InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 8: Vendetta ❯ The Hunter ( Chapter 59 )

~~Chapter 59~~

~The Hunter~

 

-=0=-

 

 

“So . . . I think it's time I went back to work.”

 

All of the conversations swirling around the Zelig dinner table died out as Samantha stared serenely down at her plate. Taking her time in cutting off a bite of steak, she continued to eat calmly.

 

“Back to work,” Kichiro repeated, the first to break the stunned silence.

 

Samantha nodded. “Yes,” she replied simply. Out of the corner of her eye, she didn't miss the significant looks that passed between her parents. Her mother's seemed to say something akin to, `Stop her!' while her father frowned just a little and barely shook his head.

 

“Do you really think that's a good idea?” Kichiro went on in an entirely too-reasonable tone; the kind of tone that she'd get whenever she told him that she thought the moon really was made of cheese and that there was a troll living under her bed when she was a little girl.

 

“Of course,” she reasoned quietly. “I'm just as good as I ever was, right? Uncle Ryomaru said so yesterday.”

 

Bellaniece cleared her throat. “There's, um, no question that you're fully capable, sweetie,” she said with an overly bright smile. “But you've been through so much . . .”

 

“What your mother means to say is that maybe you should let yourself recover a little longer,” Kichiro added for good measure.

 

Setting the knife and fork aside, Samantha pasted on a tolerant little smile. “I appreciate everyone's concern, but I think getting back to work would be the best thing for me, all things considered.”

 

“Sami,” Cain began with a shake of his head, “are you sure about that? It's only been—”

 

“I know how long it's been, Grandpa,” she cut in with a tight smile. “I also know that sitting around, feeling useless is not doing me any good.”

 

“You're hardly useless,” Cain replied. “Have you talked to Bas and Sydnie yet?”

 

“No, I haven't,” she admitted. “I've thought about this,” she went on. “Life doesn't just stop because I was kidnapped, you know. There are other families out there who need and deserve to know that the ones who have hurt them cannot hurt anyone else.”

 

“Excuse me,” Bellaniece said, standing abruptly and hurrying from the room. Samantha sighed as her father got up, paused long enough to squeeze her shoulder but followed his mate.

 

“I was careless,” Samantha went on, her cheeks pinking as she forced herself to admit to the ugly truth of it. “I got angry because you'd sent Larry in to usurp me, and because of that, I wasn't as careful as I should have been.”

 

Cain heaved a sigh and nodded, his expression saying that the thought had already crossed his mind. He rubbed his eye, tilted his head to the side to stare at her. “Sami . . .”

 

“I think what they're trying to tell you is that they don't doubt your abilities, Samantha,” Gin said gently. “It's just that fear, you know? However irrational it is . . . it's still there, and . . . and every time you go out on a hunt, they'll worry.”

 

Samantha smiled wanly and stood up. “I know, Grandma,” she said, pausing beside her to kiss her cheek. “I know, because I . . . I feel it, too.”

 

With that, she strode out the back door, down the path to the beach. Feeling the warmth of the late March sun, rubbing her arms against the briskness that blew off the ocean on the wind . . . The feelings that she hadn't thought that she'd ever feel again, and yet . . .

 

What was it worth, really? What was anything worth? With every day that passed into sunset and shadows; with every dawn that rose with the steadiness of the inevitable, those darkened days seemed to fade just a little more in her memory, but as welcome as the reprieve was, it troubled her, too. The taijya . . . he was fading, too—fading but never forgotten. Without hearing the sound of his voice, seeing the complexity of emotion that he rarely voiced but that she could feel within the very depths of herself, she sustained those feelings somewhere deep down, but those were the things . . . those were the very things that killed her just a little inside every night when she closed her eyes and every morning when she opened them again. Clinging to the promise that he'd made her on the cold February morning in the desolate parking lot of the bus station: a promise not spoken in words in the fleeting but all too real moments . . . It was in those moments that he'd forgotten that he was a taijya, a hunter, an avenger, and she wasn't a demon. In those moments, he was just a man, and she'd known as surely as she'd ever known anything that he loved her . . .

 

But she was driving herself crazy, wasn't she? Lingering near the windows, staring at the expanse of driveway for headlights, for a sign, for something . . . for him . . .

 

“Samantha . . .”

 

Turning at the sound of her grandfather's voice, she managed a little smile and waited for him to catch up with her. Baggy black shirt caught on the breeze, whipping his ponytail over his shoulder, he wandered toward her with his hands dug deep into the pockets of his rumpled khaki pants, and he shot her a lopsided grin—not quite happy but not unhappy, either. “You know,” he said as he stepped up beside her, placing himself between the wind blowing off the ocean and her, “Bas mentioned something about needing someone in the office who can help investigate some of these more recent leads they've gotten.”

 

Samantha let out a deep breath, ears flattening for a moment as she considered what her grandfather was saying. “They don't want me as a hunter anymore?”

 

“That's not what I'm saying,” he assured her. “I just mean that maybe . . . for now . . . for everyone's peace of mind . . . The last few months have been hard on everyone—your parents, your grandparents . . . your family . . . and you. It's not that you can't do it. We know you can, but . . .”

 

“But you'd all rather that I don't,” she concluded.

 

Cain shrugged and dug a wrinkled pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “Is it bad that we'd like for you to stick around closer to home for a little while?”

 

“No,” she ventured, crossing her arms over her chest, rubbing them as a slight chill set in.

 

“And what if your young man shows up while you're out there?”

 

She hesitated in her step for a mere second, but Cain didn't miss it, either.

 

“He promised you, didn't he?”

 

Sparing a glance at him, she sighed. Cain was staring at her as though he had read her mind, and maybe he had. “Am I that obvious?”

 

He chuckled and blew out a slow stream of smoke that rose in the air and was swept away. “Nope, but you know . . . going to look for him won't really help. Maybe it's better to let him come to you when he's ready. You can't force it, even if you wanted to.”

 

Letting out a deep breath, she couldn't hide the grimace at the accuracy of Cain's words. She hadn't thought to go looking for him, per se, but she had thought that maybe she'd hear something . . .

 

“Why hasn't he called again?” Samantha asked quietly. “Why hasn't he called me?”

 

Sucking in his cheek, he considered that. In the end, he shrugged and slowly shook his head. “Maybe he's trying to give you some time—time to heal, to regain a sense of who you are.”

 

“You think so?”

 

He smiled, chuckled again. “Hell, I don't know,” he confessed. “But I do know that if he loves you, he'll be here. Love has a funny way of making you do things sometimes . . .”

 

“Is that why you made Grandma your mate?” she teased.

 

Cain shrugged, his smile widening as a slight blush filtered into his cheeks. “That was just plain dumb luck on my part.”

 

“You think so?”

 

Lifting his eyebrows, he sighed. “Hell, yes,” he admitted.

 

“I miss him, Grandpa,” she admitted quietly, her voice dropping low.

 

Cain didn't reply as he slipped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to his side.

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

Ryomaru made a face as he wandered through the debris.

 

“So what the fuck happened here?” InuYasha grumbled as he stood back, as he surveyed the carnage that they'd found.

 

“Looks like someone beat us to it,” Evan muttered, scooting what used to be a microscope with the toe of his boot. “Did a hella good job, wrecking the place, whoever it was . . .”

 

InuYasha snorted as he turned on his heel and strode toward the door. There wasn't anything up there that drew his interest, anyway. A bunch of mangled equipment in what he figured used to be a laboratory. It wasn't familiar in the least, not from what he'd seen on the few bits of footage that he'd seen. Ryomaru had brought a couple of those damned data cards with him so that InuYasha could see exactly who and what they were looking for.

 

Heading for the stairwell, he didn't bother to wait for the other two. The three hunters were upstairs, checking those levels. He figured that they'd find the same thing up there, anyway. Whoever had decimated this place had done a hella good job with it . . .

 

Grimacing when his cell phone vibrated against his hip, he pulled it out of his pocket as he jogged down the stairs. “Oi, wench,” he greeted.

 

Kagome sighed. “Find anything?” she asked.

 

InuYasha grunted. “Keh! The place has been abandoned,” he remarked. “Someone already busted it up, too.” He could hear Ryomaru and Evan following close behind.

 

“Sesshoumaru called a bit ago. He wants you to call him back after you've talked to Cain.”

 

“Damned bastard. He wants answers, let him come down here, himself,” he muttered.

 

“Gin called, too,” Kagome went on smoothly, ignoring InuYasha's outburst. “She said Samantha wants to go back to work.”

 

InuYasha made a face as he pushed out of the stairwell. This level—the basement—there were a hell of a lot of unpleasant smells, damn it . . . All manner of base odors, all wrapped together in a putrid stench . . . “She ready for that?”

 

Kagome sighed. “That's just it. No one is completely sure.”

 

InuYasha covered his nose with his arm and grunted. “Call you back later,” he muttered.

 

“Okay,” she agreed. “Bye.”

 

Stowing the phone in his pocket once more, InuYasha sneezed and flicked his ears.

 

“Jesus God,” Evan complained as he stepped out of the stairwell with Ryomaru close behind.

 

“No shit,” Ryomaru grumbled.

 

The three split up, checking the rooms along the corridor. InuYasha yanked open one door only to jerk it closed once more. The entire room was covered in human waste, or so it seemed. Splattered up on the ceiling, the walls . . . he hadn't gotten more than a glimpse of it, but that had been enough. It was one of the ones from the surveillance video . . .

 

Gritting his teeth as tears sprang to his eyes, he stuck his arm out, smashing the next door open.

 

It was a containment area of some sort. Uttering a low growl, InuYasha narrowed his eyes at the ominous looking cage in the middle of the room. Stepping inside, his scowl deepened as an eerily familiar aura resonated in his mind; one that ought to know but couldn't quite place . . . and another . . .

 

Buried below the more overwhelming odors . . .

 

Following the scent that he recognized, he strode over to the small cot against the wall. Lifting the blanket, he brought it to his nose, wincing as the scent came to him: the unmistakable scent of his granddaughter. There was another smell, too, one that InuYasha recognized: the one she swore was her mate. He didn't dwell on that, though. On the one hand, he was satisfied enough that they'd ultimately located the place where Sam had been confined for three months. On the other?

 

Damn, it ticked him off that he wouldn't be able to wreck the place, himself.

 

Ryomaru strode into the room and stopped short—so short that Evan barreled into him, sending Ryomaru stumbling forward. With a very pronounced snort, the hanyou whirled around, clouting Evan on the head with his fist. Evan shot his uncle a grin. “Sorry, man,” he said.

 

InuYasha stomped over, tossing the blanket at his son. “Well?”

 

Ryomaru sniffed it and nodded. “So she was here.”

 

InuYasha snorted. “She met him here?” he demanded, waving a hand at the blanket.

 

Evan sniffed it and shook his head, his expression serious all over again. “I don't know,” he admitted, looking entirely irritated.

 

Ryomaru shrugged and wadded up the blanket. “Makes sense, dunnit? I mean, he got her out of here, right?”

 

InuYasha shook his head, unsure what to make of it.

 

“You don't think . . .”

 

Both hanyou turned to stare at Evan, who was scowling at the floor.

 

“Think what?” Ryomaru demanded.

 

Evan shrugged off handedly, a little too casually. “You don't think he's one of the doctors, do you?”

 

InuYasha's gaze darkened as his jaw clenched tight. “He'd damn well better not be,” he muttered. “I'll rip him apart if he is . . .”

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

The man gasped and moaned softly, shaking his head as he hung limply from the restraints that held him upright in the center of the room. Kurt kicked the lever that pulled the chains a little tighter, pulling his feet apart, pulling his arms out straighter. The only things holding him up were those chains. As they groaned and creaked, Kurt ignored the pained screams, the cries to God or whatever entity was out there. Arms and legs held so taunt that Kurt could see every single muscle in those limbs, he kicked the lever once more to turn it off. “Tell me again, Dr. Thurman . . . is she your child?”

 

“I . . . I don't . . . no . . . kid . . .” Thurman gasped.

 

Striding over to the bastard's side, Kurt reached out, slapped his face. “Wrong answer,” he gritted out.

 

Thurman's head bobbed slightly as he turned to look at Kurt, his gaze filled with terror, horror . . . fear.

 

“You killed her mother, didn't you? You fucked her, you knocked her up, you took her baby, and you killed her.”

 

“It w . . . was just . . . an experiment,” he half-whined. “Th-they're not human . . . not human . . . not human . . .”

 

A flash of memory shot through Kurt's head: a little demon with black hair and brown eyes, stuck in the body of a human . . .

 

“Not human,” Kurt growled, striding over to the control once more. “Well, if you're human, let's see if you go to meet your God when you die.”

 

“No!” the man cried, breaking down into pathetic sobs. “No, please, no!”

 

Kurt snorted and kicked the lever, letting it pull his body another fraction of an inch before he turned it off once more. `Six feet tall, blonde hair, blue eyes—the all-American boy,' Kurt supposed, `and complete and total bastard, through and through.'

 

“Give me one good reason not to kill you,” Kurt ground out.

 

Thurman sobbed, blubbered incoherently.

 

“You're running out of time, and I'm running out of patience,” Kurt pointed out.

 

Thurman sniffled and choked back a sob, looking entirely defeated, like a man waiting on death row. “I-I'm engaged,” he blurted, his voice rising with the one wild hope.

 

“Oh, yeah?” Kurt said, his eyebrows lifting. “Get married? The little wife? A dog? Maybe a cat to keep her happy?”

 

Thurman's gaze lit up just a little. He really thought he was getting to Kurt, didn't he? “Y-yeah . . . yeah . . .”

 

Kurt nodded, pacing slowly as he crossed his arms over his chest and rubbed his chin. “Couple kids? Move into a small house in the suburbs with a white picket fence and a minivan?”

 

“Yeah . . .”

 

Kurt strolled over to the prep table nearby, pulled on a pair of biohazard gloves. “There's just one thing wrong with that,” he said as he picked up the scalpel and held it up for Thurman to see. “You already have a daughter, you son of a bitch, and if you think someone like you deserves to propagate your spawn, think again.”

 

The man's shrieks drowned out the sound of anything else as Kurt grasped his balls and cut them off. Tossing them onto the floor along with the scalpel, the deafening screams echoing in his head. Kurt ground his teeth together as he grabbed the state-of-the-art, portable cautery unit he'd found in one of the examination rooms and sealed the wound. As Thurman sobbed, Kurt strode over, grabbing the severed scrotum off the floor. Dropping them into a jar that he'd already prepared with formaldehyde, he topped it off with the liquid and screwed a cap onto it. “Here you go, Dr. Thurman,” he said, setting the jar onto the floor in front of him with a dull thud. “You can keep those.”

 

“You bastard!” Thurman sobbed, his pupils slightly dilated but his incoherent babble deafening. Kurt figured that the pain would have been enough to put him into shock. Obviously not . . . “You bastard! She isn't a child! She's a monster! A demon! She never should have been born! Don't you get it? I'll kill you! I'll—”

 

“Like you killed the doctor that tried to get her out of here? Is that what you mean?” Kurt cut in. Yanking off the teal rubber gloves, tossing them aside, he strode forward, grasping the fire axe he'd broken out of one of the glass emergency stashes. The effect might have been more impressive had the bastard-doctor even noticed. As it was, he was too busy sobbing and crying like a child, too busy muttering dire invectives that he had no way of backing up. “Shut your miserable face,” Kurt growled.

 

A small sound drew his attention; a little whine, a little scrape. Kurt blinked and looked down, wincing at the sight of the tiny girl. Staring up at him through eyes so wide, and she slowly held up her hand. She wanted more candy, didn't she? That's why she'd ventured out of the room where he'd left her earlier after he'd tried to get her to eat a little sandwich, to no avail. She didn't seem to understand, preferring to eat the dog kibble that was tossed in a bowl in the cubicle where she'd lived for far too long.

 

Thurman's reddened gaze fell on her as another round of sobs broke free. “On second thought,” Kurt said, turning her, shielding her from seeing what she clearly did not understand. “I'll let you live, but don't forget. I stuck a tracker in you, Dr. Thurman. I'll know where you are and what you're doing, every single moment for the rest of your miserable life.” Carefully scooping up the child who whined and pushed against him as he headed for the door, Kurt paused in the doorway and looked back at him once more. “Give your daughter's regards to your fiancée,” he said.

 

Then he turned on his heel and walked out of the room.

 

 

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A/N:

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Reviewers

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midcat:

***EDITED FOR LENGTH*** Last, but not least, is the feeling that I will have to suffer a day without an update!!! ***Whines Pitifully*** WHY??, Oh Why??? Where are the good old days when my favorite writer would have mercy on our souls and gift us with more episodes?? (Notice the dramatic flair)+++***+++ Why must we gnaw our nails waiting like Sam did in that cage until a new update is here? I suffer, and I do not wish to blame it on my all time favorite writer, but I will say that if we were to have a Super-duper-extra-plus-long chapter, or just a few average ones tossed as mercy to us the readers, my heart (and my recovery) would just be much easier to deal with!! (Notice the pathetic attempt to guilt the writer into giving us a bit more chapters or update more frequently). ***MORE GROVELING ANDSUPERFLUOUS FLATTERY***

 

Oh geez … O.o … oh, all right, all right(but you get no chapter on Friday ….) … You're kinna a whiner, arencha? *joking*

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MMorg

malitiadixie ------ Jester08 ------ oblivion-bringr ------ 3427 ------ dusparr (there are 12. Heh heh) ------ Dark Inu Fan ------ sheastarr334 ------ Firedemon86 ------ midcat (see above) ------ DonthatemecuzImbeautiful ------ iloveanimecartoons ------ bert8813 ------ Ryo5492 ------ OROsan0677 ------ AtamaHitoride ------ animaygurl ------ puresunlight (I think he just called the three numbers programmed into the cell without bothering to see whose they were) ------ kittycatkitten ------ Sesshomaru4Kagura4ever ------ ginger75125

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Forum

malitiadixie ------ sueroxmysox ------ ai_Artista ------ OROsan0677 ------ Zero ------ midcat ------ psyco_chick32 ------ Mangaluva

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Final Thought from Bellaniece:

Back to work …?

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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~