InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 8: Vendetta ❯ Demand and Conquest ( Chapter 77 )

~~Chapter 77~~

~Demand and Conquest~

 

-=0=-

 

 

“Grandpa, I'd like to talk to you.”

 

Cain glanced up from his latest sculpture he'd been working on and reached for a rag to wipe his hands. “Okay . . .” he agreed slowly. “Am I an idiot again?”

 

Samantha strode into the studio with an authoritative air. “No,” she allowed calmly. “At least, not yet.”

 

Cain winced and held out a piece of candy for the little girl hovering around her soon-to-be mother's legs. She caught his gaze and ducked behind Samantha but not before she spared a moment to stick her tongue out at him.

 

He sighed. Tanny wasn't about to forgive him for having been the one to drop her off at the Conors' home, it seemed . . .

 

“Grandfather, I think that Dr. Drevin has done more than enough to redeem himself, and it's high time for you to let him go.”

 

Cain blinked in unmasked surprise brought on more by the formality of Samantha's speech than her actual words. “Dr. Drevin?” he repeated, amused by her brusque, business-like demeanor. “Really.”

 

She nodded, lifting her chin in a show of quiet defiance. “Yes.” She stepped forward and extended a closed slimfile. “I've taken the liberty of compiling a list of reasons that I believe should be taken into consideration. I think you'll agree that he has done his level best to make up for what he did.”

 

Cain stared at her for a moment before opening the file. “`Closed down all known youkai research facilities in North America . . . facilitated the return of one Samantha Izayoi, granddaughter of the current North American tai-youkai, heretofore referred to as one `Cain Zelig' . . . rescued a child in dread peril at the significant risk to his own person, informally named Tanny . . . ensured the life of the future North American tai-youkai, the infant named Bailey Zelig . . . submitted himself willingly to daily physical torture and debilitation, psychological abuse, and residual post-traumatic stress . . .'” he read. “I . . . I see . . .”

 

Samantha's expression remained impassive though Cain didn't miss the gleam in her eyes, either. “You failed to read the last reason aloud, Grandpa.”

 

Cain bit his cheek. “Yeah, I'm not too sure that `he has a cute butt' actually qualifies as a good reason to release him.”

 

“Really? And I thought that was the best reason of them all.”

 

Closing the file, he leaned against the work table and crossed his arms over his chest. “And you think two months of training can even come close to comparing to what was done to you in that place?”

 

She heaved a sigh, her ears drooping as she stared at the child peering out from behind her legs. “So we're no better than they are? Is that what you mean? Grandpa . . . if you want to hurt someone, hurt those who might deserve it, but Kurt . . . He doesn't, and you know it. You've always been fair and thoughtful. You tell me that you don't agree with me.”

 

Letting out a deep breath, Cain slowly shook his head. “It's not just about me, Sami. Your father, your mother . . . aunts and uncles . . . This was never the perfect solution, but at least this way, they got to vent just a little of their frustration. Surely you can understand that.”

 

“And I say that enough's enough,” she countered quietly but with no less conviction. “Everyone wants to punish him for one choice he made, but . . . but I'm suffering, too. Kurt's a good man, and you know it. I know you do. Can't we just leave it go? Prove once and for all that we aren't like them?”

 

He stared at her for another long moment as a very slow smile spread over his features. “You're a good woman, Samantha. Did you know that?”

 

She heaved a sigh and shook her head. “I'm not good, Grandpa. I'm just me, and I am the way that my family raised me to be.”

 

“So you think we've punished him enough,” Cain murmured.

 

Samantha nodded. “Yes, I do.”

 

“Any ideas? I mean, I'd think he should at least endure one more test.”

 

She sighed. “Okay, then fine. Let me fight him. If he wins, he can go free.”

 

“And you think he'd fight you?”

 

She got that stubborn look on her face again. “Yes, I do,” she maintained.

 

“And if he doesn't win?”

 

Samantha bit her lip. “If he doesn't . . . then I won't complain, and you can keep him for the rest of the three months.”

 

Cain considered than then nodded. To be honest, he didn't actually think that Drevin would fight her; not at all, but even then, he supposed that'd be okay, too. The only real problem was figuring out what to do with him once they let him go because someone with his powers . . . well, it was definitely something that Cain would have to consider . . .

 

Cain shuffled over to the row of windows, staring outside at the training taking place behind the house. With InuYasha, Ryomaru, and Kichiro in California, and Bas having been told that he wasn't going to beat on Kurt for awhile, the one doing the training for the day, oddly, was Cartham. Madison and Evan were standing nearby, probably taking potshots at the poor embattled human, and Cain smiled.

 

He flinched a second later when the resounding echo of gunfire shook the floor-to-ceiling windows. Cartham, apparently tired of swinging at Kurt, had pulled a handgun and was firing rounds at Kurt's feet.

 

“Grandpa!” Samantha complained, the color leeching from her skin as she dashed over to peer around him. “Stop him! Has he lost his damn mind?”

 

Cain chuckled. “Well, Cartham's a deadeye. I don't think he actually intends to hurt him . . .”

 

Samantha wasn't impressed, and she stomped her foot angrily. “Do you remember when he accidentally shot Evan in the foot?”

 

“Yeah, that was different,” Cain drawled but headed toward the doors that led outside.

 

“How was that different?” she demanded, right on his heels.

 

Cain chuckled again. “I don't think that was an accident.” He yanked the door open and strode outside. “Cartham!” he yelled. “Deke!”

 

Cartham lowered the gun and swung around to face Cain as Samantha vaulted the railing and darted over to the shaken human. He was obviously stunned—it wasn't every day that someone was off-kilter enough to fire a gun at you, Cain supposed, but he didn't seem any worse for wear . . . “I thought I told you: no permanent damage!”

 

The deviant hunter grinned at his boss. “Aw, hell, Zelig . . . I'm using blanks, damn it . . .”

 

Cain chuckled again as Tanny reached into his pocket to nab a candy before she dashed away. “Oh, well, then go right ahead.”

 

“Shit! Shit! I'm gonna piss myself!” Evan howled, completely bent over an equally amused Madison.

 

Samantha, however, wasn't nearly as impressed. Stomping over to the hunter who towered a good foot-and-a-half over her, she grabbed the gun and started firing it at Cartham's feet instead.

 

Cain opened his mouth to yell at them then snapped it closed again, pausing long enough to watch as Samantha, out of artillery, sprinted for the beach and neatly tossed the weapon into the frothing water, much to Cartham's chagrin. Then he turned on his heel and headed back inside, satisfied, at least for the moment, that no one was really in any mortal danger . . .

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

`That twisted little monkey . . . just wait till I get my hands on him . . .'

 

Kurt made a face and tugged futilely on his hands, suspended over his head via the short length of chain that separated the handcuffs fastened around his wrists and was looped through a longer chain that the little miscreant had padlocked together well out of Kurt's reach . . .

 

He really should have known better than to trust Evan Zelig when he said that he had something planned that Kurt would love.

 

He sighed, giving up for the moment since he really couldn't see any way out of his current predicament. That damned Evan had come in, saying that his father wanted him in chains for the night, and while that hadn't happened in awhile, Kurt wasn't inclined to argue, given the situation. Evan must've counted on that. Five seconds later, or so it had seemed, he'd had Kurt fastened to a longer chain slung over the top railing of the old wrought iron bed—the kind that could be hung with curtains with a canopy over it. Then Evan had assured him that it wasn't so bad before winking and ducking out of the room as his laughter trailed behind him, drifting through the closed door.

 

Samantha slipped into the room, balancing a dinner tray on her hip as she closed the door and slowly turned to face him. “Grandma made roast beef with carrots and potatoes, and—O-o-oh, my . . .”

 

Kurt tried his best to pin her with a formidable scowl—not entirely possible, all things considered. “Your cousin,” he said slowly, carefully, “—is going to die when I get my hands on him.”

 

“Evan?” she asked with a grimace.

 

He nodded slowly.

 

She opened her mouth to say something then closed it, opting instead to bite her lip, as though she wasn't sure that he was going to like whatever it was she had to say. “Yeah . . . he took off about twenty minutes ago . . . but he said he'd be back in the . . . the morning . . .”

 

He closed his eyes and shook his head, counting to twenty before he trusted himself to speak. “Tell me that he didn't take the keys with him.”

 

“Well, I don't know . . .” she hedged as she set the tray aside and wrung her hands. “I-I'll go ask . . .”

 

“No, Sam, wait! Little—damn it,” he growled, hanging his head when she darted out of the room once more, and he wasn't at all surprised when she burst back into the room a few minutes later with her grandfather, Bas, and Gunnar in tow. All three men stood stone still for a moment, staring at the way Kurt was caught up, and all three of them slowly shook their heads, though, to their credit, not one of them actually laughed, no matter how pressed not to they really were.

 

“Um, Sam . . . I don't have a key to that,” Cain remarked as he stepped forward, staring upward at the padlock.

 

“Hell . . . I don't, either . . . and . . .” Bas drawled as he grasped the cuffs and gave them the once-over. “Those are Cartham's.”

 

“So I suppose you're stuck there till Evan shows up again,” Gunnar concluded with a distinct nod as he turned and headed for the door once more.

 

“In layman's terms,” Bas added for good measure, “you're fucked.”

 

Kurt shook his head and gritted his teeth, wondering exactly how he'd ended up like this.

 

Cain promised to try to hunt Evan down though Kurt could tell from the tone of his voice that he really didn't expect to be successful at it. But at least Bas and Cain finally left the room, and Kurt shot Samantha a longsuffering glance. “Does he always do stuff like this?”

 

Samantha giggled and picked up the dinner plate off the tray. “Not always,” she said in a tone that was far from reassuring.

 

“What are you doing?” Kurt demanded when she sat beside him on the bed.

 

“I'm going to feed you,” she replied calmly.

 

Kurt scowled but let her do it. “You know, I don't think I like that Cartham guy,” he remarked just before she stuffed a hunk of potato in his mouth.

 

“Oh, Cartham likes you,” she assured him then wrinkled her nose. “Even if that was pretty dirty of him . . .”

 

He leaned away to avoid the next bite. “He tried to shoot me!” he reminded her.

 

“With blanks,” she countered. “Anyway, I got him back for you. He was grumbling at Grandpa because that was one of his favorite guns . . .”

 

Kurt snorted then suddenly sat up a little straighter. “Where's Tanny?”

 

Rolling her eyes, Samantha stuck a bite of roast into his mouth. “She's fascinated by Bailey,” she said. “She was watching Sydnie change his diaper and didn't want to come up with me.”

 

Kurt snorted. “You think she should be watching stuff like that?”

 

Samantha laughed. “You think it'll give her ideas?”

 

“Well, she doesn't have boy parts, you know,” he pointed out.

 

“I think you're being paranoid, Daddy,” she teased, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

 

“It might; you never know,” he huffed. “Sam . . .”

 

“Open your mouth.”

 

“Hold on . . . Tell me something.”

 

She lowered the fork. “What?”

 

Kurt shook his head. “Are all youkai babies born with those fuzzy things?”

 

She blinked and considered his question. “Oh, you mean Bailey's Mokomoko-sama? Only dog-youkai, and hanyous aren't born with them, no.”

 

He considered that for a moment. “So your babies . . . wouldn't have one of those?” he asked slowly.

 

She smiled. “No.”

 

He fell silent as she continued to feed him. He wasn't entirely pleased with the notion of having to be fed, but it wasn't nearly as humiliating as the things that had been done to her. She smiled and seemed content to do this for him, though, and that was more than enough to temper any lingering discomfort. So Kurt concentrated instead on watching her—enjoying the way her face seemed to glow with her contentment, the way her eyes sparkled and shone in the ambient light cast by the bedside lamp . . . She looked so very different, didn't she? Clean and well-kempt, the way she was supposed to look. Kurt nearly smiled, shaking his head when she offered him another sip of soda.

 

“Taijya . . .”

 

He made a face. “I really wish you wouldn't call me that,” he muttered.

 

She smiled sweetly. “You'll always be my taijya,” she insisted.

 

He shot her a chagrined frown. “Still . . .”

 

“Would you promise me something?”

 

“What?”

 

Deliberately averting her gaze, she shrugged. “Promise me you'll do your very best tomorrow during training, no matter what . . .”

 

“Why? They bringing in someone bigger and stronger to kick my ass? Is there someone bigger or stronger than that damned battle tank of an uncle—cousin—whatever of yours?”

 

She laughed. “Maybe. Just promise me.”

 

He snorted. “I really don't think that'll be a problem,” he pointed out.

 

“Please?”

 

He sighed. “Fine, all right. I promise.”

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

Cain rubbed his forehead and frowned at the far wall without really seeing it as he drummed his claws on the desk and waited.

 

“So the dilemma is what to do with a man of his . . . talents,” Sesshoumaru concluded, his voice clear and commanding on the speakerphone.

 

“That's the gist of it, yes,” Cain replied. “I mean, sure he's Sami's mate, but even so, we cannot keep him confined forever, and even if we could . . .”

 

“But he is her mate, correct?”

 

“Yes, he is . . .”

 

“I daresay he has no interest in returning to his previous profession?”

 

“No,” Cain replied. “He was only doing that, I think, so that he could look for the ones who had killed his family, and since they're dead . . .”

 

“Then there's no need to continue it, even if he had a desire to.”

 

“Dad, I had a thought,” Bas spoke up in the silence that followed Sesshoumaru's last remark.

 

“What's that?”

 

Bas let out a deep breath and glanced around. Gunnar nodded—obviously the two of them had already spoken about it. “He located five facilities in North America, alone. Who's to say that there aren't more; maybe not here, but in other countries? If he were willing . . . He could infiltrate them. He's already proven that he can effectively shut them down, and while his methods might not be exactly what we're after, I think maybe he could do this.”

 

Sesshoumaru uttered a terse sound, as though he were considering what Bas had said.

 

“There's also the matter of the others like him. It stands to reason that he isn't the only human supplying youkai to those facilities,” Gunnar added.

 

“And you think that Drevin can handle it?” Sesshoumaru asked.

 

The assembled men exchanged significant glances. “Yes, we do,” Cain replied.

 

“I have heard rumors regarding a place in India that has been researching `variant creatures'—chimera, they call them: half man, half beast. If Drevin wishes to work for us, I suggest we start there.”

 

“Okay,” Cain agreed. “I'll talk to him tomorrow.”

 

“Then I trust you'll keep me informed. Sebastian . . .”

 

“Yes, sir?”

 

Sesshoumaru chuckled—a rare sound from the stoic youkai. “Congratulations to you and your mate.”

 

Bas broke into a grin. “Thank you.”

 

“Just do yourself a favor and keep him as far away from your brother as you possibly can.”

 

The connection was lost, and Cain pressed the button to end the call, glancing up as InuYasha, Ryomaru, and Kichiro filed into the office, all of them looking very tired.

 

“How'd it go?” Cain asked in lieu of a proper greeting.

 

Ryomaru muttered something completely unintelligible as he flopped onto the sofa. InuYasha ignored Cain and stopped in front of Bas, instead. “How're your mate and pup?”

 

Bas grinned again. “Couldn't be better.”

 

InuYasha nodded once in silent approval before he headed toward the window.

 

Kichiro rubbed his eyes. “Tanny's actual date of birth is February 14, 2069, according to that Cabot bastard. No birth certificate was ever filed.”

 

“Little weasel's afraid of his own shadow,” Ryomaru added. “Seems like Drevin scared the living, breathing shit outta him.”

 

That comment earned a scowl from Kichiro.

 

“Keh! Damn near wet his pants when Kich told him he was gonna be her grandfather,” InuYasha remarked as he crouched on the windowsill.

 

Cain wasn't at all surprised, considering. It would take a little more work since she didn't have a birth certificate, but it could be done . . . Shifting his gaze around the room, he nearly sighed, knowing well enough that Kichiro was about to get even more ticked off than he already was . . .

 

“Samantha has asked to fight Kurt for his freedom,” Cain said, carefully measuring his words. “I'm going to allow it.”

 

“What?” Kichiro growled, rounding on Cain as he narrowed his eyes. “No.”

 

Cain shook his head. “It's not your choice,” he said.

 

“Like hell it's not!” Kichiro snarled.

 

“It isn't,” Cain stated flatly. “He's earned the right.”

 

“Have you forgotten what he did to her?”

 

“Of course not,” Cain retorted. “But we cannot keep him here against his will any longer. If he can defeat Sam, then he is free to come or go as he pleases. End of discussion.”

 

Slamming his hands down on the desk, Kichiro leaned in to challenge Cain's decision. “And I say it's still not enough!”

 

Cain didn't blink, and he didn't back down. “He's Sam's mate.”

 

“The fuck he is!”

 

“Kich,” Ryomaru interjected, sitting up. “Kami, they're adopting Stinky-butt, ain't they? What other proof do you need?”

 

Cain heaved a sigh and shook his head since Ryomaru, like Kurt, never called Tanny, `Tanny', and instead used the deplorable nickname. `God . . . Drevin's as bent as Ryo . . .'

 

“Yeah, and he shouldn't be allowed to do that, either!” Kichiro spat.

 

“Look, why don't you go get some rest? You didn't get a damn bit of sleep the whole time we were gone,” Ryomaru added.

 

“Fuck you, Ryo,” Kichiro growled, starting toward his brother, cracking his knuckles.

 

“Let it go, pup,” InuYasha said.

 

Kichiro shot his father an irate glower. “Old man—”

 

“Think about Sam,” InuYasha warned.

 

Kichiro glowered at him for another long second. With a very loud curse, he whipped around and stomped out of the office.

 

Cain heaved a sigh and gripped his forehead. Sure, he could appreciate Kichiro's anger. When it was about your child, there was no such thing as unbiased. Still, he had to wonder as a weariness set in—a bone deep sort of weariness that only came with perpetually having to deal with things like this: how much uglier could the entire situation get . . .?

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

“So when Mama came in, I was completely covered in whipped cream and strawberry glaze. At least, that's what they tell me.”

 

Kurt chuckled as Samantha cuddled against his chest. “So you're basically telling me that you were a really rotten child.”

 

“I was not!” she argued with a giggle. “I was four! I was . . . precocious . . .”

 

“Save it for the jury, little demon.”

 

She giggled again. “The cake was good,” she replied defensively.

 

“That's your reason?”

 

“Yes.” She sighed happily. “Mmm . . . you're so warm . . .”

 

He sighed, too, though for completely different reasons.

 

After some maneuvering, Samantha had managed to work the chain over the high corner until it dropped down the length of the fifteen foot bedpost, so at least he was able to lie down. Now the problem was that he was entirely—acutely—almost painfully aware of the fact that they were actually alone since Tanny had fallen asleep on Bas and Sydnie's bed. When Samantha had gone down to get her, the new mother had insisted that Samantha leave her; that she was just fine, right where she was . . .

 

“Kurt?”

 

He winced. “Yes?”

 

“This is nice, isn't it?”

 

He shifted uncomfortably. “Y-yeah.”

 

Bracing herself on her elbows, she gazed at him with an uncanny sparkle in her deep blue eyes. She stared at him with a seriousness in her expression that scared him yet thrilled him at the same time. He could feel her heart beating, could sense everything about her; everything within her, and he frowned. “Why . . .?” he whispered.

 

Samantha shook her head. “Why, what?”

 

Blinking away the half-formed thought, he cleared his throat. `Laughing brown eyes . . . a certain recognition . . . and a name . . . Sango . . .?'

 

“Are you all right?”

 

He nodded as the thought receded. “Yeah . . . fine,” he assured her.

 

“Good,” she said, leaning down to kiss him.

 

The thought skittered away from him at the gentle brush of her lips against his, the fiercest emotion shooting through him. More than a simple feeling, something indefinable, untainted, something that he hadn't felt before, not like this . . . As though every single thing he'd ever known was somehow inexorably wrapped up in her, he could hear the gentle whispers of her soul, speaking to him in places that hadn't existed until she'd come into his life . . . Easy to say that it was desire or need or even lust, but . . . but hidden beneath it . . . Something far more pulchritudinous, far more overwhelming . . .

 

She sighed—a breath, an insular exhalation. The warmth of her lips, the cadence of her heartbeat . . . the silent understanding that he . . . he had nothing to run from; not any longer . . . Her body pressed against his, the shocking heat of her skin . . . He tried to move his arms, to wrap them around her, only to be thwarted by the damned metal chain.

 

“Son of a—” he growled, wrenching his head to the side as a sense of utter frustration roiled inside him. “Samantha . . .”

 

She wasn't listening. Her mouth blazed a trail along his jaw, down his throat, her tongue flicking out to tease him, her hands rubbing, caressing, moving lower and lower . . .

 

“S-Samantha,” he rasped out, closing his eyes, wincing as he bucked his hips to move her aside.

 

She blinked, her breathing ragged, her lips swollen from their kissing. “What's the matter?” she asked with a shake of her head.

 

He drew a deep breath to calm his nerves. It didn't really work, but he hadn't figured that it would, either. “No,” he gritted out. His entire being seemed to be reacting far out of his control, a riot of unfulfilled sensations, screaming for her touch, for her body. “Not like this,” he muttered, shaking his arms to emphasize his point.

 

She blinked and glanced at his hands, then shook her head. “You're uncomfortable?”

 

He snorted. “No! Damn it, I just don't want . . .” He breathed deep again. “When we . . . I want to be able to touch you, too, okay?”

 

She didn't look like she was pleased with his blatant show of chivalry—or stupidity, all things considered. “But I want you,” she stated rather matter-of-factly as she reached out, ran her hand up under his shirt.

 

He shivered. Violently. Then he frowned at her. “S-Sam . . .”

 

She heaved a sigh and seemed to understand that he really wasn't going to back down; not in this. A moment later, though, she smiled brightly and curled up beside him once more with her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest—outside the shirt, at least. “I don't know whether I should love you more or hate you right now,” she admitted.

 

Kurt uttered a terse bark of laughter that quickly shifted into a moan since his body still hadn't quite gotten the message. “You're going to be the death of me,” he predicted in a completely hopeless sort of way.

 

She giggled, though the sound was choked, at best. “No,” she said softly, wiggling around so that she could kiss his cheek before she snuggled against him once more. “I want to be the life of you, taijya.”

 

He smiled just a little as he blinked in the darkness. “The life of me . . .” he murmured. He . . . he wanted that, too, didn't he?

 

 

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

A/N:

Breaking tradition and giving y'all a chapter on the weekend. Hope everyone has as much fun reading this one as I had writing it. Enjoy!

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Final Thought from Cartham:

That was m' favorite gun!

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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~