InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 8: Vendetta ❯ Stalemate ( Chapter 14 )

~~Chapter 14~~

~Stalemate~

 

-=0=-

 

 

`Youkai . . . magical creatures. Though there are a number of youkai that are able to harness the power to control the elements of nature, many also are the manifestation of wild creatures. Those that are derivative of beasts are often referred to as `mononoke' in Japanese texts and lore. Rumored to possess the ability to control their wild counterparts, these creatures are popular in Japanese fairytales and lore and have been referred to by many names . . .'

 

Kurt shook his head as he crossed the street, reshouldering his knapsack as he flipped up the collar of his coat against the bitter wind blowing straight off Lake Michigan. Why couldn't he get that passage out of his head?

 

Did it matter, really? He knew what they were, those things. He didn't care what word the little demon seemed to favor for it, either. What he had found interesting, though, was that there really wasn't much text regarding that particular word. He'd found other references to different names, but they were all the same in his head, weren't they? Damnable beasts and scourge that preyed upon humans . . . They all needed to be destroyed.

 

He quickened his pace as the snow began to fall—huge, fluffy flakes that would be reduced to slush within moments of it hitting the ground. It was lost on him even as the hint of a voice whispered in his head . . .

 

“Why's snow so white, Kurt, huh?”

 

Kurt—he'd smiled in a completely self-important way—shook his head and shot her an overly indulgent look that made his mother laugh. “Because it's light like feathers,” he replied.

 

“O-o-oh,” Caroline breathed, her eyes wide, her tiny mouth opened in a perfect `o' . . .

 

Gritting his teeth as he forced the memory away, Kurt shook his head and kept moving. He'd failed to mention that the same pristine snow would end up dull and dirty the longer it stayed on the ground. Then again, maybe that was something that he hadn't learned back then . . .

 

The strange burst of an unseen power stopped Kurt in his tracks, drew him up short as he slowly looked around. He didn't see anything odd, but the aura he felt . . .

 

It was weird. It was . . . searching . . .? Easily on par with that of the little demon, maybe even a little stronger . . . where the hell was it coming from . . .?

 

But all he could see were normal people—people hurrying here or there, trying to get out of the falling snow. Damn it, he couldn't stand not being able to tell where they were . . .

 

The aura seemed to be moving, though, moving away, and while his gut instinct was to follow it, he knew well enough that he really wasn't prepared to deal with another one of them, either. He hadn't brought along any of the gear he normally had with him when he went hunting. Besides that, he was already running late, wasn't he?

 

Uttering a terse grunt, he started moving once more, irritated that he'd missed out on a chance to track down another one of those things, but promising himself that he would be far more diligent from then on, Kurt heaved a sigh and turned down the street that led to the facility.

 

The building was already empty when he stepped inside the service door in the alley beside it. He wasn't entirely surprised. According to the clock near the freight elevator, it was already a quarter after five, and the researchers seemed to live and die by the time. He didn't care, one way or the other, did he? In fact, it wasn't so bad, really. It saved him from having to talk to them, and that was a plus. Striding past the small surveillance room, he pressed the button beside the elevator and stepped back to wait.

 

“Oh, Doc! There you are,” Harlan greeted in a very fake, very warm tone when the elevator doors opened.

 

Kurt stepped inside, wondering if he could get away with ignoring the man. When Harlan punched the button for the basement, Kurt stifled a disgusted sigh. `Apparently not,' he thought with a shake of his head. `Damn it . . .'

 

“The camera in the holding room . . . do you know what happened to it?” Harlan asked at length as they dropped below the ground floor.

 

“Camera?” Kurt echoed in a completely noncommittal tone. “Nope.”

 

Harlan looked him over, his friendly smile cooling by degrees. Kurt knew damn well that the old bastard suspected that he knew something, which, he supposed, proved that the old man wasn't nearly as stupid as he looked. Still, there was no way that they were going to try to deduct that expense from Kurt's pay. “You're sure?”

 

“You think I'm lying?” Kurt countered mildly. “Fine, then. Pay me what you owe me, and I'll be happy to get the hell out of here.”

 

“Well, we need to replace that camera,” Harlan muttered.

 

“So send someone in maintenance down there with a thirty foot ladder.”

 

Harlan sighed as his ruddy complexion darkened a little more. “Well, it isn't that,” he admitted as the elevator jerked to a halt. “Those cameras are expensive,” he muttered as Kurt stepped out.

 

“Not my problem,” he tossed over his shoulder, half expecting the good doctor to give chase. Then again, if he were as old and fat as Harlan, he doubted he'd do any such thing.

 

The little demon sat up, clutching the bars of the cage when he entered the room. Pausing just long enough to slap the security locks on the terminal, he ignored the anxious expression on the demon's face as he strode over to put his knapsack down and take off his coat.

 

“You're late,” it said in that sing-song voice. “Did you get a traffic ticket or something?”

 

Kurt ignored that question as he draped his coat over the rickety old chair before striding over to check the chart that was lying on the work desk. Observation, it said on the day's schedule. As usual, nothing listed for breakfast or lunch, which only made him wonder if they ever bothered to try to get it to eat during the day. Probably not, and even if they did, did it really matter? The damn thing was far too stubborn for its own good, and while it may have said that they didn't need food, he wasn't entirely sure that he was going to buy into that. After all, if they didn't need food, why was it losing weight?

 

Heaving a sigh, he shook his head. It never did touch the food he'd put into the cage last night, and he hadn't bothered to try to force the issue, either. Well, he could be stubborn, too, couldn't he? The last thing that it was going to do was to cost him money, damn it.

 

It watched him closely as he took the bowls out of the cage, replacing the contents of each with clean, fresh food and water, and he wasn't surprised when it went straight for the liquid, downing the contents in a series of gulps. At least it wasn't making itself sick anymore. Still, he figured that its manners left a lot to be desired as he watched as it wiped the back of its mouth with the back of its hand. “More, please,” it said, setting the bowl back in place again.

 

“You want more?” he asked, sudden inspiration dawning on him.

 

It nodded, eyes sparkling in the pervasive shadows.

 

“Then eat your food, and I'll think about it.”

 

“I will,” it agreed easily enough.

 

Kurt couldn't help the suspicious narrowing of his eyes. It had agreed too easily, hadn't it . . .? “You will,” he repeated dubiously.

 

It nodded. “As soon as you give me something edible, yes.”

 

Kurt blinked and stared, unable to come up with a suitable retort for that right away. Caught off guard by its almost flippant response, he pressed his lips together in a thin line and shook his head. “You have your food,” he muttered, turning away from the cage. “Eat that.”

 

“But it's dog food!” it complained.

 

“Yeah, and you're a dog.”

 

“We've been through this,” it said patiently. “I'm not a dog. I'm—”

 

“A demon,” he interrupted coldly. “A demon that should be glad that it's fed at all.”

 

“And I will be,” it went on calmly, “as soon as you actually feed me.”

 

“Then don't eat,” he snapped, growling under his breath. “I don't give a damn.” Kurt stomped over to the desk, intent on ignoring the irritating beast. Why did he allow himself to be drawn into any kind of conversation with it, anyway? That thought only served to further his anger. Talk to it? Hardly . . . just another mind trick that it was trying to pull over on him, and he'd be damned if he fell for it, wouldn't he?

 

No, as far as he could tell, that little demon was just trying to get under his skin. He hated it—despised it—more than he cared to think about. It was no different from the rest of them—the rest of its kind: a violent monster that would cut him down if given the chance. Worse than wild animals, they were. At least wild animals only killed when they needed to eat or if they felt as though they had to protect themselves. Those things . . . Well, Kurt knew better, didn't he?

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

“It's cold out here.”

 

Kichiro turned at the sound of his mate's voice. Standing behind him with her arms crossed over her chest, holding her thin violet robe closed, she didn't look particularly cold as she shuffled over to his side and slipped her arms around his waist, resting her cheek on the back of his shoulder as she sighed softly and closed her eyes.

 

“Why don't you go on back inside, Belle-chan?” he murmured as his gaze returned to the restless horizon. He just hadn't been able to sleep, had he? Lying in bed long after everyone else in the mansion had fallen asleep, he couldn't get past the feeling of guilt that had plagued him. How could he possibly be here, pondering why he couldn't sleep while his youngest daughter was out there somewhere? Not for the first time, he felt that painful indecision, as though he were being torn into pieces. Part of him wanted to be here with her, wanted to reassure her every day that everything really was going to be all right while the other part of him couldn't help but be angry that he was here instead of out there searching for his daughter. Bellaniece needed him, but so did Samantha, and though he understood that he really needed to take care of both, he couldn't help but feel as though he were failing them, instead. Lying warm in bed with his mate huddled close . . . She hadn't slept at all while he'd been gone, had she? Falling into an exhausted slumber, she'd looked so very forlorn, as though she couldn't help but think about Samantha, even when she was supposed to be sleeping . . . and he knew that feeling, too, didn't he?

 

It didn't make sense; nothing did. They'd combed the city, hadn't they? Searched everywhere they could . . . Not even the disjointed scent they'd located in the abysmal motel room helped. There wasn't an overlying scent to track. She couldn't have been there long enough to leave a lasting imprint of her scent behind, and the myriad of scents of others hadn't helped at all. The torrential rains that had beaten down on the city for days following her disappearance had all but obliterated anything that might have otherwise helped them in the search. It was as if the universe were conspiring against them, wasn't it?

 

“Will you come inside with me?” she asked, her words breaking through the bleak thoughts that plagued him.

 

Sighing softly, he forced a smile that he was far from feeling. “Yeah . . . sure,” he said,

 

Bellaniece could see through that, though, couldn't she? It was her gift . . . or her curse . . . he wasn't entirely certain which . . . “She's fine. I can feel it,” Bellaniece said in a calm, steady tone.

 

He nodded slowly as he pulled her around to hug her properly. “Me, too.”

 

She smiled just a little and stared up at the skies—completely clear and bright with a thousand stars dancing high overhead. “Do you think she can see the same stars that we do, wherever she is?”

 

“Yeah,” he replied slowly.

 

She sighed. “I just want to find her . . . bring her home . . .”

 

“Me, too.”

 

With a soft laugh, she shook her head. “Do you remember when she was five and wanted to bake that cake for your birthday?”

 

He uttered a quiet groan but nodded and smiled. “Oh, yeah, I remember that . . . best cake, ever.”

 

Which, of course, was a bit of a stretch. He'd had to go in to the clinic for an emergency meeting, and Samantha had somehow managed to convince him that she'd be all right if he left her by herself, promising that she'd call her grandfather or uncle if she had trouble since Bellaniece had been trying to catch up on some sleep after working a very long graveyard shift in the emergency room at a local hospital. He doubted that he'd been gone longer than five minutes when Samantha had decided to bake him a special birthday cake.

 

She'd forgotten to add flour, and, while she could read, some of the words had tripped her up since she wasn't entirely familiar with baking. The measurements were in cups and table and teaspoons since it was one that Bellaniece had brought over from one of their trips stateside, and Samantha hadn't understood how to convert everything to metric units.

 

The cake had overflowed the small glass dish she'd selected to bake it in, and it had been quite raw in the center. All in all, he figured it was likely one of the worst cakes he'd ever seen or tasted, and yet he hadn't had the heart to say anything of the sort when she'd so happily presented it to him later. He'd eaten the whole thing as she'd stood at his side, her face beaming with pride as he'd told her how delicious it was. Later, he'd ended up sick to his stomach because of the mass amounts of sugar and honey that she'd added to the batter. Still, he'd eat as many as she set in front of him, if she'd just come home . . .

 

“So she'd never be a great baker,” Bellaniece admitted with a sigh. “God, I wish I'd told her that I didn't want her to be a hunter . . . I should have . . . should have told her . . . forbade her. If I had . . .”

 

Kichiro tightened his arms around her. “Don't do that, Belle-chan,” he admonished gently. “When did we ever tell the girls what they could or couldn't do? It wouldn't have done any good, anyway. She's as stubborn as you are. She . . . she just wanted to do what she thought was right.”

 

She nodded slowly and let him tug her back into the house before wandering back to the bed as he pulled the balcony doors closed and drew the curtains. He slipped back into the bed and pulled her close, kissing her forehead as she cuddled against his shoulder. “Bring her home, Kichiro . . . promise me that you will . . .”

 

Blinking into the darkness as he listened to the sound of her heart beating, Kichiro let out a deep breath and tightened his arms around her. “I will,” he promised, praying that she never figured out exactly how hard it was for him to say what she wanted so desperately to hear. “I . . . I will . . .”

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

`You'd do well to stop antagonizing him, don't you think?'

 

Grimacing at the accusing tone in her youkai blood's voice, Samantha tugged her smock over her legs a little more and hunched forward in an effort to warm herself up.

 

`You're listening, right? You need to stop saying things that you know you shouldn't. He's barely tolerating you now, you know. Do you really think it's a good idea to keep pushing your luck?'

 

Her gaze sought out the man in question and stuck. Sitting back with his legs kicked up on the desk, he had his nose buried in another book. `I'm not trying to antagonize him,' she thought with a sigh. `Not really, anyway . . .'

 

`Well, then try a little harder not to. At least he gives you water, and you can probably hold out for awhile longer without food, but water? Forget about it . . .'

 

She let her temple fall against the bars of the cage and let out a deep breath. Kami, she was so hungry that her stomach was in a constant ache—almost a pain, really, and the times that she smelled food? That was worse, wasn't it? So much worse . . .

 

Talking to the holy man . . . at least she tended to forget about that gnawing ache for a little while, anyway, and that was worth something.

 

Scratching thoughtfully at her head just behind her ears—what she wouldn't give for a real bath with warm water and shampoo—she grimaced. If she kept scratching, she'd make herself bleed, but it felt good. `Hell,' she thought sourly as she forced her hand to drop away from her head, `let's not gild the lily here. I'd be happy enough with a cold shower and a bar of soap . . . That's it; the first thing I'll do when I ever get out of here is take the longest bath in recorded history . . .'

 

That was, if she ever got out of there. It led right back to some other thoughts that she'd been having lately. If she didn't eat, she could survive, that much was true enough, but if she didn't eat and she didn't get any kind of real exercise, her muscles were going to disintegrate, too. She could feel it already, the slow but steady decline in her physical abilities. Caged all day and night, the limited walking she was allowed wasn't even worthy of being considered real exercise, was it?

 

She sighed. If she'd only have gotten away the first time she'd tried to escape . . .

 

Gaze slipping back to the holy man again, she couldn't help but to stare as he frowned at the pages of the book. Brows furrowed, expression darkened with intense concentration, he looked like he was pondering the things that he was reading mighty heavily. What was it about him that spoke to her, she wondered. What was it about the look in his eyes that intrigued her?

 

Nothing . . . and everything . . . and . . .

 

And what did it matter? He hated her kind, and she knew it, but she didn't know why. Why would he hate youkai so much that he'd hunt them and catch them and sell them? And yet she knew, too, that he didn't exactly hate her. It wasn't something that she could readily explain. She knew that he hated what he called `demons', and she knew that somewhere deep down, he felt he had a right to. She'd seen that much in his eyes. Maybe if she could understand that . . .

 

He stood up suddenly, letting the book thump onto the desk as he strode over to the control panel near the door and fiddled around with it. A few seconds later, she heard the indistinct hum of the central heat. Common sense told her that he hadn't turned it up for her. Did that really matter when she would benefit from it, too?

 

He turned around to stare at the cage, then hit another button to bring the outer walls up from the floor. They locked into place with a loud groan. A third press of a button resulted in a dull static that was barely discernable to her, but she knew it well enough. It meant that he'd activated another barrier over the doorway—a barrier that he thought she couldn't pass. True enough, she figured. She probably couldn't, at least, without being purified. If she were full youkai, that would be more of a deterrent. As it was, though, it would purify her, sure, but the end result would just be that she'd be stuck in human form for awhile. That was a risky venture, at best, and not one that Samantha really wanted to test. The last thing that she needed was for those damn white-coats to find out that she was half human, after all. If they'd do these things to her now, just what would they do if they were armed with information like that?

 

Apparently satisfied that she was secured, the holy man turned on his heel and strode out of the room, completely unfazed by the artificial barrier he'd erected.

 

The emptiness that engulfed the room, though, was a nearly painful thing. Samantha had never really been a social butterfly or anything, preferring to keep to herself, but she did have a few friends—friends she'd lost touch with over the years. Most of them were back in Tokyo, and these days, she hadn't really had the time to spend making new ones. Still, she hadn't realized how one other person could alleviate the complete emptiness without saying much of anything. Kami, she'd taken so much for granted, hadn't she?

 

Letting her eyes slip closed, mostly to blot out the overwhelming sense of loneliness, Samantha huddled deeper into the corner of the cage and sighed. Thinking too much was a dangerous venture at best. She wanted to sleep, but she never could manage more than a brief catnap. Too uncomfortable with her surroundings to really be able to sleep, she figured. Not surprising, really. It went hand in hand with the sense of security that had been compromised, too. She'd forgotten what it was like to close her eyes and not still harbor some deep rooted sense of trepidation . . .

 

The footsteps, the familiarity of his aura brushed over Samantha as the holy man stepped back into the room. She heard the metallic pop of a soda can but didn't open her eyes. She'd known that there were some sort of vending machines close by—the white-coats were constantly carrying around coffee or soda, weren't they? So that's where he'd gone . . .

 

It was all right though, wasn't it? He'd come back, and maybe . . .

 

She felt herself yawn as she slumped a little lower in the cage, as a hazy sense of numbness settled over her mind.

 

Maybe that was enough . . .

 

 

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A/N:

Have a great weekend!!

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Final Thought from Samantha:

So …hungry …

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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~