InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 8: Vendetta ❯ Separation ( Chapter 34 )

~~Chapter 34~~

~Separation~

 

-=0=-

 

 

“You hear about Doc?”

 

Samantha felt her ears twitch though she was careful to keep her eyes averted as the white-coats walked around the table.

 

“Doc? Did he quit or something? He hadn't been in all week, has he?”

 

The one called Peterson laughed nastily. He was finally back to work though he still wore a butterfly bandage over the deepest part of the cut on his cheek. Samantha figured that she ought to feel worse about that than she actually did. Every time she thought about what he'd tried to do to her, it made her feel a little nauseous inside.

 

“No-o-o-o,” Peterson drawled. She intercepted the almost smug expression on his face and ground her teeth together. “He went out to catch another one of those,” he went on, flicking one of Samantha's ears.

 

She flattened the appendage to elude his fingers.

 

“Another one? What for?”

 

“Don't be an idiot, Warren. To breed them, of course.”

 

Samantha could feel the blood in her body run cold as those words sank in. It couldn't be true, could it? Sure, he hadn't been in over a week, and she'd been left to a different night guard, but . . . but surely he wouldn't . . . would he?

 

“Nah,” Warren said after he considered the idea. “That'd just be stupid, wouldn't it? I mean, if we bred our own, then we wouldn't need him . . . He's not stupid enough to shoot himself in the foot, is he?”

 

Peterson snorted indelicately, glancing around to make sure that no one else was within hearing distance before answering. “Hell, he's no different from her, is he? Damn freak if there ever was one . . . `Sides, what does it matter? I hear he won't be back till next week, anyway . . .”

 

Warren shook his head and tapped his pen against the clipboard in his hands. “No, thanks,” he muttered. “Not after what she did to you.”

 

Peterson rolled his eyes, shifting his gaze around once more before rather casually placing his hand on Samantha's breast, pinching her nipple so hard that she had to struggle not to make a sound when pain shot through her. “Makes it that much more fun, if you ask me. By the time I'm done with her, she'll be begging for more.”

 

“I don't know. I think you're just asking for trouble,” Warren replied dubiously.

 

Peterson chuckled, finally letting go of her nipple. “Old Harlan's going to let the new demon have at her. Might as well get some use out of her before that happens, don't you think?”

 

“And we're going to watch all that? Watch them . . . do whatever it is they do?”

 

“I don't know . . . might be a turn-on. Maybe they'll tear each other up. Who knows? A little blood might be hot.”

 

“You're kind of a sick bastard, aren't you?”

 

Peterson shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

 

Samantha felt ill. Trying to ignore the two white-coats was nearly impossible. It wasn't that she cared what Peterson said. He was scum, as far as she was concerned, and scum didn't matter. What he did or wanted to do to her was entirely out of her grasp, anyway, and even if he did do something to her body, he would never, ever crush her mind. What did bother her, however, was the idea that the taijya was out there trying to find another `demon', and why . . .

 

`He . . . he wouldn't . . . would he?'

 

Her youkai voice didn't answer right away—something else to frighten her.

 

`He couldn't . . . n-no . . .'

 

`Of . . . of course he's not, Samantha,' her youkai finally piped up, but it didn't sound too positive, in her estimation, either. `That would be . . . He wouldn't do that . . .'

 

To . . . to breed them . . .?

 

Samantha bit the inside of her cheek, fighting not to think about what that awful white-coat had predicted. That couldn't happen. Even if he did capture another, he wouldn't be that stupid. Another youkai would know who she was, and he'd never, ever . . . and even if he did . . . A stubborn harness entered her gaze as she considered the ramifications. She wouldn't let it happen, no matter what.

 

She paid no attention as the guards filed into the room, as she was shoved back into her smock, shackled for the short trip back to the holding area. Body numb, brain slow, she couldn't wrap her mind around any of it.

 

True, the taijya had been gone for a few days, ever since the night that she'd broken down, that she'd told him about her family.

 

Had that been a mistake?

 

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard the door of the cage clang closed, the rattle of the outer cage coming out of the floor.

 

She hadn't meant to tell him all of that. She hadn't meant to tell him anything at all, but when she'd looked at the date on the page of the paper, she hadn't been able to help herself, either. She missed them so badly, so desperately, that it hurt, and the blatant reminder . . . Well, it was difficult to reconcile.

 

Tamping down the bitter fear that she'd somehow given the taijya ideas about capturing her family, she ducked her chin and glared at the water pan. The guy who had been coming in to watch her wasn't a bad sort, but he didn't bother to get her fresh water, either, and the dog food she was staring at was not appealing in the least.

 

All in all, she'd been coping, though she hated to admit the worst of it, too. She missed him terribly, that taijya. She missed his wry sense of humor—the few times she'd seen it, anyway. She missed the feeling that she wasn't alone, but as much as she wanted to think that he wasn't out there hunting again, she couldn't quite convince herself that it wasn't true, either.

 

That's what he did, wasn't it? Hunter. He captured youkai, and . . . and he sold them to this place . . . What could possibly stop him? After all, he thought they were monsters, right? He thought . . .

 

And she couldn't rightfully blame him for that, either. If his family had been killed by youkai, then she could understand his hatred, his malice. She'd hate, too, wouldn't she? If she'd only seen that sort of thing . . . That was how real prejudice started, wasn't it? By an insular moment of ugliness . . .

 

But even then . . . even if he came back . . .

 

Heaving a sigh, Samantha bit her lip. The night watchman strolled in, taking a moment to check the locks and make sure that she was secured before wandering through the barrier covering the doorway and down the hall for a cup of coffee.

 

Even if the taijya came back, she wasn't entirely certain that she could actually help him, at all. As much as she wanted to, she had to admit that making him realize that not all youkai were bad was a daunting thing, at best, and if his family had been murdered, then how open was he to change, in the first place?

 

But if he were out there hunting for another one—a male . . .

 

A surge of panic rippled through her, so fierce, so abrupt that she closed her eyes against it. Her family was out there, weren't they? They were out there looking for her; she knew it in her heart. What if he . . . what if he found one of them? She had little doubt in her mind that they'd be able to take care of themselves—that was, if they saw him coming. She hadn't, had she? But then, she'd also allowed herself to be a preoccupied, too . . . and that had made all the difference . . .

 

Or had it?

 

What if the taijya caught one of them?

 

What if they hurt or killed the taijya?

 

For reasons that she didn't want to consider, the very idea that he might be hurt, and by one of her family members, no less . . . `No . . .'

 

She . . . she didn't want her family to hurt him, did she? Whether or not he came back, she couldn't stand the idea that he'd be injured. She wanted to . . . to protect him from them, but she was helpless, wasn't she?

 

But what if he really was out there looking for a youkai for those damned white-coats to breed her with? That sounded so vile, so foul . . . The last of her dignity, her pride . . . There was no way they'd be getting that, too.

 

`Don't worry, Samantha . . . he's not like that.'

 

Grimacing at the soothing tone of her youkai voice, Samantha sighed. `How can you be sure?'

 

`I . . . I don't know . . . I just know that he's not. It's there in his aura . . . He isn't like the others, those white-coats.'

 

She nodded slowly though she didn't feel entirely certain at all. She wanted to believe it; she really did, but she also wanted to believe that someday she'd be free again, too, and as the days dragged on, she couldn't help but wonder, and every day, that dream seemed to fade a little more in her mind.

 

And that frightened her most of all. She wasn't entirely certain exactly how long she could last here, and with the taijya gone . . .

 

Quiet laughter interrupted her silent musings, and Samantha narrowed her eyes at the one who stepped into the room. Her guard wasn't there—she wasn't sure where he was, really, but staring into the eyes of that damned white-coat, Peterson, she couldn't help the knot of trepidation that grew deep down within her . . .

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

“So how's it going?”

 

Evan Zelig made a face as he strode along the sidewalk on the north side of Chicago. “It's going,” he muttered.

 

“Daddy says that they're not having much luck with any of the leads that have been called in, either,” Madison Cartham, Evan's long-time best friend replied.

 

“That's an understatement,” he said, feeling the bitter sting of frustration once more. “We'll find her, though. Don't worry about that.”

 

Madison sighed. In the background, he could hear the sound of the workmen who were trying to get Madison's new LA shop ready to open. “I wish there was something I could do,” she remarked. “I've been trying to think of something—anything—but you know, it all seems so . . . shallow . . .”

 

Smiling wanly despite his own ragged emotions, Evan shook his head. “Don't worry about it, Maddy. It's enough that you're thinking about her. `Sides, you have enough to do, don't you? Gotta get that shop open, right?”

 

She heaved a sigh. “Easier said than done,” she confessed. “There are too many damned ordinances around here. Anyway, who cares about that, right? Are you making any progress at all?”

 

“Actually . . . no,” Evan admitted with a grimace as he turned the corner and kept moving. “If we could just find something, you know? Kich is going crazy; about seven people have called him in the last few days with leads that just turn out to be nothing. Grandma and the old man are still combing the city on foot, though, but it's taking so fucking long that it seems pointless, too . . .”

 

“I doubt they believe that it's pointless.”

 

He sighed and nodded. “Yeah, but hell . . . it's been over two months . . .”

 

“You're not about to give up, are you?” Madison demanded, a hint of censure in her tone.

 

“Hell, no,” he barked. “That'd be a hella stupid thing to do. Just frustrated; that's all.”

 

“I know,” Madison added in a consoling tone. “Samantha's strong. She'll come home. I'll bet she's just biding her time, waiting for the right opportunity to get away from whoever has her.”

 

Evan tried to smile. It didn't really work. He believed that she would eventually come home; of course he did. That didn't really offer him as much consolation as he'd like, though. In fact, it seemed pretty damn hollow, really . . .

 

Stopping outside an old office building that seemed like it was vacant, Evan sighed and shook his head, glowering at the surroundings. A hundred streets or more that all looked pretty much the same . . . If only . . .

 

Narrowing his gaze as he stared at the corner of the building, he uttered a terse growl. “Hey, Maddikins, I'll call you later,” he said, clicking off the device before she answered and dropping it into his pocket.

 

It was barely noticeable, wasn't it? The old symbol etched into one of the bricks set into the corner of the building . . . If he hadn't been staring straight at it, he probably wouldn't have noticed it, at all. The shadows cast by the huge stone church beside the building didn't help, either, but there was something entirely familiar about that symbol. Something that he felt like he should recognize . . .

 

There was something entirely unsettling about the place, wasn't there? Striding up onto the small porch, Evan shook his head. He could feel it though it was harder for him to try to put the same feeling into words: something foreboding . . . like . . . like standing in a vacuum . . . as though parts of himself were being pulled away by some unseen force . . .

 

Backing off the porch, he stood back, trying to make sense of the strange sensation. It was obvious to him that it was a barrier of some sort though maybe not in the strictest sense of the word. It wasn't set up to keep youkai out, per se . . . but he wasn't entirely certain what it was intended to do otherwise.

 

His gut reaction was to bust the door in if he had to, but a quieter and much more logical voice told him that maybe he should just wait. If the person came by who owned the place, maybe he'd get some questions answered without having to resort to violence . . .

 

Digging his phone out of his pocket, he dialed. “Hey, Kich . . . I . . . I think I might've found something . . .”

 

It only took him a minute to give the rest of the address before he hung up the phone and stood back to wait . . .

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

He had to get back to the facility soon, didn't he?

 

Shaking his head as he tried to brush off the distracting thought, Kurt kept moving, keeping his gaze trained all the while on the silver haired demon across the street. It had occurred to him last night while he'd sat outside the hotel that the little demon was probably not eating or drinking again—a thought that bugged the hell out of him, really. Still, he really did need to do what he was doing, didn't he? She was tough, he knew that well enough, too, and while he wasn't overly pleased with the idea that she would probably be a little shaky when he went back, he assured himself that it would be better in the end, all things considered.

 

Watching the demons, memorizing their habits, figuring out how many there were, all totaled, was first and foremost in his mind now because it hadn't taken him long to figure out that the worst thing that could happen would be for them to find him in possession of the little demon on the way out. He'd devise a way to get her out of there, yes, and he'd figure out the best way to send her home without giving himself up too soon, too, and in the end, he could only hope that she could understand even if she never actually forgave him.

 

Rounding the corner, Kurt frowned, unable to shake the complete unease that he'd felt all day while he trailed the blue-eyed demon. He seemed more agitated than he had in the last couple days since Kurt had started to follow him, and the demon was far too close to Kurt's office, as well. Common sense assured him that there was no way that the demon could locate it, and even if he could, why would he? Still, when he stopped just outside the building, Kurt had to grit his teeth as he ducked into the alley across the street.

 

He was talking on his cell phone—he had been for the last block or so. Kurt hadn't been close enough to overhear any of the conversation. The demon closed the device and stowed it in his pocket as he slowly examined the corner brickwork. Kurt grimaced. He'd etched the symbols he'd found in an old book that was said to have the power to contain demon auras when he'd rented the derelict building during his first trip to Chicago years ago. The demon stepped back slowly then strode up onto the small stoop, only to stop short when he realized that something was wrong.

 

`Damn it,' he thought, clenching his jaw as he watched the demon. He was trying to make up his mind, wasn't he? Trying to decide whether or not he could or should remain where he was, Kurt supposed.

 

He hadn't counted on them finding his office. That was going to complicate things a lot, wasn't it? Should those demons get inside, they'd find his books, his gear and the few records that he kept—at least that wasn't as much of a concern since Kurt wasn't actually known for keeping those, anyway. Still, the gear would be questionable enough, wouldn't it?

 

A nagging feeling kept tugging at him. He didn't pay attention to it right away. The demon got his phone out again and made another quick call. Kurt had a feeling that he was calling in back up . . .

 

He needed to get out of there, didn't he? Needed to put some distance between himself and that office before they found him. If they decided to bust in, there wasn't much that Kurt could do about it. No, it'd be much, much worse if they caught him, wouldn't it?

 

If they caught him, he wouldn't be able to get the little demon out safely. That was the most important thing now, wasn't it? Getting her out safely and without any violence . . . He'd have time to wreck the place afterward, providing he was able to come up with a reasonable plan . . .

 

But that would all be moot if he found him now, wouldn't it?

 

A taxi slowed down and stopped in front of the office, and Kurt shook his head as the one twin—her father—got out. The two exchanged words as they stared at the building. Kurt backed farther into the cover of the alley. He needed to get some of his stuff out of there, but he didn't dare do it while they were outside. Cursing his luck, he broke into a run as he took off down the alley, intent on putting as much distance as he could between himself and the demons, at least for the moment.

 

He'd almost reached the end of the alley, the opening that brought him out near the subway when a strange feeling crashed down on him hard—a sense of foreboding, a complete dread that he could neither place nor give name to, and yet . . .

 

“Little demon,” he whispered, his eyes flashing open wide. Glancing at his watch, he grimaced as he tugged the sleeve of his jacket back down over his wrist. It was nearly seven o'clock, and for some reason . . .

 

`She . . . she needs me,' he thought suddenly, eyes flashing open as the thought solidified in his mind. He didn't know how he knew it; couldn't say why he thought it was true, but somehow he just knew, didn't he? The little demon . . .

 

Flagging down an approaching taxi, Kurt hopped inside and blurted the address of the facility to the driver. “Step on it,” he growled as he tapped his foot impatiently. The absolute urgency wasn't something he questioned. He didn't know how he knew or why, but it didn't really matter. In his mind, he could see her, the expression on her face as she'd tried so hard to pull the stitches that had held her stomach closed . . .

 

The feeling that something terrible was happening . . . the irrepressible fear that shot through him . . . A gentle pleading in those dark blue eyes . . . Why was he seeing it? What did it mean? She was scared, wasn't she? Scared yet angry . . . angry that she was feeling fear, in the first place . . .? But that's what it was: fear . . . and a sorrow so deep that it cut him to the quick. Something was happening; that much he comprehended. Something that she couldn't control and couldn't escape . . . and if he didn't hurry—if he didn't get there . . .

 

“Can't you move faster?” he yelled as unbridled desperation shot through him.

 

The driver muttered something in a language that Kurt didn't understand, and he heaved a sigh. The man better get him to the right address or there'd be hell to pay, damn it . . .

 

The sense of foreboding was growing worse by the second, and Kurt grimaced, silently willing the taxi to move just a little faster . . . `Hold on, little demon . . . just hold on . . .'

 

 

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Final Thought from Samantha:

…A male …?

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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~