InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 6: Shameless ❯ Montana Skies ( Chapter 5 )

~~Chapter 5~

~Montana Skies~

 

 

“So this is your ranch,” Jillian exclaimed softly as she climbed out of the car and gazed around the area. It was clear from the look on her face that she appreciated the wide open space; the clean air. As cities stretched their malignant fingers ever-outward over the expanse of land, there were precious few places left in the world where the numbers of trees were greater than the population, and Montana was one of them.

 

“This is it,” he agreed, smiling rather proudly as he watched her unabashed response.

 

“It's spectacular,” she murmured, her hand fluttering at the base of her throat. “So fresh . . . so simple . . .”

 

He chuckled, unaccountably pleased that she so heartily approved. “I like to think so.”

 

Throwing her hands out to her sides, she twirled around in circles, bringing to mind the little girl he'd met so long ago. The carefree days of his childhood flashed through his head. Back then all it had taken was a look, a pleading glimmer in those fathomless eyes, and he'd follow her anywhere. How often had he caught hell for disappearing while he was supposed to be training with Cain? He grinned. Running through the forests together, climbing hills and watching the rain fall from the trace shelter of the high rock crags . . . watching and smiling as Jillian danced on her tiny feet, her hands thrown out to her sides as though she were embracing the falling moisture . . . as though she were embracing life, itself . . .

 

He blinked and sighed as the images faded from his mind. Gone were the intangible memories that he held close to his heart. As beautiful as they were, they were also painful. That time was gone—the innocence was gone. The only thing left was the whispering truth shadowed and hidden in the recesses of his consciousness and the fiercest need to protect her, always her—then . . . now . . . forever . . . even if it meant that he had to protect her from himself.

 

`For Jillian,' he thought as he watched her antics. `Jilli . . .'

 

“And you have horsies?” she demanded, her body stopping abruptly as her arms continued along their path. Letting them drop to her sides, she ran over to him, throwing herself against him as she hugged him tight.

 

He chuckled. “Of course.”

 

“Like a real cowboy?”

 

“Don't know about real cowboys,” he drawled. “Real enough, I guess.”

 

“Well, I'll be a son of a bitch,” a gruff but teasing tone cut in. “So you didn't forget where the J and H was . . .”

 

Pulling herself up against Gavin's shoulders, Jillian peered over his shoulder. “Hello,” she greeted brightly. Gavin pried her loose and set her on her feet before turning around to face his ranch foreman and friend. “The J and H?” she asked.

 

“Jamison and Hastings,” Gavin answered. “When my grandfather married my grandmother, the two smaller ranches were combined. Ever since then it's been the J and H—or so I've been told.”

 

“That's such a sweet story,” she gushed. Breaking away from Gavin's side, she hurried over to the intruder. “I'm Jillian Zelig.”

 

The man's eyes lit up as a smile twitched the corners of his lips. “Hank Preston, ma'am.”

 

“Jilli's fine,” she told him.

 

“So you're Jilli,” he remarked as he cast Gavin a suspect glance. “The model . . .?”

 

Jillian giggled softly. “You know who I am?”

 

“Doesn't everybody?” he countered with a lopsided grin that made Gavin narrow his eyes menacingly—an expression that would have been so much more effective if the bobcat-youkai had deigned to notice it. Gavin snorted inwardly, making a mental note not to leave Hank alone anywhere near Jillian for the duration of their stay. Hank loved women—adored them, really—and he invariably left them all crying in the end . . .

 

“Back off, Hank,” Gavin growled, pulling Jillian closer to his side and unconsciously stepping up, insinuating himself between the two of them before Hank got any strange notions.

 

Hank simply grinned, ass that he was. Tipping his Stetson, he nodded to Jillian before sauntering back toward the main stable.

 

“He seems nice,” Jillian commented.

 

Gavin snorted as he aimed the keychain of the rental car at the trunk and pressed the button to release the hatch. “Seems that way, maybe,” he grumbled. “Stay away from him.”

 

“I don't know . . . He looks harmless enough,” she commented as she dug two gargantuan shopping bags out of the trunk.

 

Gavin pulled out their suitcases and closed the hatch with his elbow. “Hank is many things, but I'd hardly call him harmless,” he remarked acerbically.

 

She laughed at him as though he'd just made a really good joke. He didn't respond as he strode past her onto the wide, wrap-around porch that ran the length of the three story house. He'd asked Hank to unlock the doors, and it opened with a soft click when he leaned against the handle.

 

The house was how he remembered it though perhaps a little emptier than he'd noticed before. The darkened interior of the log house was welcome, inviting. Stone and timber—that's what Roger Jamison had used when he'd built the place. A simple man with a pragmatic attitude, Grandpa Rog had not taken beauty into account when erecting the house. It added to atmosphere, in Gavin's mind. There was always a lived-in sort of feel to the place—nothing fancy, of course. Everything in the building was created with function and comfort in mind. Grandpa Rog had even built most of the furniture, himself, too. The clunky wood pieces were thick, solid, and the carefully constructed cushions that Grandma Rose had sewed by hand still lent a certain level of welcome despite the tell-tale signs of age. In a time when things seemed so transient, the permanence of the house appealed to Gavin in a way that he couldn't quite credit. He loved it all, didn't he?

 

Jillian set her bags down next to the thick birch washstand that served as an occasional table beside the door. Eyes bright as she wandered over to draw back the thick tan curtains that shrouded the far wall, she gasped quietly as the wall of windows were revealed. It was Grandpa Rog's only concession to vanity. He'd loved the outdoors, and the floor to ceiling windows that encompassed the wall attested to that. Overlooking the broad expanse of the prairie land and the forest just beyond, Gavin smiled, gazing at the steep rise of the Rocky Mountains in the distance.

 

In his mind, he could still hear his grandfather's voice—softened with the passage of time but recognizable despite the years since Roger's voice had been silenced forever. “It hasn't changed, Gavin, not since I was a boy . . . and my dad told me that it hadn't changed since he'd known it, either . . . Those mountains are forever—they'll be here after I'm gone, and they'll be there after you're gone, too . . .” Those words had been spoken when Gavin was four years old. Grandpa Rog was killed in a cattle stampede later that year, but his words would always live on in Gavin's heart and mind.

 

Wandering over to the portrait that hung over the huge stone fireplace, Gavin brushed his fingertips over his lips and touched the old paint lovingly. Grandpa Rog and Grandma Rose were smiling ever so slightly in the image. It was a gift from Gavin's parents to his grandparents. Moe Jamison had commissioned Cain to paint the portrait from a series of photographs that Moe had procured.

 

“Which room is ours, Gavvie?” Jillian called down the stairs.

 

“One at the very end on the right,” he hollered back. Turning away from the portrait, he dug his laptop out of the carrying case, setting it up on the desk near the wall of windows. It didn't take long to hook things up. Frowning at the old printer-slash-fax machine that was covered in plastic to keep dust out, Gavin tapped his chin thoughtfully. He should replace that one, but it worked all right after a fashion. He didn't really want to buy a new one, he supposed, since he wasn't at the ranch very often. That one would do, even if it did make horrible noises that brought a dying cow to mind . . .

 

Figuring that Jillian was probably changing out of the airy little sundress she'd worn to travel in, Gavin booted up his laptop to check the new email account. Sitting back in the creaking chair, he glanced out the windows and smiled. There was nothing quite as calming as the Montana skies. The peace that invariably settled over him was a welcome emotion. As much as he wanted to be near Jillian, he had to admit that being home on the ranch just felt right.

 

After his grandparents died, he'd helped his father with the ranch though they hadn't ever moved into the house. Opting to remain in the house on the other side of the old property line—Grandma Rose's house—Moe and Natalie Jamison had taken care of the ranch that had officially been left to Gavin in his grandparents' will. Moe was one of Cain's top youkai hunters, and while he loved the ranch, he'd never really been a rancher at heart. Gavin wanted to restore the old place, but that'd take money. He'd managed to save up a good bit thus far. If he worked for another twenty years or so, he'd have more than enough to renovate the place and get it up and running in the way it should be done.

 

His cell phone beeped, and Gavin grimaced. He'd forgotten that he'd turned the ringer off, and the beep indicating that he'd received a voicemail interrupted his quiet musings. Checking the caller ID, he sighed when he realized that it was his boss calling. Opening the device and hitting the button to retrieve his messages, Gavin scratched the back of his neck. The first message was from his boss' secretary to tell him that his request to use the rest of his vacation time was officially okayed though it had already been unofficially verified before he'd left Cancun. The second message was from his mother. She was overjoyed that Gavin was coming home for awhile, and then she spent a few minutes muttering dire promises of horrible retribution if he neglected to visit her while he was in Montana. With a half-smile, Gavin deleted the messages and dropped the phone on the desk before opening the email window on his laptop. Three new emails since the account had last been checked. Two looked all right. One was from Mickey B.

 

:

 

`I'm getting rather impatient with your games, Jillian. The hotel clerk was playing coy with me, telling me she couldn't tell me which room you are staying in. I came all the way down here to see you. The least you could do is tell them to let me into your room.'

 

:

 

Gavin frowned. The image attached to the email was a picture of the rental car—the white Mercury Leviene—parked in the garage under the hotel. “Damn it,” he muttered, closing the email program before snapping his laptop closed. At least Mickey didn't appear to have figured out that Jillian had left Cancun as yet. Now if they could only catch the guy before he figured out where Gavin had taken Jillian . . .

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

Stepping out onto the balcony that overlooked the back yard and the paddocks that extended beyond, Jillian braced herself on the railing and breathed deeply, eyes drifting closed as the fresh air tingled in her nose. `This place is amazing,' she mused as the breeze rippled her hair, as the warmth of the sun permeated her skin, sinking into her pores. After so many years of begging and cajoling, she couldn't quite believe that he'd finally given in; that he'd finally brought her here.

 

`This is a good sign,' she decided with a bright little grin. `Gavvie's finally coming around . . .'

 

The voice of her youkai blood sighed. `Don't get your hopes up, Jilli . . . Gavvie's told you that you're not his mate for years now, hasn't he? What makes you think that he's changed his mind at this late date?'

 

`Stop being so pessimistic, will you? He's coming around. It's just taking him awhile.'

 

`Yeah, well, there's something you really haven't considered at all, isn't there?'

 

Jillian wrinkled her nose, unsure if she wanted to hear what her youkai was saying or not. Probably not. Too bad the irritating voice would say whatever it was it wanted to say, despite her strongest resolve not to listen. `You know that old saying? `If you can't say something nice . . .'? Well, it applies.'

 

`Cute, but no cigar. You know—at least, you should know—that if Gavin really was your mate then you'd be in a heap big shit right now.'

 

She shook her head. `That's not entirely true,' she argued though she couldn't say exactly who she was trying to convince. `We're together all the time. We're always together.'

 

`Be that as it may, Gavin's youkai hasn't fully accepted you, has it? If it had, I'd know it, and if I knew it, then I'd tell you, too. No, Jillian, you've just convinced yourself that Gavin's the one when he might not be. He's just familiar, and you're too stubborn to try to see anyone else but him.'

 

`That . . . that isn't true,' she insisted. `That can't be true . . .'

 

`Sure, it can. Listen . . . Gavin's your friend—your best friend. He knows you better than anyone else alive, but that doesn't mean he has to be your mate. You can still be friends, even if you aren't meant to be together.'

 

She winced at the deadly accuracy of her youkai's advice. She'd thought the same thing before, hadn't she? She'd thought it the last time they'd been separated . . . It wasn't true, though, was it? She'd figured that out long ago. She couldn't stand to be with him if she didn't hold onto that hope . . . it hurt too much, and to be honest, the idea of seeing her Gavvie with anyone else . . . Jillian gripped the railing that enclosed the balcony so tightly that her knuckles turned white. It was something she just couldn't bear; not again . . .

 

“He's not here . . . he's on a date.”

 

“He . . . what?”

 

“A date, Jillian—a date. You've been on a date before, haven't you?”

 

Shaking her head to dispel the sound of the voice that echoed in her memory, she tried to ignore the ache in her soul that chiseled away at her heart. Funny how that one memory could still hurt her after all the years that had passed since then . . .

 

“Nice, isn't it?”

 

Gasping softly as Gavin's voice cut through the melancholy of her thoughts, Jillian pasted on a bright smile as she turned around to face him. Chestnut colored hair caught back in the low ponytail that hung over his shoulder, Gavin's aqua eyes scanned the horizon over Jillian's head. A tiny smile tugged the corners of his lips, and he chuckled softly as he stuffed his hands into his pockets and slowly shook his head. “It's lovely,” she agreed.

 

He stopped beside her, his arm brushing hers. “I like to think so.”

 

“I can't believe you finally brought me here,” she teased lightly, leaning against his arm with a happy little smile. “Seems a little intimate, don't you think?”

 

Gavin rolled his eyes but couldn't help the light blush that surfaced on his skin. “I told you before that I'd bring you here,” he grumbled, shuffling his feet in his bashful sort of way.

 

She giggled, grasping his forearm to brace herself as she leaned up to smack a loud kiss on his cheek. “Yeah, and then you came up with excuse after excuse not to do it.”

 

He shrugged, wiping the trace amount of lipstick off his cheek with a sigh. “I wasn't making excuses, Jilli. Some of us have to put in grueling hours . . . not everyone gets to lie around in bathing suits and make obscene amounts of money for doing it.”

 

She recognized his teasing for what it was and smiled. “I'm just lucky that way,” she quipped. “Can we go ride horsies now?”

 

Shaking his head at Jillian's choice of words, Gavin chuckled despite himself. “I don't know . . . maybe you should take a nap or something,” he told her. “You were falling asleep in the car.”

 

“I'm fine,” she argued, waving her hand in an impatient dismissal of his concern. “Re-energized, actually . . . Must be the fresh air . . .”

 

Intercepting the sidelong glance she was giving him, Gavin laughed softly and slung his arm around Jillian's shoulders. “Maybe tomorrow,” he told her with a smile. “There are a few things I have to do yet today.”

 

She made a face, wrinkling her nose as she heaved a melodramatic sigh. “That's right . . . this isn't a vacation for you, is it?”

 

“Sorry, Jilli . . .” he drawled with an unrepentant and completely un-Gavin-like grin.

 

“You're not,” she huffed in mock-indignation. “Good thing I'm here to save you from yourself.”

 

“That's a good thing?”

 

She nodded matter-of-factly. “Yes,” she assured him, “it is.”

 

“If you say so,” he agreed slowly, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “Then again . . .”

 

“Watch it, Gavvie,” she warned.

 

He chuckled as the trill of his cell phone interrupted. Digging the gadget out of his pocket, he scowled at the caller ID screen and sighed. “I have to take this call,” he apologized. “Why don't you just take a nap or something? I'll take you for a walk later; if you want . . . show you around the grounds?”

 

“Okay,” she agreed lightly, turning around and crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned back against the railing, watching Gavin's hasty retreat. Flipping the phone open, he lifted it to his ear. “Gavin Jamison,” he answered as he strode back inside and through the bedroom.

 

Jillian sighed again, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand. `All right,' she allowed, pushing herself away from the railing and wandering inside but leaving the sliding glass door wide open. `Maybe a little nap . . .'

 

Crawling onto the huge bed, she curled up in the center of the downy comforter with a happy little smile.

 

She was asleep within minutes.

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

“Have you seen the news?”

 

“Afternoon, yourself,” Gavin remarked acerbically, peering over his shoulder as he strode down the hallway to make sure that Jillian wasn't trailing him. “Can't say that I have.”

 

Cain heaved a sigh as static from wind hitting the receiver crackled in Gavin's ear. “Yeah, well, don't let Jillian watch it, all right?”

 

“What's going on?” Gavin asked, lowering his voice as he ran down the steps and through the house, heading for the garage—the one place that he figured was safe from being overheard should Jillian get it in her head to follow him.

 

“Jillian's rental car . . . do you remember the plate number?”

 

“Plate number? No . . . why?” he demanded as he strode back into the house and turned on the television in the kitchen, flipping through the channels impatiently until he found CNN. “Hold on . . . they're talking about it now.”

 

“Where's Jillian?”

 

Gavin grunted, turning up the volume enough that he could hear the reporter. “Lying down, I think.”

 

“Preliminary reports speculate that the late model Mercury Leviene rented by Jillian Zelig, the international supermodel, exploded when the car failed to stop at an Arlico gas station on the outskirts of Cancun. It has been confirmed that Ms. Zelig wasn't in the car when the explosion happened. Apparently, she'd returned the vehicle earlier in the day. Eyewitnesses say that the car, driven by one of the rental agency's employees, barreled straight into the gas pump and blew up on impact. The driver has been confirmed dead, and foul play hasn't been ruled out. Ms. Zelig has not been reached for comment. This is Juana Diaz, CNN news.”

 

“Shit,” Gavin muttered, raising the remote to change the channel then turning off the television.

 

“The reports we've gotten so far indicate that the brake line was tampered with,” Cain went on, his voice weary, a harsh edge of anger sharpening his tone. “Bas and Gunnar are checking into it now.”

 

“You think Mickey B. had something to do with it,” Gavin remarked slowly. It wasn't a question.

 

“We don't know.”

 

“His latest email . . . there's a picture of the rental car in the garage under the hotel attached to it.”

 

Cain sighed again. “Yeah, I know. I just saw it. As much as I hate to get the human authorities involved, we might have to, for Jillian's safety.”

 

Gavin clenched his teeth so hard that his jaw ticked, eyes darkening as he glowered out the window over the white enamel sink. “I'll protect her,” he growled.

 

“I'm sure you will. Just don't let her see those reports. She'll feel responsible, and you know Jillian . . .”

 

Gavin winced, understanding what Cain was telling him. Jillian tended to take everything personally, and if she thought she had anything at all to do with the employee's death, she'd be beside herself, worrying about the man's family and ultimately blaming herself for it. “I won't, but if they try to contact her . . .”

 

“They'll get her agent or her publicist, and both of them have been warned not to tell Jillian about it; at least, not yet. While we can't protect her from it forever, we can get all the information. Ben's on his way down to Cancun to talk to the man's family; to see if there's anything we can do to help.”

 

With a sigh, Gavin nodded. “All right,” he agreed. “Any progress on tracking Mickey?”

 

“Nope. His ISP was routed through a generic host, and the privacy laws are impeding our ability to trace him through that.”

 

“Without a court injunction,” Gavin grumbled.

 

“Even then, there's a good chance that he's managed to cover his tracks well enough conceal him for awhile. We can get to him eventually. It might take longer than we first anticipated, though.”

 

“She's safe here,” Gavin intoned. “I told my foreman about the situation, and he's talked to the others. They're all looking out for anything suspicious.”

 

“Good.” Gavin heard the faint `snick' of a disposable lighter being struck. Cain exhaled slowly as the creak of the phone indicated that the tai-youkai was adjusting the device. “It goes without saying, Gavin . . . I'm putting a hell of a lot of trust in you. Jillian is my daughter—my youngest child.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Gavin replied.

 

“Her safety—my family's safety . . . it's the most important thing to me. You understand?”

 

“Yes, sir,” he said solemnly.

 

“I'll be in touch.”

 

“All right.”

 

Gavin snapped the phone closed against his thigh and dropped the device into his pocket with a heavy sigh. Protecting Jillian . . . he'd done it for so long that he wasn't sure what he'd do if she ever discovered that she really didn't need him.

 

The trouble was maintaining the balance between keeping her in the dark and making her feel as though he was treating her like a child. She hated that, didn't she? Her family had done that for years, sheltering her from things that they didn't think she could handle, and while Gavin wasn't particularly thrilled with the idea of telling her about Mickey B. or the rental car, he had to wonder just what right they had to keep such things from her in the long run.

 

Cain was right, though, and Gavin knew it. Jillian, with her sweet smile and happy disposition, still maintained a semblance of innocence; still believed that no one would truly try to hurt her. She was still the girl he'd grown up with; the girl who had teased him and laughed with him . . . the girl who had so proudly showed him the huge gap in her teeth the first time she'd lost one only to realize the next morning that she had a nice, shiny big tooth in the empty space. He'd laughed at her back then. She'd looked so disillusioned. She hadn't been able to understand why other kids in her class had gaps in their teeth for months. Even understanding that she was youkai and they were humans did little to console the girl. That same sort of naiveté was still very present in her now, and that was the part of her that they were all desperately trying to protect. `She'll be fine,' he told himself. `She has to be . . . I swear it.'

 

`You're taking it more personally than you should, Gavin,' his youkai voice pointed out.

 

`I'm not,' he argued, wincing as he opened the refrigerator only to remember too late that he had yet to buy any groceries.

 

`You are. You still blame yourself for that incident with Henson Collings, and don't deny it.'

 

Slamming the refrigerator, Gavin strode through the house once more only to find Jillian sleeping soundly on the bed. Opting not to wake her, he headed back downstairs, scrawling a note on a tablet near the door to tell her that he was going to buy some food. There was a little store about five minutes away, and while the groceries tended to cost a little more, Gavin was willing to overlook that. When Jillian napped, she tended to sleep for a couple of hours at a time. So long as he was quick about it, he doubted that she'd miss him at all.

 

Digging his keys out of his pocket, he closed and locked the front door before running down the porch steps, heading toward the stables instead of the rental car. “Hank!” he called, leaning on the corral where the ranch foreman was exercising one of the horses.

 

Hank glanced up, tipping back the brim of his smudged Stetson. Taking a minute to unsnap the horse's lead, he patted the animal's neck before turning away, looping up the leather lead strap as he ambled toward the fence. “Damn, it's weird to see you here . . . dressed in those, no less,” Hank remarked with a lazy grin, waving his gloved hand in Gavin's direction.

 

Sparing a moment to glance down at his tan slacks and white dress shirt, Gavin waved away Hank's teasing. “I have to go to the store. There's nothing to eat in this place.”

 

Hank grinned. “You said to open the house up. You didn't say that I was supposed to be your maid, too.”

 

“Anyway, keep an eye on things?”

 

Hank shot him a bored glance. “Don't I always?”

 

Gavin sighed. “The car Jillian rented in Cancun was tampered with. They think the brake lines were cut.”

 

“Shit.”

 

“Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction. The guy who was driving it was killed, and Jillian doesn't know about it. I'd prefer that she doesn't . . . understand?”

 

Hank nodded. “No problem. I'll tell the boys.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

Gavin turned to walk away. Hank's voice stopped him. “So you gonna tell me why you never mentioned that your Jilli was the Jillian?”

 

“She's just Jilli,” Gavin grumbled.

 

Hank chuckled. “Yeah . . . just Jilli . . . the girl who's been crawling into your bed for years, right? The one who keeps telling you that she's your mate? The supermodel? Are you stupid, Gavin?”

 

“Shut up, Hank,” Gavin grumbled, unable to keep his face from shooting up in flames at the reminder. “Take the rental back or have one of the boys do it,” he said, tossing the keys to the car at Hank's chest.

 

“Yeah, yeah . . . gotcha. You know, I'd be happy to take her off your hands if you really don't want her. Hell, you should be thrilled that she wants an ugly mutt like you,” Hank went on, catching the keys and obviously misunderstanding that `shut up' normally meant to keep his opinions to himself.

 

Gavin shook his head and strode away toward the truck, waving over his shoulder in blatant dismissal as the bobcat-youkai's laughter trailed behind him.

 

 

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

A/N:

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sprsnc20:

I had a couple questions I was hoping you could answer. First, since you've said that Shameless is set in the year 2066(?), then that would make InuYasha and Kagome about 80 years old, minus the years on the tree which don't really count. Do they still look the same as they did in Purity, or have they aged any? I know that youkai and hanyous live much longer than humans normally do, so I figured they would age slower as well, but I was wondering if they have aged any or if they still look as young as their now-adult children (lol). Also, I have been planning to write my own fanfiction in the near future. I'm not sure if the idea that hanyous can only reproduce on certain nights (full moon/new moon) was yours or not, but I wanted to ask permission to use this in my story just in case.

 

Kagome and InuYasha look pretty much the same. I mean, look at Sesshoumaru. He's pushin' somewhere between 175-300 in the series and he looks, what? 19? So yes, they don't look that much different now. They do age, but they age muuuuuch slower. I'd say that Cain looks, maybe, like he might be around 27 or so, and he's over 300. Bas and Sydnie pretty much look like high school kids, and InuYasha and Kagome? Well, they might look a year or so older than they did in the series. As to your second question, I'd prefer that you email me regarding that one.

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Final Thought fromHank:

Jilli, huh …

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Blanket disclaimer for this fanfic (will apply to this and all other chapters in Shameless): 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~