InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 7: Avouchment ❯ The Initial Test ( Chapter 58 )

~~Chapter 58~~

~The Initial Test~

 

~xXxXxXxXxXx~

 

:August24, 2065:

 

~xXxXxXxXxXx~

 

 

Adjusting her glasses, Isabelle flipped through the clipboard chart, double and triple checking her data before re-reading it all again.

 

The soft chime of the shaker drew her attention, and she set the board aside, tugging on a pair of chemical gloves before opening the unit and retrieving the tray of test tubes. Eyebrows knitting together as she carefully lifted one of the tubes, she shuffled toward the lab table.

 

After filling a syringe with the serum, she carefully squirted it into the tiny sterilized vial and set it in the analysis machine—an ultra high-tech bit of equipment that could break down the makeup of any given substance in a matter of minutes. As long as the ratios were preserved, there wouldn't be any trouble at all.

 

This was her sixth batch of serum, identical in formula to the last three—the goal being consistency in the serum, itself. The tissue samples were all consistent, too—that wasn't an issue. The main reason she was so concerned was because of the potential for instability, given the use of youkai genetic material. After lengthy discussion with her father regarding the idea of adding Kagome's blood to balance out the mix, Kichiro had agreed that it would be a good idea, and to that end, she'd called her grandmother.

 

Kagome had been happy to help out with the project. Her grandfather, InuYasha wasn't quite as receptive to the idea. Kagome had convinced him, though, when she'd reminded him of his own brush with danger, he'd relented, albeit rather ungraciously. Kichiro was of the opinion that they might later be able to devise a way to create the same effect without using Kagome's blood, but that was something that they could start researching later, after the serum was perfected. Kagome had mentioned that perhaps she could imbue an object with her spiritual powers in much the same way that an Ofuda worked. The only problem was that Kagome was an intuitive miko, meaning that her abilities often stemmed from base reaction more than from being trained to control it, and while she had learned over time to modulate her powers, she'd never actually been taught how to infuse those same powers into another object. The theory was that if she were able to do so, it could then be used to purify another medium, such as the base of the serum, itself, instead of having to use Kagome's blood every time.

 

But the addition of Kagome's sample had achieved the desired results. The tissue samples had taken on a more consistent structure, and she was as sure as she could be that the serum would do exactly what it was supposed to do—at least, as sure as she could be without having actually tested it on a living being, that was . . .

 

The bell on the analysis machine rang, and Isabelle ripped off the feed readout, frowning as she carefully read over it. Everything was consistent with the original formula, and she uttered a terse little sound as a rather satisfied smile quirked her lips.

 

It was hard to believe that everything was finished—damn hard. After laboring over the research for so long, it was ready to be tested, and while she couldn't help but feel a small surge of satisfaction, she knew that she still had quite a row to hoe. Everything looked good, of course, and she was sure that the theory would prove out in the end. Still, she couldn't be completely positive that all the ratios were perfect considering. It was simple to get the same results in the controlled environment of a laboratory, but the percentage of the serum necessary to balance the youkai blood in hanyous was still likely to need tweaked.

 

No, the most pressing matter, as far as Isabelle was concerned, was the potential side-effects that the serum might have. It didn't appear to have had any on the tissue she'd used to test it, but that didn't mean that it wouldn't when introduced to a live person.

 

A small frown creased her brow as she lifted a vial, as she stared into the seemingly innocent concoction. It wasn't something that she was willing to test on just anyone to start with. She was almost positive that the serum wouldn't have any truly negative effects overall, but it was that small doubt that plagued her.

 

“How is it?”

 

Isabelle let her arm drop as she turned to smile wanly at Griffin. Leaning in the doorway with his signature scowl in place, he didn't look bored, per se, but he did seem a bit edgy. “Just fine,” she informed him.

 

“Good,” he muttered, pushing away from the door frame and shuffling into the lab.

 

“Did you get those papers graded?” she asked absently, turning back and carefully pouring the serum into amber glass bottles.

 

He grunted, stopping beside her, watching her thoughtfully. “So that's it?”

 

Nodding, she pushed a rubber stopper onto the bottle and reached for the next one. “So it would seem.”

 

He considered that for a moment, his eyebrows drawing together into a thoughtful scowl. “So what's next?”

 

She let out a deep breath, replacing the last test tube in the tray before picking it up to tote over to the chemical sink for a quick cleaning. “Normally, it'd be ready for the first clinical trial,” she allowed slowly, not surprised at all when Griffin followed her.

 

“You don't sound too positive,” he pointed out gruffly.

 

Giving a little shrug, she set the tray in the sink and reached for the bottle of Kwik-Wash. “I'm sure it will work,” she said slowly, squirting a generous amount of the cleaning solution into the test tubes. “I wish there was a way to test it for potential risks first, without injecting it into someone. I mean, the results from the trials don't indicate any such thing, but you can't ever be positive, can you? Live tissue is still just tissue . . .”

 

Uttering a curt snort, Griffin took the tubes from her hands and dropped them into the rack beside the lab sink. “Part versus whole, you mean.”

 

Letting out a deep breath that lifted her bangs, she nodded slowly, carefully drying her hands on a thin white towel as Griffin picked up the tray and carried it over to the counter beside the sterilizing unit. “You could say that,” she said wanly.

 

“What about volunteers?” he asked though he looked like he wanted to ask something entirely different.

 

Isabelle shrugged, dropping the towel on the counter and shuffled over to slip the tray into the sterilizing unit. “I've got a few lined up, but I'd feel better if I ruled out any chance for severe reaction before I called them in.”

 

“You could test it out on that damned cousin of yours,” Griffin mumbled as she closed the door and set the timer.

 

She shook her head in confusion then smiled when she realized exactly which cousin he was talking about. “Mamoruzen, you mean?”

 

He nodded. “In worse case, I doubt anyone would miss him if he died.”

 

“Griffin!” she chided but couldn't help laughing. “I'd miss him—well, I'd miss him a little bit, and even then, he will be the next Japanese tai-youkai . . . Offing the crown prince? I don't think that's a good idea, do you?”

 

“Acceptable loss,” Griffin grumbled, following Isabelle over to collect her things so they could leave for the night.

 

“He's really not that bad,” she pointed out in a reasonable tone as she slung her purse strap over her shoulder while Griffin grabbed her attaché case.

 

He snorted indelicately, obviously disagreeing with her assessment. “Condescending little cub . . . Didn't his parents teach him any manners at all?”

 

She did laugh at that since she had to agree with Griffin. Gunnar had stopped by a few days ago and had made no bones about telling Griffin that his home was entirely unacceptable because there wasn't any security system installed. Griffin had narrowed his eyes on her cousin and informed him that he was sure that he could handle anything that might come up, and Gunnar, ass that he was, had simply cocked an eyebrow and replied that old men had no business fighting, if it came down to that. In the end, Isabelle had literally dragged Gunnar out of the house, upbraiding him for being rude and assuring her cousin that Griffin most certainly could handle things just fine. Gunnar had snorted and shook his head but hadn't argued with her. Maybe he figured it simply wasn't worth it. Either way, he'd left then, and Isabelle had been forced to coax Griffin out of the black mood Gunnar had left in his wake.

 

“They taught him manners enough,” she conceded as she flicked off the lights. “I swear to you, he's really not as bad as you think.”

 

The look he shot her stated quite plainly that he didn't believe it as he led her through the decontamination room into the locker area where he stripped off the sterile gown and tossed it into the laundry hamper before leaning against the wall to tug off the booties that he never failed to grumble about having to wear in the lab. “If you say so.”

 

Isabelle laughed and snatched the cap off his head. “There's something entirely hot about a man in lab scrubs,” she teased. “Just seeing you in those makes me want to—”

 

His snort cut her off abruptly, and he turned away but not before she could discern the redness that had erupted under his skin. “You're not normal,” he mumbled. “Are you finished here?”

 

Leaning in quickly to steal a kiss that earned her an entirely endearing red-faced scowl, Isabelle tweaked Griffin's nose and reached for her attaché case. “Yes, I'm done,” she assured him.

 

“'Bout time,” he grouched, taking the case from her and lumbering toward the door.

 

Isabelle heaved a sigh but followed him. `One of these days, he's going to admit that he likes my attention,' she told herself as she flicked off the lights and pulled the door closed.

 

`Of course he will,' her youkai agreed though it seemed to Isabelle that the tone of voice was entirely placating.

 

`He will,' she insisted, smiling at the sound of her footsteps mingling with Griffin's as they strode down the hallway toward the doors of the medical clinic.

 

 

~xXxXxXxXxXx~

 

 

“I'm sorry. I just can't do it.”

 

Kichiro rolled to the side, heaving a long-suffering sigh as he dropped his forearm over his eyes.

 

Bellaniece sat up with a grimace then reached for the silk robe slung carelessly over the chair beside the bed. “I'm sorry,” she said again, her voice rising with her anxiety.

 

“You know, I'm still me,” he remarked rather acerbically.

 

“I know,” she said, her tone giving away her absolute upset. He didn't have to look to know that she was probably wringing her hands. “I'm sorry,” she whispered for the third time.

 

“Don't be sorry,” he muttered, rolling onto his side and forcing a wan smile solely for his mate's benefit. “Come here.”

 

Bellaniece fussed with the thin strip of fabric that held her robe closed and shrugged offhandedly. “Well, that's the thing, Kichiro,” she hedged, scooting back when he tried to reach for her. “I . . . I don't think . . .” Wrinkling her nose, she shook her head. “It's weird,” she blurted.

 

“. . . Weird?” he echoed incredulously, pushing himself up on his elbow as he frowned at his mate as though he were trying to ascertain whether or not she was telling the truth. “How so?”

 

She tried to smile as she tucked a long lock of golden bronze hair behind a delicate ear, but the smile didn't light her sapphire blue eyes the way it normally did, either. “It's just . . . I mean, you look like you, but . . .”

 

“But . . .?” he prompted, struggling for a calm that he was far from feeling and knowing in the pit of his stomach that he really didn't have anyone else to blame for it.

 

“Bu-u-ut,” she drawled, twisting her fingers together and turning her wrists outward in a decidedly nervous sort of way, “you don't . . . smell . . . like you . . .”

 

Heaving a sigh, Kichiro flopped onto his back and rubbed his eyes since he'd realized that it was something along those lines. “Well, that's good, then, isn't it?” he surmised.

 

Bellaniece nodded once, the smile that surfaced on her beautiful face as contrived as he'd ever seen. “Of course.”

 

Too bad she didn't sound pleased, not at all . . . “I'm the same, you realize,” he said gently, his countenance softening in the light of her upset.

 

She shot him a nervous little smile that wasn't at all what the expression should have been. “I know,” she murmured. Suddenly, she waved a hand, her fake smile brightening painfully. “You're absolutely right,” she stated with a determined nod.

 

Letting out a deep breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding, Kichiro held out his hand, palm side up. “Come here, Belle-chan,” he coaxed.

 

Her smile faltered and dimmed as she stared at his hand, and he wasn't entirely surprised when her eyes flared slightly, her cheeks paling slightly before blossoming in indignant color. “I-I can't do it,” she finally admitted with a shake of her head. “I'm sorry . . .”

 

Kichiro sighed and sat up, staring darkly as his mate clutched the front of her robe, hiding herself from his perusal. After a moment, she carefully scooted off the bed and fairly ran to the bureau across the room, tugging open the top drawer that she rarely used, and he could only shake his head as she pulled a pair of panties out and hurriedly tugged them over her feet.

 

He couldn't contain the snort that escaped as he watched her, as he shook his head incredulously. “How long have we been mates, little girl?” he asked, the evenness of his tone completely at odds with the turbulence in his appearance.

 

She had the grace to blush at the unspoken challenge. “A very long time,” she responded with a nervous clearing of her throat.

 

He nodded sagely. “And in those years, can you remember one time that you actually deigned to wear panties before?”

 

Biting her lip, she shrugged offhandedly. “Well, no . . .” she allowed.

 

Rubbing his face with an exasperated hand, Kichiro told himself that he really couldn't blame her even if he hadn't actually thought that it would be this big a deal. “Belle . . .” he began then shook his head. For once, he wasn't entirely certain exactly what to say to her that would make a difference.

 

“I'm sorry,” she said yet again, and to her credit, she really did look sorry. Deep blue eyes awash with heightened brilliance that he knew meant that she was upset, she ducked her head and peered at him behind the shadows that hid her beautiful face. “You know, I think I'll sleep on the sofa,” she finally said, scurrying quickly toward the door.

 

“What?” he demanded in a tone that was much sharper than he'd meant for it to be. Shooting off the bed, he caught her wrist just before she could make it over the threshold, gently pulling her back then grimacing when she flinched and shied away from him. “No,” he said with a heavy sigh. “You can't sleep on the sofa.”

 

She made a face. “It's just . . . weird,” she stated once more. “I mean, my brain tells me that you're you, but my nose just isn't getting the message, and . . . and I'm afraid that if you reach for me in the middle of the night, I . . .” She trailed off, swallowing hard and stubbornly shaking her head. “What if I hit you of worse? I wouldn't mean to, of course, but I could, and if I did . . .”

 

He stared at his hand wrapped around her slender wrist and gritted his teeth, wishing that he could find fault with her logic. Unfortunately, he couldn't, and he supposed he had to admit that he was vaguely pleased despite the overlying idea that his mate was basically telling him that she'd rather sleep alone than with him. “Belle, you take the bed. I'll sleep on the sofa.”

 

His offer made her look even more upset than she already was, and he winced, despising the smell of her rising anxiety: despising himself for being the cause of it. “Oh, no,” she blurted quickly.

 

He forced a smile to reassure her. “I insist,” he told her, “besides . . . if I slept in the bed, you'd just say that it smelled funny, too.”

 

Her eyes flared at that, and he sighed inwardly. Apparently that thought hadn't crossed her mind. Still she didn't try to stop him as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. He didn't miss her telltale stiffening, and he spared just a moment to give her another feigned smile before brushing past her and heading down the hallway toward the living room.

 

Pausing outside their youngest daughter's room, he drew a deep breath and wrinkled his nose before lifting his knuckles to knock. Samantha mumbled something entirely unintelligible, and Kichiro pushed the door open, sticking his head inside and not surprised to find her sitting at her desk hunched over her notebooks from school. “Hey, babydoll,” he said quietly so that he wouldn't startle her.

 

Her head jerked up at the sound of his voice moments before her eyes narrowed then flared wide. “P-papa?” she stammered with a shake of her head.

 

He sighed once more. He just couldn't help it. Testing the Scent-Tabs didn't seem like such a big deal an hour ago, did it? Now he could only regret his apparently rash decision. “Yeah, it's me,” he said, waving a hand to forestall the questions that he could see forming behind Samantha's too-quick gaze. “Do me a favor?”

 

She must have realized that he wasn't in the mood to entertain her questions, and she nodded rather hesitantly. “Okay.”

 

“I'm going to sleep on the sofa,” he admitted with another forced smile. “Why don't you sleep with your mama?”

 

She blinked quickly, obviously surprised by his idea of a favor. “Did you and Mama have a fight?”

 

The fake smile widened. “No, no . . . it's not like that.”

 

She nodded slowly but still looked entirely perplexed. “Sure but . . . why do you smell—?”

 

“Don't say `weird',” Kichiro cut in abruptly.

 

Samantha's little white hanyou ears twitched nervously. “You . . . you are my papa . . . aren't you . . .?”

 

He couldn't contain the terse little growl that escaped him as he narrowed his eyes on the youngest of his children. She paled slightly then blushed, offering her father an apologetic little shrug and a consoling albeit wan smile. “Sorry,” she muttered, her cheeks pinking just a little more. “But, um . . . you are, right?”

 

“Et tu, Samantha?” Kichiro grumped, rolling his eyes heavenward. “Of course I'm your papa.” Heaving another sigh—he was making that particular noise a little too often for his liking—he shook his head. “I took one of the Scent-Tabs, if you must know.”

 

She considered that for a moment then nodded. “So you'll smell normal again tomorrow?”

 

“I—” Cutting himself off, he rubbed his temple and pressed his lips together in a thin line. “I doubt it'll wear off by tomorrow,” he replied honestly. “But in theory, it should wear off . . . soon . . .”

 

“Should?” Bellaniece's indignant squeak sounded behind him. “Define `should', Kichiro.”

 

Reining in the urge to grimace, he slowly pivoted on his heel to meet his wife's stormy gaze. “Belle, you know as well as I do that there may be a chance—a slim chance—that the change of scent might—let me stress `might' again—might be . . . uh . . . permanent . . .”

 

“You said that the prelims showed that the change in the genetic structure weren't long term,” she accused, narrowing her eyes menacingly. “You said that you were just making sure that there weren't going to be any side-effects . . .”

 

“No,” he countered, his temper flaring just a little, “I said almost positive—you think I'd make a statement like that without that little quantifier? And I am testing for side-effects: side-effects like a permanent change of scent!”

 

He regretted the words the very second they came out of his mouth. Belle gasped softly, and the scent of her tears hit him moments later, and he watched in abject horror as the eyes that he loved so dearly filled with the suspect moisture. “I don't think I want to talk to you anymore,” she stated quietly, lifting her chin a notch as her lips quivered, as her nostrils trembled. Then she careened about and darted off toward their bedroom, leaving Kichiro wincing when the door slammed hard.

 

Samantha uttered a soft clucking sound and shook her head slowly. “Oh, Papa,” she said with an exasperated sigh, crossing her arms over her chest and brushing past him. After casting him one last, long look, she tapped on her mother's bedroom door and let herself in quietly.

 

Letting out a deep breath, Kichiro stuffed his hands deep into his pockets and shuffled down the hallway, heading for his study. He didn't even try to delude himself into thinking that he would get a wink of sleep, not without his mate, and certainly not when he knew damn well exactly how upset she was at the moment.

 

To be honest, he hadn't really considered the ramifications of the change of scent in that capacity though he should have. It made sense, after all. A youkai or hanyou's senses were heightened well above those of a human, and as creatures that tended to remain a little closer to their primal selves, it should have occurred to him that the change in something as basic and oftentimes comforting as a mate's scent would be entirely disconcerting to them.

 

Of course, Belle had known that he was going to take one of the innocent looking tablets. He'd determined that the risk of major side-effects was minimal, and she'd concurred after having poured over his notes and test results. Apparently, she hadn't thought that the change in scent would be that difficult to deal with, either. In the end, though, he couldn't fault her for it, even if it frustrated the hell out of him.

 

The trouble was that he wasn't sure exactly how long the change in scent would last, either. It could wear off tomorrow though that was highly unlikely, or it could last for a week or a month. Since it was the first real trial, it was impossible to predict with any real accuracy.

 

Dropping into the chair behind his desk, he closed his eyes and slumped to the side, sparing a moment to rub his temples as he uttered yet another longsuffering sigh. Dwelling on it wasn't going to hurry up the process, and at least he could attest to the fact that the Scent-Tabs worked. They should offer Sesshoumaru and Toga the reassurance that their hunters would be operating in a little wider area of security—something that would most certainly make the families of those hunters sleep easier, as well. Somehow, though, it seemed like a hollow victory, at best . . . True, the tabs still needed to be tested on a few more volunteers before it was declared a finished work, but Kichiro was cautiously optimistic that it wouldn't take too long since it seemed to be working with flying colors now . . .

 

“I'm sorry,” Bellaniece said quietly as she slipped into the room. She didn't approach him, but she did manage a wan little smile as she brushed a long lock of hair out of her eyes. “I shouldn't have lost my temper with you.”

 

Kichiro scowled at his mate. “Don't apologize, Belle-chan. It's my own fault for not having realized that the change in my scent would bother you so much.”

 

She uttered a terse little sound of dissension but didn't comment as she padded over to the easy chair nearby—the one she always curled up in when he was working—and sat down, tugging the soft fleece blanket off the back of the chair and wrapping herself up in it. The white fleece only served to make her eyes appear even darker in hue, and she stared at him solemnly over her raised, blanket-covered knees. “I didn't realize that it was going to bother me so much,” she confessed, wrinkling her nose as though she were berating herself for the gross oversight.

 

She looked so forlorn that he wanted to reach for her, damned if he didn't. Too bad he also knew that if he did, she'd balk. In the end, he reached for a file and tried to pacify himself with the incessant reminder that it wasn't going to be forever.

 

“What's that?” Belle asked, sitting up a little straighter and lifting her chin as though she were trying to look at the file, too.

 

He smiled despite his bleak thoughts. “Ah, it's Baby-Belle's results so far.”

 

“Oh? How's that going?”

 

He spared her a cursory glance before returning his attention back to the file in front of him. “Everything looks good,” he said at length, his brow furrowing as he flipped through the extensive pages of images and written notes. “I'd say she's about ready to test it out.”

 

“Who is she going to test it out on?” Bellaniece asked as she nodded thoughtfully.

 

“I don't know. I mean, she hasn't mentioned anyone in particular. It's pretty sensitive stuff, so I'd imagine she's being careful about the entire thing. Besides, this really is her project. She's doing a damn fine job with it, too.”

 

Bellaniece nodded slowly then shrugged. “She's as brilliant as her father,” she concluded.

 

“Keh!” Kichiro snorted but smiled. “Smarter, I hope,” he said with a rueful wince.

 

Bellaniece laughed.

 

 

~xXxXxXxXxXx~

 

 

Isabelle frowned at the syringe in her fingers as she carefully pulled on the plunger, drawing up the clear fluid with a steady hand. From the data she'd gathered, she knew roughly how much of a dosage to use based on body weight, and she bit her lip, pulling the needle out of the bottle and setting it aside before gently tapping the plastic barrel to force the trace amount of air to the top of the syringe.

 

`Is this really a good idea?' her youkai voice fretted.

 

`Good? Probably not, but it's the best one I have,' she remarked absently, pushing slowly on the plunger until the serum flowed without air bubbles.

 

`I don't like the sound of that . . .'

 

She rolled her eyes and set the syringe aside before ripping open a sterile pack and pulling out the long rubber tubing. Tying it with one hand around her left arm, she caught one end in her teeth and tugged to tighten it. Almost instantly, she could feel the tingle in her limb as the blood flow was temporarily constricted, and she ripped open a foil packet to retrieve an alcohol swab.

 

As though he understood what she was doing, Froofie lifted his chin from his paws and stared up at her, uttering a low growl as his tail thumped twice against the closed bathroom door. She ignored the reproach in the animal's gaze and rubbed at the delicate junction of her elbow.

 

`Researchers test things on themselves all the time,' she assured herself and her youkai as she ran her fingertips over her skin to seek out the blood vessel. `Besides, none of the research indicated that there's much risk in this at all, so it's safe enough, right?'

 

`But it won't work on you,' her youkai went on. `You've got your grandmother's blood in you, remember? What's the point of testing it on yourself when the truth is that it won't have any sort of effect on you in the long run?'

 

Pressing the needle into her arm with a fluid motion, Isabelle frowned as she slowly depressed the plunger, injecting the serum into her body. `I need to make sure that there aren't any adverse effects,' she stated. `There shouldn't be. I know there shouldn't be. I just have to be positive that there aren't.'

 

`But testing it on yourself? You just said that you were sure that there weren't any.'

 

`I said that there shouldn't be any,' she contradicted, setting the syringe aside and tugging off the rubber string. Taking her time as she carefully replaced the plastic cap over the needle, she set it aside and gathered up the discarded prep kit. `None of the samples indicated any side effects, but I can't in good conscience try it out on someone else until I've made sure.'

 

Her youkai blood heaved a sigh but remained silent otherwise.

 

Flexing her arm a few times, Isabelle spared a moment to check the spot where she'd given herself the injection. Not even a droplet of blood appeared, and she smiled grimly before stowing the bottle in the medicine cabinet and dropping the used syringe into a clear plastic bag. She'd dispose of it the next time she went into the lab . . .

 

The house was quiet when she stepped out of the bathroom, and she could tell that Griffin had already gone into the bedroom. Her smile widened as she hurried down the hallway. Her attaché case sat on the coffee table where she'd left it, and she stuck the used syringe into the case and snapped it closed before turning off the lamp beside the sofa.

 

Griffin spared her a quick glance when she stepped into the bedroom then returned his attention to the book in his hands.

 

“Miss me?” she teased, crawling onto the bed and pulling the plain white sheet up as she snuggled against Griffin's side.

 

He grunted without sparing her as much as a glance, careful to keep his gaze trained on the book instead. “How am I supposed to do that when you never go away?” he demanded.

 

“You remind me of the bear with the thorn in his paw,” she said, wiggling closer to kiss his cheek.

 

He snorted and shook his head, wrinkling his nose as he shrugged his shoulder in a token effort to put her off. “That's a lion, Jezebel, and I do not.”

 

“You absolutely do,” she argued mildly, contenting herself with snuggling against his shoulder and tucking her head under his chin as well as she could, considering he was still holding tightly to his book. She sighed softly, peering over his forearm at the book in question. “Didn't you forbid reading material in bed?” she demanded, arching an eyebrow as she leaned up to cast him a droll look.

 

“Only for you,” he clarified, “since you have no idea when to put anything down.”

 

“Hmm,” she drawled but couldn't help smiling. “So what are you reading?”

 

“Nothing you'd understand.”

 

“Oh, and why's that?”

 

He grunted. “No pictures.”

 

It took everything within her to keep from laughing outright, and she couldn't keep her lips from twitching in absolute amusement. “Of course,” she quipped with a shake of her head. Leaning up on her elbows, she couldn't resist temptation as she nipped at his chin. “How about you put that boring ol' book up then and pay attention to me?”

 

He shot her a very dry, very red-faced glower that would have been much more effective if he didn't look entirely discomfited by her attention. “Fat chance, woman. I'll have you know that I'm immune to your wily ways.”

 

His words made her laugh, and she snuggled against him once more, neatly tucking her head under his chin and taking a few moments to breathe in the clean, fresh scent of his skin. Running her fingertips in light, fluttering circles on the fabric of the heather gray thermal shirt he wore in lieu of pajamas, she sighed softly. “Wily, am I?” She giggled then stifled a yawn with the back of her hand. “I like that.”

 

“You would,” Griffin mumbled.

 

`You do, too,' his youkai blood piped up, `and you like how warm and soft she is.'

 

`About as much as I like the idea of burning in everlasting hellfire,' he contended, lifting his left arm and using his bicep to push his reading glasses up his nose.

 

`Well . . . we could put the book down . . .'

 

He didn't bother to respond to that. No, the book was the only thing keeping her at bay, or so it would seem. Apparently not satisfied with tracing circles on his chest, she had moved onto rubbing instead.

 

`She's a she-devil. That's all there is to it,' he grumbled, unable to staunch the flow of blood that shot straight to his face as he grimaced. `Doesn't she know what that sort of thing does to a person?'

 

His youkai snorted indelicately. `You think she doesn't?'

 

`. . . Whose side are you on?'

 

`Whose do you think?'

 

And that didn't deserve an answer, either, as far as Griffin was concerned. “I-Isabelle,” he growled, shrugging the shoulder she was resting on in a vain effort to shake her off.

 

She budged long enough to lean up and kiss his cheek. “C'mon, big guy,” she said, her voice husky and caressing, barely above a whisper. “I can entertain you better than that picture-less book can . . .”

 

“Highly doubtful,” he muttered. Her hands were dragging ever-lower, rubbing at his abdomen, and he grimaced as his stomach gave an entirely too-pleasant lurch.

 

She laughed softly. “Are you sure?”

 

“Positive.”

 

She heaved a melodramatic sigh. “Fine, fine, but don't say that I didn't try . . .”

 

He snorted indelicately, gritting his teeth and ignoring the inebriating burn that ignited everywhere her hands brushed over. Even if he'd been inclined to sleep without his shirt on, he never would have. No, having her touching bare skin was just a little more than he could think about . . .

 

He sighed and scowled down at the top of her head. Having spent the bulk of the day running around with her as she herded him from one store to another in search of new clothes before she suggested rather offhandedly that they stop by the lab—a venture which had taken much longer than a normal `stop' ought to, in his estimation—he was entirely exhausted. He simply wasn't used to her ebullience, her energy, and to be honest, he wasn't entirely certain that he ever could be, either.

 

And that was a problem. Even if he could wrap his mind around the idea that she seemed to be convinced that she really was his mate, there really wasn't any way possible that he would ever be able to keep up with her. It was exasperating, really, and more than a little demoralizing, as well. That aside, he still couldn't quite understand why a woman like her was wasting time with a guy like him. He wasn't good at making jokes, didn't know the first thing about dating or anything that seemed even remotely close to it. `Let's not gild the lily here,' he thought with an inward snort as his cheeks pinked just a little, `when it comes to her, I don't get any of it . . . not a damn thing . . .'

 

`Be that as it may,' his youkai chided, `you don't have to be brilliant to understand one simple thing.'

 

`Oh? And what would that be?'

 

`She wants you, stupid . . . or is your nose broken?'

 

He tensed immediately and intensely, unable to help the knee-jerk reaction—or the almost painful inundation of his sense of smell that hit him hard. No, he hadn't actually noticed it before, but now, thanks to his meddlesome youkai voice, he most certainly did . . . `That—that—no, she doesn't!'

 

His first instinct was to run like hell. He'd known all along that the woman was trouble, after all. The trouble was that he remembered only too well just what her body felt like, the softness of her skin, the absolute perfection that he'd understood even though he hadn't wanted to acknowledge it. the beat of her heart—steady, if not slightly elevated—called to him, and despite the fleeting thought that he ought to push her away before it was too late, the truth of it was that he just didn't want to do any such thing . . .

 

His hand was shaking as he snapped the book closed and carefully leaned to the side to deposit it on the night stand, and he grimaced when she snuggled closer while he settled back against the headboard once more. “You're kind of a pain,” he muttered, letting out a long-suffering sigh designed to let her know that he felt sorely put upon for the unceremonious intrusion.

 

She didn't answer.

 

His frown deepened as he shrugged the shoulder that she was using as a pillow. “Jezebel?”

 

She still didn't answer, and Griffin craned his neck in a vain effort to see her face. “Are you listening, girly?”

 

It took a moment for his brain to register exactly what was going on, and when he did, his eyes flared wide then narrowed as he gave his shoulder a slightly rougher shake. “You can't possibly be asleep,” he growled in mild disbelief.

 

As if in answer to his suspicions, the unfathomable woman sighed heavily moments before she broke into a very loud, very pronounced snore.

 

He couldn't quite credit the ruckus she was making, either. After all, she'd never snored before, had she? Why on earth would she start doing that now?

 

`To drive me insane,' he thought almost automatically.

 

`Don't be nasty.'

 

Griffin rolled his eyes, still not ready to accept the idea that she really was sound asleep. Shaking his shoulder again, he could only frown as she lilted back and forth but didn't stir. Shifting from side to side and making sure that he jostled her aplenty, he could only snort when that didn't rouse her, either. `Wh—she—I—I can't believe her!' he sputtered indignantly, unable to do much more than scowl at the snoring female.

 

`She sounds like she's asleep to me,' his youkai remarked baldly.

 

`B-but it was her idea!'

 

`That's what you get for dragging your feet.'

 

Griffin snorted loudly then jerked back when an extra loud snore rumbled out of the sleeping woman. Snorting again, he pushed her over to her side of the bed and rolled over onto his side, deciding that she could damn well sleep over there if she was going to make such a hideous racket all night.

 

“Wh—what?” she mumbled, having woke up when he'd pushed her aside. “Griff'n?”

 

He snorted yet again but refused to answer.

 

“Mm,” she half-moaned, half-yawned as she scooted over and hugged his back.

 

Griffin shrugged again despite the instant blush that stained his cheeks. “This is not your side of the bed,” he grumped.

 

She gave one small laugh. “Night,” she murmured, already drifting off once more even as she slipped her arm around his waist.

 

He opened his mouth to answer but gasped instead when her damned hand brushed over his crotch, and to make matters worse, that hideous snoring started up all over again, too.

 

It was more than he could stand. `Why try to get my attention when she's only going to fall asleep?' he fumed, picking up her hand as though she were afflicted with leprosy before flinging it to the side. No doubt about it, she was a succubus; she had to be—a siren that lured unsuspecting men to their deaths, and she wanted to add Griffin to her morbid tally, damn it.

 

“Not on your life,” he muttered, tossing the coverlet aside and rolling out of the bed as Isabelle tried to snuggle closer again.

 

He'd have to be a martyr to stay in that bed. He'd have to be a saint.

 

Snorting indelicately, he stomped out of the room and down the hallway, mumbling under his breath about she-devils and daughters of darkness.

 

Too bad Griffin wasn't a martyr or a saint . . .

 

 

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A/N:

It's up! You can read the prologue for Purity 8: Vendetta here: http://www.mediaminer.org/fanfic/view_st.php/147263/

 

Kichiro's statement to Samantha, “Et tu?” for those who don't know, is a phrase borrowed from Julius Caesar. Depicted as his final words and used today to signify grave betrayal, Julius Caesar was supposed to have said these words to his best friend, Brutus just before he allegedly surrendered himself to his fate during a coup d'état. In layman's terms, it means, “You, too?” or “Even you?”

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Reviewers

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MMorg

demon13 ------ Jester08 ------ OROsan0677 ------ Simonkal of Inuy ------ malitiadixie ------ Dark Inu Fan ------ Sesshomaru4Kagura4ever ------ iloveanimecartoons ------ saraiya ------ Sunekai ------ cjflutterbye (he's a mutt …) ------ sunshine161820

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Final Thought fromGriffin:

She's not going to get me …

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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~