stared at his fingers for a moment before hesitantly slipping her hand into his. He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze before sighing heavily and pulling on the handle.

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

“Are we going somewhere in particular or just going?” Sydnie asked, leaning on the back of Gunnar's seat in the rented Chevy Blazer.

 

“We have to go to Baton Rouge,” Gunnar replied, glancing to the side to meet Sydnie's gaze as she idly toyed with one of his ears. He flicked the appendage, and she giggled.

 

“Baton Rouge? Why?”

 

“I have to pick up a few things,” Gunnar replied.

 

Sydnie frowned at his evasive answer. “Sounds mysterious.”

 

“Not really,” he replied. “Just some information and stuff . . . nothing that would interest a cute little kitten like you.”

 

Bas snorted. “Stay away from the kitty, you little shit,” he growled without moving the arm that covered his eyes as he stretched out as much as he could on the bench seat behind them.

 

“You know, Sydnie, if you get sick of that idiot, I'll be more than happy to let you sleep on me,” Gunnar quipped.

 

“Oh, really?”

Bas growled and sat up, leaning over the seat to drag Sydnie away from Gunnar. She giggled but didn't fight him, and when he flopped back down again, she happily stretched out on his chest, hands slipping under the shelter of the open leather duster. He snorted but grinned just a little.

 

“Kami, you two are just pathetic,” Gunnar grumbled, peering in the rearview mirror in time to see Sydnie close her eyes and snuggled closer to Bas.

 

Bas didn't answer as he tweaked Sydnie's nose with his fingertip.

 

“You two realize, right? You're in a lot of danger . . . the bounty hunters are still after Sydnie, and they don't seem to be huge fans of yours, either, Bas,” Gunnar pointed out.

 

Sydnie nipped at Bas' finger when he tweaked her nose again.

 

Gunnar rolled his eyes. “If they show up again before you're fully healed, it could be bad news.”

 

Bas rumbled a low growl at the feline, and she giggled.

 

Gunnar sighed. “All right; all right . . . I warned you, though,” he grumbled. “You two . . . ungh . . . that's just wrong, you know.”

 

Sydnie wrinkled her nose. “They're not in here, are they? And you're driving, so there's not a problem at all.”

 

“That's got to be the most messed up bit of logic,” Gunnar complained.

 

Bas sat up with a grimace. “Get over it, Gunnar. Everything's under control.”

 

Gunnar snorted in reply.

 

“Why aren't you freaking out?” Bas demanded, ignoring Gunnar's commentary in favor of questioning Sydnie's uncharacteristic calm.

 

She shrugged. “I don't freak out.”

 

“You do. You hate cars.”

 

“I don't hate them,” she argued. “I just think they're moving death traps, is all.”

 

“Yes, well, you're not acting nervous today,” he pointed out.

 

She slipped him a sidelong glance as a secretive little grin surfaced on her face. “Maybe I'm distracted.”

 

Bas grinned, too. “Oh?”

 

She tucked her head under his chin and sighed. “Yes.”

 

“That's not so bad,” he allowed.

 

Gunnar sighed again. “Just don't let your guards down.”

 

Sydnie closed her eyes. “Sebastian won't let anything happen to me,” she informed him.

 

Bas blinked, staring at Sydnie as a slow smile spread over his features. The absolute conviction in her voice warmed him. She really did believe that he could keep her safe from the bounty hunters, didn't she? “Nothing,” he assured her, “will happen to you, kitty.”

 

She peered up at him through the thick fringe of her eyelashes, eyes sparkling as she stared gazed at him. “I know, Bas the Hunter. I know.”

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

Jeb Christopher paced the length of his office, hands tucked into his pockets as he stared at each of the bounty hunters he passed. Glave Minor—jaguar-youkai who had recorded the last altercation . . . Flap-Jack McGuinness—thunder-youkai . . . Darrian Snow—wolf-youkai . . . Shakes—earth-based-youkai . . . They didn't blink or move as they waited for Jeb's instructions.

 

“The hunter and the target slipped past intel after the last fight,” Jeb remarked quietly, irritation lending his tone a clipped, harsh edge. “Myrna's working on locating them at the moment. Until we get word of a sighting, I want you all on stand-by, ready to be dispatched as soon as I give the word.”

 

The bounty hunters nodded but remained silent. Jeb clenched his jaw. “This hunter . . . I want him alive. He's dangerous, he's deadly . . . and he's the son of the Zelig.”

 

An uneasy stirring erupted in the gathered youkai. Jeb didn't blink, and he didn't look away. “Yes, the son of the Zelig,” he repeated in answer to their unvoiced questions. “I don't care who he is. I want him brought in.”

 

Darrian Snow was the first to clear his throat and step back slightly, eyes lowered as he shook his head. “I don't know, Jeb . . . It's not so smart, to tangle with the tai-youkai.”

 

“Good way to get yourself killed,” Flap-Jack mumbled.

 

“If we touch his son, Zelig won't rest until he sees us all dead,” Shakes added.

 

Jeb leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest as he glowered at his bounty hunters. “Die by my hand or die by the hand of the tai-youkai . . . take your choice.”

 

Darrian scratched the back of his neck. “Alive, you say?”

 

Satisfied that he'd made his point, Jeb relaxed a little bit. “Alive,” he reiterated. “I want a completely synchronized attack. Kill the target, but bring me the son of the great dog. The bitch is of no use to us alive.”

 

“Is this the Zelig's heir?” Flap-Jack demanded, his one good eye shifting to meet Jeb's gaze directly.

 

Jeb regarded the lumbering bulk that was Flap-Jack McGuiness. Though he was of the thunder-youkai classification, the brute's grandfather had been a very large bear-youkai, and Flap-Jack had inherited his grandfather's massive size. This son of the tai-youkai . . . he would not be taking Jeb's hunters down this time without a lot of help . . .

 

Glave shifted uncomfortably. “Does it matter? He's just a pup.”

 

“A pup whose granddad took out Naraku,” Flap-Jack growled. “The nephew of the Inu no Taisho . . . You can underestimate Sesshoumaru's kin. I'd rather not.”

 

“And still just a pup, right?” Shakes interrupted. “Don't matter whose grandson, son, or nephew he is. None of them are watching his back, are they?”

 

“Just the hunter,” Glave remarked. “Brute strength was what he used against Lyssa and Tom . . . He can't watch four of us at once.”

 

Flap-Jack snorted at the mention of brute strength. “You don't say . . .”

 

“Be that as it may,” Jeb cut in coldly, “just be ready for my orders. Understood?”

 

The bounty hunters nodded tersely. Jeb jerked his head toward the door in blatant dismissal. He watched as the hunters filed out of the office before pulling his cell phone from his pocket and dialing Myrna's number. Letting the son of Zelig and the cat-youkai out of their sight . . . Why did he feel like that was a huge, huge mistake?

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

Sydnie wandered into the bedroom with a towel tucked neatly around her small frame while she dried her hair with a second one. Bas glanced up from the letter his father had sent when she closed the door then back down at the papers in his hand, but his gaze shot right back up and stayed there as Sydnie neatly hung the towel over the back of a chair and crawled onto the bed. “Sydnie? Where are your clothes?” he demanded, unable to keep the rasping quality out of his voice.

 

“I washed them, puppy,” she replied, pulling her hair over her shoulder and dragging her claws through it.

 

“Listen, cat—” he began.

 

“Relax, Sebastian. I have clean panties on.”

 

“. . . Panties.”

 

“Yes.”

 

He shook his head and rolled off the bed, striding over to rummage through her purse for the brush he'd bought for her. She watched him but didn't comment as he held the brush out to her. She ignored it. He sighed and shook his head, pushing her hands away as he pulled her hair back and carefully pulled the brush through it. “You are going to put something else on to sleep in, right?” he asked with a pointed arching of one eyebrow.

 

“I'd love to,” she remarked lightly, folding her legs and wrapping her arms around her ankles as she laid her cheek on her raised knees. “Too bad I don't have anything else to wear.”

 

He stifled a snort since it was on the tip of his tongue to point out the times he'd tried to buy clothing for her. “Fine . . . I'll borrow one of Gunnar's shirts, but we're going shopping tomorrow . . . you need clothes, and so do I.”

 

“I don't want to wear Gunnar's shirt,” she argued, closing her eyes as he continued to brush her hair.

 

“Too bad.”

 

“So you want me to smell like your cousin?” she challenged sweetly.

 

The brush paused mid-stroke. “. . . Damn it . . .”

 

“I would have suggested it myself,” she went on airily, “but I really would have thought that you'd be a little irritated if I smelled like another man.”

 

He dropped the brush into her lap and snorted. “Pfft! Fine, but you can't sleep in that.”

 

She frowned and stood up to put the brush away. “Okay,” she agreed. “I could take the towel off, if it bothers you so much . . .”

 

“Sydnie . . .”

 

She lit a cigarette and slowly turned around to face him again, leaning against the short bureau as she exhaled a puff of smoke. “You're really cute when you blush, Sebastian.”

 

Bas stifled a growl as he strode over to pluck the cigarette out of Sydnie's hand before stomping over to the window and tossing the offending thing out into the night. “This is a non-smoking room, cat,” he pointed out.

 

She wrinkled her nose. “It's rather mean of you to only rent non-smoking rooms, don't you think?”

 

He rolled his eyes and flopped onto the bed, snatching up the letter and burying his face behind it. “No, I don't. Smoke gives me a headache. Always has. Can't stand it when Dad smokes, either.”

 

Sydnie stilled for a moment before slipping back onto the bed beside him again. “Your father smokes?”

 

He grunted. “Yes.”

 

“Interesting . . .”

 

“Not really.”

 

She crawled onto his chest and made herself comfortable. Bas shifted but didn't try to push her away. “What are you reading?” she finally asked.

 

“A letter.”

 

“From who?”

 

He sighed. “The tai-youkai.”

 

“Oh? Orders to kill me?”

 

“That's not even funny, Sydnie.”

 

She sighed, too. “It's just a matter of time.”

 

“That's not true.”

 

“It is . . . he wants me dead, remember?”

 

“He wants you brought in for questioning . . . that's all.”

 

“Don't be stupid . . . of course he'll want me dead.”

 

Bas sighed and crumpled up the letter, dropping it on the nightstand before wrapping his arms around Sydnie. “He just wants to know why you killed Cal Richardson, I promise.”

 

She stiffened but didn't pull away. “I . . . don't want to talk about it.”

 

“I know you don't,” he agreed. “If you'd just tell me, I could—”

 

“Could what? Help me? Save me? What would you do, Bas the Hunter? You can't do either . . . and I don't want to talk about it, okay?”

 

“It's not okay, Sydnie . . . you have to tell me . . . you have to let me help you.”

 

“I don't need your help!”

 

He held onto her when she tried to get up. She scowled at him, but he refused to let go. “Can't you believe that maybe I want to do this? I have to do this . . .”

 

“Why?”

 

He frowned, his gaze skittering away as he scowled at the walls.

 

“Why?”

 

“Because,” he grumbled, cheeks reddening as he stubbornly refused to look at her, “I just do.”

 

She shook her head, an odd sense of sadness filtering into her green eyes, clouding them with a strange melancholy that he didn't really understand. “I'm a nobody, Bas the Hunter. In the end, nobodies like me don't really matter.”

 

“You do matter,” he argued. “You matter to me.”

 

She swallowed hard. “Then you're a fool.”

 

“Maybe I am,” he agreed. “I don't understand a damn thing about you, Sydnie . . . because you won't let me.”

 

“You understand enough,” she whispered, relaxing against him again. “Just leave it at that.”

 

He sighed. “All right, cat,” he relented despite the irritation that creased his brow. “You win . . . for now.”

 

She nodded vaguely as he pulled the blanket over her tiny frame and leaned over to shut off the lamp. “Good night, Sebastian,” she murmured.

 

He sighed again. “Good night, baby. Sleep well.”

 

She smiled moments before she started to purr.

 

 

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A/N:

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Final Thought fromGunnar:

That's just … wrong …

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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~