InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 8: Vendetta ❯ Trial by Fire ( Chapter 62 )

~~Chapter 62~~

~Trial by Fire~

 

-=0=-

 

 

“You're sure this is the place?” Kurt asked dubiously as the cab squeaked to a stop at the junction of what seemed to be just a regular side road that disappeared up a steep slope and was hidden by dense trees.

 

“Yessir,” the young guy said. “Twenty-six seventy, please.”

 

Kurt got out and dug into his pocket, only to pull out a handful of candy—striped white and red peppermints. Gritting his teeth, he handed money through the window. The kid mumbled something or other, and Kurt waved him on. He could hear the call of birds flying out over the ocean, could smell the tangy breeze . . . A knot of trepidation twisted his belly, and he gritted his teeth.

 

This was the right place. Sight unseen, he could still feel the overwhelming power of their combined auras. It was a little intimidating—or a lot . . .

 

Letting out a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and started to walk, adjusting his grip on the case in his hands. He'd come this far, hadn't he? There was no going back now . . .

 

He'd dropped the child off at the Child Protective Services office with a bag of her diapers, clothes, and her stuffed bear. The woman had eyed him suspiciously—no small wonder when the child started whimpering and calling him `daddy'. The woman asked him to stay, to talk to them for a moment. When the girl had wiggled free, only to scoot under the nearest desk, he'd taken the opportunity to slip out, unnoticed, telling himself that it was for the best, even as the underlying knowledge that he really was the most contemptible bastard that ever drew breath assailed him . . . After all, he wasn't entirely sure that they'd ever let him walk away from this place, and even if he were able to . . . Well, he had another promise to keep, too, and that was definitely not something that a child needed to witness . . .

 

That was hollow knowledge, though, when the sound of her sobs still echoed in his ears . . .

 

And . . .

 

Wincing as the beat of his heart sped up, took on an erratic cadence, as his palms sweat profusely. Was she here . . .? The little demon—Samantha . . . was she . . . here?

 

He'd tried to tell himself over and over again that he just wanted to drop off the surveillance equipment, wanted to tell them that he was sorry for the part that he'd played in it all. He . . . he didn't want to see her—couldn't see her, could he? He couldn't stand to see her; not now. To see her would be the biggest mistake of his life, wouldn't it . . .?

 

That's what he'd told himself as he got dressed, as he stopped to stash most of the things that he wasn't bringing with him in a storage facility he'd rented. He'd even told himself that as he'd stared at the Child and Social Services office growing smaller and smaller in the rear window of the cab he'd hailed just after dropping off the child . . .

 

He didn't want to see her; no. In fact, it'd be better if he didn't, right? Better because . . . because if he saw her—spoke to her—touched her . . .

 

She'd decimate his resolve, wouldn't she? With nothing more than a simple look, a little smile, even a tear . . . Sitting awake for hours at a time as he wondered if the things he'd done in the name of vengeance for her . . . Those things . . . and the understanding that had come to him without ceremony, without the heralds or the angels singing, but he'd known that it was the truth . . .

 

It wasn't nearly enough, and he knew that, too.

 

Cresting the hill, all he saw were more trees; trees that lined the somehow welcome pavement that wound around them, as though the driveway, itself, had yielded to the path of the trees . . . Some of the people he'd spoken to had mentioned that this place had once belonged to a famous but reclusive artist named Cain Zelig. Now it belonged to his son, they'd said—not a junior but another Caine Zelig . . . It made sense, didn't it? The tranquility of the forest was impossible to ignore, wasn't it? Was this the place where she'd built snowmen and dropped on the ground to create snow angels? Was this a place that provided a haven for her; the place where she'd called home . . .?

 

And yet this place . . . it felt like her, didn't it? The calm, the beauty . . . the perfection of the simple balance between life and death; the cycle that was understood and observed without the unrelenting harshness that prevailed in the rest of the world. As though it had somehow escaped the rest of the flow of time, the forest stood silent, ever-watchful . . . And she . . .

 

Closing his eyes for the briefest moment as an ache so intense opened deep inside him, for one fleeing second, he thought that he could feel her—not her aura or those hallmarks that he'd come to recognize, but the overwhelming gentleness of her, the woman. Youkai, hanyou, human, whatever . . . did she really have to be one or the other, or . . . or couldn't she just be `Samantha' to him . . .?

 

Following the path, his own thoughts so convoluted, so twisted upon themselves that he wasn't paying nearly as much attention as he ought to, he stopped suddenly, his eyes widening as a soft rustle him told him a minute too late that he wasn't alone, and then . . .

 

“Taijya . . .”

 

The word was soft, more of a breath than a spoken thing, and the next moment, he was lying flat on his back with a blur of silver bearing him down. “Little demon . . .”

 

Sobs—he heard them—mingled with incoherent words as she kissed his cheeks a hundred times, her body quivering as her emotions overrode a baser common sense. Uttering nonsensical words that came and went faster than he could comprehend them, she held onto him, crying, laughing . . .

 

“S-Samantha . . .” he whispered, closing his eyes, trying to tell himself that it wasn't right; that she really didn't feel so absolutely perfect to him . . . knowing deep down that he was fighting a losing battle—one that had been decided so very long ago on a cold October night as the skies had clouded over for the storms to come . . .

 

“I knew you'd be here,” she sniffled, snuggling against him as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “I knew it . . .”

 

He swallowed hard, tried to ignore the rioting sensations that her very proximity inspired. It was impossible, and he knew that, too. Had her eyes sparkled that much before? Shimmering with a myriad of tears that she hadn't shed . . . eyelashes spiky as her unsteady laughter shot through him . . . She was there, she was vibrant . . . She was beautiful . . . “L-little demon . . .”

 

“What took you so long?” she murmured.

 

“I . . .”

 

She grasped his cheeks, held his face still, her lips warm, fluttering, almost timid as she kissed him. He groaned as his mind whispered that he needed to push her away, but he couldn't, just couldn't . . . He'd known it, known deep down in the very heart of him . . . she was his weakness . . .

 

And somehow the fight ended before it ever began, a whisper of her aura as it surrounded him, cosseted him, comforted him; as the weeks of ugliness, the atrocities that he'd committed to ensure that she and those like her would forever be safe, melted away.

 

Her kiss was light, airy, bold and beautiful—everything that he'd come to know about her, wrapped up in an insular sensation, in quiet sighs and the softest groans. The softness of her, the heartbreaking knowledge that if he died in that moment, it'd be all right, too . . . And how often had he felt the same sense of everything in her, everything he'd ever wanted, and all those things that he hadn't even realized existed . . .

 

Her fingers in his hair, the taste of the tears on her lips . . . the culmination of the weeks that they'd been apart, and yet . . . and yet the underlying knowledge that this gossamer moment was never meant to be his . . . Still, he couldn't pull away from her, couldn't let her go . . . As though a part of him were dying, only to be reborn in her . . . because of her . . . and in spite of himself . . .

 

There was a certain innocence in her affection; an untouched quality that had somehow managed to flower once more. The tenderness in her trembling fingers as she twined them in his when he reached for her; when he tried to give a token resistance . . . and still, her tears flowed like the waters against the sand . . .

 

“What the . . .? Don't tell me you fucking asked her to bear your damn children, too . . .”

 

“InuYasha . . .” a female voice hissed.

 

“Well, they ain't making those babies out here!” the first voice growled.

 

Uttering a terse groan but unsure whether it was because of the interruption or because of what had to be one of the most compromising positions he'd ever been caught in, he peered around Samantha, not surprised to see another one that looked like her, though this one was male and very obviously displeased with the scene he'd stumbled upon. Arms crossed over his chest, he was staring at Kurt in the strangest sort of way, as though he recognized him somehow, but . . . but Kurt had no idea how that could possibly be.

 

The small woman beside him, though, gave Kurt pause. Long black hair that floated on the breeze, she kept trying to peer around the man while he kept shrugging her off, blocking her from view. But she was human—Kurt could sense this—and she possessed an enormous amount of spiritual energy—the same kind he did, even if he didn't really understand how he knew that, either . . .

 

The sound of that statement—harshly uttered but tinged with an underlying sense of confusion—broke through Kurt's haze-clouded mind. Samantha sighed and hugged him, as though she were unwilling to let him go. “Bear my . . . what . . .?” Kurt repeated with a shake of his head.

 

The woman behind the angry-looking one rolled her eyes and made a face as she stepped away from him and slowly ventured forward. Her dark eyes were troubled, and she shook her head as she stared. “Oh . . . my . . . In-InuYasha . . .” she said, tugging on the man's arm.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he muttered, ears flicking as though he were irritated.

 

Kurt shook his head as even more confusion set in. He'd never seen those two in his life, and he knew that, too. So why were they staring at him so oddly? And why . . . why did they seem . . . familiar to him . . .?

 

“He has to be . . .” the woman murmured, her hands lifting to cover her mouth as the blood seemed to drain from her skin.

 

“Aw, hell . . . weren't it enough to have to deal with him once already?” the man grumped.

 

“Grandma . . . Grandpa . . . this is—”

 

“Sami . . .!”

 

She laughed weakly and sat up, wiping her eyes with a shaking hand as she smiled sweetly at Kurt and turned to face the one that Kurt recognized as her father. Stepping out of the trees, he looked a little confused, but that confusion seemed to dissipate as he got a better look at Kurt. The flare of utter rage in the man's gaze spoke volumes. Samantha didn't seem to notice as she shot her father a happy grin. “Papa, this is Kurt. He—”

 

“You little bastard,” the man—her father—snarled, lunging at Kurt, his claws extended.

 

Samantha gasped, her expression registering her absolute astonishment. “Papa!” she screamed, throwing herself across Kurt's chest to protect him. “No! You'll hurt him!”

 

“Damn straight, I will,” he growled, jerking back in time to avoid hitting his daughter and looking even more irritated by her blatant interference. “Move!”

 

“No, Papa!” she cried, plastering herself against Kurt's chest, her anxiety rising fast. “He's my mate!”

 

“Oh, we'll see about that,” he growled, all his anger, all his hatred reflected in those bright golden eyes. Kurt saw it all in that moment. He knew—knew—what Kurt's part in it was—and he was set to see Kurt dead. He lunged again. The other man—InuYasha?—shot forward, grabbing her father's arms to pull him back.

 

“Knock it off, Kich!” InuYasha growled, pulling him away then giving him a harsh shake for good measure.

 

Her upset was a hurtful thing that he felt somewhere deep inside. “It's all right, Samantha,” Kurt said quietly, sitting up slowly and gently pushing her aside. She shot him an imploring look, one that caught in his gullet and twisted. He forced a wan smile and nodded. “It's okay.”

 

The resounding thump of footsteps came closer—from every side, or so it seemed. Within moments, they were surrounded, and Kurt grimaced, recognizing almost all of them from his observation of them in Chicago.

 

“What's . . .?” trailing off, the huge one with the golden hair and eyes stepped forward, glancing over at InuYasha and the one that InuYasha had called `Kich'. When his gaze lit on Kurt, however, Kurt stifled a sigh. “Wait . . . you're the guy from the restaurant . . .”

 

“Restaurant, hell!” her father snarled, fighting against the other man's grip.

 

The larger one shook his head. “Yeah . . . Toga and I were grabbing something to eat . . . You were coming out . . . I spoke to you, didn't I?”

 

“You what?” her father bellowed, jerking free of InuYasha's hold and smashing a fist into the taller one's jaw. He stumbled back a couple steps, rubbing his jaw as InuYasha latched onto him once more to pull him back.

 

“Knock it off, I said!” he growled. “Damn stupid pup . . .”

 

Her father jerked against the death lock InuYasha had on him, fighting to free himself, though he looked like he wanted to go after the tall one again. “Listen, Bas, you idiot! He took her there, damn it! He took her to those bastards!”

 

The taller man's gaze widened as he turned his head to stare at Kurt. Very slowly, his eyes narrowed, an iciness entering his gaze that almost gave Kurt pause. “You're on that tape . . .” he murmured, more to himself than to Kurt.

 

Kurt nodded slowly, his eyes locking with the one called Bas then shifting slowly to stare at each of them. “I . . . I took her there,” he admitted quietly.

 

The assembly fell silent at that, all of them staring at Kurt as though they were finally starting to understand. “Let go, old man!” her father snapped. “I'm going to fucking kill him!”

 

“You can't!” Samantha yelled, insinuating herself between her father and Kurt once more. “I told you! He's my mate!”

 

And that just ticked her father off more. With a loud growl, he knocked InuYasha's hands away and lunged for Kurt again, shoving Samantha aside as he made to grab Kurt.

 

The others descended on them. For a moment, Kurt really thought that they were all coming after him. Closing his eyes, he didn't try to fight back, figuring that it was the least he deserved. He'd taken her, hadn't he? Taken their baby . . . and it took a moment for him to realize that they'd pulled her father away yet again. “Let—go—damn it . . .” he demanded, jerking on their holds. Four of them were holding him back, and they looked like they were having trouble doing it, too.

 

Samantha was crying in earnest now. The sound of her upset was enough to make him grimace, and, ignoring the little voice of common sense whispering in the back of his head, he reached out with a sigh, drew her close against his chest without taking his eyes off anyone else. “It's okay,” he told her in a quiet tone meant only for her to hear. “Your . . . your father's right. What happened to you . . . it was my fault.”

 

“No,” she insisted, shaking her head, flicking her ears as she stubbornly held her ground. “You saved me! Tell them!”

 

Letting out a deep breath, he couldn't meet her gaze. “You . . . you shouldn't have needed saving.”

 

“You're the one from the surveillance tapes . . .”

 

Kurt blinked and grimaced inwardly. So wrapped up in Samantha's emotions that he hadn't sensed the rapid approach of another being even more powerful, more frightening than any of the others assembled with the exception of the one that had grabbed and held her father back, to start with. Their auras were different, though, those two. InuYasha had a much wilder feel to his aura—a much more aggressive saturation. This one . . . his power was more of an afterthought—something he'd possessed for so long that it had become little more than second nature . . . and this one was staring at Kurt with the strangest sort of expression—almost more of a curiosity than hostility . . .

 

“Dad . . .” the one that Kurt had run into outside the restaurant on Thanksgiving Day said. Uttering a terse grunt as he held tightly to the little demon's father, even he looked like he had to struggle to maintain that hold . . .

 

`Dad?' Kurt thought, staring at both of them.

 

`Dad' didn't look old enough to be `Dad', but it must have been so, because the one that had just arrived nodded slowly. “Morio, why don't you take Sami inside?”

 

One of the silver haired ones that was standing beside Kurt stepped forward. Samantha huddled closer to Kurt and tried to slap the man's hands away. “C'mon, Sam,” he said, gently but firmly grasping her arms and hauling her to her feet. “You can talk to him later, I'm sure.”

 

“No! Morio, let me go!” she insisted, her ears flattening as she struggled to regain her freedom. “Papa, you can't!” she screamed.

 

Her father growled low in his throat, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he yanked against the hold the others had on him.

 

Samantha dug her heels in, refusing to go any further. “He's my mate!” she yelled, her throat scratchy, raw.

 

The cold look in her father's eyes flickered but didn't disappear. “Go in the house, Samantha,” he insisted without taking his gaze of Kurt.

 

“No, Papa! Promise me—”

 

“Fine,” he gritted out. “Now, go.”

 

She didn't look happy, and despite the distance between them, Kurt could tell that she was crying again. Gritting his teeth, he watched her go.

 

The small woman beside the one called InuYasha cleared her throat. “InuYasha . . .”

 

“I know, wench, I know,” he growled. “Go check on her, will you?”

 

“But—”

 

“Don't worry,” he said with a shake of his head and a flick of his ears—ears just like Samantha's. “I'll tell `em.”

 

She stared at him for a moment then nodded before turning on her heel and dashing away. Only after she was gone did Kurt slowly, warily turn his attention back to the men gathered around him. With a loud growl born in the depths of his frustration, her father finally jerked free, shooting forward in a blur of motion. Mind-boggling pain erupted in Kurt's jaw as he flew back against the ground once more. He hadn't even seen the hit coming, had he?

 

He wasn't finished; not by a long shot. Striding over, grabbing him by the front of his shirt, her father yanked him to his feet before he could do it, himself. Yanking Kurt forward as he snapped out his arm, he sent Kurt flying back as pain exploded in his right eye.

 

“Get up, damn you!” her father snarled, shaking off the hands that reached out to stop him as he strode across the ground to tower over Kurt's prone body, every single line of him a study in barely contained rage.

 

In the back of his head, Kurt knew it was a stupid thing to do—probably the stupidest thing he ever could do . . . The other men were standing back, poised, ready, as though they all understood this, even if they didn't want to see it happen.

 

With a grunt as he forced himself to his feet once more, Kurt knew the next hit was coming, even if he didn't see the blur of motion any better this time around. This one connected with his gut, and he doubled over, wheezing and coughing. Then he pushed himself to his feet again.

 

“That's enough,” the one said with the commanding presence of someone used to giving orders.

 

“The hell it's enough,” her father growled. “Stay out of this, Zelig.”

 

The hit this time sent Kurt flying back about ten feet before he rolled to a stop at the base of a thick white ash tree. The voice inside him was begging him to stay down this time, but he ignored that, too, forcing himself upright yet again. His eye was swelling fast, he could taste blood pooling on his tongue. His guts felt as though they'd been ripped out then shoved back into his body once more, and he was pretty sure that he had at least a few broke ribs, as well.

 

“I'm going to fucking kill you!” he bellowed, barreling at Kurt once more.

 

Pummeling his fist in the center of Kurt's chest, Kurt flew back again, smacking his back against the unyielding tree trunk behind him. Kurt couldn't move, couldn't breathe. Stunned for a long moment before his brain reminded his lungs to work, he winced as the pain that registered in his brain returned with a vengeance. Every breath he tried to draw hurt like hell. Gathering what was left of his strength, he smashed his hands on the ground to push himself up again.

 

Her father lunged toward him. This time, the others grabbed him and held him back. “That's enough, Kich,” the twin brother hissed.

 

“It's not nearly enough,” her father growled, jerking on his arms to regain his freedom, to no avail. Chest heaving, anger still blazing in every line of his features, of his stance, he fought against the ones holding him.

 

The one with the long black hair and ears like Samantha shook his head. “Think of Sami. You promised her!”

 

InuYasha snorted indelicately. He hadn't moved an inch since the one-sided fight had started. “He ain't goin' nowhere,” he finally pointed out, striding forward to plant himself between Kurt and Samantha's father. “That damn monk never was smart enough to know when to quit.”

 

All heads turned to look at him, including Samantha's father's. “What?”

 

InuYasha flicked his ears, nodded tersely at Kurt. “He's got his aura,” he said carelessly. “Just like that damned Miroku.”

 

Kurt didn't know what to make of InuYasha's words, and at the moment, it was the least of his worries, all things considered. Still, he sensed that the beating was over, at least for the moment, and managed to get to his feet as he shook his head. “You can kill me if you want to,” he said quietly, spitting out a mouthful of blood on the decaying leaves, “but I'd like for you to hear me out, first . . . please.”

 

 

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

A/N:

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

Reviewers

==========

MMorg

AtamaHitoride ------ Firedemon86 ------ Jester08 ------ 3427 ------ Sovereignty ------ animaygurl ------- CandyEars ------ DonthatemecuzImbeautiful ------ malitiadixie ------ Dark Inuu Fan ------ monkeyseemonkeynodo ------ Pat811 (Thank you. Your words meant a lot to me.) ------ oblivion-bringr ------ darkangel05 ------ iloveanimecartoons ------ sheastarr334

==========

Forum

ai_Artista ------ OROsan0677 ------ cutechick18 ------ Zero ------ JerseyDanni ------ Mangaluva

==========

Final Thought from Kichiro:

Dead. Fucking dead.

==========

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~