InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 5: Phantasm ❯ Broken Promises ( Chapter 37 )

~~Chapter 37~~

~Broken Promises~

 

“So you're really going.”

 

Jeb glanced up from the grim task of polishing his sword, meeting the stony gaze of his mate for only a moment before resuming his task once more. “Of course I am. Did you think I wouldn't?”

 

Serena pushed away from the doorframe and heaved a sigh, rubbing her forehead with a weary hand as she wandered over to Jeb's side. Dull eyes staring at the spot where they normally set up the huge, fat Christmas tree, she blinked quickly to dispel the tell-tale moisture that gathered. Neither of them had felt the desire to celebrate a holiday that was meant to share with family when their family was long gone.

 

“You'll come back, right?” she asked, her voice as dry and brittle as the winter winds outside.

 

“Doesn't matter,” he replied in a monotone. “I'm a dead man, either way. At least this way I can avenge Cody's death.”

 

Serena nodded wanly. She agreed with him; of course she did. Revenge was the only thing they had left. The pain of losing her son and unborn grandchild was just too much to bear. In her dreams, she still saw Cody's face; could hear his voice. Shuffling over to the occasional table nearby, she picked up a photograph. Taken on Cody and Beth's wedding day, she couldn't reconcile what she knew now with the smiling faces in the picture. She wanted to cry. She could feel the thickness of tears stinging her nose, pressing against her eyes. They wouldn't come.

 

“You find him,” she bit out, her voice harsh, rasping. “You find him, and you make him pay.”

 

Jeb nodded without looking up from his task. “Planning on it . . . but you know . . .”

 

Serena shook her head stubbornly, the picture in her hands crashing to the floor, the glass shattering in a thousand pieces—a million shards. “I know well enough, Jeb Christopher,” she maintained. “I know and I damn well don't care. My life . . . my life ended the day he took my son away from me.”

 

“He's killed all my bounty hunters. He's killed them all, one by one. What the hell is he? Some god? Some monster? Who the hell is this son of the Zelig?”

 

“He's neither,” Serena growled, her gaze crackling with outrage, with pain.

 

“My hunters were the best of the best,” Jeb pointed out in a clipped tone of voice.

 

“And he has been lucky, hasn't he? Well, his luck can't hold out forever!”

 

Jeb set his sword on the coffee table and shot to his feet, stalking around the study like a caged beast. “Eight of my best hunters, Serena. Eight of them, and Myrna hasn't heard a thing from them in days. I'm finishing this, damn it, and I'm finishing it now.”

 

“Do you know where he is?”

 

The stubborn set of Jeb's jaw, the light that blazed behind his gaze . . . Serena knew that look well. She'd seen it many times over the years. When they'd migrated from their native England nearly two hundred years before, he'd promised her that he would build a good life for them, and he had. Yes, he had. He'd worked hard to build what amounted to a small empire for the two of them, and only after he felt as though they were safe enough had he allowed Serena to have a child. Now that child was gone, and the dreams and hopes were gone, too. Revenge was a bitter thing, wasn't it? Too bad it was the only thing that Serena had left . . .

 

“The last contact we had from the hunters indicated that Zelig was heading north through central Illinois. I think it's safe to assume that he was heading to his father's house.”

 

Serena nodded slowly. Having overheard countless discussions between Jeb and his bounty hunters, she knew as well as anyone that Cain Zelig had a mansion in Wake Forest, Illinois. “The one outside Chicago?”

 

“That's the one,” Jeb agreed. Strapping his scabbard on, he dropped the sword into the sheath and shot his wife a fierce glower. “I'll come back, Serena. Be ready to run when I do.”

 

She nodded again, refusing to believe that Jeb would fail.

 

`Soon,' she told herself, rubbing her frail arms as the sound of the front door closing echoed through the silent house. `Don't fail us, Jeb . . .'

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

Bas stared out the window at the falling snow in the gray afternoon sky, grimacing slightly as he rotated his right shoulder to alleviate the stiffness that had set in since the fight near the pond. Cain had called awhile ago to make sure that everything was all right, which would have been much better if Bas hadn't been in the middle of trying to coax Sydnie out of the bedroom to show her the rest of the house.

 

He'd been surprised to wake up and find them here, of all places. She'd said that Gunnar had mentioned the Wake Forest house to her, but she hadn't looked him in the eye, and while she hadn't said that she wanted to leave, Bas could tell from her uncharacteristic skittishness that she hated being here; hated being reminded of whom, exactly, Bas was.

 

Still, he reasoned, if he could get her to accept the things he couldn't change, maybe he could convince her that she really would be fine. All she had to do was tell him why she'd killed Cal Richardson . . .

 

“You're feeling better now?”

 

Bas turned and smiled at Sydnie. She'd been napping. Gazing at him with such a solemn air, she sat perfectly still in the center of the bed. “Yes, actually . . . quite a bit better. Got a shower . . . shaved . . . I'm a little stiff, but otherwise, I feel fine.”

 

She wrapped her arms around her ankles, resting her chin on her raised knees as she glanced around the room, almost as though she expected someone or something to jump out of the shadows at her. With a sigh, Bas pushed himself away from the window and slowly wandered over to sit on the edge of the bed. “What's the matter, kitty?”

 

Sydnie shrugged and tried to smile. It was more like a grimace, though, and Bas winced. “Nothing,” she maintained quietly. “You look better.”

 

“Why don't you come downstairs with me? You can look around and stuff . . .”

 

She shook her head quickly, burying her face deeper against her knees. “Uh-uh . . . Do you think we could go soon? To a hotel or something?”

 

Bas reached out, brushing her hair out of her eyes and cast her an apologetic little grin. “Sorry, baby . . . it's safer here. Dad's got security in place. No one—and I mean no one—gets in or out of here without their knowledge.”

 

She nodded. “I know . . . they let me in. They brought food.”

 

He snorted. They'd also called his father. Kingsley, the head of Cain's Wake Forest security, had done the honors, or so Cain had said. In any case, he ought to be thankful. Because of Kingsley, Bas hadn't had to go far to get milk for Sydnie this morning. The irony of that wasn't lost on Bas. No one in the Zelig family was big on drinking milk. That there had been three gallons sitting in the refrigerator . . . that had to have been his father's order . . . “Just give me a few days, okay?” He made a face, carefully rubbing his right shoulder. “Then I'll be as good as new. I promise.”

 

Sydnie made a face but conceded. “All right,” she agreed. “I want you to be okay.”

 

“I know you do. Come on . . . bet Mom's got some embarrassing pictures around here.”

 

“Embarrassing?”

 

He shrugged, standing up and grasping her hand and tugging until she scooted off the bed. “Sure . . . Mom loves baby pictures, and those are always a bit humbling.”

 

He could feel her reluctance, but she did follow him. Pulling her into the dim hallway and down the corridor that led to the stairs, Bas gently squeezed her icy fingers and led the way.

 

`You'll go to hell for lying, Bas.'

 

Bas wrinkled his nose at the cryptic words of his youkai voice. `I'm not lying,' he maintained. `I do still feel a little off. Damn rattlesnake-youkai . . . I'd kill him if he weren't already dead . . .'

 

And that was true enough. The poison had seeped through his body faster than he'd been able to combat it. The result had been the horrible fever that had ravaged his body and had scared the life out of Sydnie. No, staying here for a few days would be good for him, and since it was one of the few places that he knew was secure, there was no reason to move to a hotel where he'd have to deal with the constant, nagging worry that they really weren't safe, even if he wanted to believe that they were.

 

`Admit it, will you? The real reason you want to stay here is because Christmas is just a couple days away.'

 

`There's that, too,' he allowed as the barest hint of a smile surfaced. Glancing over his shoulder at Sydnie, he had to smile as she gnawed on her lower lip and peered up at him. The reluctance in her gaze was impossible to miss, but the absolute trust in her expression gave him hope. `She deserves a Christmas worth remembering,' he decided. `She deserves . . . everything.'

 

He let go of her hand to turn on the lights, letting the warm glow envelop the room. Though the family wasn't often in residence in any of the houses outside of Maine, Gin had made it her mission to make sure that every single one of them felt like home, even to the point of having duplicate prints of pictures made so that she could decorate the houses with her family's faces, or so she'd said. She'd even shipped many of Cain's paintings to the houses, every one of them unique since getting Cain to repaint something he'd already done was impossible. Gin tended to keep her favorite ones at the Maine house, but every single place was adored with paintings and sculptures from their private collection. This room was the worst, Bas figured. The casual living room was decorated with paintings and photographs and even Bas' threadbare baby blanket was carefully folded and lying over the back of the overstuffed tan suede sofa . . .

 

Sydnie touched the blanket lightly, fingertips dragging over the soft, faded fabric. “This is yours?” she murmured quietly, lifting the blanket and burying her nose in it.

 

Bas nodded. “Yep . . . my favorite baby blanket, according to Mom.”

 

“It smells like you,” she told him.

 

“Yeah, well . . .”

 

She laughed suddenly, eyes twinkling with a devilish light. “I can't picture you as a child, Sebastian, much less a baby.”

 

He snorted. “I was actually a little baby,” he admitted. “I just didn't stay that way, I guess.”

 

She carefully refolded the blanket and arranged it on the back of the sofa before slowly, haltingly wandering over toward the hulking brown marble mantle that stretched about a third of the length of the room. Arranged on the deep shelf was an assortment of framed snapshots, and Bas stuffed his hands in his pockets as he watched her. “Who's that?” she asked, fingering one of the ornate frames.

 

Bas shuffled over and peered over her shoulder and smiled. It was a snapshot of InuYasha and Kagome, his grandparents. She stood beside him wringing her hands while the hanyou crouched on the ground with the signature scowl on his face. “That's my grandfather—the old man—and my grandmother.”

 

“The old man?”

 

He nodded. “He prefers to be called that. He can't stand to be called `father' or `grandfather'. He's always been like that.”

 

“Your grandfather . . . what's his name?”

 

“InuYasha. InuYasha Izayoi. My grandmother's name is Kagome.”

 

“InuYasha . . . that sounds familiar.”

 

“Well, sure . . . he's the hanyou of legend; the one who defeated the great evil—Naraku—years ago . . . he and my grandmother.”

 

“The angry hanyou?”

 

Bas wrinkled his nose. “I prefer `hanyou of legend' . . . besides, he's not always angry.”

 

She giggled. “And this?”

 

Bas slipped an arm around Sydnie's waist, drawing her back against his chest as he breathed in the scent of her hair and smiled. “That's my half-sister, Bellaniece and her husband, Kichiro. He's Mom's brother . . . I told you about that, didn't I?”

 

“Oh, yes, you did,” she mused. “The ass-monkey, right?”

 

Bas chuckled. “Yeah . . . he's a nice enough guy, though. I think he and Dad like to argue. Kind of demented, if you ask me.”

 

“And this is your mother?”

 

Bas nodded. “Yep . . . Mom and the old man . . . she's the only girl, you know. Dad . . . the old man . . . my uncles . . . they all call her `baby girl' . . . Well, all except my uncle, Mikio, but he's only a couple years older than me.”

 

“She's so little.”

 

Bas chuckled. “Yeah . . . she's just over five feet tall. We all outgrew her—physically, at least—long ago.”

 

“And who are they?” she asked, pointing at a picture of Jillian with her arm slung casually over the thin shoulders of her best friend.

 

“My baby sister, Jillian and Gavin—Gavvie—her best friend. She's been telling him for years that he's her mate, but he's never really believed her. Then again, might be because he's been told that he could lose certain facets of his anatomy that he is rather attached to if he tried anything . . .”

 

“That's not very nice,” she chided. “You've not been threatening him, have you?”

 

“Who? Me? Absolutely. She's my baby sister, remember? Besides, he's, like . . . five years older than her.”

 

“He is?”

 

“Yup.”

 

Sydnie shook her head. “I'd have said that he looked younger. She's taller than he is.”

 

“I know. He's always been scrawny like that.”

 

“And this?”

 

Bas shifted uncomfortably, unsure how she was going to react to his answer. “That's . . . Madison.”

 

“Madison.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“The pole-cat-youkai?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Your fake girlfriend.”

 

He grimaced and forced himself to answer her. “Yes.”

 

“She's just a baby.”

 

He sighed. “Yes.”

 

“You're kind of sick, Sebastian,” she teased.

 

Bas chuckled, relieved that Sydnie wasn't going to overreact. “Yes.”

 

She giggled and leaned back to kiss his cheek. “And there? I recognize you and Gunnar . . . who are those other two and the girl?”

 

Bas pointed to the hanyou on the far left in the snapshot. “That's Mikio—I told you about him, and that's Morio beside him. The girl is my cousin—niece—whatever—Isabelle. Everyone calls her Bitty Belle, though.”

 

“Morio?”

 

He nodded. “Morio's kind of the jokester. I think he'd just gotten done pantsing Gunnar in that picture. See? Gunnar's hiking them back up.”

 

“So you weren't the only one who had to deal with that sort of thing?”

 

Bas snorted. “Nope.”

 

“Are you all the same age?”

 

“Pretty much. Mikio's a couple years older than all of us, and Morio's a couple months older than me. Gunnar's actually the youngest.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

“Your family is close.”

 

“Yeah, we are.”

 

“And that's . . . your father.”

 

Bas followed the direction of her gaze, scowling at the derogatory way she'd said `father'. She was staring up at the huge portrait hanging over the mantle. One of the few traditional pieces Gin had painted, it was a portrait of Cain standing in front of an open window while an unseen breeze blew the floor-length sheer curtains. Cain held Bas in his arms, and was staring down at him with a little smile on his face. Bas grimaced. “Yeah. That's . . . my father.”

 

Her back stiffened, and she nodded. “And the baby?”

 

He winced. “That's me.”

 

She sighed and slipped out of his arms, wandering across the room to look at another painting. “Your mother? And the boy?”

 

Bas blinked and narrowed his eyes at the portrait she was staring at. Gin was walking along the beach holding his brother's hand. Evan wasn't more than three or four in the painting, and judging from the angle of it, Bas could tell that Cain had captured the image out of the window in their studio. Cain's ability to look at something and remember it well enough to reproduce it perfectly had always been something that Bas envied. Evan was the same way, though his interests lie in music instead of art. “Mom and Evan,” he replied quietly.

 

“Your brother.”

 

He nodded. “My brother.”

 

She rubbed her arms as she moved on to the next painting. Bas grimaced, since it was one of the ones he really, really disliked. Lying in the middle of his bed in a mess of tangled blankets, he slept with Jillian sprawled on his chest and Evan lying perpendicular to him, his legs draped over Bas' waist. Evan and Jillian were just toddlers at the time, and Cain, apparently, had found the image too irresistible to ignore. Bas, on the other hand, had been nearly thirteen at the time, and that he shared his bed with his siblings just wasn't something he had wanted everyone to know about at the time.

 

Is that . . . you?” she asked hesitantly.

 

“Yep.”

 

“And the children?”

 

Bas snorted. “Who else? Jillian and Evan . . . it was shortly after Dad had ousted Evan from sleeping with him and Mom, so the little brat decided to take up residence in my room. Took forever to get rid of him. He's kind of like a leech that way . . .”

 

She shook her head, casting him a confused sort of glance. “That . . . that can't be right . . .” she mumbled, her gaze clouding over as a she slowly turned to face him.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“You . . . you're not the oldest, you said . . .”

 

Bas shrugged, frowning at Sydnie's strange commentary. Waving his hand at another portrait, Bas sighed. “I'm not . . . see? Bellaniece is the oldest, then me, then Evan and Jillian . . .”

 

She shook her head again, stepping back in retreat as the confusion gave way to a shocked sort of panic. Bas took a step toward her but stopped when she jumped and skittered away. “Sydnie?”

 

“No . . . No! You . . . that means you . . .?” She choked out a little half-sob, half-laugh, smashing the back of her hand over her mouth. “You?”

 

“Sydnie . . . what . . .?”

 

“You can't be . . . you just can't be . . .”

 

“Can't be, what? What are you talking about?”

 

“You're the next . . .? No . . . no, no, no, no!”

 

Bas grimaced as slow realization swept over him. She really hadn't realized that he was the next tai-youkai, had she? He stepped toward her again, but she withdrew, throwing her weight against the huge glass door and fumbling with the latch before casting him one last, scared glance before darting outside and disappearing into the trees surrounding the house. `Damn it . . . Fuck!'

 

He followed her out of the mansion, down the deck's wide stone steps and though the yard toward the trees. She was running, but he wasn't. She wouldn't be able to get off the estate without drawing the notice of the security Cain had put in place regardless of whether the family was in residence or not. Either way, Sydnie was safe enough, and Bas, loping along through the woods, really couldn't run much faster. Thigh still affected by the rattlesnake-youkai's bite, he hurried after her as best he could. He didn't have to see her to know that she was close.

 

`Damn it, damn it, damn it . . . I thought she knew . . . She said she knew . . .'

 

Berating himself for hurting her, for not having realized that she really hadn't known, Bas gritted his teeth and kept moving. `How could I have been so fucking stupid? Of course she hadn't known . . . with as much as she hates the tai-youkai—Dad—how could I have believed otherwise . . .?'

 

`You believed her because she told you she knew . . . you believed her because she's your mate, and you're supposed to believe your mate—everything she says.'

 

He winced. Somehow that didn't make him feel any better . . .

 

Crashing through the trees into the clearing near the small stream that eventually emptied into Lake Michigan, Bas stopped short when he spotted her. Scrunched low where she sat on a smooth boulder, she looked so sad, so alone, so lost that Bas grimaced, a quiet whine escaping him as he sought to find a way to make her understand.

 

“Sydnie,” he said, his voice soft, choked. He took a few tentative steps toward her. She wiped her cheeks, heaving a tumultuous sigh, and she refused to meet his gaze. “I thought you knew,” he forced himself to say, hating how lame it sounded in his own ears.

 

“Go away, Sebastian,” she whispered. “Leave me alone.”

 

“I can't,” he admitted, hunkering down before her.

 

She choked out an incredulous laugh—a hysterical laugh. “Sure, you can . . . just turn around and walk away.”

 

He shook his head. “No, baby, I can't.”

 

“Don't call me that!” she blurted, chin snapping up, eyes blazing with absolute misery, absolute rage. “I'm not your baby! I'm nothing!”

 

“You don't believe that,” he insisted. “Sydnie . . . you're everything to me.”

 

“Leave me alone; just leave me alone! Can't you just . . . just . . . leave me alone?”

 

For an agonizing second he almost wished he could. Bas sighed and shook his head. “You know I can't.”

 

“You could, you know . . . it's easy. Stand up and turn around and . . . and let me walk away.”

 

He grimaced. “I'm sorry, Sydnie . . . you know I can't, and even if I could . . .”

 

“Don't say it,” she cut in coldly. “I hate you. I hate you.”

 

He flinched. Her words were all the more painful because of the harsh whisper she'd used. He swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as his eyes burned. “I know,” he agreed, clearing his throat.

 

“Did you have a good laugh at my expense? Laugh at the stupid little cat, right? You and your father . . . did you think it was funny?”

 

“I'd never laugh at you, kitty.”

 

“I guess I deserve it,” she went on. “I should have known . . . maybe I did know . . .”

 

“Knew what?”

 

She gulped, shoulders slumping even more. She didn't answer for a moment. Bas was starting to think that she wouldn't. Ever so slowly, she met his gaze, eyes bright with unshed tears, a bitter light blazing behind her gaze. Full lips pursed in a petulant little frown, she sniffled, chin trembling, nostrils quivering as a single tear slipped down her cheek. “Good things never last, Sebastian Zelig. They never last, and you . . . you're really no different.”

 

“That's not true.”

 

“Isn't it?”

 

Raking his hands through his hair, Bas struggled to find a way to make her understand. “Nothing's changed, Sydnie! The way I feel . . . the way you feel . . . it's all the same!”

 

“It's not the same, puppy! Can't you see that? You changed everything—everything! I hate you!”

 

He grimaced and shook his head, brushing aside the venom in her words, knowing in his heart that she really didn't mean it at all, even if she did want to believe what she was saying. “You want to hate me, but you know you don't, and I lo—”

 

She barked out an incredulous laugh as dry and brittle as the winter wind that stirred her hair. “Don't say that to me . . . don't you dare say that to me!”

 

He sighed, biting his lip and slowly shaking his head. “What do you want from me?” he asked quietly.

 

“Nothing.”

 

Reaching out, catching her hands, he held her tight despite her resistance. “I'll . . . I'll call him,” he told her. “I'll call Dad.” Sydnie shook her head in confusion but stopped trying to pull her hands away, at least for the moment.

 

“What?”

 

“Sydnie . . . you're more important to me than anything, and if you can't deal with me being the next tai-youkai . . .” he trailed off, closing his eyes and drawing a deep, steadying breath. “Dad . . . has Evan. He's been trained, even if he is a little ass.”

 

She shook her head, brows knitting together in silent confusion.

 

Bas dug the cell phone out of his pocket and dialed Cain's number.

 

“Bas? Is everything all right?”

 

Bas gulped and heaved a steadying sigh. “Dad, I, uh . . . I'm not coming back.”

 

“What?”

 

Gripping his temple with his free hand, Bas sighed again. “I relinquish my position as your heir.”

 

“What? Wait, son—”

 

Bas blinked in surprise when Sydnie's hand shot forward to snap the phone closed. “Are you crazy?” she demanded, cheeks blossoming in indignant color. “Have you lost your mind?”

 

“No, I haven't,” he shot back. “I don't care about any of that shit! Don't you get it? Don't you understand? Damn it, Sydnie—”

 

The phone rang, and Bas flipped it open, dealing Sydnie a fierce glower as he lifted it to his ear once more.

 

“Bas, what the hell's going on?” Cain demanded.

 

“Sorry . . . I just . . . some things are more important, Dad. That's what you've always told me, right?”

 

“Sebastian—”

 

“No. Would you tell Mom I—”

 

Sydnie snapped the phone closed again, jerking it out of his hand for good measure. Bas sighed and narrowed his gaze at her, trying to discern what was going on behind those turbulent eyes of hers. “You can't do that,” she murmured. “You can't change who you are any more than I can change who I am. It never would have worked.”

 

“It could work, Sydnie . . . you just have to want it to.”

 

She shook her head sadly, ignoring the ringing phone in her hands. “That's where you're wrong. Don't you see? If you did that . . . if you turned your back on your family . . . Well, you'd blame me for that, and then you'd resent me for it, too.”

 

He sighed, rubbing his temples as he sought to find a way to make her understand. “I'd never resent you. Listen . . . I didn't tell you at first because . . . because I was instructed not to tell anyone, and then . . . I swear it, Sydnie . . . I thought you knew. You said you knew . . .”

 

“I knew you were his son! I didn't know—” She winced, unable to restrain the tiniest sob that slipped from her lips. “I didn't want to know.”

 

Bas nodded slowly and stood, reaching down for Sydnie's hand to help her to her feet. She ignored the gesture, rising stiffly, brushing past him as she strode back the way they'd come.

 

The entire world was silent, as though the very forest sensed Sydnie's upset. She walked ahead of him, back straight and proud, and through the space that separated him, he could feel her pain. It stung him, cut him deep, her anguish over his perceived betrayal shattering him like crystal on a marble floor. The need to protect her was fierce, consuming. The trouble was that the thing that threatened to harm her . . .

 

He grimaced, a low keen welling up inside him, the sound of desperation a repulsive thing. He bit it back, digging his claws into the palms of his hands, struggling in vain to refute the knowledge that this thing—this terrible, awful thing that threatened to hurt Sydnie . . .

 

It was him.

 

 

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A/N:

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Final Thought fromBas:

Sydnie ... I'm sorry …

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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~