InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 7: Avouchment ❯ Avouchment ( Chapter 76 )

~~Chapter 76~~

~Avouchment~

 

~xXxXxXxXxXx~

 

 

Griffin let out a deep breath and cast a surreptitious glance at the gathering as he ducked around the corner of the immense Zelig mansion in the hopes to catch just a moment alone to gather his thoughts and compose himself.

 

No doubt about it, he sure as hell wasn't used to this much attention, and it was wearing on him much worse than he cared to admit. Attean had teasingly suggested that Griffin and Isabelle run off an elope during Griffin's disaster of a bachelor's party the night before as the bear had nursed the one and only bottle of beer he'd had all night. It had tasted disgusting, and in another inspired moment, Attean had muttered to him that he should hang onto the bottle even though he didn't like it so that he could hold it up whenever someone offered to buy him a drink. The ruse had actually worked, though, and for that, at least, Griffin had been grateful.

 

At least the men hadn't tried to drag him off to some seedier establishment, though he had little doubt that they had all wanted to try. Isabelle's odd-duck cousin, Evan had suggested a strip club—not that Griffin would have gone within a hundred paces of one of those, and her cousin, Morio had suggested mini-golf—also not something that he had a yen to try. By the time the bar was suggested, Griffin had figured it was the lesser of the evils presented, and while he'd tried to get out of it, citing that he'd much rather stay home and read a book or something, he'd ended up being carted off.

 

Of course, that was after Isabelle's mother had stated that the bride would be spending the night at the Zelig mansion in Bevelle, where the wedding was going to take place. He'd been about as keen on that as he had been with the idea of going to a strip club, but those damned women had insisted that it was tradition, and Isabelle, the traitor, had laughed and agreed.

 

At present, though, she was being handed around to every man in attendance—the current unfortunate soul being her uncle, Toga, the current Japanese tai-youkai.

 

Satisfied that no one had seen him slip away, Griffin let out a deep breath and looked around, only to stop short when he noticed the small form huddled under a stout white ash tree. In the blur that the day had become, Griffin hadn't noticed the girl's absence from the festivities, and with a frown, he shuffled forward, purposefully stepping on a twig or kicking a few stones to let her know that he was approaching.

 

“Why aren't you back there with the rest of your family?” he asked, scowling as his knees popped when he hunkered down in front of her.

 

Samantha shrugged, locking her hands tighter around her knees and refusing to look at him. “Don't know,” she whispered.

 

“If you stay gone too long, they'll look for you,” he pointed out, and while he wasn't at all certain that what he said was true or not, he was reasonably sure that they'd miss her eventually. “So why are you over here, anyway?”

 

“Just thinking.”

 

“What about?”

 

Again she shrugged. “About whether or not youkai can get a divorce.”

 

His eyebrows shot up at her strange statement. “Well, I suppose they could,” he allowed. “Why?”

 

“I told you before,” she replied, her voice almost accusing. “There's not going to be any decent men left when I try to find someone.”

 

Griffin chuckled, more because of the absolute irritation evident on the girl's face than because of her statement. “I think you're over exaggerating.”

 

She snorted, grabbing a handful of grass and jerking it out of the ground with a vicious yank.

 

“Anyway, you, uh . . . you look . . . pretty . . . today.” Narrowing his gaze as he sat back on his heels, Griffin cleared his throat. “Why is your dress black?”

 

She shot him a quick look, and he was surprised to see a tint of pink rise in her pale cheeks. “I . . . was protesting,” she admitted.

 

“Protesting?”

 

She scrunched up her shoulders and made a face, her little nose wrinkling as she slowly shook her head. “You were supposed to wait for me,” she muttered.

 

It was Griffin's turn to blush, and he did it with flair.

 

Samantha didn't notice, scowling at the ground as she was. “Why did you have to marry her?”

 

“W—I—” Pushing himself to his feet, he shuffled his feet. “N-no one else wanted her,” he finally blurted.

 

“That's not really a reason to marry someone,” she pointed out.

 

Griffin made a face and shrugged. “I . . . I wanted to,” he mumbled.

 

Samantha stared at him for a long moment then heaved a sigh and stood up, carefully brushing her skirt off. “Would you . . . dance with me, Griffin?” she asked at length.

 

Griffin opened his mouth to say no, but hesitated at the entirely too-hopeful expression on her face. “Uh . . . okay . . .”

 

The lingering traces of her upset faded in that instant, and she positively beamed at him as she grasped his hand and pulled him back the way he'd come . . .

 

 

~xXxXxXxXxXx~

 

 

Shippou stood on the patio, one hand on the railing, the other loosely holding a champagne flute as he stared thoughtfully at the milling crowd.

 

Rin and he had arrived late—their flight had encountered an unexpected delay when one of the engines had to undergo emergency repairs in London, and they'd pretty much only had time to check in at the hotel, change clothes, and jump into their rental car after they'd finally landed.

 

His wife had run off to greet some of their relatives that they hadn't seen for awhile, and Shippou had started to follow her—until the bear-youkai had stepped around the side of the mansion being dragged along by a smiling Samantha. Something about the man unsettled Shippou—something about his bearing, his demeanor. Certainly, he'd known that Isabelle's mate was a bear-youkai, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he knew the man somehow—or at least, that he should.

 

Dark, shaggy hair . . . eyes that he couldn't discern but could tell that they were dark in color, too . . . incredibly tall and broad . . . but if Shippou had seen him before, why couldn't he place him now?

 

“So you did make it.”

 

Shippou nodded absently without taking his attention off the man dancing with Samantha Izayoi. “Unexpected delay,” he murmured, casually sipping his champagne as the spring breeze tossed his rust-colored ponytail over his shoulder. “Why do I feel like I know that man?”

 

Sesshoumaru's gaze shifted to the man in question. “Because you do . . . at least, I believe that you did.”

 

“I did?” Shippou echoed with a shake of his head, finally dragging his gaze off the bear-youkai in favor of staring at his father-in-law, instead.

 

Sesshoumaru's eyes were narrowed slightly, contemplating the bear-youkai in question, Shippou supposed. Still, there was something about Sesshoumaru's expression—a certain knowledge that Shippou couldn't comprehend—almost a sadness that he couldn't understand. Sesshoumaru blinked and looked away, his eyes once more the unreadable visage that was far more familiar. “Though you knew him by a different name . . . in a different time and in another place.”

 

Shippou shook his head again, unable to grasp just what Sesshoumaru was trying to say. Spoken in half-riddles with only the barest sense of any real answers, it was the way he'd always been, maybe the way he always would be . . . “I don't . . .”

 

“What befell his family was the last of a stream of circumstances that brought about the end . . . or the beginning. Tortured . . . mutilated . . . an ignoble end in the vilest of places . . . They were not destroyed by guns; they were destroyed by hatred . . . If humans could do what they did to his kin . . . it would have just grown worse and worse. Do you understand?”

 

Shippou considered that and nodded slowly, and for the briefest of moments, he could hear the screams that had faded away so long ago, could smell the scent of death—the acrid reek of burning flesh. He knew it, and he could smell it, and with a soft gasp, his eyes widened as his brain denied what his heart already knew. “But . . . but he . . . he died . . .”

 

“So I thought. Obviously not.”

 

Shippou didn't say anything as Sesshoumaru descended the steps to the lawn below.

 

`But . . . his injuries . . .' How he'd managed to move back then was something that Shippou hadn't understood and, in truth, still couldn't. He'd been left half alive, his body moving because he had something that he wanted to do: to lay his baby sister to rest . . .

 

It couldn't be . . . could it?

 

Watching as the bear-youkai escorted Samantha to her father's side, Shippou frowned. Griffin backed away, almost seemed to blend into the crowd, and he wondered if that were a skill that Griffin had worked to perfect over the years. If he could just see him up closer, he'd be sure.

 

Almost without thinking, Shippou set the glass aside and moved down the steps, crossing the lawn with his eyes trained on the bear. Griffin had made it to the edge of the assembly, stopping long enough to glance around before slipping under the cover of the trees surrounding the yard.

 

A familiar scent wafted to him, carried on the breeze without any pomp or circumstance, and while it was slightly different than he remembered—taking a mate would do it, he supposed—he couldn't deny the truth of it, either.

 

Griffin turned around at the sound of a twig snapping under Shippou's shoe, and when he did, the kitsune stopped dead, recognizing the man's eyes, the expression on his face despite the disfiguring scars that traversed his cheek. “Kami . . . It is you,” he whispered. “K . . . Kioshi . . .”

 

Griffin blinked at the sound of that name—a name he hadn't heard in so very many years. Shaking his head as though he didn't understand, as though he didn't recognize Shippou at all, he didn't say anything as he stood his ground.

 

“I thought . . .” Trailing off with a shake of his head, Shippou suddenly laughed a little weakly. “I never thought I'd see you again.”

 

A fleeting glimpse of recognition flickered over Griffin's expression, but his gaze narrowed as he stared at Shippou. “Shippou . . .?”

 

He laughed again—a heartier sound, digging his hands into his pockets as he slowly nodded. “It's been awhile, huh?”

 

Griffin shook his head slightly, as though he still wasn't entirely certain that Shippou really was standing there. “Y-you've changed.”

 

“Yeah, so have you.” With a sudden chuckle, he stepped forward, drawing Griffin into a tight hug, full of emotion that Shippou hadn't the words to voice. Griffin seemed a little stunned, but slowly, he lifted his arms to return the gesture. The many nights that he'd sat wondering what had become of the bear-youkai seemed to fade. In the expanse of time that had separated them, he'd grown, and in the process, he'd learned a few things; things such as the value of a friend, and the sadness of losing one, too. “Everything's as it should be, then?” he asked as he stepped back.

 

Griffin nodded, blinking quickly as he cleared his throat and ducked his head. “I think so.”

 

Shippou chuckled, squeezing Griffin's shoulder. “Isabelle's a good girl.”

 

Griffin blinked again and snorted, casting Shippou a somewhat droll glance. “I don't know about `good',” he muttered, retrieving a fallen branch to lean on. “But I suppose she is a girl . . .”

 

Shippou smiled and shook his head, positive that life could still hold surprises, even after the passage of centuries.

 

 

~xXxXxXxXxXx~

 

 

“You know, maybe you should go over there and tell him.”

 

Charity Inutaisho blinked and shot her sister a questioning glance. “Tell who what?”

 

Chelsea Inutaisho snorted and rolled her eyes, flicking a limp hand in the direction of the Gathering of the Stoics, or so she'd unofficially named it. “Go tell Ben that you want to fuck him.”

 

Charity gasped and whirled around, slapping her hand over her twin sister's rather overzealous mouth. “Chelsea!” she hissed, her face blossoming in color.

 

Chelsea laughed and stuck out her tongue. Charity squeaked and jerked her hand away, glaring at her palm with abject distaste before glancing around to find something to wipe it on. “Eww! That's disgusting, you know!”

 

“Then don't put your hand over my mouth!”

 

Charity wrinkled her nose and shook her hand, as though the action would alleviate the lingering sensation of being licked. “That aside, I can't do that, and even if I could, who's to say that Ben would even be interested?”

 

Chelsea shrugged and dug a mother of pearl compact out of her purse, flipping it open as she checked her lipstick. Making a face at the slight smudges brought on by her sister's unceremonious hand-over-mouth technique, she pulled the lipstick out, too. “You think he wouldn't be? Unless he's gay—can youkai really be gay?”

 

“I don't know, but I don't think he is—and you smudged a bit right there.”

 

“Are you sure?” Chelsea countered, her eyes shifting to meet her sister's before returning to the mirror in her hand. “I mean, he has spent all day over there, talking to Grandfather and Cain . . . Maybe he's attracted to one of them . . . The obvious choice would be Cain since Ben lives to serve his ma-a-ahstah, but you have to admit, Grandfather's pretty damn . . . pretty . . .”

 

Charity shook her head, frowning slightly at her demented twin. “That is so wrong on so many different levels,” she muttered.

 

Chelsea ran the tip of her index finger along the outline of her top lip before snapping the compact closed and stowing the cosmetics in her purse once more. “You could always waltz on over there, grab his ass, and drag him off to dance.”

 

Chelsea wasn't surprised to see the pretty blush pink her sister's cheeks. “I do not grab asses!” she hissed.

 

Chelsea laughed. “I know, but you should.”

 

Charity's answer was a long-suffering sigh.

 

“Don't look now, but it seems that someone's heading over this way,” Chelsea half-sang.

 

Charity didn't have time to respond. With a quick wink, Chelsea turned on her heel and hurried away, and Charity could only watch as an eruption of flutters in her stomach precluded breathing while she watched Ben moving toward her.

 

She'd seen him in his ceremonial clothes before, of course, but there was just something about the black garb that she loved. It was fashioned in much the same design as Cain's—he'd told her once that, as Cain's top general, that he chose to wear clothes that denoted this. The long black sash that extended up over his chest and was held by a burnished silver clasp whipped around him in the breeze that had picked up slightly as the afternoon had progressed, carrying Ben's unmistakable scent right to her, and she couldn't help herself as she spared a moment to breathe in deep.

 

“Hello, Ms. Inutaisho. You look lovely, as always,” he said, bowing slightly in customary greeting.

 

Charity bowed, too, swallowing hard and telling herself that she needed to calm down before he heard her heart beating. “Thank you . . . Charity's fine, and it's nice to see you again, Ben.”

 

Ben smiled and nodded. “Ah, yes, you do tell me that often, don't you?” he apologized.

 

She laughed. “You look nice, too . . .”

 

He sighed and shrugged. “I'll admit: it feels a bit odd to wear this when it's been so long since I've done so.”

 

“Weddings seem to be the only place where youkai conform to the old ways,” she ventured.

 

Ben's smile seemed a little sad, but he nodded. “I would suppose so.”

 

“So, um, what do you think of Dr. Marin?” she asked, unable to come up with anything else to say.

 

Ben let out a deep breath, his gaze seeking out the youkai in question before he answered. “He's a good man,” he finally said. “A very good man.”

 

“I think so, too . . . I mean, anyone who voluntarily lets the guys drag him to a bar without really knowing them has to be a pretty good guy, I'd say.”

 

Ben's chuckle was warm, breathy. “Would you care to dance, Ms . . . Charity,” he amended.

 

“I-I-I'd love to,” she stammered, feeling the color rise in her cheeks once more despite her very best efforts to control it.

 

He'd just extended his arm, though, when Bellaniece Izayoi stepped up to the microphone, silencing the band as Isabelle tugged Griffin up the three steps onto the platform. “It seems that it's time for the bride to throw her bouquet, so if we could have all the single ladies, please . . .?”

 

Stifling a sigh—she'd really wanted to dance with Ben, after all—Charity forced a little smile and clasped her hands in front of herself, making no move to join the girls to vie for the bouquet.

 

“Shouldn't you be among them?” Ben leaned down to whisper.

 

“Oh, uh . . . I-I guess,” she murmured.

 

Ben smiled and inclined his head as Charity drew a deep breath and made herself move forward through the milling crowd . . .

 

 

~xXxXxXxXxXx~

 

 

“This seems a little . . .”

 

“Silly?” Isabelle supplied when Griffin trailed off.

 

Griffin grunted and wrinkled his nose. “I was going to say `stupid',” he countered.

 

She smiled and leaned up to kiss his stubbly cheek. He'd taken great pains in shaving this morning, she knew, but he was already showing the signs of a rather sexy five-o-clock shadow—something that highly amused her even if it was yet another source of chagrin for the poor man. “I was thinking,” she whispered as her mother encouraged the single women to come forward, “after you toss my garter belt, how `bout we get the hell out of here?”

 

He grunted again. “Garter belt?” he echoed, eyes darkening as a dubious expression surfaced.

 

“That's right, big guy,” she couldn't help but tease. “And you're the lucky man who gets to take it off of me, too.”

 

If her words hadn't gotten to him, the wink she gave him most certainly did. Face exploding in crimson color, he sucked in a sharp breath and stubbornly shook his head.

 

Isabelle didn't get a chance to savor the expression, though, because Bellaniece grasped her hand to pull her over. Some of the girls were waving, trying to get Isabelle to aim the bouquet at them. She wasn't surprised to see that Lexi was standing toward the back beside Samantha, looking like she was contemplating the great escape. Bellaniece laughed and turned Isabelle around by the shoulders before stuffing her bouquet into her hands. “Do me a favor,” she said, her voice barely audible above the din. “Aim for someone who isn't your sister, okay?”

 

“Mama! And here you've always said that you wanted your daughters to be happy!” Isabelle chided playfully.

 

Bellaniece laughed but made a face. “Happy, yes, but maybe not so close together, hmm?”

 

Isabelle kissed her mother's cheek and drew a deep breath before tossing the bouquet over her shoulder, high in the air. In the chaos of shrieks that followed as Isabelle turned around, it took a moment to see exactly who had the bouquet since it seemed like most of the girls had wanted to catch it, after all. Alexandra stood back just slightly, her hands empty, and while she tried to look a little forlorn, Isabelle knew damn well that that particular sister wasn't sorry that she hadn't caught it, in the least.

 

“Ah . . . oh, my,” Isabelle murmured as Samantha held the bouquet up. “Sorry, Mama,” she said, casting her mother a rather sheepish grin as Bellaniece heaved a sigh and let Kichiro draw her close against her chest, kissing her forehead in an entirely placating sort of way.

 

“All right,” Kichiro hollered. “Single guys, please.”

 

Griffin still looked completely dubious about the entire affair, and Isabelle had to press her lips together to keep from laughing.

 

“Can't you just take it off and hand it to me?” he growled in her ear.

 

“Now where's the fun in that?” she retorted.

 

He sighed, and she giggled as she propped her foot up on a low amplifier positioned nearby and slowly started to lift her skirt.

 

She'd gotten it lifted to about her knee amid a riot of cat calls that—she hoped, anyway—didn't come from anyone she was directly related to, but since it was all in good fun, she played along, deliberately making a show of it as she carefully inched the skirt up a little higher.

 

Griffin growled and grabbed her arm, tugging her around so that her back was facing everyone, and despite the acute embarrassment on his features, he shot her a quelling glower and shook his head. “They don't need to see that, do they?” he complained.

 

She laughed and kissed him quickly, pulling her skirt up so that only he could see her leg.

 

“I-I ought to turn you over my knee,” he grumbled, slowly reaching toward the garter belt that she'd had specially made just for the occasion. What he'd obviously seen was the cute little silver Winnie the Pooh charm dangling by a Winnie the Pooh ribbon from the tiny bit of silk and lace and elastic.

 

All the same, he pushed it down her leg, and she braced herself on his shoulders so that she could lift her foot, allowing him to tug it off. By the time he was finished removing it, much to their guests' collective amusement, he was completely red-faced and looked quite like he wanted to turn tail and run.

 

There was no pomp or ceremony surrounding Griffin's throwing of the garter belt. As though he was worried that it would somehow come to life and bite him, he hurled it as he rose to his feet. He didn't stop to aim or to taunt the bachelors in the crowd, no. Intent on being rid of the belt seemed to have been the only thing on his mind. When Isabelle turned around to face the crowd, though, she couldn't help the laugh that welled up inside her, but she had a feeling that what she saw would stick in her mind for the rest of her natural born life . . .

 

Gunnar was still moving, obviously having just returned to the party, when the garter belt whizzed through the air, only to loop over his left ear. The momentum spun it around his ear a couple of times before it flopped harmlessly against his head, and with a very loud, very exact curse, the hanyou reached up and jerked the garter belt off his ear.

 

Isabelle wasn't sure whether the implication of catching the garter belt or the idea of how, exactly, he'd managed to do it, bothered Gunnar more, but it wasn't surprising when he tried to shove the item into Mikio's hand—the only other bachelor in that area.

 

Mikio threw his hands up and stepped back quickly, as though the garter belt might bite him, leaving a scowling Gunnar holding the bag, as it were.

 

He tried to get rid of it a few more times, even going so far as to try to hand it off to Ben. The panther-youkai smiled in complete good-humor and leaned in to say something to Gunnar that stopped the hanyou's blustering.

 

Whatever Ben had said to Gunnar, Isabelle didn't know, but Gunnar turned around then, scanning the crowd as though he were looking for something. When he spotted Samantha, still rather bashfully holding the bouquet, he smiled and gave a small shrug as he stuffed the garter belt into the billowing sleeve of his ceremonial clothes. Stepping forward, he held out his hand as a laughing Kichiro signaled the band to proceed.

 

Samantha looked completely beside herself with an effervescent smile that gave her a very distinct glow, and she laughed, blushing prettily, when Gunnar leaned in to whisper something into her ear. Isabelle figured that Gunnar might have had to worry a little if Samantha weren't his cousin. Still, she had to concede that, cousin or not, dancing with a man who looked like Gunnar had to be an unexpected thrill for her young sister, and whether Gunnar realized it or not, he'd very likely just made Samantha's day.

 

“What was that you said about . . . about getting out of here?”

 

Isabelle turned and smiled. Griffin, satisfied that the worst was over, was staring out over the crowd. She could tell by the slight tightness around his eyes that he was tired, and while she wouldn't have minded staying just a little bit longer, she knew that she'd never complain about having her bear all to herself again, either.

 

Taking his hand, she pulled him off the stage and over to her mother and father, who were busy watching the couple dancing: Kichiro with an oddly sad little smile, and Bellaniece with her eyes shining, suspiciously bright. “Thank you, Mama . . . Papa,” Isabelle said, hugging each of her parents in turn. “I think . . . I think that we're going to go home now.”

 

Kichiro blinked and frowned at Isabelle. “Oh . . . let me go get the car . . .”

 

“Papa,” she hurried to say, placing a hand on his arm, “I think . . . I think we'd rather walk to the hotel.”

 

Kichiro shook his head since that `walk' was a good ten miles down a lonely stretch of country road. Turning his attention to the sky, he finally nodded. “I guess there isn't much chance of rain.”

 

“So you're saying that you want to sneak off before anyone realizes that you're gone?” Bellaniece asked pointedly.

 

Isabelle grinned at her mother. “Something like that.”

 

Bellaniece laughed and gave Kichiro a significant look. “Well, what do you think, lover? Should we just let these two go?”

 

Kichiro chuckled and hugged Isabelle once more. “You take care of my little girl, Dr. Marin . . . I'm entrusting her to your care now.”

 

Griffin nodded curtly as Isabelle took his hand and started pulling him around the side of the mansion.

 

Neither spoke as they ventured into the forest—taking a shortcut as they headed for the gates of the estate. The sounds of the reception that still going on despite the disappearance of the bride and groom still could be heard, but it was a more ambient sound. As they stepped through the gates and onto the worn old road that led back to Bevelle, Isabelle suddenly laughed, whipping around on her heel to throw her arms around Griffin's neck as she pulled him down into a kiss.

 

Warm, welcome, bright and shining, full of promise and emotion that Griffin wanted to hold onto for the rest of his life, she laughed again, hugging him tight before finally, reluctantly, letting go so they could continue walking. “We could have stayed longer if you'd wanted to,” he ventured at last.

 

Isabelle sighed and smiled up at him, the train of the silk and satin dress hanging over her arm. “I think receptions are more for the guests than for the couple,” she mused. “I've yet to meet a couple who doesn't want to sneak off to be alone right after they've just gotten married.”

 

“Is that how that works?” he asked, absently wondering why he wasn't feeling particularly sore.

 

“Mmm,” she intoned with a curt nod. “Griffin . . .”

 

“What?”

 

She stopped and turned to face him, her happy expression fading as a seriousness entered her gaze. “I'm going to make you happy, you know,” she said.

 

Griffin sighed and turned away, unsettled by the very sight of her, all wrapped up in silk and lace and satin and pearls, looking as delicate as a fleeting dream even as the gentleness of her youki—a quiet, understated thing that he understood was far, far stronger than his would ever be—surrounded him.

 

She'd taught him a hundred things in the simplicity of a simple smile. She'd driven back the darkness that had been his existence for so very long. She was his reason, his sanity, his salvation—his avouchment—and he couldn't help the tears that filled his eyes—tears that he'd forgotten how to shed so long before he'd ever met her. Staring out over the expanse of the ocean that stretched on before him, maybe this once he could tell her. Maybe this once would be all right . . .

 

“You're wrong,” he said, his voice husky, thick.

 

“Wrong?” she echoed, stepping up beside him, the invisible fingertips of the fresh breeze stirring the soft bangs that has escaped the confines of her meticulous arrangement.

 

He nodded, sniffed, spared her a quick glance before turning his face to the sea once more. “You can't . . . make me ha-happier . . . than you already have.”

 

She gasped softly, her eyes brightening by degrees, her smile trembling on her lips as she reached out, stroked his cheek. “Let's go, Griffin,” she said as her smile widened.

 

He stumbled but caught himself as she grasped his hand and started to run, her laughter trailing out behind her, beckoning him further, onward . . . home . . . and Griffin . . .

 

Finding his stride, refusing to let go of her hand, he ran with her . . .

 

And he laughed.

 

 

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

A/N:

 

Only one more chapter (the Epilogue) left of this story, and that will be posted sometime on Thursday. Look for another chapter of Desideratum on Friday and new chapters of Vendettaand/or Subterfugestarting Monday! I hope you've enjoyed this story as much as I have.

 

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Final Thought fromGriffin:

My avouchment …

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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~