InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 7: Avouchment ❯ Unpredictable ( Chapter 55 )

~~Chapter 55~~

~Unpredictable~

 

~xXxXxXxXxXx~

 

 

Isabelle padded into the living room with her hand bracing her neck, rubbing to alleviate the stiffness that had set in during the last couple of hours that she'd spent looking over the research and jotting notes in her journal. Griffin hadn't said anything, but he'd gone into the bathroom and had drawn a hot bath for her, complete with a cheesecloth sachet of dried herbs that he'd told her would help her to relax, which had touched her more than she could say. Seeing him with that little blush dusting his cheeks as he'd mumbled that it `wasn't a big deal so don't make a fuss over it' was something that Isabelle was sure she'd never, ever forget, and while she'd joked about feeling like she was being boiled for stock, she couldn't help the warmth that had seeped over her. He wasn't one for words, no, but he made up for it in the simplest of ways, and she adored him for that.

 

She did feel a lot more relaxed, she had to admit. Smiling gently as she stared at the bear-youkai sleeping in the old recliner, she indulged herself in a moment of quiet reflection before retrieving the afghan folded over the back of the sofa and spread it over him before returning to the research once more.

 

Everything was finished, wasn't it? The Carradine brothers had done their work very well, it seemed. Aside from the worry about using the DNA of a youkai who possessed a bloodline trait, the theories were sound. There were even formulas for the extraction of the needed components. They'd obviously already made a trial batch of serum though it was lost in the years since, and Isabelle's initial worry that the merging of one youkai's genetic material with a hanyou's might lead to unwanted side-effects much like the biological changes that came about due to marking one's mate were thoroughly considered. By using samples from a number of youkai—the brothers had used ten to create their serum—coupled with the mineral solution necessary to keep the samples from becoming reactive, there was virtually no chance that something like an accidental mating could occur. The only real problem that Isabelle foresaw was procuring lab space in which to work, though she was fairly certain that she'd be able to come up with something. If push came to shove, her grandfather would likely be able to help her out, and if she had to, she could always ask her father to call in a few favors . . .

 

`It'll still be best to avoid using samples from youkai who possess bloodline abilities,' she mused as she brought her feet up on the sofa cushion and scooted down, making herself more comfortable and tapping the cap of the ink pen between her teeth. Youkai like her grandfather and her great-uncle possessed rather frightening abilities that would be much too dangerous to make either of them viable, and while it wasn't clear, whether anyone else in the family had inherited those abilities, it was simply too great a risk. She'd talked it over with Kichiro awhile back, of course, and he had agreed with her initial thoughts on the matter. Even then, it wasn't clear how those traits were passed down, and while it was simple to assume that they were incorporated into the genetic structure, no one had ever thought to figure it out for certain, especially since no one knew when or if the abilities would even manifest themselves. That was fine, too, really, considering the ones who possessed such things were considered the strongest of the youkai.

 

No, the only real problem that she could see in the research was the testing. After all, she couldn't and wouldn't endanger the test group just to make sure that the serum was doing its job, and according to the documentation, the Carradine brothers had decided simply to examine the reconfigured DNA structure of the group. In theory, it should look much different after the first six months of treatment than it had originally, and those changes were proof that the serum was doing its job.

 

Another interesting facet was the theory that anyone who started on the inoculations directly after birth should only have to have them until they reached puberty while older children and adults would have to have them once a month when their youkai-blood was highest for the duration of their lives to ensure the effect. Since the concentration of the serum had to be very low to avoid unwanted side effects, it wasn't strong enough to remain in the body for more than one full lunar cycle, or so they believed. However, it was speculated that an infant's body was unstable enough to incorporate the administered DNA and that they should be able to fully assimilate it, in essence making it a part of their systems, without any problems.

 

Griffin had voiced his doubts about that, but it made perfect sense to Isabelle. After all, that was the same thing that had happened to Bastian and Evan, wasn't it? Though they were technically hanyou, they didn't have a night when they turned human, either. They used to when they were children, but as they grew and when they reached puberty, that had stopped, making them youkai, for all intents and purposes. It was something that she'd discussed with her father at length earlier in the day, and he'd agreed with Isabelle's thoughts on the matter.

 

“The research implies that infants are more prone to accept the inoculations long-term than older children or even adults,” she said, her eyes trained on the opened notebooks spread all over the coffee table.

 

Kichiro considered that for a minute. “Mm. Makes sense. An infant tends to take on many of the mother's immunities naturally—at least, they do if their mother is youkai or hanyou. In fact, the majority of their DNA seems to reflect a greater influence by the mother than the father.”

 

“How is that possible?”

 

“Well, think of it this way: we know that much of our bonds, be it between mates or between parents and children, tends to affect us on the physical level, and when an infant is born, what stronger or more necessary bond is there than the one forged between mother and child?”

 

She nodded slowly. “But that bond seems to be stronger between some than it is in others. Take Mama, for example. Her mother died, right? Mama never suffered any adverse effects because of that separation, did she?”

 

Kichiro sighed, and Isabelle could hear the sound of his claws drumming against the desk. “Yeah, well, that was a little different, I'd say. Her mother was human, remember? Even human mates don't seem to have the same sort of physical bond which is why the emotional bonds are that much more important with them, and one of the reasons that it's imperative that we mark our mates, especially if they're human—I mean, aside from the normal reasons of having them live out their lives in our time instead of theirs.”

 

“I see,” Isabelle remarked, adjusting her reading glasses and pressing her lips together as she pondered her father's words. “So that's why infants tend to smell like their mothers.”

 

“Exactly. The proof of the instability in their systems is clear enough when you consider that it isn't until that child reaches puberty that their real scent emerges. In theory, at that point, the child's blood tends to shift toward that of the dominant parent. That's why in some cases, their mother's influence remains stronger than that of the father, depending on the kind of youkai and depending on the purity of the blood.”

 

“Meaning that if you have a youkai and a hanyou as parents, then the children tend to gravitate toward the youkai side.”

 

Kichiro clucked his tongue. “Not always. As a dog hanyou, you're stronger than most full youkai who aren't dog, and while it's true that your children might take after their father, that may not always be the case, especially if your child is the same gender as you.”

 

“So if I were to have a daughter, she might be a dog, too?”

 

“Yes.”

 

That thought made her laugh though she tried to contain her humor since there was a good chance that Griffin might not share her amusement at the idea of producing a daughter who was, for all intents and purposes, a dog-youkai . . . “But take for example, Uncle and Aunt Kagura. Toga is absolutely a dog-youkai, and Aiko is, too, but she can use the wind.”

 

“True enough,” Kichiro allowed. “Aiko's ability, however, is more of an attribute than a definition.”

 

“So she's essentially a dog-youkai who can harness the power of the wind even if she isn't technically a wind-youkai.”

 

“Absolutely.”

 

She'd known for years that her father was a smart man, but she was a bit ashamed to admit that she'd only recently begun to understand exactly how brilliant he really was. When she was younger, he had simply been Papa, the man who could fix anything from a flat tire on her bicycle to the ability to understand complex equations in arithmetic, and she'd sat so often, listening to him play piano without a flaw and without looking at any sort of sheet music. She hadn't realized back then, just how rare and how wonderful Kichiro Izayoi was. She supposed that she'd believed that all fathers were like him; that all fathers dropped everything to look at the picture she'd colored, to hear about the latest boy she'd become enamored of . . .

 

Now with her research, she understood. Her father had somehow become her advisor, and while he offered his opinions and was willing to shed light on the things that she needed verified, she realized something else, too; something she never had stopped to think about before: Kichiro was content, wasn't he, content to allow her this moment, this project. He believed that she could complete it; didn't possess even a single doubt that she would be able to finish it, and while the effects of the research would be widespread and dramatic, he hadn't had a second thought about allowing her the opportunity to step out of his shadow, to become a researcher apart from the legacy that he had created—to stand apart from the often-infamous family and to be recognized for her own merit.

 

`I'll make you proud, Papa,' she thought as a tender smile touched her lips. Indulging in a moment of quiet introspection, Isabelle laughed softly, and just for a moment, her father felt so much closer than the ocean and continents that separated them.

 

“You're plotting something evil, aren't you?”

 

Her laughter bubbled out as she turned to face Griffin. He hadn't moved, but he had opened his eyes. With a slight grimace, he pushed himself up, letting the afghan fall to his lap as he slowly rolled his head from side to side. “Evil? Maybe.”

 

“Not surprising,” he remarked, heaving a sigh as he hunched forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he shook his head to chase away the lingering fog of sleepiness. “How long was I asleep?”

 

“I don't know. You were napping when I got done with my bath,” she said, pulling off her reading glasses and laying them carefully on the open notebooks. “You want anything in particular for dinner?”

 

He snorted. “Anything but that spicy stuff you made last night,” he mumbled.

 

She rolled her eyes but smiled. “It was curry,” she told him, “and it wasn't that spicy. Even my Grandpa InuYasha can eat it that way, and he's notorious for being a big baby when it comes to curry.”

 

Griffin wasn't impressed, and the scowl he shot her spoke volumes. “I'll make dinner,” he stated as he braced himself against his knees and slowly stood. “Stay out of my kitchen.”

 

Her laughter trailed after him, and she sighed. If he ever realized exactly how cute he really was, she'd be in a hell of a lot of trouble, wouldn't she? Somehow . . . somehow she doubted that he ever honestly would . . .

 

 

~xXxXxXxXxXx~

 

 

Pacing the length of the opulent office and back again, Cain drew a deep breath and tried to assuage his frazzled nerves. After the ungodly long flight that had taken him from Maine to New York City to Dallas to Los Angeles and finally on to Sydney, Australia, he'd opted to come straight here instead of grabbing a bit of rest at a hotel. As it was, Jude Covington was going to be even more put out since Cain had summarily dismissed his secretary and told her in no uncertain terms that he was going to wait for the tai-youkai in his office.

 

It was absolutely ridiculous, in Cain's opinion. Detaining Gavin was nothing more than a childish tactic designed to inconvenience him as much as Jude felt that he'd been inconvenienced, to start with.

 

He heard the sound of approaching footsteps approaching in the annex. Muffled and steady, they closed in, and Cain had just turned to face the door when it opened. Entirely devoid of any traces of emotion, Jude Covington, the Australian tai-youkai, stepped into the office and inclined his head—as close to a greeting as Cain was likely to get, all things considered. He responded in kind.

 

“What a surprise,” Jude remarked, flicking a spot on the immaculate sleeve of his navy blue suit as he strode toward the hulking desk situated in the middle of a wall of windows that overlooked downtown Sydney. “I trust your journey was agreeable.”

 

“I don't have the time or inclination to make small talk, Covington,” Cain said. “I'd like you to release Gavin Jamison to my custody, and I'll make sure that he leaves Australia.”

 

“On the contrary,” the tai-youkai countered, opening a file and looking it over, his tone only marginally interested as he flipped the low hanging auburn ponytail over his shoulder in a blatant show of nonchalance. “I did say that he's the prime suspect in the Avis case, did I not?”

 

Tamping down the impulse to roll his eyes, he opted instead to cross his arms over his chest and level a pointed scowl at Jude, instead. “You and I both know that Gavin had nothing to do with the doctor's death,” he pointed out in what he could only hope was a reasonable tone.

 

Jude leaned back in his seat, sticking his tongue in his cheek as he considered Cain's words. Pale green eyes narrowing as though he were trying to gain Cain's measure, he didn't respond for a moment. “Perhaps you should have kept Dr. Avis in your jurisdiction if you didn't trust me to deal with him here.”

 

“It had nothing to do with whether or not you could deal with him,” Cain pointed out calmly. “He said that he was the one who had ordered my daughter kidnapped, and there was no other evidence to suggest otherwise at the time.”

 

Jude considered that then shook his head. “Tell me something, if you will.”

 

“What?”

 

His smile was as insincere as it was thin. “Would you like it if, say, I were to imply that you cannot take care of business in your jurisdiction?”

 

Cain returned the rather nasty grin. “No, I wouldn't, and I didn't imply any such thing.”

 

“Didn't you?”

 

“I don't believe I did, no.”

 

“So your phone calls inquiring as to Dr. Avis' well-being were not subtle ways of saying that you wanted to do my job for me?” he challenged.

 

Cain gritted his teeth and counted to twenty before he dared answer. “No, they were not. They were simply logical questions based on the idea that you wouldn't have been keeping track of Avis. That wasn't part of the exile agreement, nor did I wish for it to be. When my son-in-law and daughter came to visit him only to find that he wasn't home for days on end and he wasn't answering his telephone, it was natural to be concerned. I passed along that information; no more, no less.”

 

“Is that what you call it?” he shot back, his voice carefully measured, his expression giving away nothing. His eyes seemed to brighten—the only show of emotion in his otherwise stoic countenance. “Putting a nice face on your meddling really doesn't change the intent, does it?”

 

“You never struck me as the sort given to childish displays of pettiness.” Shaking his head, Cain narrowed his eyes on the irritating youkai, the last remnants of his patience snapping like an overly-coiled spring. “So carry your grudge against me if you want, but I'm taking Gavin home with me.”

 

He didn't think that Jude was going to give in. Steepling his fingers together as he continued to eye Cain, the Australian tai-youkai seemed more likely to challenge him than to turn over Gavin to his custody. The standoff continued, the only sound to break the silence was the dull tick of the antique grandfather clock.

 

Finally, Jude leaned forward, pressing the intercom button on the phone.

 

“Jude?” the secretary's voice greeted.

 

“Have Benning bring Mr. Jamison up, please.”

 

“All right,” she said just before Jude let off the button.

 

“Should I have questions for Mr. Jamison, I trust that you'll have him accessible at all times?”

 

Cain narrowed his eyes but nodded, digging a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it.

 

“This is a non-smoking building,” Jude pointed out in a much-too reasonable tone.

 

Taking his time exhaling a steady stream of smoke, Cain didn't even bat an eye. “I'm leaving as soon as you've handed Gavin over to me, though if you want to fine me for it, then by all means: go right ahead.”

 

He was saved from Jude's rebuttal when the door opened again. Gavin scowled over his shoulder as he stumbled forward when the hunter—Benning, Cain supposed—gave him a nudge.

 

“Have a seat, Mr. Jamison,” Jude said, rising to his feet and drawing himself up to his full height. Not quite as tall as Cain, and not quite as broad of build, either, he possessed a sinewy sort of strength that reminded Cain more of a lynx or a jaguar than the dog-youkai he was.

 

Gavin jerked away from the hunter and flopped into the seat across from the desk, glaring balefully at the tai-youkai and completely avoiding his father-in-law's gaze in the process.

 

Jude deliberately took his time eyeing Gavin before he bothered to speak. “Remain, Benning,” he called out when the hunter turned to leave. Benning stopped and closed the door before leaning against it in a completely nonchalant way. “You can serve as witness.”

 

“Witness for what?” Cain demanded mildly, deliberately blowing a steady stream of smoke directly at Jude's head.

 

Jude didn't answer him. Returning his attention to Gavin once more, he tapped a claw against the desk. “My men have determined that Dr. Avis was dead long before you were caught in his home.”

 

“That's what I've been telling you,” Gavin snapped. Cain wasn't surprised. The young man didn't look like he'd had much sleep since he'd been taken into custody. Skin pale and drawn, cheeks slightly sunken, he needed a good shave and a good meal, though perhaps not in that order.

 

Jude narrowed his eyes the tiniest bit obviously irritated at the marked lack of respect he was receiving. “Zelig has been good enough to fly in to vouch for your character, though I caution you: I still question your involvement. It isn't uncommon for a murderer to return to the scene of the crime, especially if he wants to have the death made public.”

 

Gavin's jaw ticked as he ground his teeth together. “He was the only connection my mate had to her biological parents. Why the hell would I kill him?”

 

“Did he or did he not have your mate kidnapped right out from under your nose, so to speak?”

 

“That doesn't prove a damn thing,” Gavin growled.

 

“Maybe not. I have to say, though, if it were my mate, I think I'd want him dead . . .” Pale green eyes surveying him coldly, he flicked his gaze to Cain. “Then again, that might well mean that you, Zelig, had just as much motive as your son-in-law—perhaps more.” Cain narrowed his eyes, but Jude wasn't finished. “You're certain you had no idea that Mr. Jamison was coming here to . . . check . . . on Dr. Avis?”

 

“Pfft!” Cain snorted, rolling his eyes at Jude's perceived boorishness. “This is all conjecture, Covington, and you know it, so if you're finished with your asinine questions, we'll be on our way.”

 

“Australia is my domain,” Jude said, a glimmer of cold enjoyment entering his stare. “If you dare to step as much as a foot in my domain again, I'll not hesitate to issue the hunt order, Mr. Jamison.”

 

“Are you serious?” Gavin blurted before he had a chance to think it through.

 

“The hell you will,” Cain remarked rather drolly, his expression carefully blanked though his eyes took on a heightened glow.

 

“The hell I won't,” Jude retorted just as drolly. “Care to test me?”

 

“Cain—” Gavin began only to be cut off abruptly when he intercepted the quelling glance Cain shot him.

 

“Do you care to test me?” Cain countered, his threat underlined by the deathly quiet tone of his voice.

 

Jude didn't answer for a moment. Seconds ticked away as he considered Cain's threat. Staring at him as though he expected Cain to back down, Jude suddenly chuckled nastily. “Have we reached an understanding, Zelig?”

 

“I doubt it will be an issue,” Cain replied.

 

Clearing his throat as he tapped his fingertips together, Jude's tight little smile widened unpleasantly. “I'll say it again: if you enter my jurisdiction again, I will issue a hunt for you, Mr. Jamison.”

 

Cain might have laughed outright in abject incredulity if he didn't believe that Jude Covington really was bastard enough to do it. As it was, he refrained from comment on the subject—barely. “Let's go, Gavin,” he ordered. Gavin snapped his mouth closed on whatever rejoinder he had been forming for Jude since he would have had to be stupid not to understand the warning behind Cain's tone.

 

“I trust you'll both be on the first flight out?” Jude called after them.

 

“Absolutely,” Cain replied, mustering the most insincere smile that he possibly could. It was more of a grimace—not entirely surprising, all things considered . . .

 

Jude nodded slowly, his smile taking on a somewhat gloating sort of twist, and Cain could feel his eyes following as he headed for the door with Gavin close on his heels. Jude's hunter stepped aside just in time since Cain wasn't really in the mood to request that he move out of the way.

 

Gavin remained silent as he followed his father-in-law toward the stairwell. “Cain—”

 

“Not a word, Gavin,” Cain growled as he ran down the first flight of stairs.

 

Gavin heaved a sigh but kept quiet until they were standing on the sidewalk outside the building. “Can he do that?” Gavin finally asked as Cain stepped forward to hail a taxi.

 

“He can,” Cain allowed grudgingly. As much as he hated to admit it, Jude Covington was the tai-youkai of Australia—the absolute law of the youkai. The only being he had to answer to at all was Sesshoumaru, and Cain knew damn well that Sesshoumaru tended to ascribe to the laissez-faire mindset, bringing to mind the old adage, `if it ain't broke, don't fix it'. “He can, and he would, bastard that he is. Damn it, Gavin, what the hell were you thinking?”

 

“I was thinking that Jillian deserved to know what was going on, one way or another,” Gavin growled. “I was thinking that this was bothering her more than anyone else knew because she never told anyone else. I was thinking that everyone's thoughts that we should just sit back and wait because nothing was wrong was absolute bullshit. I was thinking that as her father, you ought to have given a great goddamn about it, in the first place!”

 

“And you think I don't?” Cain demanded, jerking open the taxi door and gesturing for Gavin to get in.

 

Gavin glowered at his father-in-law for a moment before cooperating. Heaving a sigh, he slumped back, his anger draining from him as easily as water crashing over a cliff. “I'm sorry,” he muttered as Cain closed the door and told the driver to take them to the airport.

 

Cain rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand and slowly shook his head. “I care, Gavin. Jilli is my daughter—my little girl. Of course I care, maybe more than anyone.”

 

Gavin nodded, turning his attention out the window, watching without seeing as the streets and buildings of Sydney flashed by. “I hate seeing her like that, you know? I had to . . . I had to find out.”

 

“And knowing that Avis is dead? Will that make it better for her?”

 

Gavin grimaced then shrugged. “No, but . . . but maybe she can move on now.”

 

“Maybe,” Cain intoned dubiously. `Maybe . . .'

 

 

~xXxXxXxXxXx~

 

 

The sound of raindrops smacking against the glass windowpanes created a dull sort of monotony in the otherwise silent chamber, the light from the laptop monitor piercing through the darkness in an eerie sort of way.

 

Scowling at the blinking cursor in the nondescript text box, he tapped his lips with the tip of his claw, pondering, pondering . . .

 

“Please enter password to proceed,” the electronic voice prompted.

 

Curling his lips back in a derisive sneer, he had to repress the desire to smash the machine to bits. `Intelliface,' he fumed. `Damn them . . .'

 

It shouldn't have been that surprising. Of course they would have tried to use some sort of protection to keep the files from falling into the wrong hands. Truthfully, it was more bothersome and annoying than surprising. Still, he despised the feeling that they were toying with him. That research should have been his long, long ago.

 

With a frustrated growl, he slammed the laptop closed. The program used to encode and save the data, he knew, was set to delete the file if the password entered was incorrect more than a certain set number of times consecutively. He'd have to be careful, wouldn't he?

 

He'd read through all the documents saved on the computer: half-finished letters written to her parents, notes and lists of things that she needed to remember. Nothing he'd read had anything to do with the research, but then that would have been too simple, wouldn't it?

 

A small grin spread over his features, twisting his lips in a sinister sort of way. A long-dormant emotion was rising. This woman—this Isabelle Izayoi—she was challenging him, wasn't she? Flipping open her file and eyeing the image inside, he chuckled—a dry sound that was more a show of utter contempt than anything resembling good humor. `Hanyou bitch,' he mused. She'd get hers. They all would.

 

First things first, however, and the first thing was to get that file open. Good thing he knew the perfect person for the task, and even better that he owed Alastair . . .

 

“Call Murphy,” he said into the quiet, snapping the file closed as the phone automatically dialed the number. Rising to his feet, gliding across the floor as he willed himself to be patient for the moment, the nasty grin widened.

 

`Isabelle Izayoi . . .'

 

At least she was making things interesting. He was quite looking forward to teaching her exactly what it meant to toy with Alastair Gregory . . .

 

 

~xXxXxXxXxXx~

 

 

“So Mamoruzen decided that Akira wasn't good enough for me, and he threatened to beat the snot out of him.”

 

Griffin grunted, pushing a low hanging tree branch out of the way as they ambled along the path that meandered through the trees. “Was he?”

 

“Was he what?”

 

Rolling his eyes, he let go of the branch and jammed his hand into his pocket. “Good enough for you.”

 

Isabelle laughed, slipping her hand under Griffin's elbow to rest it on his bicep. “I was in primary school,” she complained. “He just wanted to share my lunch box with me.”

 

“Little girls shouldn't be sharing their lunch boxes with little boys,” Griffin remarked, glowering at the tired snow underfoot.

 

“We-e-ell,” she drawled, casting him an almost shy smile, “haven't you ever shared a little girl's lunch box?”

 

He snorted but couldn't help the redness that crept into his features. “Does it count when she's four and on a field trip to the aviary?”

 

She giggled. “Sounds like the best kind,” she told him. “Did she give you one of her pudding cups?”

 

Why, oh why did she have the innate ability to make the most innocent question sound like something entirely different?

 

“Yes, she did,” he admitted.

 

She really laughed at that, throwing her head back and giving a deep belly laugh—one that rumbled straight through him with more power than the softest caress. Leaning heavily on his arm, she swung around to bury her face against his chest as she continued to laugh, and despite the acute embarrassment that she always seemed to inspire in him, he couldn't help but chuckle.

 

Her laughter died away, faded like a summer breeze, and she leaned back, her eyes bright, her cheeks kissed with the barest hint of color, and while she wasn't smiling, her very being seemed to radiate. “Oh . . .” she breathed, staring up at him with unabashed emotion as his smile faltered.

 

“W-what?” he mumbled, all too aware of the intensity of her gaze on him.

 

“Your smile,” she whispered, her lips twitching, a tender expression illuminating her face. “I want you to do that more often.”

 

Her answer took him aback. In fact, he was so stunned that he wasn't sure exactly what to say. Standing there in the late afternoon sunshine that filtered through the spiderwebbing of tree branches overhead, he wasn't entirely certain how to interpret the conflicting emotions that she brought out of him, and then he realized . . .

 

Winter still clung to the landscape, hanging on with the tenacity of the angels though there was a marked warmth: the approach of spring that was whispering—just whispering, and he knew that in the days to come, that warmth would grow and spread, and . . . and those feelings that he was afraid to define—the ones that he felt whispering to him in much the same way—they would mirror that growth, wouldn't they? The feelings that he'd tried to deny . . . Isabelle was his springtime, and maybe the winter had lasted just a little too long . . .

 

She braced herself on his shoulders, pushed herself up to kiss his cheek, and her smile was back—a tender, gentle thing. “I want to make you smile every day,” she vowed.

 

He didn't know what to say to that, either, but the hope he saw in her face was enough to draw on the same emotion. “Will you?” he murmured, wondering deep down how it could be that she could make him want the same things, too.

 

Nodding slowly, she bit her lip. “I'll try.”

 

The wind lifted her hair, tossed it into her face, and Griffin swallowed hard, reaching out to catch her hair, to hook it behind her ear.

 

“I'd share my pudding cup with you,” she joked.

 

“W-would you?”

 

She nodded then sighed, turning away as she started walking once more. “Yes,” she said with a soft giggle. “I would.”

 

 

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A/N:

Laissez-faire: French phrase meaning "let do".

 

I've added a blogging capability to the Sueric Fanfiction forum, so all forumers can create their own WordPress blogs! If you are a member of the forum, all you have to do is log in to activate your blog!

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Final Thought fromGavin:

…Hunted …?

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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 InuYashaor 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~