InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 7: Avouchment ❯ Missing ( Chapter 4 )

~Chapter 4~

~~Missing~~

 

~xXxXxXxXxXx~

 

 

“Hmm, someone I haven't seen in awhile.”

 

Isabelle turned with a bright smile at the sound of the familiar voice and hurried over to hug her cousin. “Bastian! How have you been?” she gushed, wrapping her arms around him and planting a loud kiss on Sebastian Zelig's cheek.

 

A very pronounced `hrumph' interrupted before Bas could reply, and he quickly grabbed Isabelle's hands, pulling them away from his neck as a hint of color infused his cheeks. Bas' mate was infamous in her penchant for extreme possessiveness, and Sydnie definitely viewed Bas as `hers'. “What brings you out here?” Bas asked, wrapping an arm around Sydnie's waist to reassure the cat-youkai.

 

Isabelle shrugged. “Hi, Sydnie . . . you look good.”

 

“Of course she does,” Bas remarked with a snort. “She always does.”

 

Sydnie leaned up on tip-toe to lick her mate's cheek. “Just for you, puppy,” she intoned, “and she is fine.”

 

Isabelle laughed. Sydnie must have been in a good mood today for her to tell Bastian that `she', meaning Isabelle, was `fine'. “I came out to see Grandpa,” Isabelle said. “Is he in his office?”

 

“Dad? No . . . He's probably locked away in the studio, and since Mom's nowhere to be seen, it's a safe guess that they're locked away together . . . and that's just something I don't want to see,” Bas grumbled.

 

It amused Isabelle to no end. Even after all this time and after having claimed his own mate eight and a half years ago, Bas still blushed at any allusions pertaining to sex. Ordinarily she'd torture him a little more, but . . . Glancing at her watch, she sighed. She'd been hoping to get a few more errands done. Somehow her one day off a week just didn't seem to stretch . . . “Well, maybe you can help me,” she said since she really didn't want to disturb her grandfather, either. It wasn't that she was embarrassed or bothered by the idea that there was a good chance that her grandparents were off `doing the nasty', but after having been told the story of how Cain Zelig had merely existed during the years of her mother, Bellaniece's childhood with the understanding that he would die to join his mate after she grew up, Isabelle couldn't help but feel that anything her step-grandmother, Gin Izayoi Zelig did to convince Cain that living was worthwhile was of sovereign import—even if that meant that the two were locked away in the studio in the middle of the afternoon.

 

“What's that?” Bas asked, snapping Isabelle out of her reverie.

 

Isabelle blinked and shook her head, her smile returning as she laughed softly. “I just wondered if I can have the journal and notebooks? The scans were good, but there are a few things that I need to verify . . . There are a couple of places that are a little difficult to read, you know? Anyway, I thought that maybe it'd be easier to read if I had the actual texts, if it's not a problem.”

 

Bas' trademark scowl deepened, and he slowly shook his head. “I don't know . . . I don't see a problem with it, but I don't want to give them over until I've talked to Dad first.”

 

Isabelle nodded. “Okay . . . I've got a few more errands I need to take care of . . . Give me a call if he says it's all right, and I'll come by and pick them up.”

 

“Yeah, sure.”

 

The phone rang, and Bas glanced around with a marked scowl. It was the separate phone line that Cain used strictly for business of the tai-youkai, not the family phone, and since Cain wasn't in his office, they weren't entirely sure that anyone would answer the call.

 

After a moment of deliberation, Bas strode into the office to field it.

 

“Are you making any progress with the translation?” Sydnie asked, turning her brilliant green eyes on Isabelle.

 

“Some,” Isabelle allowed then sighed. “Not nearly as quickly as I'd like . . . about the first twenty pages of the journal are done.”

 

Sydnie shook her head, flicking a bit of lint off the sleeve of her immaculately tailored brown leather jacket. “Sebastian said that it's all written in some form of Native American language?”

 

“Yeah,” she agreed. “It's slow going, but it's getting there.”

 

“Good . . . it's been awhile since you've been out to visit. Please tell me you're not spending all of your time at that hospital,” Sydnie chided.

 

“Well, not exactly,” Isabelle allowed slowly. “I have been spending some time with Dr. Marin, and he doesn't work at the hospital . . . does that count?”

 

Sydnie digested that, her eyes narrowing as she mulled over Isabelle's claims. “This wouldn't be the same Dr. Marin that you told me about before, is it?”

 

Isabelle bit her lip, recalling the conversation well enough. It was days before Sydnie and Bas' wedding, and the girls had been standing on the balcony watching the antics of Bas and his closest cousins and uncle at the time . . .

 

“Do you have a puppy?” Sydnie asked, forcing her gaze off the men sprawled in the snow.

 

Isabelle giggled and mashed together another snowball. “A puppy? No . . .”

 

Sydnie lifted her eyebrows, smiling at the telling blush that stained Isabelle's cheeks. “Someone else?”

 

Isabelle's smile widened. “Sure . . . maybe . . .”

 

“Oh?”

 

“I asked him to come with me, but just sort of looked at me then shook his head. Even if he did like me, he probably had stuff to do for class, anyway.”

 

“He's still in school?”

 

Her blush deepened as she tucked a long strand of golden bronze hair behind her ear. “Uh, no . . . he's my . . . professor.”

 

“Oh . . .” Sydnie giggled. “Your professor . . .”

 

“I mean, he was my professor last semester. He's not now, but . . .” she shrugged. “I really like him. His name is Griffin . . . Griffin Marin . . . Dr. Griffin . . . He's going to be my mate . . . He just doesn't know it yet . . .”

 

“Yes,” Isabelle allowed, brushing off the lingering memories. “He's just a little more stubborn than I thought.”

 

Sydnie smiled. True, it took awhile to get the cat-youkai to warm up to anyone, especially other women, but once someone gained her trust, she was loyal to a fault. Not for the first time, Isabelle had to count herself as glad that this particular youkai considered her a friend. She wasn't afraid of Sydnie, no, but something about her tended to be just a little intimidating . . . A good thing, in Isabelle's opinion, since Bas tended to be rather intimidating, in his own right. “Does he think he's too good for you?”

 

Waving her hand, Isabelle giggled. “Oh, no, nothing like that . . .”

 

“Really? Hmm . . . I think I want to meet this Dr. Marin . . .”

 

“Now, Sydnie, it's fine.”

 

Sydnie crossed her arms over her chest and uttered a terse little snort. “We'll see about that,” she retorted. “I'll just expedite the circumstances . . . let him know that it's entirely unacceptable for him to string you along like this.”

 

Figuring she'd better diffuse the situation before it got any more complicated, Isabelle linked her arm through Sydnie's and dragged her cousin-in-law off toward the kitchen. She smelled fresh baked bread, and since Gin wasn't around to stop her . . . Well, her grandmother was a forgiving woman. She wouldn't begrudge Isabelle a slice. “Come on, Sydnie. Let's see if there's any milk in the refrigerator.”

 

There was, of course. Gin always made sure there was a fresh container every day since she never knew when Bas would be stopping by with his mate. There was a small dairy farm a few miles away, and Gin drove out there every morning to buy a gallon of the freshest product. It was a running joke in the family that Sydnie's affinity for cows stemmed from her staunch belief that milk was the food of the gods, to the extent that Bas had recently bought Sydnie her own cow—a cow that followed the cat-youkai around much like a dog, at least whenever Sydnie was outside. Sydnie had named her Precious, and Bas . . . Well, it was safe to say that Bas had been teased unmercifully by the male cousins and Mikio for the indulgence.

 

Then, too, Sydnie had decided that she needed to do something extra-nice for Bas, so she'd talked Isabelle into helping her dig up one of the larger flower gardens in their back yard, replacing the ousted greenery with catnip plants while Bas was away with Gunnar, looking into one of the cases they'd been chipping away at. By the time Bas returned home a few days later, the plants were starting to take root, and Isabelle had barely gotten out of the house before Sydnie attacked Bas quite literally. Gunnar later told her that neither Bas nor Sydnie had showed up at the office for the next few days, and when he'd gone over there to make sure they were both still alive, he'd found a shirtless Bas in the back yard digging up the catnip plants despite the very self-satisfied grin on his face . . .

 

Isabelle never did ask what had happened to those plants. She supposed, though, that Bas, in the spirit of self-preservation, had been forced to remove the plants since Sydnie just couldn't seem to control herself when she was anywhere near it.

 

Sydnie frowned at the full pitcher of milk standing in the refrigerator as Isabelle leaned to the side to retrieve the butter dish. It was also common knowledge that Bas normally brought Sydnie her milk, regardless of whether or not Sydnie could get it herself. It was a little strange, Isabelle figured, but if it made the two of them happy, she certainly wasn't about to make any sort of comment.

 

“Do you want a slice of bread?” Isabelle asked, hacking off a generous slab for herself.

 

Sydnie glanced over her shoulder. “Okay,” she agreed before turning her attention back to the milk. Isabelle refrained from laughing, just barely. The cat looked like she was trying to figure out a way to get the milk without pouring it for herself and without having to hint to Bas that she wanted it, in the first place. Sydnie was saved moments later when Bas strode into the kitchen. It only took a moment for him to figure out just what his mate was doing, and with a soft chuckle, he grabbed a tall glass from the cupboard and proceeded to fill it with milk.

 

“Want some?” Isabelle asked, wondering absently if Gin would realize that an entire loaf of bread had mysteriously vanished.

 

“No, thanks,” Bas replied, leaning back to glance down the hallway before breaking a tiny piece of cake off what was left on the tall stand.

 

“If your father catches you, he'll kill you,” Sydnie pointed out, blinking at her mate over the rim of her glass.

 

“Give me a break,” Bas mumbled around the oversized bite he'd stuffed into his mouth. “I'm a pro at this . . . I've been sneaking cake for years.”

 

“Have you really.”

 

Bas grimaced and swallowed fast before pivoting on his heel to meet Cain Zelig's gaze. He strolled through the glass doors, tugging Gin in behind him. Gin leaned to the side to peer around him, and she pulled her hand away before hurrying over to hug Isabelle. “I want a slice, too!”

 

Cain strode over, grabbing the last slice of cake and shoving half of it into his mouth before pinning his eldest son with a droll look.

 

“Great cake, Mom,” Bas replied, grimacing when Gin grasped his chin firmly and started wiping his face with a dampened washcloth.

 

“`Eve m' `ake awone,” Cain stated as he shoved the last of the cake into his mouth.

 

“Don't talk with your mouth full, Zelig-sensei,” Gin chided, turning on him with the washcloth, too.

 

The humor of the situation did not slip past Isabelle unnoticed. Seeing the North American tai-youkai treated like a little child . . . well, it wasn't a sight that one was privy to every day, and the fact that Cain stood docilely with his hands clasped behind his back while his diminutive wife cleaned him up? Isabelle smiled. She really should've gotten a picture of that . . .

 

“Before I forget,” Bas said suddenly, leaning back against the counter and crossing his meaty arms over his chest, “Gavin called. He said that Avis hasn't been home in a couple days. He was a little worried about that.”

 

Cain's normally easygoing demeanor vanished as his back straightened, and he eyed Bas. “Did you have Myrna check his monitoring device?”

 

Bas nodded. “She's on it right now. She said she'd call back as soon as she got an answer one way or the other.”

 

Cain sighed. “All right, then.”

 

“Nothing's wrong, is it?” Gin demanded.

 

Cain's smile seemed genuine enough, but Isabelle didn't miss the slight tightness at the corners of his eyes, and if she could see that, then Gin could, too. “I'm sure it's just fine,” he assured her. “Maybe they just missed him. Call it bad timing.”

 

“Yeah,” Bas added for good measure. “Don't worry, Mom. Gavin's fully capable of protecting Jilli.”

 

Gin looked marginally comforted, but she still shook her head. “They're not that far from Japan. Maybe I should call Papa . . .”

 

“Let Gavin deal with this. Jillian's his mate, after all,” Cain replied. “Anyway, I've yet to see your father do anything to ease any situation. They don't call him the angry hanyou for no reason.”

 

Gin's mouth fell open, and she frowned at her mate for a moment before snapping her teeth together as a heated flush blossomed on her cheeks. “Cain Zelig! You take that back!” she huffed.

 

“What? It's not my fault he earned himself that name.”

 

Gin wrinkled her nose, turning her back on Cain in a huff and stomping over to snatch up the slice of bread that Isabelle had buttered for her. “Sometimes you're kind of a . . . a . . . a heinie, you know,” she pointed out.

 

Cain almost laughed. He caught himself at the last moment and cleared his throat to keep from laughing outright. “Gomen, gomen,” he said, pressing his hands together as he bowed low with each word to accentuate the apology.

 

Gin rolled her eyes and threw the washcloth at Cain, but the harshness of her actions was undermined completely by the soft giggle that escaped her.

 

“Grandpa, I was wondering if I could have the original research materials? The scans are a little difficult to make out in some places . . .” Isabelle interrupted when Cain started to stalk toward Gin.

 

Gin giggled loudly, pressing her hands against Cain's chest in a vain effort to stave him off as he wrapped his arms around her waist. “The originals . . .?” Cain repeated rather blankly. “Oh . . . those . . . Um, sure. Just be careful with them, okay? And it should go without saying, but don't be telling anyone about them.” Then he turned toward Gin, a wicked light igniting behind his dark blue eyes. “As for you, baby girl . . . Calling me a heinie . . .?”

 

Gin wrinkled her nose but nodded. “Yes, a heinie.”

 

One dark bronze eyebrow rose in silent question. “Hmm . . . Interesting. You know, I think I might have to punish you for that. One . . .”

 

“Okay, that's it. I'll see you later. Let's go, kitty,” Bas stated loudly, pushing himself away from the counter and grabbing Sydnie's hand, flipping a dish towel around in his free hand.

 

Cain chuckled but didn't take his eyes off his mate. “Two . . .”

 

“All right,” Isabelle agreed, popping the last of the bread into her mouth and brushing her hands together. “Thank you for the wonderful bread, Grandma, but I've got to go, too. Seems like my day off isn't ever quite long enough, and I think the two of you need some alone time . . .”

 

Gin opened and closed her mouth a few times, reminding Isabelle of a fish out of water. “Now, Cain . . .” she began her protests.

 

“Three . . .” Cain continued.

 

“I'll drop the research off later,” Bas called after Isabelle, swatting her rear with a rolled up dish towel.

 

Isabelle grabbed the towel and snapped Bas back. He grimaced and covered his left nipple. She'd gotten him good, or so it seemed . . . “Thanks! Bye, Bastian! Bye, Sydnie!” she called, dropping the towel on the counter beside the sink and heading for the door with Bas and Sydnie close on her heels.

 

“Four . . .”

 

“Ca-ain!”

 

Her grandfather's evil chuckle echoed through the house in their wake. Bas grimaced and quickened his pace, knowing very well what was going to happen once Cain reached `five'. “You'd think he'd stop that when there're people here,” he grumbled.

 

“I think it's cute,” Isabelle remarked as she closed the front door behind her.

 

“Did you think your parents stopped having sex after your brother was born?” Sydnie asked.

 

Bas snorted as he opened the door of his Blazer for Sydnie. “I could hope, couldn't I? But no . . . of course I don't have normal parents . . .”

 

Isabelle laughed, pausing long enough to wave at her cousin and Sydnie before getting into her car. Checking her watch again, Isabelle sighed. She still had to drive back to Bangor, run to the vet's office to pick up some stuff for Froofie, head to the dry cleaners before they closed for the night, stop off at the drug store to replenish the staples that she was running out of, and then grocery shopping on top of all that . . . She'd been hoping she could spend some time with Griffin, but that wasn't looking like it was going to happen. He'd mentioned that she'd need to go over the translations since some of them had more than one meaning. Between work and necessity, was there really any wonder that Isabelle didn't really have much of a social life, to speak of?

 

`Still,' she thought as she got into her car and started the engine, `maybe . . .'

 

If she skipped the trip to the drug store and the trip to the grocery, she'd have a little time . . .

 

After all, which was more important: spending time with the man she needed to convince that they were mates or eating?

 

Giggling softly to herself, Isabelle stepped harder on the accelerator. She could do those two errands on the way home from work tomorrow. For now . . .

 

Flipping through the radio stations, she settled on one that was playing an upbeat love song. It fit her mood just perfectly. `It's only a matter of time,' she told herself as she hummed along to the catchy tune.

 

For now, seeing Griffin took precedence, absolutely.

 

 

 

~xXxXxXxXxXx~

 

 

Gavin frowned as he snapped the cell phone closed and dropped it onto the sofa. Jillian was taking a shower—he could hear the hum of the water pipes, and that was probably for the best. True, it could be as Cain had said. Maybe they'd just gone to see Dr. Avis when he'd had to step out for some reason or another, but . . .

 

But the doctor had seemed genuinely happy to get a chance to talk to Jillian, and his lingering absence over the last couple days just didn't seem right.

 

Myrna had maintained, though, that the signal from Dr. Avis' tracking device was operating fine. He was still somewhere in the country, she'd said.

 

Gavin sighed and shook his head. Jillian had wanted to stay another few days, but Gavin couldn't. He really had to get back to work. Jillian might be all right with the idea of living off her money—God only knew she had enough of it—but he wasn't. Call it stubborn male pride, but he wanted to make sure he proved that he could provide for her without using so much as a dime of her money, ever.

 

He had promised to bring her back in a few months, though, and that seemed to be enough for her. Besides that, he knew Jillian well enough that she didn't have to tell him just how much she was missing her family. She really was more of a homebody than he had ever really given her credit for being.

 

Still, the doctor's absence was troubling. He genuinely seemed to enjoy Jillian's visits, and despite the initial discomfort on everyone's parts, Gavin could tell that talking about Jillian's biological parents was having a therapeutic effect on Dr. Avis. Just what could possibly be so important that he'd missed Jillian's visits not once but twice in as many days . . .?

 

Jillian padded out of the bedroom, toweling her hair dry with a thick crimson towel. Lost in the copious folds of a hospitality robe, she met Gavin's gaze and smiled. “There . . .”

 

Pasting on a smile that he hoped passed as normal, Gavin scratched the back of his neck and shrugged. “Your father says that Dr. Avis is still around . . . maybe we can go past his place on the way to the airport in the morning.”

 

“Daddy says it's okay?”

 

Gavin nodded. Jillian had absolutely infallible trust in her family, and Cain Zelig, in her eyes, was like unto God. “Yes, he does.”

 

The relief on Jillian's face was instantaneous and intense, and the smile she shot him made his heart skip a beat, forced the breath out of his lungs, made him feel weak, dizzy . . . She'd always had that effect on him. Gavin still wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing . . . “You feel better now?” he asked absently, caught in her gaze, in the shimmering brightness that lit her pale blue eyes.

 

“Yes, I do. I feel so much better . . . though I have to admit, I was hoping that a certain someone was going to join me in the shower . . .”

 

Blushing at her not-so-subtle hint, not to mention the disappointment that she didn't even try to hide in her tone, Gavin wrinkled his nose, digging his hands deep into his pockets as he quickly turned away and cleared his throat. “You hungry?” he asked, praying that she didn't hear the slight huskiness in his voice.

 

No such luck. Jillian was always too quick to be fooled by his attempts at nonchalance. She sauntered over to him—he could hear the rustle of fabric, could feel the radiating heat of her body as she slipped her arms around his waist. Somewhere between the doorway and himself, she'd managed to discard the robe, and his back stiffened as she pressed herself against him, allowing him to feel every curve of her body. “Funny you should ask that . . .” she nearly purred as her hand slipped down to squeeze him through the coarse fabric of his slacks.

 

“J-J-Jilli . . .”

 

“Ye-e-es?”

 

He swallowed hard and closed his eyes. “N-nothing,” he rasped, whipping around and grabbing her by the shoulders before lowering his mouth to hers . . .

 

 

~xXxXxXxXxXx~

 

 

Isabelle wrestled the door open with her shoulder as she fought to hold onto the plastic bags and purse in one hand without dropping the clothes she'd picked up from the dry cleaners that she had slung over her shoulder.

 

It was later than she'd bargained for. The sun was already starting to sink in the distance. There'd been a four-car pile-up on the highway, and Isabelle had helped to administer emergency first aid on the scene. Most of the people involved were okay, aside from some cuts and bruising, but one of the passengers—a young girl named Marissa—hadn't been so fortunate. She hadn't been fastened into her seat belt, and she'd been tossed forward in the minivan, hitting her head hard on the windshield. Isabelle wasn't certain if she'd be all right or not. In the end, though, she'd done all she could do.

 

Carefully lying the clothes over the back of the sofa, Isabelle heaved a sigh as she walked over to deposit the bags on the counter as Froofie came barreling through the house to greet her.

 

“I'm sorry, sweetie . . . I left you alone all day, didn't I?” Isabelle apologized, hunkering down and grasping the dog's face in her hands to kiss him soundly on the head. The dog whined, and she uttered a wan little laugh, pushing herself to her feet and wandering over to let Froofie into the back yard.

 

She'd just turned around when the doorbell sounded. Glancing at her watch, she hurried over to answer it, leaning to the side to peer out the narrow window beside the door and smiling when she spotted Gunnar's car in the driveway.

 

“Mamoruzen!” she greeted, hugging her cousin who was scowling at the use of his Japanese name. “What brings you by?”

 

Gunnar snorted and handed her a brown leather satchel. “Cain said you wanted these,” he replied, stepping past her and into the house.

 

“Yes, thanks,” she said as she looked in the bag, staring at the research material and journal inside. “You're a lifesaver, you know.”

 

Cocking an eyebrow at her, Gunnar stuffed his hands into his pockets and slumped back against the wall. “Of course I am. You making any progress?”

 

Isabelle shrugged. “Some . . . about twenty pages of the journal. So far it's a lot of notes pertaining to the beginning of the research. I haven't found out exactly what they were researching yet.”

 

Nodding slowly, Gunnar pushed away from the wall and strode into the kitchen, rooting around in the cupboards until he found some bottles of water. He didn't like cold water, so Isabelle was in the habit of keeping a few extra ones in the cupboard in case Gunnar should happen to stop by. Pausing long enough to break the seal, he tossed the cap into the recyclables and leaned against the counter. Golden eyes startling next to his stark black hair, Isabelle couldn't help but smile at the cousin she adored. “You'll get it,” he finally stated, a slight smile quirking the corners of his lips.

 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” she replied then sighed, rubbing her forehead with a slightly shaking hand.

 

Gunnar's smile dissipated, and he tilted his head to the side as he stared at her. “That didn't sound good . . . something the matter?”

 

Shaking her head, she let her hands drop, slumping against the counter across from Gunnar. “No . . . yes . . . just one of those days, I guess.”

 

His frown was full of concern, and after a moment, he retrieved a second bottle of water—this one from the refrigerator—and discarded the cap before slipping it into Isabelle's hand. “You look like you could use something stronger than water, but you don't have anything else in there,” he commented before stepping back to resume his pose once more. “Tell me about it?”

 

Waving her hand as she tipped the bottle to her lips, she took a long drink of water. “There was an accident on the highway . . . a big one,” she allowed.

 

“I heard about that . . . they were still cleaning it up when I drove down,” Gunnar mused.

 

Isabelle nodded. “Yeah . . . everyone seemed all right, for the most part. One girl, though . . .”

 

Gunnar nodded, too, the light of understanding brightening his gaze. “You don't know how she's doing,” he said. It wasn't a question.

 

“She hit her head pretty good. I got her stabilized at the scene, but . . . you just can't tell with head injuries.”

 

Gunnar didn't respond right away. Sparing another minute to stare at her in his ever-calm, ever-thoughtful manner, he sighed softly, stepping over to her and drawing her into his arms. She closed her eyes for a moment, smiling wanly when she felt the warmth of his lips against her forehead. “Humans are too damn fragile,” he muttered, his tone almost angry, tinged with a certain resignation.

 

“It's easy to forget how precarious life can be,” she mused, slipping her arms around Gunnar and letting her head fall heavily against his shoulder.

 

“Well, I hate to tell you, Izzy, but if you let yourself get this upset all the time . . .”

 

She nodded, swallowing hard as the rest of his sentence hung in the air. Pragmatic Gunnar . . . He always saw things in such a realistic light. `. . . Then you've chosen the wrong profession . . .'

 

He sighed and uttered a soft little grunt, kissing her forehead once more before stepping back and offering her a thin little smile. “I shouldn't have said that.”

 

“No, it's fine,” she assured him. “Don't worry about it . . . Did Grandpa hear anything else from Jillian and Gavin?”

 

“Nope . . . Not really, anyway. Seems that Avis still hasn't been home, but Myrna said that the signal from his tracker is fine, so . . . I'm sure it's nothing. Cain didn't seem too concerned about it.”

 

Isabelle wasn't exactly convinced. She knew her grandfather far too well not to realize that Cain wouldn't show his concern over something like this, lest he should end up worrying someone else, most notably, his mate. The look on Gunnar's face told Isabelle plainly enough that he was thinking the same thing. “But he is still in Australia, right?” she asked for good measure.

 

“Yes, and there's no way he could fool the tracker. He knows the rules well enough. If he tries to leave the country, he'll be hunted, no questions asked, and if he tried to take it off, we'd know it.”

 

“Then I'm sure everything's just fine,” Isabelle replied, inflicting enough optimism in her tone to reassure her cousin.

 

He looked like he wanted to argue with her. In the end, he slipped his hands into his pockets once more and shrugged. “Look, I hate to take off so fast, but I've got to get moving. Call me if you need me?”

 

Isabelle managed a wan smile and followed close on Gunnar's heels. “Don't worry,” she told him as she held the door open. “I'll be fine.”

 

“All right,” he said, pausing long enough to rub her arm. “Give me a call the next time you're in Bevelle . . . oh, and Izzy?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

A strange, almost pinched look surfaced on his face, and Gunnar pressed his lips together in a thin line before going on. “Don't tell anyone about the research, okay? We checked into it, and I'm sure that Avis was acting on his own, but . . .” He trailed off and shook his head then sighed. “Just humor me, okay?”

 

“Okay,” she agreed. She nodded and watched him lope down the steps onto the sidewalk. He stopped before climbing back into his car to lift a hand in farewell.

 

Leaning against the doorframe until Gunnar's car slipped out of sight, Isabelle sighed and shook herself. After she finished putting things away, maybe she'd call around to see if she could ascertain the girl's status. She'd meant to run past Griffin's house to see if he'd made any progress and to drop off the notebooks, but . . .

 

She had a feeling she wasn't going to be very good company; not tonight . . . and maybe things would look better in the morning . . .

 

 

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

A/N:

 

Flashback taken from Purity 5: Phantasm, Chapter 50: Kissing Cousins.

 

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Final Thought fromJillian:

So Dr. Avis is … missing …?

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