InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 8: Vendetta ❯ Choices ( Chapter 7 )

~~Chapter 7~~

~Choices~

 

-=0=-

 

 

Samantha sat perfectly still, watching for the moment she knew wasn't far off.

 

Having spent the last few days doing nothing but observing her captors—especially the one who watched her at night, she knew his habits now, and while he might vary them slightly, changing the times that he performed certain tasks, he still did them, and all she had to do was wait.

 

He always slipped a fresh bowl of dog kibble into her cage, followed in close order by the replacement of the water bowl. She'd figured out quickly that both of those were drugged, and while she didn't know exactly what kinds of drugs they'd added, she wasn't about to eat or drink any of it, either.

 

Her gut instinct had been that maybe they'd figured out who her family was, that they'd ordered her brought in an effort to extort money or something from them. She'd really believed that, hadn't she?

 

At least, she had until today . . .

 

For the first time since her forced incarceration, they'd let her out of the cage, though only after cuffing her wrists—the cuffs had ofuda in them, she could tell. Then they'd chained her ankles, too. The length of chain that separated them was barely a foot long, sorely inhibiting her movements. At the time, though, she was so relieved to have been finally allowed out of the cage that she'd told herself that she didn't care what they were planning to do to her.

 

Or so she had thought.

 

They'd strapped her to a table and had drawn near a pint of blood from her before hooking her to an array of machines that she didn't understand. They'd spent hours poking her with various gadgets, trying to get readings from this and that, and while her grasp on English was damn good, she'd faltered in the face of the more technical jargon. Lying in the center of the gurney she'd been strapped to, she'd had nothing to do but watch the clock, making little to no sense of the snippets of conversations that she was able to hear.

 

But the most alarming thing wasn't the testing, no. It was the gradual realization that her senses were slowly dulling. Not surprising, she figured, considering she hadn't had anything to eat in days, and nothing to drink, either. Stubbornly refusing to eat or drink anything they offered her might not be good for her system, but without knowing exactly what they'd added to everything they'd offered her, she couldn't take that kind of risk, could she?

 

It seemed to baffle the good doctors, too, actually. Every day, they carefully measured all food and water, and every morning when those things were taken away, they were carefully measured again. It—she'd come to figure out that she was the `it' in question—was eating a little bit, wasn't it? So why wasn't it showing any reactions to the drugs they'd added to the food and water?

 

The automatic response to that was to add more, and they did. Every night after her keeper had fallen asleep, she took a handful of the kibble, carefully discarding it one piece at a time down the drain beneath her cage. `Down with the rest of the shit,' she thought to herself one night. For some reason, that thought had made her laugh, and she'd had to cover her mouth with both hands to keep from waking the guard . . .

 

The water was easier to dispense of, though. Every morning, roughly an hour before the white coats arrived, her warden—the name patch on his standard issue security shirt read `Dustin'—turned that damned power hose on her, and more often than not, he upset the bowl during his careless spraying. She wasn't entirely sure how much pressure went into that stupid hose, but it was enough to leave marks on her when it was directed at her, and she'd come to know the stinging pain of the water's spray very quickly.

 

Her waning energy, though, was what worried her the most. If she continued to refuse to eat, then she'd continue to grow weaker day by day, as well, and last night as she'd lay in the crate wide awake, a thought had occurred to her . . .

 

Every time Dustin sprayed the cage, some of the back spray hit the ofuda that the holy man had papered the top with, and as she looked a little closer, she realized that some of them were already starting to peel back, not that it mattered too much. What interested her the most was that the writing on those pages was starting to run and drip, thus altering the original orientation, and while she wasn't entirely certain it would matter, she couldn't help but think that it might.

 

But the main thing that she'd learned was that the reinforcing cage that retracted into the floor didn't dare get wet. When retracted, it was hidden beneath tented metal plates that tilted down to the concrete and the drain hole beneath the cage, and once those walls were retracted, Dustin never, ever raised them again.

 

With a little more luck, too, she might be able to escape . . .

 

Frowning as she glanced around, she had to squint to make out the clock on the far wall, and even then, she wasn't entirely sure if it read two or three in the morning. She'd watched closely enough to understand that the cage panel would not shock a human in the same way it would a youkai or hanyou, and, as luck would have it . . .

 

`It's now nor never,' she told herself as she carefully scooted toward the door of the cage. She knew well enough that her plan was chock full of holes and variables that she couldn't control or even anticipate, but how much of a choice did she really have? As it was, she'd been lucky to have escaped detection tonight since Dustin always shut off all the lights except for the security ones that were always lit, and once he'd put the food into her cage, he never, ever bothered to look in on her again, so with the added cover of the makeshift paper roof, she'd been able to keep in the shadows with her hair caught back under the patients' smock that they'd tossed at her earlier—after cutting away her shirt with a surgical scalpel.

 

Her cheeks burned hotly at the memory of that awful encounter. Two of the older doctors didn't say much, but a couple of the younger ones . . . Well, she really didn't care to remember their assessments, anyway.

 

Shifting so that she could keep an eye on the sleeping guard, Samantha bit the inside of her cheek as she inched her hand between the bars, half expecting to be zapped with the painful jolt despite her human form. Nothing happened, and when she pressed on the seal that locked the door closed, she almost yelped in relief when the soft beep sounded twice.

 

Pulling her hand back into the cage, she scooted over again. Luck might be with her, but she knew well enough that she couldn't rely on that, alone. After all, given the season, she wasn't at all positive that she'd be back in her hanyou form before the white coats arrived for the day . . .

 

Letting her head fall against the cold bars of her prison, Samantha wondered exactly how long she'd been here. For as near as she could tell, it'd been at least three or four days since the holy man had brought her in, but she couldn't say for sure, how long he'd had her before that, either. She'd spent the majority of the last couple of days wondering whether or not her family had figured out that she was missing yet. She supposed that they might have—after all, she never had called in after she'd brought down Benoit, but maybe not . . . They'd surely come looking for her, wouldn't they?

 

Heaving a sigh, she winced. Of course they would. They all worried about her so much that she'd be stupid to think otherwise. Trouble was, she wasn't entirely sure she wanted them to do that. As badly as she wanted to escape, she couldn't help but worry that somehow, one of them would get caught, instead, and that just wasn't something that she dared to dwell on.

 

She'd heard the rumors before, of course: the disappearances of youkai that couldn't rightfully be explained. At the time, it had made sense, the idea that the lesser youkai were just too geared toward infighting that it couldn't be helped, but . . .

 

But just how many had the holy man caught? How many of them had been here before her? During her first full day here, she'd sensed them, hadn't she? The lingering auras of some nameless, faceless youkai, and she'd overheard enough whispers to know that she certainly wasn't the first . . .

 

And if they'd been here before, where were they now . . .?

 

`Maybe I don't want to know . . .'

 

Nodding slightly, Samantha sighed. That thought had come from somewhere deep inside her, and under ordinary circumstances, she might have thought it was her youkai voice, but that voice never spoke to her when she was human, and at times like that, she missed it so fiercely that it made her want to scream.

 

She was under constant surveillance, and she knew it. She hadn't missed the camera affixed to the metal support beams high above the cage, and while she thought that was the only one in this room, she knew that there were at least five in the examination area where she'd spent the bulk of yesterday.

 

If only she had an idea of how long they'd keep her here . . . if only she knew why they wanted her . . .

 

The first, snaking tendril of a fear so deep and so vast that it could engulf her turned her stomach.

 

`No,' she told herself stubbornly, biting the inside of her cheek so hard that she drew blood. `Stop that! If I let myself think that way, I'll go crazy . . .'

 

The first stirring of change was so subtle that she nearly missed it: the first palpitations of the resurgence of her youkai blood. Glancing fearfully at the sleeping guard, she grimaced when she realized that he was starting to wake. Holding her breath as the throbbing in her body grew stronger, she watched in horror as Dustin yawned and stretched, sparing a moment to turn his head from side to side, his neck cracking as his joints popped. “Damn cold,” he muttered as he hauled himself out of the chair and shuffled toward the panel by the door to lower the reinforced sides. They dropped down and locked into place as he headed for the water spout that jutted out of the cinderblock wall. The creak of the turning handle made her grit her teeth, and all at once, she felt her ears open up as a deluge of her returning senses told her that the transformation was complete.

 

She couldn't help cringing into the corner of the cage when he turned the power nozzle on her, gasping loudly at the frigid flow of water that pounded against her. Shifting her body so that her legs took the brunt of the onslaught, she huddled down as far as she could and waited for the torrent to end.

 

It seemed to her that he took an inordinately long time hosing her down this morning, but he finally finished. “Aww, shit,” he grumbled, kicking her cage when he realized that he'd soaked the food bowl again—an offense that he'd already gotten griped out for once since they couldn't get an accurate reading of how much she'd eaten during the night. She hissed as a painful shock shot through her and leaned forward on her hands as she willed the pain to pass.

 

She didn't have enough time—certainly not enough to will away the pain. With a nasty chuckle, he turned to walk away, and Samantha reacted.

 

Shoving herself against the door and thanking whatever gods there were above since they'd also removed her ankle restraints the night before, she was out of the cage before the jolt could hit her. She didn't bother trying to subdue the guard, either, her intent clear. Shoving him out of the way, she bolted for the door, only to yelp in pain when Dustin caught her ankle and wrenched it hard.

 

She tumbled to the floor seconds before he landed on her with a dull grunt. She started to push him off with her feet but stopped when the `snick' of a gun being cocked resounded in her ear.

 

Dustin grinned nastily as he pressed the barrel of the gun to her head. “Give me a reason, bitch,” he hissed.

 

Something inside her snapped, and with a vicious shriek, she shoved him hard as the reverberation of the firing gun echoed in the room.

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

Bas rubbed his forehead as he trudged up the steps onto the porch of the small house he shared with his mate. It had been one hell of a night. To be honest, he figured that he should probably still be over at the mansion, and he would have been, but his father had told him in no uncertain terms that he needed to go home and check on his mate.

 

He sighed. `What the hell is happening?' he asked himself for what had to be the millionth time. The sun was rising out over the ocean, and normally he loved to take the time to look at it. This morning, however, he didn't see it.

 

Evan was gone. He'd been at the mansion when Bas got there; he'd stopped by to bring their mother a present, or so he'd claimed. Sometime during the briefing in Cain's study, though, he'd slipped out, and by the time they'd managed to reach him on the phone, he was in Chicago. “Why the fuck are you all sitting around discussing it?” he'd growled. “Scratching your asses isn't going to find her, is it?”

 

The hell of it was that Evan was right.

 

Cartham, Larry, Evan, and Gunnar were already out there scouring the area for any signs of Samantha, and with InuYasha and Ryomaru on their way from Japan, he didn't doubt for a moment that they'd follow the others straight away.

 

No, the real trouble had started when Kichiro had strode into the mansion, walked right up to Bas and had proceeded to deck him. He wanted to go to Chicago, too, but Cain and Ben had advised against it—at least until after he'd calmed down a little bit. That had stared a nasty round of name calling and finger pointing, none of which was actually helping the situation in the least, but damned if Bas could blame Kichiro for that, either.

 

He'd grab a shower, a change of clothes, check on Sydnie and head back to the mansion.

 

The door opened suddenly, and Bas blinked. Sydnie stood there, eyes suspiciously bright, with a suitcase in her hands—her suitcase.

 

“Kitty? What are you doing?” he barked.

 

Sydnie's face took on a defiant scowl, and she shook her head. “I'm going to Chicago, puppy,” she replied in a calm, smooth way.

 

He reached out to stop her when she tried to breeze past him. “What?”

 

She sighed. “I'm going to Chicago . . . It's my fault she's out there. I've got to find her . . .”

 

“No,” he stated in a tone that should have left no room for discussion. “You can't. You're pregnant!”

 

“I know that,” she shot back, her emerald eyes flashing dangerously. “I have to. She's somebody's kitten, and kittens shouldn't ever, ever be lost!”

 

Bas heaved a sigh and tugged her back gently albeit firmly. “Sydnie . . .”

 

She struggled against his hold then suddenly collapsed against his chest, shaking so violently that Bas winced as he held on tight. “Will you go, puppy?”

 

Closing his eyes, he let go of her and took her bag, leading her back into the house. “Sydnie . . . you're pregnant . . . you need me . . .”

 

She shook her head. “What I need is for one of us to go! I told you to send her! I told you . . .! Sebastian, I . . .”

 

He stared at her for a long moment, knowing in his heart that her mind was made up—knowing it but hating it, just the same. The pleading in her gaze, the unshed tears that he could smell and just couldn't stand . . . and it wouldn't matter if he told her that this wasn't her fault, deep down, she would think that it was. “Okay, kitty,” he murmured. “Okay.”

 

She didn't look relieved, but she nodded curtly. He stared at her for a long moment before turning on his heel to retrieve his sword, hung over the mantle in the living room. Staring at it before he reached out to take it down, he smiled sadly of the pewter keychain that dangled from the hilt: the dog etched against the flat, silver moon . . . The last time he'd drawn this sword, he'd used it to protect Sydnie, and maybe, in some strange way, that was his reason now, too.

 

“Bring her home, Sebastian,” Sydnie murmured, leaning in the doorway as she watched him.

 

Bas turned the sword over in his hands and nodded once. “I'll do what I can.”

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

“Where is the rest of my money?”

 

“It's too early in the day to be talking money,” Dr. Harlan insisted as he waved a Styrofoam cup of coffee in Kurt's general direction.

 

“By my calculations, you owe me another five, so either you authorize it right now or I start deconstructing the barrier outside that I set up to keep this place safe.”

 

Harlan grimaced, his already ruddy complexion darkening a few more shades. “I'd love to authorize the money,” he hurried to say, tossing the cup into the nearest trash can. “Unfortunately, I can't.”

 

“And why's that,” Kurt asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

“There was an . . . incident this morning. The demon was shot.”

 

“What?” Kurt exploded. Without waiting for further explanation, he turned on his heel and strode down the hallway to the holding area, only to stop short at the sight of the empty cage. He could hear Harlan trotting up behind him, but he was sorely pressed not to wring the bastard's rubbery neck. “You killed it?” he bellowed.

 

“No,” Harlan rushed to say, his eyes widening as he took a step back away from Kurt's very obvious irritation. “We didn't kill it. It tried to escape, you see? The night guard shot it.”

 

“Shot it.”

 

Harlan nodded enthusiastically. “The others are treating it now. They think it'll be fine—a clean wound straight through the shoulder . . . the thing is, this one . . . We feel that we need a little extra security, obviously. Dustin—the guard—said that it literally broke out of the cage—the cage you constructed, right? And you don't have any problem controlling it, right?”

 

Kurt drew a deep breath, satisfied, at least for the moment, that his prize catch wasn't dead, though he wasn't entirely certain that he liked where Harlan was going with his current commentary, either. “What's your point?”

 

Harlan's smile was downright smug as he rubbed his chubby hands together. “Now, we can authorize the rest of your payments in increments, provided that you do a little side work for us . . . as the night watch.”

 

 

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

A/N:

== == == == == == == == == ==

Reviewers

==========

MMorg

kittycatkitten ------ OROsan0677 ------ free_freeme_free ------ oblivion-bringr ------ Sovereignty ------ AtamaHitoride ------ Jester08 ------ Dark Inu Fan ------ sunshine161820 ------ Chase65 ------ jessie6491

==========

Forum

Firedemon86 ------ psycho_chick32 ------ OROsan0677 ------ malitiadixie ------ cutechick18 ------ BlkbltVette ------ Mangaluva ------ DarkAngel ------ MouF ------ BENGbeng

==========

Final Thought from Kurt:

…Night watch …?

==========

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