InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 5: Phantasm ❯ Skeletons in the Closet ( Chapter 38 )

~~Chapter 38~~

~Skeletons in the Closet~

 

Bas set the glass of milk on the nightstand and stuffed his hands into his pockets, scanning the room and not surprised to realize that she had retreated to the sanctuary of the closet in his absence.

 

She'd told him that she wanted some time alone to think, and that she wouldn't try to run away if he'd give her that. The very last thing he'd wanted was to leave her, but in the end, he had been able to give her that much. He'd ventured into town long enough to buy her a few little gifts for Christmas; nothing more than silly little presents that might have been better suited for a preschool child instead of a full-grown woman, with the exception of the little pinwheel charm necklace that spun when he blew on it.

 

`How do I convince her? How do I make her want to stay with me?'

 

Bas sighed, shuffling toward the closet as he pondered those questions—the same questions that had been plaguing him ever since he'd followed her back to the house hours ago.

 

“Fancy meeting you here. I brought you some milk. Come out and get it?” Bas coaxed, gazing at Sydnie as she rocked back and forth in the corner of the closet. Thin arms wrapped so tightly around her shins, chin resting on her knees as her dull eyes saw nothing—everything . . . “Kitty . . . what do you want me to do?”

 

“Where did you go?”

 

He blinked at the almost conversational tone in her voice. “Well, Christmas is just a few days away . . .” he hedged, nervously scratching the back of his neck.

 

“Christmas,” she repeated, her gaze clouding over in a dull sort of way again. “I hate Christmas.”

 

“Why?”

 

She shrugged. “Not all of us had the perfect existence with the perfect family and the perfect friends.”

 

“I know,” he replied. “You just haven't had a good one yet; that's all.”

 

She shook her head. “You can't fix me, Bas the Hunter. I'm not broken.”

 

“I'm not trying to fix—” Cutting himself off abruptly with a wince—maybe he really had been trying to fix her all along—Bas sighed and shook his head. “Tell me why you hate Christmas.”

 

“Bad things happen on Christmas.”

 

“Like what?”

 

Sydnie shrugged imperceptibly; more of a shifting in her youki than an actual movement. “Bad things . . . terrible things . . . scary things . . .”

 

He scowled into the darkened closet, tried to make sense of what she wasn't saying. “What sort of things, Sydnie?”

 

“If I tell you, you can let me go, right? If I tell you what you want to know . . .”

 

“Kitty . . .”

 

She closed her eyes, turning her face so that her cheek dropped onto her knees. “I will, you know? I'll tell you . . .”

 

“Tell me? Tell me what?”

 

“Why I did it. Why I killed Cal Richardson.”

 

Bas sucked in a sharp breath but shook his head. “Even then, you know I can't let you go.”

 

“Yeah, I . . . didn't figure you could.”

 

He sighed. “Tell me? Please? Baby . . .”

 

She shook her head slowly, wrapping her arms around herself a little more securely. The past and the present warred inside her in a place that he couldn't even imagine; in a prison that had somehow become something that she couldn't contain any longer. Whether it was simply the toll of a burden that shouldn't have ever been hers to bear or the weight of secrets that she'd kept for far too long, the alienation of a broken heart reached out to him, stung him, made him want to scream. The bond between them was too solid, too real. It didn't matter that the physical act had yet to be complete. Her youki had merged with his, and her sorrow was too bitter, too poignant. He had to take it away from her if he possibly could.

 

“Sydnie . . . please . . . I want to help you. I want to save you . . . please.”

 

“Save me?” she echoed, her voice dull, dry. “Save me . . . I don't know if that's possible.”

 

“Come out of the closet?”

 

She hugged her legs tighter. Bas sighed and scooted closer—as close as he dared before she scrunched up her shoulders, her youki constricting around her as if it were trying to protect her. Bas only wished he knew what it was protecting her from.

 

“The truth is never as glamorous as the illusions, Sebastian.”

 

“I didn't expect it would be.”

 

She smiled sadly; an expression full of a lifetime of sorrow, and maybe, just maybe, a little regret. “I don't know where to start,” she admitted, glowing eyes meeting his with a directness that startled him.

 

“Start at the beginning.”

 

“Hmm . . .”

 

Bringing her hand up to her face, she opened her fist and stared at the tiny silver locket. Slowly reaching out, she grasped his hand; turned it, palm side up, and lowered the locket until it touched his skin before letting the chain drop into a pitiful heap in the center of his palm.

 

He shook his head as he frowned at the bit of costume jewelry. “Your locket?”

 

She shrugged, wrapping her arms around her shins once more. “Your answers.”

 

“I don't understand.”

 

“Open it.”

 

“Sydnie . . .”

 

“You wanted answers, right? Go ahead. I won't stop you. Everything you need to know is right there.”

 

He still didn't understand what she was trying to tell him. Slipping his claw into the tiny seam on the narrow edge of the rectangular charm, he grimaced as it popped open. He carefully unfolded the pieces and held it up to catch the wan light.

 

A faded photograph was carefully mounted in the left panel of the locket. He stared at the image of a young youkai with her arm slung around the shoulders of a tiny little girl. The older of the two looked exactly like Sydnie. His scowl darkened. “Who's the baby?” he asked quietly.

 

Sydnie uttered an ironic chuckle as she shook her head. “That's me,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

 

“You?”

 

She nodded. “Yes, me.”

 

“Then . . .” he grimaced. “The other girl . . . she's your sister?”

 

Sydnie nodded again. “Kit.”

 

“But you're Kit?”

 

“She was the first Kit; the real Kit. I was just a reasonable facsimile.”

 

“Hardly that.”

 

“All the same, that's Kit.”

 

“So you really are Sydnie . . .”

 

“Something like that . . . it doesn't really matter now.”

 

He scowled at the girl in the picture. “How old was she?”

 

“I don't know . . .”

 

“She looked young.”

 

Sydnie shrugged. “I remember . . . she talked about getting her license. She was almost old enough, she said.”

 

“So she was almost sixteen?”

 

Sydnie shrugged again. “I suppose.”

 

“Why did she want her license?”

 

The look in her eyes haunted him; the steadiness behind the crystalline glow seemed ancient, timeless . . . and so very old. “She wanted to get me out of LA. She wanted . . . to take me to see the cows.”

 

He grimaced, remembering all too vividly, the odd flash of sadness on Sydnie's face when they'd visited the small dairy farm. “Can I stay here, Sebastian? You could leave me . . . I think . . . I could be happy here . . .”

 

He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes. “What happened to her? What happened to . . . Kit?”

 

She shot him an incredulous glance, as if she thought he was being dense on purpose. “Cal Richardson happened to her . . . Cal Richardson and another man.”

 

“Oh, God . . .”

 

She heaved a sigh and looked away, her eyes clouding over as she stared back over time, into a place and into a world that Bas couldn't see. That place was entirely too overwhelming, and for a moment, Bas had to wonder if pressing her for answers hadn't ultimately been a mistake.

 

“It was Christmas Eve,” she began quietly, her voice dropping to a listless monotone. The only sign of emotion was the sudden brightness that shimmered in her eyes. “I was three . . . I think I was three . . . I don't remember for sure. Kit wanted me to see Santa Claus, so she took me to the mall . . .”

 

“Sounds like a good sister.”

 

“She was . . .”

 

He winced as she gulped and shook her head again, lost in her memories; lost in the shadows.

 

“Thing was,” she went on, her voice a little steadier, “we didn't have very much money. She couldn't pay the admission to let me talk to Santa. It was enough, I guess, to see him . . . I knew back then that I wouldn't get anything on Christmas morning.”

 

“Sydnie . . .”

 

She shook her head to silence him. “We stood there for the longest time. Kit told me that she'd make sure that I had a Christmas dinner, and not one from the homeless shelter: a real one with turkey and dressing and—” She cut herself off and swallowed hard once more. “And milk.”

 

He let out his breath in a ragged exhalation, reining in the desire to reach for her, knowing that she'd still pull away from him, even now.

 

“Anyway, she saw one of those photo booths—the ones you sit in and it takes a strip pictures for a few bucks. She tickled me so I'd laugh, and then she bought me this locket from one of those cheap, trendy stores . . . We sat on a bench while she cut out the pictures. She put that one in my locket, and one in the locket she'd bought for herself.”

 

“I see.”

 

Her hands were shaking as she groped for her purse. Understanding what she was after, he pulled the bag over and rummaged for her cigarettes, carefully lighting one before offering it to her without saying a word. She drew a long drag off it, hands trembling as she propped her elbow on her knees, resting her forehead on the heel of her hand, cigarette dangling from between her slender fingers. “She took me home—you've been there.”

 

Bas shook his head. “I have?”

 

She nodded. “That abandoned building . . . I took you there from the bar . . .”

 

“That was your home?”

 

“It didn't look much better back then,” she said with a grimace. “Sagging ceilings . . . holes in the floor . . . but see, Kit had made a bed for me in one corner . . . in a . . . closet . . .”

 

“God, Sydnie . . .” he rasped, his voice breaking with the force of his turbulent emotions.

 

She went on as though he hadn't interrupted her, her tone evening out into a monotone once more. “She put me to bed—it was still a little light outside—gave me my doll—she was missing an arm and a leg, and one of her eyes wouldn't open—weird, isn't it? The things I can remember . . . and yet I can't remember my real name or my birthday . . . or how old I was at the time . . .”

 

Bas scooted over until he was sitting beside her. She gazed up at him, eyes sad, solemn, full of dread at the story she was telling—her story. He slipped his arm around her, pulled her into his lap, cradled her against his chest. She let him soothe her, smoothing her hair for a moment before she sighed and cleared her throat. “She had to go to work so she could buy me the dinner she'd promised. She told me to stay in my closet no matter what, said that she'd be home soon. She always said that, and she always came home.”

 

“Where'd she work? What was open on Christmas Eve?”

 

Sydnie choked out a bitter laugh. “She was too young for a real job . . . she needed a license to get one, you know?”

 

“What did she do?”

 

She leaned back to gaze up at him, lower lip trembling as her eyes bored into his. “What do you think?”

 

Bas shook his head, unable to comprehend exactly what Sydnie was telling him. The image of his younger sister came to mind. Jillian was fifteen . . . only fifteen . . . “She . . . she couldn't have . . . she was youkai . . . youkai's mate for life . . . you know that.”

 

“But that really doesn't matter when you've got a little sister to feed, does it?”

 

The same image of his sister's face made him grimace, and he knew Sydnie was right. Wouldn't he do anything for his siblings, even if they annoyed the hell out of him at times? He stifled a sigh and tightened his arms around her. “I guess not.”

 

She heaved a tumultuous sigh, bringing the stump of a cigarette back to her lips, her hands shaking so hard that he worried for a moment that she'd burn herself. “I must have fallen asleep . . . It was a long walk to the mall and back. I woke up in the dark, but I could hear . . . things.” She shivered at the memory that haunted her. Bas kissed her forehead and remained silent. “She was crying . . . sobbing . . . and she kept saying one word over and over and over . . . `Please, please . . . please . . . stop' . . .”

 

“Cal Richardson,” he whispered, taking the cigarette butt and tossing it into the empty metal trashcan nearby.

 

Sydnie nodded, drawing a ragged breath and taking a moment to compose herself before continuing. “My closet wouldn't close all the way. I sat up, and I peeked through the crack. Two youkai stood there beside Kit. They had her cornered. One reached out and tore her dress. He cut her skin with his claws, and she screamed. They laughed. I couldn't understand how they could laugh.”

 

“Sydnie . . .”

 

She shook her head stubbornly, her expression closing as her voice shifted into a near-monotone. “They told her to run. They wanted her to run. They wanted to chase her, I guess. She wouldn't, and the other one . . . punched her in the face. I heard her bones breaking, but she didn't scream. She fell, and one of them kicked her in the head hard enough to daze her. The other one pulled his pants down and raped her before she could fight back. He just . . . grunted and groaned as if it was the best fuck of his life and she . . .” She cut herself off, swallowing hard, closing her eyes just for a moment as she gathered her composure to continue. “She must have come out of it in the middle of the attack. She clawed at him and pushed at him . . . he wouldn't stop. He finally shoved her away, and the first guy caught her. He . . . flipped her over and grabbed her hands in one of his, bringing her to her knees, and he held her like that while he raped her . . . while the other man held her by the hair and . . . and shoved his fucking prick into her mouth . . . Kit . . . was crying . . . and . . . and . . .”

 

She couldn't finish. It was enough. Bas ground his teeth together as she groped for another cigarette. Her entire body shook in his arms, her breath harsh and stilted. He wanted to make her stop, didn't want her to say any more when nothing she could say would offer her any sort of comfort. He couldn't stop her. In his heart, he knew. As painful as it was for her to tell, he knew that this macabre story was something that she had probably never said out loud. She needed to do it. After all those years of bottling it up inside, it was something she had to do, and even if it killed a part of him, he would listen. He owed her that much.

 

“They did it over and over for hours. I saw the sun coming up through the windows, and they just kept hurting her. When they got bored with fucking her, they used . . . whatever they could find . . . a glass soda bottle . . . sticks she'd gathered for firewood . . . She was hoarse from screaming and crying. I could smell her blood . . . so much blood . . . and finally she stopped crying.”

 

“Baby, I'm sorry,” Bas murmured, wishing that his words were more than just words, burying his lips in her hair.

 

“They got dressed; tossed a few bucks on her body, and they left her there . . . broken . . . bloody . . . As they turned to go, I saw their faces. I'll never forget their faces . . . I see them in my nightmares. They never go away.”

 

“I don't imagine they would,” he allowed softly.

 

She shivered. He tightened his grip on her, willing her to understand that she wasn't alone anymore; that she'd never be alone again.

 

“Never . . .” she murmured, her body listless, entirely spent.

 

“And that's why you hate Christmas.”

 

She nodded; smiled almost apologetically; a cynical little expression that cut him through and through, a sadness that he was only beginning to comprehend—a sorrow so deep that he just couldn't reach her. “Nothing beautiful ever lasts. That's how I knew that you and I . . .”

 

“Sydnie . . .”

 

Shaking her head, refuting his claim, she didn't try to move away from him, and for the moment, that was enough. “I waited and waited. I thought she was just sleeping. I didn't want to wake her up. So I waited until the sun was setting, then I crawled out of the closet, but something was wrong with her. She hadn't moved. They left her lying in the middle of a pool of her own blood with condom wrappers all over the floor. I guess they took the condoms with them. Didn't want to leave any DNA . . . Kit had her eyes open. She was staring at the ceiling, but her eyes looked . . . dull. I didn't understand that. I just . . . sat beside her, and I waited for her to wake up.”

 

Bas heaved a sigh and held her close, hoping she was finished but knowing that she was not.

 

“I sat there for a few days. I didn't understand the smell, couldn't understand why Kit never woke up. I recognize the scent now. It's the stench of death, but back then, I didn't know, and I really . . . I wanted to believe that she was just sleeping . . . I got really hungry, and I thought—” her voice broke, and she uttered a small sob, clenching Bas' shirt in her fists for a moment before composing herself enough to go on. “I thought maybe she'd wake up if I brought her some food . . . I thought she was sleeping . . . just sleeping . . .”

 

Rocking her gently, rubbing her back, stroking her hair, he tried to tell her though his actions that she really wasn't as alone as she felt. `I'll make it better; I promise . . . Sydnie, you just have to believe . . .'

 

“Some cops found me rummaging through the trash cans in an alley behind a restaurant. They took me to the station and fed me junk out of the vending machines. I kept trying to tell them that I needed to go home; that I needed to go back to Kit. They kept saying that she was coming to get me, so I sat there, waiting. The only `she' that came after me was a woman from social services. I tried to tell her, too. I tried to tell them all. No one listened to me. They just wouldn't listen . . .”

 

“You told them,” he said softly, ruffling her hair and shaking his head. “You told them . . . and no one did a damn thing.”

 

“They took me to a home, and there were . . . lots of children. There weren't any others like me, though, you know? I was . . . the only one—the only youkai . . . I felt . . . lost . . . maybe a little angry . . . It wasn't a bad place. I just . . . I didn't belong there. They were kind, I suppose. The woman tried to hug me a few times. There were just too many children, and I was just a face in the crowd. I kept talking about Kit, and the more I talked, the more they'd . . . look at me, and then . . .”

 

“Then, what?” he coaxed gently.

 

She sighed. “Then they started feeding me pills. They said they'd help me, but I heard them talking when they thought I wasn't there. They said that I was hallucinating. Can a three year-old hallucinate?”

 

“I don't know,” he agreed. “I know you weren't.”

 

She uttered a terse laugh: a sound devoid of any real humor. “And where was your father; your benevolent tai-youkai? Where was he, Sebastian?”

 

He shook his head.

 

“I told you before . . . he doesn't give a damn about the nobodies. Kit had a name and a face and someone who . . . loved her . . . Cain Zelig did nothing. He just didn't care.”

 

“He didn't know . . . he couldn't have known . . . Sydnie, you have to believe me . . . My father is a good man—the best man. He's fair, and he's strong, and if he had known . . . He would have done something, I promise you.”

 

She sighed and shook her head, her melancholy taking on a resigned sort of air. “I thought you'd say that. You heard the story. You know everything now, and still you defend him. Of course you do. He's your . . . daddy.”

 

“You don't understand. My sister, Jillian . . . She was orphaned. Dad and Mom . . . they couldn't stand the idea of her being sent to live in some home, and most youkai aren't interested in adopting someone else's baby, but Mom and Dad . . . they did, and Jillian . . . she's every bit a part of my family, just as much as Evan or me . . . or my half-sister, Belle.”

 

“That's nice, Bas the Hunter,” she said with a grimace as she slowly shook her head. “Sebastian Zelig. Nice, but it . . . well, it doesn't really make me feel any better. You'll understand.”

 

“Sydnie . . .”

 

She swallowed hard and heaved a heavy sigh, letting her temple rest on his shoulder, letting the subject of Cain Zelig drop since they simply weren't going to see eye-to-eye. “Anyway . . . I ran away from the foster home. It wasn't so hard. Just a house, you know . . . It was easy to escape. I left in the middle of the night, and I managed to find my way back home. When I got there . . . When I got there, Kit was gone. The doors were blocked off with that hideous yellow tape—like that was going to keep anyone out, right? Ugly yellow tape, and nothing left of my sister but a white chalk outline on the blood-stained floor . . .”

 

“And you were alone.”

 

“I was alone. There was . . . an old bag lady. Sometimes she gave me food. She died later.”

 

“How could you . . .? You were three . . .?”

 

“You do what you have to do,” she replied enigmatically, her eyes darkening, glistening, her voice hardening just before she heaved a short little sigh and quickly shook her head. “I don't remember how old I was when I saw Cal Richardson's face again. I was walking down the street, and I stopped to watch the news on the huge television in the window of an electronics store. They showed him. I heard his voice, but I couldn't read his name. So I . . . worked for the pastor at a local church, filing and cleaning, and delivering things . . . running errands. In exchange, he taught me how to read and how to write.”

 

“Didn't he try to get you to go to school or help you?”

 

“No one knew. I never told anyone how old I was. In LA, it's easy to get lost in the crowd. I suppose in his own way, he was helping me. He asked, sometimes, about my family. I just never answered. He was killed later. A local gang broke into the church. He tried to reason with them, and he got a bullet in his brain for his efforts.”

 

“So that's how you found Cal Richardson? On television?”

 

She nodded. “I saw him again later, and then I could read his name. I researched him on the internet—it's amazing, the information you can gather there . . . all it takes is the right word, and one of the librarians . . . he liked me. I spent . . . hours . . . reading things. Everything, really, and nothing at all. I learned that Richardson didn't trust many people, and I wanted him to suffer. I wanted him to hurt as badly as he hurt Kit. I thought . . . I thought that if I could make him see how much pain he caused . . . I thought it would matter, but in the end, I just felt . . . emptier.”

 

“Baby . . .”

 

She leaned away, staring at him as though she wanted him to understand something . . . something that mattered to her. “She speaks to me in my dreams. She's lonely where she is. All she wants is for me to find her. I don't know where they took her. I've never known where she is. In those dreams, I see it over and over, and I can't do a thing about it. It's like I'm a child . . . always a child . . .”

 

“Your nightmares.”

 

Sydnie tried to stand up. Bas tightened his arms around her, and she relented without much of a struggle. “You chased them away, but I wonder . . . What'll happen now?”

 

He shook his head, rubbed her back, stood without relinquishing his hold on her. Striding over to the bed, he stretched out, settling her against his chest. She didn't complain, simply curled up against him. Whether she was done fighting or was just too exhausted to keep it up, she didn't resist him at all, accepting the comfort he offered her, at least for the moment. Eyes closed, hands balled into tight little fists that she held close to her heart, she let out a deep breath and slowly relaxed in his arms.

 

It was unfathomable—unbelievable. How had she been able to live with the memories without going insane? He blinked quickly, sinking his fingers into her hair, stroking her cheek with the pad of his thumb. Maybe the desire to avenge her sister was enough, and maybe Sydnie desperately needed to understand that there could be a future after all was said and done: a future with him—a future filled with smiles and laughter and all of the things that she'd missed in her lifetime; the things she should have had but didn't.

 

“There were two youkai . . .”

 

Bas flinched. `Two . . . youkai . . .? Then that means . . .' He grimaced, knowing full well what it meant. “Sydnie . . . baby . . . tell me something?”

 

She sighed, knowing that it wouldn't do any good to pretend that she was sleeping. “Haven't I told you enough for one night?”

 

He nodded. “I know, and I'm sorry . . . I just have one more question.”

 

“. . . Okay . . .”

 

“You said . . . there were two youkai.”

 

She stiffened slightly; the only testament to her unease. “Did I?”

 

“Yes, you did . . . Do you . . . know . . . who the second one is? Do you know his name?”

 

“Does it matter?”

 

He closed his eyes. “I think it does.”

 

“It doesn't. It won't change anything.”

 

Bas shifted to the side so that he could look at her face, scowling at the stubborn set of her features. “You're planning on going after this other man, too, aren't you?”

 

Her only answer was the slight shrug of her thin shoulders; the mulish frown on her face.

 

“You can't . . . You have to tell me his name.”

 

She ignored his demand, and Bas heaved a sigh. “His name, Sydnie. Tell me his name.”

 

“It's my responsibility.”

 

“It was never meant to be your responsibility. Can't you see that? Tell me his name.”

 

“No . . . No . . . I don't want you involved.”

 

“I'm already involved, damn it.”

 

“What would you do if I gave you a name?”

 

He shook his head and shrugged, letting Sydnie wiggle close to him once more. “I'll fix it,” he assured her quietly. “I'll make sure you never have to think about it again.”

 

“I can't tell you,” she insisted.

 

“Can't or won't?”

 

“Fine, then. I won't.”

 

“Sydnie—”

 

“No. Can we drop this? Please?”

 

He sighed. “For tonight,” he agreed. “Just for tonight.”

 

That must have been good enough for her. She relaxed against him again, her soft breathing pounding in his ears like thunder. Scooting to the side far enough to reach the full glass of milk he'd left sitting there before he'd crawled into the closet with her, he shook her shoulder gently, helping her sit up so she could drink it before she fell asleep.

 

“I have to tell Dad,” he said, breaking the companionable silence. Sydnie blinked at him over the brim of the glass, and for once, she didn't try to play coy. Nodding once before draining the last of the milk, she snuggled against him as he took the glass and set it aside.

 

He held her until she was fast asleep, staring at the message light blinking furiously on the cell phone. He'd catch hell, he supposed, for turning off the ringer. `Some things,' he thought as he brushed Sydnie's hair out of her eyes, `are more important . . .'

 

Grabbing the phone, he flipped it open, careful not to disturb Sydnie. Sure, he'd told her that he was going to call his father, but she was so exhausted . . . He didn't want to wake her. Cain had called a total of seven times since Bas had rushed him off the phone. Bracing himself for his father's tirade, he dialed the number and grimaced.

 

“Bas? Is everything okay? What the hell's going on?” Cain demanded, dispensing with any sort of pleasantry that should have been forthcoming.

 

“Yeah, Dad . . . everything's fine . . . at least, it will be.”

 

“You're sure? What happened?”

 

He sighed, idly smoothing Sydnie's hair, blinking quickly as his eyelids stung, as his nostrils prickled. She looked so forlorn, so lost . . . so very, very lost . . . “Dad . . . we fucked up. We fucked up bad.”

 

“How so?”

 

“Sydnie told me . . . Cal Richardson killed her sister, Kit—the real Kit. Raped her, beat her, tortured her . . . and in the end, he and another youkai killed her.”

 

“. . . What?”

 

Bas let out a deep breath, shaking his head as he struggled to make sense of it, himself. “In an abandoned building in south LA . . . Sydnie took me there right after I met her. She said Kit was there; that she'd take me to her. Dad . . . she was three, and she . . .” he sighed again, grimacing and drawing a steadying breath. “She saw the entire thing.”

 

“Three?” Cain echoed incredulously.

 

“Yeah, three . . .”

 

“Oh, God . . .”

 

“I know what you mean.”

 

“So she had damn good reason to kill Cal Richardson.”

 

“Yeah, she did . . . and that's why she hates you. She thinks you ignored her on purpose. She thinks . . . she thinks you failed her.”

 

Cain sighed. Bas could hear the soft snick of a lighter just before his father exhaled. He could see him, slouching in the thickly cushioned chair behind the hulking cherry desk that encompassed one end of Cain's study. He heard the soft clink of his father's claws hitting the crystal ashtray that Gin complained about but left on Cain's desk. Bas wondered if Cain's fingers were shaking as he drew a deep drag off a cigarette and exhaled before answering. “I think I failed her, too,” he agreed. “Cal Richardson . . . damn it . . . Damn it, damn it, damn it . . .”

 

“That's not the only problem, Dad,” Bas forced himself to say. Sydnie stirred in his arms but didn't open her eyes. Catching the phone between his ear and shoulder to free up his hand, he reached over, dragging the coverlet over her, and she snuggled down with a soft sigh.

 

“Let's hear it.”

 

Bas swallowed hard, smiling sadly as the illumination from the revolving security lights mounted on the poles that surrounded the estate shone through the windows, danced over her features only to dissipate as quickly as they had appeared. “There were two men. Cal Richardson was one. There's another.”

 

“I was hoping I'd misunderstood that part. Did she tell you the other guy's name?”

 

“No, and she says she won't.”

 

“Unacceptable. Get that name. I want it.”

 

Jaw ticking, Bas' jaw hardened as he gritted his teeth and tamped down the bitter rage that surged in him. “No, Dad. I want it.”

 

“Sebastian . . .”

 

“No . . . and there's something else . . .”

 

“Good God, what now?”

 

Bas grimaced since telling his father the next part . . . it just wasn't quite as easy. “I'm going to protect her.”

 

Cain took a moment before answering. “You are.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Just . . . protect her?”

 

Bas rubbed his forehead. “No . . . I'm going to make her my mate . . . she already is my mate . . .”

 

“Bas—”

 

“I mean, I don't have a choice; that's all.”

 

Cain breathed a sigh of relief. “Just don't do anything . . . irrevocable until your mother meets Sydnie, okay? We won't stop you, but . . . well, you know Gin . . .”

 

“Yes, sir,” he repeated again.

 

“Get the name, Bas. She can't be responsible for two deaths, even if they are warranted . . . for her own peace of mind.”

 

“I don't want her to be, either.”

 

“I'll see if there's anything in the unsolved case files . . . maybe her sister is one of those.”

 

Bas nodded. “All right. Are you going to tell the generals?”

 

“I want to talk to her first. I want to make sure I have all the facts, and I want to see if I can find anything to substantiate her claims.”

 

“Sydnie is no liar.”

 

“I'm not saying she is. I'm simply saying that I don't want to go in there half-cocked.”

 

“All right.”

 

Cain fell silent for a moment before speaking again. “Take care of her. Sounds like she's already been alone for far too long.”

 

“I will, Dad,” he promised.

 

Cain sighed. “You'd better, and about that stuff you were saying earlier? That you weren't coming home and that you were relinquishing your right to be the next tai-youkai?”

 

Bas grimaced. “Yeah?”

 

“I'll pretend you didn't say it. Just get her back here. I'd like to tell her I'm . . . I'm sorry.”

 

 

~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~ *~=~*~=~*~=~*~=~

A/N:

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Corcione:

1) Is Bas' ceremonial color green? What are the other Characters (Morio, Gunnar, Mikio and Bitty)? 2) Is Bas a 'Big boy' because Cain is one too??

 

Bas—Pine green; Morio—slate blue; Gunnar—black; Mikio—gold; Bitty Belle—medium orchid. And yes, Bas takes after his father … lol!

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MMorg

GalacticFire ------- angelevie ------ ryutaiyouki ------ Merrick Zann ------ serendith ------ Simonkal of Inuy ------ RisikaFox ------ artemiswaterdragon ------- hanyouwings ------ Simply a Lady ------ Sweetprincess 17 ------ futekioosha ------ InUyAsHaRlZ ------ Kurisu no Ryuujin ------ thavnchick ------ inuyashaloverr ------ Rawben ------ OROsan0677 ------ FireDemon86

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Final Thought fromCain:

…Damn it …

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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~