InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 8: Vendetta ❯ Rage ( Chapter 18 )

~~Chapter 18~~

~Rage~

 

-=0=-

 

 

“Come on, son . . . It's not polite to stare at people . . .”

 

Dragging his eyes off the creature standing in the line at the Hotter Totter's booth at the North Dakota State Fair when his father grasped his hand to pull him away, Kurt blinked and shook his head. “Daddy?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“What was that?”

 

Doug Drevin stopped and shot him a quick glance—a wary glance. “What was what?” he asked, his tone oddly strained as he hurried Kurt along a little faster.

 

Kurt glanced over his shoulder only to find the monster staring right at him. “It looks like E.T. only bigger,” Kurt mused.

 

“Your mother's probably waiting for us near the bathrooms,” his father went on, ignoring Kurt's assessment.

 

“It looked all scaly,” Kurt continued.

 

“Did it?” Doug asked distractedly.

 

“Yeah, like a snake man or a lizard . . . Why didn't he have skin?”

 

Doug glanced over his shoulder as he tugged Kurt along a little faster. Catching Kurt's gaze, he tried to smile. The smile was thin, weak . . . and the expression in his eyes was a mask of horrified dismay. “Uh, Kurt . . . Oh! There's Mommy! Hurry up.”

 

Frowning at his father's strange preoccupation, Kurt hurried along beside him.

 

“I wanna wide the horsies!” Caroline hollered as she hopped up and down. Kurt made a face. He most certainly didn't want to ride a silly carousel . . .

 

“Sweetie . . . why don't we go back to the hotel? I've got a, uh, headache . . .”

 

Lainie Drevin's eyebrows drew together in a concerned frown. “Oh . . . okay . . . I've got some Tylenol in my purse . . . Let me -”

 

Doug forced a weak laugh, shuffling his feet as he glanced around with his hands on his hips. “It's okay; it's fine . . . I'd rather lie down, I think. You know how those migraines can be . . .”

 

Lainie stared at him for a minute then nodded slowly. “Okay . . . Come on, Carrie . . . We'll ride the horsies another time.”

 

“Mom?” Kurt piped up suddenly, raising his voice to be heard over his sister's angry protests.

 

“Hmm?”

 

He pulled his hand away from his father's grasp and dashed forward to catch up with his mother. “Did you see the lizard-man, too?”

 

“Lizard . . .? No . . . no, I didn't . . .” she replied vaguely as she quickened her pace. Forcing a strangely bright laugh, she shook her head as she scooped up Caroline and kept moving. “You know, Doug, I . . . I just remembered that I forgot to check the garage door before we left home . . .”

 

“Houshi-sama?”

 

The quiet voice seemed to drag him up through the stifling layers of sleep that enveloped him. The lingering memory clung to him tightly—too tightly—as he struggled against it.

 

The sounds of that day seemed to have convoluted in his head: insane sounds . . . the canned music of the midway, the screech and clank of the mechanical rides, the distant hum of a thousand voices . . . a droning incontinence in a wash of white noise . . .

 

It had followed them, hadn't it? Through the crowds, along the walkways, the exits to the enclosed fair grounds . . .

 

“Houshi-sama . . .?”

 

That voice—again, that voice . . .

 

As though he were suddenly floating: floating above the throngs of people . . . that voice was calling to him, softly but steadily . . .

 

“Are you all right? Houshi-sama . . .”

 

His eyes flashed open, and he sat up straight, his heart hammering against his ribs with a painful intensity. Half forgotten details that he hadn't really considered beckoned him, reminding him of things that he hadn't remembered for so long . . .

 

`The . . . the State Fair . . .'

 

He hadn't understood why his father had been so worried at the time, had he? He hadn't understood why his father had looked so horrified . . .

 

He hadn't wanted Kurt to see those demons, had he? He'd never wanted Kurt to see them, and Kurt, at that time, hadn't realized that not everyone could see the things that he could.

 

And they'd only gone back to the hotel long enough to gather their things and check out. Doug Drevin had been afraid, hadn't he? Afraid that the beasts had realized that Kurt could see them . . . and maybe afraid that they'd realize that he could see them, too . . .

 

But Kurt also couldn't remember a time that he hadn't been able to see them. Still, it was strange. The little demon still looked the same to him as it had the first time he'd gotten a good look at it. It shouldn't look like that, and he knew it. It shouldn't, but it did. Why? A violent surge of utter rage shot through him. Why could it hide the things that he knew had to be there? Why could it hide the grotesque features, the hideous reminder that it certainly was not human? Why did it have to look so much like a . . . a . . .?

 

Drawing a deep breath, he deliberately told himself not to think about it; not to consider what it really looked like. Those things—those vile, malignant beasts . . .

 

A strange and unsettling thought occurred to him, and he couldn't help it as he shifted his gaze without raising his head, stared at the demon with mounting suspicion. Were they . . . evolving . . .?

 

It stood to reason, didn't it? Every living form, even humans, evolved. With every passing generation, things subtly changed. It had been so since the beginning of time. If that were true, then it would mean that those damnable monsters could, too . . . Was that it? Was that why he'd sensed such a different kind of power of late . . .?

 

`No,' he thought, tucking his head securely between his raised hands, digging his fingers into his hair as a roughened groan slipped from him. It should have been enough that they already possessed strange powers that defied human reason. It should have been enough that they were stronger than anything had a right to be. It should have been enough that they possessed no remorse for the things they did and the lives they destroyed. It should have been enough . . .

 

“You're all right, aren't you?”

 

Caught off guard by the softly uttered question, Kurt lifted his head, stared incredulously at the little demon. Sitting calmly, docilely, in the cage, it stared at him, its dark blue eyes candid if not a little concerned.

 

The concern, however, set him off, bringing forth an unnatural rage that seethed from deep within him. “Shut up,” he snarled, his voice gravely, low. “Just shut up!”

 

It blinked at him, the concern in its gaze taking on a certain sadness that only served to further his outrage. Gritting his teeth as he turned his face away, he forced back the bitterness that ate at him. He had to get out of there, didn't he? Had to put some distance between them before he gave in to the rage.

 

Pushing himself to his feet, he stomped toward the door without any real destination in mind, pausing only long enough to activate the security walls and the barrier that covered the exit. Then he strode out of the room and down the long corridor, following the artificial glow given off by the vending machines that stood across from the elevators. Digging into his pocket for change, he dropped in enough for a cup of coffee and let out a deep breath.

 

`Damn it . . .'

 

He couldn't deal with it, could he? The anger, the rage . . . the hurtful memories . . .

 

It was because of that demon, wasn't it? All the memories, all the nightmares . . . the things he'd tried his entire life to forget . . . Everything was being dragged up all over again because of it.

 

Watching absently as a waxed paper cup dropped down and slowly filled with coffee, he shook his head. He couldn't do it anymore, could he? He couldn't keep coming in here to watch that thing, no matter how much money it might cost him. That thing was entirely far too dangerous to his sanity . . .

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

“So you are telling me that you know nothing.”

 

Cain's gaze fell away as he nodded once, feeling the bitter surge of frustration well up deep inside. He was becoming far too friendly with that emotion, but standing there facing the one being who even came close to intimidating him was harder than he'd anticipated.

 

Sesshoumaru inclined his head, his expression completely devoid of any trace of what he was thinking. “Nothing.”

 

Cain drew a deep breath. “Nothing,” he allowed. “Well, we figure that she's being hidden,” he went on with a shake of his head. “A barrier or something. Kagome wants to go, but InuYasha insists that it's too dangerous. She thinks that she might be able to help locate the barrier, if there is one. I can't help but wonder if she could be right, and at this point . . .”

 

“At this point, you believe that the potential outweighs the unforeseen risk.”

 

Cain nodded. “Yeah.”

 

Sesshoumaru didn't respond right away. Striding over to the wall of windows, he intently stared at the falling snow. “It frustrates me to rely upon the miko in this,” he admitted at length. “She has done enough.”

 

“Naraku, you mean.”

 

“And there are no other options.”

 

Rubbing his forehead with a slightly shaking hand—a silent testament to the sleepless nights that he'd sat up, staring at the phone and willing it to ring—Cain shook his head. “Options? There haven't been any real ones from the start.”

 

Sesshoumaru nodded as though he'd figured that, too. “I trust that her mate can see to her safety.”

 

A soft knock interrupted the conversation. A moment later, Gin peeked around the door with an apologetic little smile. She looked like she was ready to retreat if given the word, but Cain forced a small smile to draw her forward.

 

She stepped inside with a tray of coffee and a small plate of various cookies and mini-muffins. “I thought you could use a break,” she murmured as she slipped the tray onto the desk and reached for the porcelain carafe. “It's good to see you, Uncle. Your flight was all right?”

 

Sesshoumaru turned and stared at her, his eyes taking on a slight glow as he nodded at Gin. “It was fine,” he assured her. “I trust you're keeping her out of mischief,” he said.

 

Cain shrugged and accepted the cup of coffee she offered him. “She's an Izayoi. I don't think it's possible to keep her out of mischief.”

 

“Cain!” she chided, her cheeks pinking, shooting him a chagrined sort of look as she presented a cup to her uncle. “I don't get into mischief,” she assured him.

 

Sesshoumaru took the cup and nodded. “Less than your brothers, in any case.”

 

Gin heaved a sigh designed to let them know how sorely put-upon she felt at the perceived slight. Cain's smile widened just a touch as he pulled her over to kiss her forehead before she slipped out of the room with a wiggle of her fingers and a soft little giggle.

 

“She has not changed,” Sesshoumaru remarked as he shifted his gaze away from the door.

 

“Yeah,” Cain agreed.

 

“And she is holding up well, it seems.”

 

“A little too well,” Cain muttered as he lifted the coffee to his lips.

 

“What does that mean?”

 

Letting out a deep breath as his smile faded, as he stared thoughtfully at his cup, Cain shook his head slowly. “She tries to be everything that anyone might need,” he said in an almost distracted tone of voice. “Bellaniece needs a friend . . . her mother needs a daughter . . . Jillian needs reassurance, and Evan . . . God only knows what he's ever thinking, but it's never anything he's willing to tell Gin, and even if he would, he'd never tell me . . . Sydnie needs a mother . . . Bas tries not to need a damn thing . . . and all the while, she plays the hostess, and she says that everything will be just fine, but . . . But she's worried, too, and I know she is, and she won't tell me that, either.” Shuffling over to the fireplace, Cain set the mug on the mantle and busied himself by dropping a couple hunks of wood on the dying flames, but he didn't stand up right away, staring at the fire without seeing it at all. “Isabelle and Alexandra act like strangers, exchanging only the most necessary of words . . . Everyone's walking around on eggshells, afraid to offend or upset someone else, and Gin . . . Gin's answer is just to try even harder . . .”

 

“And you try harder because she does.”

 

Uttering a half-hearted chuckle, Cain shook his head, propping his elbow on his knee and rubbing his forehead. “I told her the other night that if she wanted to say something to me, I'd listen . . . You know . . . You know what she did?”

 

Pivoting on the balls of his feet when Sesshoumaru didn't respond, Cain barked out a harsh laugh as devoid of humor as it was full of irony. “She baked me a cake, of course.”

 

Sesshoumaru chuckled—a rare sound coming from the formidable man. “Perhaps you are interpreting things wrong,” he remarked at length as he sipped his coffee. “Perhaps it is not that she needs to be these things for everyone else. Perhaps, in truth, she needs to be these things for herself.”

 

Cain considered that and nodded. In truth, he hadn't actually thought about it that way. Overly concerned that she was simply brushing aside the things that he knew to be true, he hadn't stopped to think that maybe, just maybe, she was dealing with the situation the only way she knew how.

 

Even still, it didn't alleviate the oppressive feeling that everything was desperately wrong, and that feeling . . . God, he hated it . . .

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

“I quit.”

 

Dr. Harlan stopped with his coffee mug hovering near his lips as he slowly shook his head. “Quit?” he echoed. “Wh-what do you mean, Doc?”

 

“What do I mean?” he countered with a slight shake of his head. “It's pretty straight forward, don't you think? `I quit' normally means that I quit.”

 

“You can't quit!” Harlan exclaimed with a very loud, very fake laugh. “We had a deal, and—”

 

“Don't tell me about deals,” Kurt interrupted impatiently. “You're the bastard who keeps altering that deal, aren't you? Forget it. I changed my mind. You're going to pay me the rest of what you owe me, and you're going to find someone else to watch your prize at night.”

 

Harlan made a face. It was obvious from the panicked expression on his face that the very last thing that he wanted to do was to try to find someone else to watch the little demon. Too bad Kurt didn't really give a damn . . . “You know as well as I do that this is highly sensitive research. We can't trust just anyone with the information, and you saw for yourself that someone else might not be able to handle her. You were right; she seems to be quite powerful, but—”

 

“And you're missing the point! I hunt those things—that's all I do. The rest of it is yours, not mine.”

 

“But without you—”

 

“Look . . . Authorize the rest of my payment unless you'd really like to see how long this place stays standing once I remove the barrier outside,” Kurt warned.

 

Harlan looked like he was going to panic for a few minutes before a strange sort of glint entered his expression. “You're scared of her, aren't you? Scared that you can't handle her!”

 

It took every last bit of Kurt's self-restraint to keep from beating the old bastard senseless. Narrowing his eyes, gritting his teeth, he planted his hands on the desk and leaned in close—close enough that it caused the self-serving smirk on the good doctor's face to falter as he sat back. He could see every spidery blood vessel just beneath the thinning surface of Harlan's face, could “I'm not afraid of that thing in the least . . . but then, I'm not the one grasping at straws because you're too damn stupid to admit that you're afraid of it.”

 

Harlan opened and closed his mouth a few times before clearing his throat and pasting on a tepid smile. “Okay, Doc, I'll admit it. She's . . . creepy . . . That's a good word for it. Anyway, I'd like for you to reconsider. After all, it'd be a shame if I had to call the others and tell them that you've become . . . unreliable.”

 

“Unreliable? Is that so?” Kurt countered quietly. “You think they'll believe you?”

 

“You think they won't?”

 

“I think you're bluffing,” Kurt retorted.

 

Harlan shook his head but only shrugged. “But you don't want to find out, do you? As I see it, we need each other, right? You need us. We pay you, and we need you or else we don't get the demons . . . Why are we arguing, anyway?”

 

Kurt could think of a few reasons why they would be arguing, but he leaned back just a little.

 

“I can offer you a raise; would that be acceptable?”

 

Kurt stared at him for a moment. “You really haven't been listening to me, have you? I told you, I—”

 

“Think about it, why don't you? A nice, fat raise on top of the amount we agreed on . . . not such a bad deal, is it?” Harlan straightened his tie and pasted on an indulgent smile.

 

Kurt narrowed his eyes on the man and slowly shook his head.

 

Harlan held out his hands in a pleading gesture and shrugged. “Look . . . if you're not scared of her, then you really don't have anything to lose, do you? You can't tell me that hunting like you do in the dead of winter really appeals to you, does it? Think about it . . . I'm offering you a nice, steady income, and all you have to do is sit in a room all night and make sure that our girl doesn't do anything stupid . . . Is that really so tough?”

 

Kurt snorted, more at the girl reference than in response to anything else that Harlan had said. Without bothering to reply, he turned on his heel and headed for the door, stopping just long enough to grab his knapsack off the table nearby before striding out of the office and down the hall toward the elevator.

 

That was the problem, wasn't it? He wasn't afraid of it. He never had been. In fact, he sincerely doubted that he actually possessed the capacity to fear anything at all anymore. After all, fear was a conditioned response when one felt threatened, right? Kurt hadn't actually felt threatened for a very long time, not really. To be honest, he hadn't actually felt real fear in years . . .

 

Because he wasn't afraid of death . . . that was the real reason that he feared nothing. If he died, it wouldn't matter, aside from the idea that he had yet to find the ones responsible for murdering his family. If he found them tomorrow—if he destroyed them—he wouldn't have anything left.

 

He'd dedicated his entire life to hunting down and summarily destroying those demons, and if the only reason he had to get up in the morning was the potential to find them, then he'd figured that was enough, too.

 

`If I stop coming here, then I can resume my search, can't I?'

 

That was true, of course. He could. Still, he knew damn well that there was more that he could learn just from observing the little demon . . . things like weaknesses that they might possess—things he might not have considered before, like its susceptibility to extreme noise . . . What else could he learn?

 

Digging his hands into his jacket pockets as he stepped out of the building and onto the pavement, Kurt frowned when his fingers wrapped around a bottle. Tugging it free, he stared at it for a moment, unable to place what it was or where it had come from.

 

Then he remembered. He'd gotten the bottle out of the little demon's belongings, hadn't he? He'd stuck them in his pocket as an afterthought a couple days ago, thinking that he could steal some time in one of the labs to run a more in-depth analysis on the pills. That was the night that he'd come in, only to find that it was sick, so he'd forgotten to test them . . .

 

Staring at the bottle, turning it over in his hand, he considered his options and sighed. Common sense told him not to ever go back, but damned if he wasn't entirely too curious about the pills, especially after the little demon had gone to such lengths to avoid eating or drinking the tainted food the researchers had given it . . .

 

Heaving a sigh, Kurt shook his head and stuffed the bottle into his pocket once more. In for a penny; in for a pound—wasn't that the old phrase? And if he were stuck in it for a penny, he might as well take the pound, too . . . Besides, he reasoned as he pulled the front of his jacket a little closer around himself, Memories were just memories, and despite what he might think when the lights were out, they really couldn't hurt him, either . . .

 

 

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

A/N:

 

E.T: The Extra Terrestrial belongs to Stephen Spielberg and Universal Pictures, 1982.

Kurt's reference to temperature at the start of the chapter is in Fahrenheit.

 

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Final Thought from Kurt:

So much for quitting …

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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~