InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 7: Avouchment ❯ Uninvited Guests ( Chapter 70 )

~~Chapter 70~~

~Uninvited Guests~

 

~xXxXxXxXxXx~

 

 

`They're dogs, right . . .? So if I were to toss a bone out the front door, you think they'd chase it . . .?'

 

Griffin's youkai voice snorted at that idea. `You'd do that to the tai-youkai?'

 

He considered that then grunted inwardly. `Yeah, I think I would . . .'

 

He wasn't entirely sure how it had happened, in the first place. When he'd gotten up this morning, he certainly hadn't planned on spending the majority of his day entertaining the masses, as it were. Somehow, though, he'd honestly thought that maybe—just maybe—he'd be able to spend a quiet Saturday with his mate in the tranquil sanctity of his home.

 

Nope.

 

He should have realized when the knock on the door around ten had announced the arrival of Mamoruzen Inutaisho that his bliss was to be short-lived. He had come to get the next injection, and the only good thing, as far as Griffin could tell, was that the hanyou was still, in fact, hanyou, even if said hanyou didn't look particularly well.

 

Isabelle had just finished badgering Griffin into agreeing not to hide down in the basement when the next wave hit. He still wasn't sure why, exactly, he'd bothered to answer the door . . . Sebastian Zelig had greeted Griffin warmly enough, moments before he'd caught sight of his rather ill-looking cousin and the teasing had commenced . . .

 

“Good God, Gunsie, you look like shi-i-it.”

 

“Go to hell, Bas-tard. I can still kick your sorry ass.”

 

“Oh, yeah? You couldn't even kick that panther's ass, you know. Pathetic, if you ask me . . .”

 

“Good thing I didn't then, isn't it?”

 

And then Cain Zelig, along with his son-in-law, Gavin, had arrived.

 

As far as Griffin was concerned, it had gone downhill from there. Cain had rather indelicately suggested that Isabelle leave for awhile since they were going to discuss what he had bluntly called, “men stuff”. That bothered him more than he'd like to consider, really. After all, if anyone were to try to get rid of Isabelle, it should be him, right?

 

His youkai grunted again. `Right.'

 

“I thought you should know, Griffin, that, according to the intelligence we've gathered thus far, it seems that Alastair Gregory was acting on his own,” Cain said, drawing Griffin out of his reverie.

 

“And you're sure?”

 

Cain sighed. “Reasonably . . . We'll know positively when Ben gets back with the information he gathered in Europe.”

 

“When'll that be?” Gavin piped up. Thus far, the young man hadn't said much, but then, he didn't seem to be quite as vocal as the rest of the men, in Griffin's estimation.

 

“Soon,” Bas replied, rubbing his forehead in a weary sort of way. “He called and said that his flight was delayed but that he was looking into changing it.”

 

Griffin grunted and stood stiffly to head for the kitchen to refresh his cup of tea.

 

Alastair was working alone . . .? Frowning as he carefully measured grounds into his mug, he considered that. He supposed it was possible. There wasn't mention of anyone else in the journals. Still, he'd feel better when he had definitive proof that Gregory was acting alone. In the last month, he'd been hard pressed not to worry, and Isabelle hadn't made fun of his concern, which was proof enough in his mind that the incident had frightened her, too.

 

To be completely honest, Griffin hadn't liked the idea of letting her out of his sight. He'd even gone as far as driving her to work before he went to the university and then picking her up when she got off. Nothing had happened, though, and while he was glad of it, he wasn't about to let his guard down, either. Memories of Alastair with his arms around her were more than enough to send his temper soaring, and even if he wanted to relax his guard, he couldn't; not as long as there was still a chance that someone might still be out there, lying in wait for Griffin to do just that.

 

In short, he felt like he was sitting atop a time bomb that was primed and ready to explode.

 

“Hey, Griffin, do you mind if I get a glass of water?”

 

Blinking away the remnants of his thoughts, Griffin glanced over his shoulder in time to catch Bas Zelig's friendly, if not somewhat bashful, grin. “Uh, sure,” he replied. “I-Isabelle bought soda, I think . . . in there,” he went on, nodding at the refrigerator.

 

Bas nodded but filled a glass with water from the tap, instead. “Guess I haven't gotten to properly welcome you to the family,” the next tai-youkai remarked pleasantly. “I meant to stop by a couple weeks ago, but it's been pretty nuts—trying to get information on Alastair Gregory is probably harder than gaining access to Fort Knox . . .” He paused to chuckle then waved a hand as he set the empty glass in the sink. “Then when I mentioned stopping by last week when I was in the neighborhood, Sydnie said it was probably too late to stop by, given that the two of you haven't been mated long . . .”

 

It took a minute for the imprecations of Bas' words to sink in, and luckily for Griffin, the young man was already out of the kitchen when they did. Face heating to what had to be a horrid shade of scarlet, he grunted something completely nonsensical and tried to concentrate on being glad that no one else was in there to witness his acute embarrassment, never mind that there was a good chance that what young Zelig was implying was probably not too far off track.

 

He sighed. He had to be a martyr; there was no other way to look at it. Why else would his youkai have chosen the one woman who, apparently, had been born bad? There was no reasonable explanation. He'd met her family, after all, and they had seemed normal enough to him. No, the plain and simple truth was that she was possessed by the devil—or maybe she'd been dropped on her head when she was a baby, thus dislodging any semblance of common sense that she ought to have had otherwise . . .

 

Shaking his head as he grabbed his mug and headed back toward the living room once more, Griffin studiously avoided the looks he received as he set the mug on the table beside his recliner and started to sit down again.

 

“You're not going to puke, are you, Gunsie?” Bas asked, narrowing his gaze as he stared at his cousin.

 

Gunnar cleared his throat and popped one eye open to glower back at Bas. “Have I told you lately that you can go straight to hell?”

 

Bas grinned. “Probably.”

 

Gunnar grunted and let his eye close once more. “Then what are you waiting for?”

 

“You, of course.”

 

Cain sighed and shook his head but stood up when the knock sounded on the door. “I'll get it,” he offered, staying Griffin with a hand on his shoulder.

 

Stifling the urge to roll his eyes, Griffin ignored the intense perusal he was garnering from Gavin Jamison, concentrating instead on stirring his tea before cautiously sipping the fragrant concoction. With the way his luck was going, he figured that it was yet another member of the Zelig's entourage, anyway.

 

So it wasn't entirely surprising when Cain strode back into the living room once more, this time with Ben Philips in tow.

 

Damn it, they were supposed to be leaving, not multiplying . . .

 

“Ben, how was your flight?” Bas asked as he got to his feet to shake the youkai's hand.

 

“In a word? Long.” Ben nodded and smiled, accepting the gesture and repeating the process with Gavin before extending his hand to Griffin, too. “Gavin . . .” Ben said with a weary little shake of his head. “Dr. Marin. Good to see you, and I hear congratulations are in order.”

 

“Uh, ah . . . th-thanks,” Griffin muttered, unable to staunch the flow of color that flooded his cheeks at the blatant reminder.

 

Fortunately, however, Ben didn't seem interested in prolonging Griffin's agony. “I apologize for skipping the small talk,” he went on, turning his attention to the gathering at large, “but I'm a bit tired, so I'll get right to the point. I talked with the MacDonnough, and he assures me that Alastair Gregory bore no affiliation with anyone, as far as he knew—at least, no one of importance. More to the point, he didn't seem to know who I was talking about, either, as far as that goes.”

 

“And that doesn't mean a damn thing,” Gunnar growled without opening his eyes. “MacDonnough isn't known for being forthcoming with information, now is he?”

 

“But that doesn't mean he's lying, either,” Cain pointed out reasonably. Griffin narrowed his eyes. He didn't miss the flash of near-hostility that flared behind the tai-youkai's gaze before he managed to hide it behind a contemplative sort of expression.

 

Ben nodded, digging his hands into his pockets with an offhanded shrug. “He gave permission for me to search Gregory's home.”

 

Rubbing his temple as he considered the youkai general's words, Bas leaned forward, resting he elbows on his knees. “That doesn't mean much, either. Someone else could have easily gone in before you got there, you know.”

 

Again, Ben shrugged. “I thought of that,” he admitted at length. “I doubt it, though. No one else knew that he was killed, did they? I think it's safe to assume, though, that he's also the one responsible for Dr. Avis' death, too.”

 

“Avis was working for him,” Cain replied.

 

“Bastard,” Gavin growled quietly.

 

“Anyway, I've dealt with the MacDonnough often enough to know that he was telling me the truth,” Ben continued. “I found an audio journal. I haven't had time to listen to it yet, though.”

 

No one answered right away. To be honest, Griffin wasn't sure what to think. It seemed a little simple, didn't it? Believing that Gregory was acting alone seemed like the logical thing, given the circumstances, but if he'd learned nothing else in the years of his life, he knew very well that things were rarely as simple as they seemed. Then again, maybe he was just too suspicious of everything and everyone. Still, when it came to the question of Isabelle's safety, was there really such a thing as `too cautious'?

 

“I'll continue to monitor the situation,” Ben went on with a reassuring, if not a bit wan, smile. “If I hear tell of anything—and I do mean anything—I'll let you know right away, Dr. Marin.”

 

“G-Griffin's fine,” he muttered, nodding curtly to indicate his thanks.

 

Ben chuckled. “Just don't let her too far out of your sight,” he suggested as his grin widened. “I suppose that you won't be likely to do that, all things considered.”

 

Griffin grunted in response but didn't deny the panther-youkai's assessment. He was about to answer when the odd intonation of his cell phone broke through the quiet. It was too much to hope that the others wouldn't recognize the God-forsaken song that Isabelle had programmed in to play whenever he received a call. Shooting to his feet, he stomped over to swipe the device off his desk, but not before everyone in the room heard and identified the song in question.

 

“Why does that song sound familiar?” Ben asked with a shake of his head.

 

To his credit, Cain was trying to not smile even if he did look like he was going to choke. “It's the theme from Winnie the Pooh,” he managed to say without laughing outright.

 

Griffin heaved a sigh as he fumbled with the cell phone. “W-what?” he growled, stubbornly refusing to face the assembly as he smashed the phone against his ear and trying in vain to ignore the blatant throat clearing and the telling sounds of the men shuffling in their seats.

 

Isabelle's gentle laughter seemed to reach straight through the connection to soothe the frayed edges of his nerves. “Don't suppose it's safe to come home now,” she drawled in lieu of a proper greeting. In the background, he could discern the static sound of people, of traffic, of other activity that all blended together into a wash of white noise, and he figured she was at the mall or something, probably running up the balance on the brand new Visa card she'd procured last week.

 

Griffin made a face and scrunched his shoulders. “I don't think they're done yet,” he muttered as his irritation peaked, “but you live here, don't you? Suppose that'd mean you can come home if you want.”

 

Her laughter escalated, probably due to the belligerence he couldn't quite keep out of his tone. “Do you miss me?” she teased.

 

He snorted loudly. “About as much as I'd miss having the Plague. Anyway, you're changing this damn ringtone when you get home.”

 

“You don't like it?” she drawled.

 

As far as that was concerned, he didn't figure that she deserved an answer. He grunted but didn't really reply, and she laughed once more. “I got something for you,” she said at length and almost reluctantly.

 

“I doubt I want it,” he warned since he was well aware of her penchant for buying him entirely inappropriate `gifts'.

 

“Sure, you do,” she replied airily. “If you guys are done with your male bonding, I'll be home shortly.”

 

“I'd hardly call it male bonding,” he corrected darkly, painfully aware that all eyes in the room were staring at him and listening intently, too. Clearing his throat, he held the phone a little tighter and unconsciously hunched forward as though to protect the phone from everyone else. “Isabelle . . .?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Be careful.”

 

He could hear her smile coming through in her voice. “I will,” she assured him. “I'll be home soon.”

 

 

~xXxXxXxXxXx~

 

 

“Patience, Maria.”

 

Maria Masta tapped her foot and shot her mate a suspicious glance. “Why is it taking him so long to answer the door?” she asked, ignoring Attean's knowing expression.

 

Attean chuckled, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he leaned casually against the wall beside the door. “You just knocked,” he pointed out, “and I did suggest that we call before we stopped by.”

 

“Don't be absurd,” she countered huffily, her cheeks pinking as she raised her fist to knock again. “We're practically family, you know, and my Osezno has never been one to stand upon formality.”

 

“Point well taken,” he agreed, wisely hiding his amusement behind a well-placed cough. “Perhaps he is preoccupied with his would-be mate.”

 

Maria wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “The more I think about it, the more I have to wonder if he isn't just settling for this Isabelle . . . What do we know about her, anyway? Just because she sounds pleasant over the telephone does not mean that she really is worthy of a fine man like him, and you can't discount what he's said about her, either.”

 

“Oh, and what, exactly, has he said?”

 

Rolling her eyes, Maria looked completely put out by Attean's seemingly innocent question. “He's said that she's fat, if you'll recall . . .”

 

Attean blinked slowly as he carefully regarded his mate. Maria felt her cheeks warming but stubbornly refused to back down. “Maria Masta, you aren't suggesting that you will dislike someone based upon her physical appearance, are you?”

 

“Of course not,” she contended hotly, “still, you cannot argue that taking a mate is serious business, and you know as well as I do that Osezno has never held much stock in his own looks—”

 

“Which is a fine thing, considering,” Attean pointed out calmly. “And I shouldn't wonder that it makes him a better person for it.”

 

Waving her hands dismissively, Maria obviously wasn't finished with her assessment yet. “He's always had self-esteem issues . . . and I don't want him to settle for what he can get when he should be looking instead for one who deserves a man as fine as he is.”

 

“Need I remind you, Maria, my dear, that you are assuming that this Isabelle is some sort of abomination?”

 

“I'm not assuming, it Attean,” she replied almost coldly, her eyes narrowing at his perceived insistence of siding with the enemy. “Osezno has said as much, himself.”

 

Snapping his mouth closed on his response, Attean slowly shook his head and smiled. “So the real reason for this impromptu vacation is that you wish to spy on Griffin, is it not?”

 

Maria wrinkled her nose and uttered an indelicate snort designed to let him know what she thought of Attean's summation. “You make it sound so much worse than what it is,” she pouted.

 

Attean chuckled and pushed himself away from the wall to slip his arms around his mate. “Let's go back to the hotel and call,” he suggested, quirking his eyebrows at her. “It doesn't look like he's here at the moment, anyway . . .”

 

“A . . . Attean? M-Maria . . .”

 

The couple turned in time to see Griffin rounding the corner of the house. His face was flushed, and he carried a sturdy cane, and Maria wondered if he hadn't just returned from a walk in the forest behind the house.

 

She didn't say anything as she quickly looked him over. She had to admit that he looked good—damn good. Considering the number of years since she'd last seen him, it was a welcome relief. Hair stirring in the late afternoon breeze, he looked wary though not unfriendly as he regarded them in the same slow way that she'd come to understand was simply a part of who he was. “Osezno!” she murmured, moving slowly toward the steps as her gait increased.

 

“Uh, Maria . . .”

 

It didn't take long for her to dart across the yard and throw her arms around the bear-youkai's neck, unable to control her exuberance as she laughed softly and kissed both of his cheeks in turn. “It's been a long time—too long if you ask me,” she pointed out with a mulish little snort as she stepped back to look him up and down once more. “You shouldn't—”

 

“Maria,” Attean interrupted with a tell-tale shake of his head. Maria stared at him for several moments before she read and interpreted what her mate was trying to tell her without saying a word.

 

“O-oh, my . . .” she murmured faintly. “I . . . oh . . .”

 

Attean chuckled as he strolled across the yard, reaching around Maria to offer his hand. “So I see that you made your decision.”

 

Griffin blushed as he took Attean's hand and shook it, muttering under his breath as his embarrassment spiked. “It was . . . her idea . . . pushy, you know . . .”

 

“Maria is quite looking forward to meeting your Isabelle,” Attean went on, politely choosing to ignore Griffin's obvious discomfort.

 

“Uh, she's, um . . . a-at the store.”

 

“Wasn't this a bit sudden?” Maria blurted, drawing the full attention of both men.

 

“Sudden?” Attean echoed, his amusement quite evident in the wicked sparkle that danced in his eyes. Maria ignored it.

 

“W-I . . . I . . . uh, don't know about, uh, sudden,” Griffin remarked, rubbing the back of his neck in a decidedly nervous sort of way.

 

“I think what Maria means to say is that we're quite happy for you—the both of you,” Attean added as he slipped an arm around his mate's waist.

 

Maria shot him a dark look and opened her mouth to argue but blinked as a bright yellow coupe turned into the driveway and pulled to a stop.

 

Griffin stifled a sigh—Maria didn't miss it.

 

She wasn't entirely sure what she really had expected. She supposed that, given Griffin's less-than-complimentary description, she was prepared for the worst. What she wasn't ready for was the drop-dead gorgeous woman who got out of the car. Waist length bronze hair caught back by a tortoiseshell barrette though strands of it had escaped to hang around her delicate face shone in the bright afternoon sunshine, and her skin seemed to glow with an unnatural incandescence. Still, it paled in comparison to the absolute luminance of the golden eyes that flicked over her and Attean in a frank and candid way. Tall enough to reach Griffin's shoulder, she wasn't a tiny woman, by any means, and the light blue baby-doll dress she wore clung to her figure without seeming overdone. What was it Griffin had called her? Fat ass? Maria shook her head, unable to reconcile the woman she saw with the woman that Griffin had described.

 

Isabelle, however, seemed taken aback by the unexpected visitors, but she glanced at Griffin and must have decided that they were all right since she smiled brightly as she used her hip to bump the door closed. “Hello,” she greeted.

 

“But you're not fat!” Maria blurted before she could stop herself.

 

Attean choked out a bark of laughter. Griffin's face reddened even more. Maria realized a moment too late that she'd actually said that out loud and blushed painfully.

 

The woman tossed her bronze mane of hair back as gales of laughter spilled from her rosy lips. She seemed genuinely amused. “Of course I am!” Isabelle replied between giggles.

 

Griffin grunted, digging his hands into his pockets though he looked entirely disgruntled, and Maria had to wonder why. “You called about three hours ago and said you were coming home,” he pointed out quietly.

 

Isabelle leaned up to kiss him on the cheek, which only served to deepen his already pronounced blush. “I'm sorry,” she said as she rubbed the hint of mauve lipstick from his cheek. “I ran into Jillian and Gin, and they asked me to have tea with them . . . I tried to call, but you didn't answer the phone.”

 

“I went for a walk,” he explained, ducking away from her fingers. The acute irritation on his features dissipated a little, and he looked more relieved and almost a little contrite. “Didn't think your family was ever going to leave.”

 

She laughed again before returning her attention to Maria once more. “You must be Maria,” she guessed, extending her hand in greeting.

 

Maria shook it and snapped her mouth closed since she still hadn't quite reconciled herself to the vision of the woman—Griffin's mate—and shook her hand.

 

“And you must be Attean,” she remarked, shifting her hand to the side.

 

Attean caught her fingers and brought the back of her hand to his lips. “Your pictures were lovely, but they certainly did not do you justice,” he remarked.

 

Isabelle's smile widened. “Oh? Did Griffin send you pictures?”

 

Griffin snorted loudly, and Isabelle laughed again. “I'm not nearly that mean,” he muttered.

 

Attean winked. “No, but I did some digging, of course. The internet is an amazing tool.”

 

“Would you like to come in? I can make some tea,” she offered.

 

Attean nodded, slipping an arm around Maria's waist and carting her about to head toward the porch behind Griffin and Isabelle.

 

It was humiliating, wasn't it? She couldn't believe that she'd actually said all that out loud. She hadn't meant to. Why on earth had Griffin said that Isabelle was fat if she wasn't? It didn't make sense, did it, and Attean . . . Stopping short, Maria's eyes flared as she recalled exactly what he'd just said, and she caught his arm to stay him as he started to follow the couple into the house. “Attean . . .” she began slowly.

 

He spared her a quick glance—an almost nervous glance. “Yes, my love?”

 

Maria narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest and lowering her voice so that she wouldn't be overheard. “Pictures . . .?”

 

He coughed delicately and offered her an apologetic sort of smile that she saw right through. “Yes, I saw pictures.”

 

“And you didn't think to share them with me?”

 

He chuckled at the accusing tone in her voice. “You didn't ask to see them, and you were having so much fun assuming that Isabelle was—how did you put it? Ah, yes, fat . . . Well, I didn't think you wanted to know that she really wasn't heavy at all . . .”

 

“You're a horrible man, Attean Masta,” she pouted.

 

His chuckle escalated, and he kissed her temple. “And you love me,” he pointed out.

 

She snorted but didn't answer as he took her hand and tugged her toward the front door.

 

 

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Final Thought from Maria:

But she isn't … fat …

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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~