InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Fruition ❯ Confrontations ( Chapter 16 )

"Wow, I've managed to score the attention of the really big dogs . . . and one very austere cat," Myrna Loy remarked with a wink at Ben as she strode into Gunnar Inutaisho's office in the youkai special crimes building.  Sensible stack heels, echoing against the polished floor until she stepped onto the Oriental rug spread before the intricately carved antique desk, she moved with an easy dexterity, striking Ben not for the first time, just how majestic that particular woman seemed to be.  Whether it was a skill that she'd had to cultivate over time or something that she'd known instinctually, he didn't know, but it was somehow apropos, given her line of work.

She stopped, pivoted on her heel, only to cross her arms over her tailored tweed suit jacket that matched the skirt that hit precisely three inches above her knees.  "Good morning, gentlemen.  I take it that everyone here has been briefed?"

"They have," Ben said, settling back in his chair as he scowled.  In truth, he just wanted to get on with the impromptu meeting.  What had started out as a quick stop to see if Gunnar had found out anything about Jeet Unker had escalated into a full-out meeting when Zelig, with InuYasha, of all people, in tow, had shuffled into the office to say that Myrna was on her way with some new information.

Bas half-sat on the wide window sill directly behind Gunnar's desk, one leg bent at the knee, the other stretched out, braced against the floor.  Gunnar slouched back in his chair, elbows on the armrests with his fingertips pressed together in front of his face.  InuYasha was pacing the floor, as though he were too wound-up to stay in one place.  Toga reclined in the chair beside Ben, while Cain stood at the other window, shoulders slumped forward just enough to give him that casual stance with his hands dug deep in his pockets, staring out at the street down below.

Myrna nodded, crossing her delicate ankles as she leaned against the desk.  "One of my informants told me last night that he observed Jeet Unker's mate buying baby things at a pawn shop, and since their youngest child is twenty-seven and doesn’t, to anyone’s knowledge, have a mate, it's safe to say that the stuff wasn't for him.  When I told Cain about all this—" she nodded at the North American tai-youkai, "—he called Larry Rowland, and Larry said that Jeet's still there, but said-son hasn't been seen in a few days, either."

"Tell us about this son," Toga prompted.  He didn't sound overly concerned, but he didn't sound like he was going to just brush it off, either.

Myrna gave a curt nod, pulling out her cell phone and scrolling through a few screens.  "Hecht Unker, twenty-seven years old, unmated—brown hair, golden-brown eyes—height, six feet, average build with a rap sheet about twenty pages long, ranging from petty larceny to distribution of a controlled substance—cocaine, it looks like . . . He served five years of a ten-year sentence for that, and he only just got out a year ago, give or take a few months."  Lowering the phone, she leveled a no-nonsense look at Ben.  "And he's rumored to belong to the anti-Zelig faction in that area, along with the rest of the Unker clan."

InuYasha stopped, mid-stride to pin Cain with an almost quizzical sort of expression.  "Anti-Zelig?  You don't fucking say . . ."

"It's the tai-youkai they don't like," Toga explained, "Not Zelig-san, per se."

"Kinda figured as much," InuYasha grumbled, ears flicking with his irritation.

"It's not really that's surprising," Ben cut in to stave off the ensuing argument, rubbing his forehead as he digested the information she'd just rattled off.  "And they don't know where he is now?"

She shook her head.  "No, but given what I've learned about that family in particular, it could very well be a significant problem.  They aren't exactly the type of people you can sit down and reason with, and it seems that they were highly agitated when Elizabeth Unker gave the twins up to Cain to start with.  Damn near trashed the hospital waiting room when they were told that the babies were gone, or so I’ve been told."

"Why do they even care?  Sounds like they have more than enough stuff on their plates without taking it upon themselves to worry about the twins, anyway," Bas said.

The smile that surfaced on Myrna's face was as devoid of humor as it was full of cynicism.  "From what I've gathered, they don't care so much about the babies: they just don't want Cain to have control of them."

"And who all knows that Ben and Charity have them?" Gunnar asked quietly.

"Just immediate family," Cain replied.  "Well, immediate family, and I did speak to Trent Felding about it."

"The judge," Toga concluded with a thoughtful nod.  "Even so . . ."

"It's simple," InuYasha growled.  "Just hunt the little bastard down and convince him that he'd be making a pretty damn big mistake if he thinks he's gonna try to take those pups."

"We can't do that without any provocation, InuYasha," Cain said with a sigh and a pointed look since InuYasha should have known as much already.  "Anything else, Myrna?"

The hawk-youkai nodded.  "I took it upon myself to discuss this with an old friend, and I managed to talk her into flying in to help us out, but she won't be here until tomorrow, and, given the circumstances, I rather thought it'd be best if she isn't seen in this kind of setting with all of you since she'll technically be undercover."

"Why?" Ben demanded, uncomfortable with the idea of widening the circle of those in the know.  "How do you know that she can be trusted?"

Myrna shook her head.  "I'd trust her with my life," she stated simply—high praise coming from that particular woman.  "As much as you might like to think otherwise, all your official hunters are entirely too well-known, especially to those who want to avoid them, and the rest of you are, too, for that matter.  She'll be able to infiltrate them and, hopefully, get the information we need to give us the upper hand."

Cain sighed, but nodded, conceding to Myrna's reasoning.  "All right . . . I'll send Grey over, just as a precaution in case Charity takes the children somewhere without you, Ben."

It was on the tip of Ben's tongue to tell Zelig that that wasn't at all necessary, but he nodded instead, tamping down the flash of irritation that felt kind of like a knee-jerk reaction.  Zelig wasn't saying that he thought Ben was incapable of protecting them, after all, but if he couldn't be with them all the time, it would certainly be better to make sure that she was being watched over, and he knew it.  But to send that particular hunter . . . "Grey, huh . . . Are you sure he can handle it?"

Cain made a face then shrugged.  "He's a little unorthodox, sure, but I trust him."

"That's putting a nice face on it," Ben remarked.  "He strikes me more of an InuYasha-type."

"Keh!  And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Cain snorted.  "Grey's not quite that bad."

"Listen, you little—"

"He's got a bit of a reckless streak," Bas admitted, effectively cutting off his grandfather's burgeoning tirade at the quick.  "He's not exactly what I'd call a stealth-type . . ."

"At the moment, he's the best we've got.  Cartham's baby is due any time, and I'd rather keep Larry where he is in case Jeet thinks he'll make some kind of move," Cain continued.  "I'll talk to Grey, make sure he knows that he needs to exercise the utmost caution, given that Charity has no idea what's going on."  Pausing for a moment, long enough to stare at Ben, Cain gave a calculated shrug.  "Unless you plan on telling her?"

Ben frowned as he considered Cain's question.  To be completely honest, he wasn't sure if he ought to tell her or not.  Sure, she'd be more careful if she knew about it all, but it didn't seem right to put her on guard like that when the reality of it all was that, as damning as the information was, there still wasn't a bit of proof that the Unker family really would try to do something as stupid as to try to kidnap the twins . . .

He met Toga's gaze and slowly shook his head.  "What do you think, Toga?  What would you do if you were me?"

Toga sighed, tilting his head to the side and rubbing his eye in a tired sort of way.  "Charity is strong," he allowed slowly as he, too, pondered the options.  "But if this hunter—Grey—can keep an eye on her without alarming her, then maybe, for now, it might be the best option."

"I can keep an eye on her—on them," Gunnar said.

"You can't," Cain stated.  "You've already got your hands full with this place and the cases you've been working on."

Gunnar snorted.  "Grey Silvera is a little too fond of blowing things up.  He's flashier than he needs to be, and yeah, he's reckless.  If Hecht Unker shows up and tries to steal the twins, do you think Grey, of all people, can be trusted to handle the situation with the finesse he should?  Don't get me wrong.  If we were talking about him just going in and taking out someone you've issued a hunt for, then there's no one better, but for this . . ."

"Grey can do it," Bas spoke up. "I'll explain everything to him.  He's not as reactive as you seem to think."

"Just make sure that Charity doesn't see him or sense that she's being followed," Ben said, leveling a look at the future North American tai-youkai.

"Yeah, got it," Bas replied, pushing himself away from the window sill.  "Is there anything else?  If not, I'll go give Grey a call.  I assume you want him on it as soon as possible."

Ben nodded, and the younger man started to stride out of the office, only to be brought up abruptly when Myrna cleared her throat.  "Something else you might want to know."

"What's that?" Bas asked, turning back to face Myrna once more.

Tapping her tapered claw against her upper arm, she tilted her head to the side as she slowly regarded Bas.  "My informant also said that the Unkers have a lot of firearms—mostly illegal—at least, that's what he's heard."

"Guns," Bas muttered, shaking his head as an expression of absolute disdain slammed down on his features.  "Did Hecht have any illegal weapons charges on that mile-long rap sheet?"

Myrna nodded.  "Yeah, there were.

"Hell's bells," Bas growled as he stomped out of the office.

InuYasha strode off after his grandson, and Ben heaved a sigh.

He had a feeling that it wouldn't make a damn bit of difference, even if they were to try to rush the adoption through the courts.  Over the course of his life, he'd learned to listen to his instincts, to rely upon them, even if there were no perceived threats, looming just out of view.

And that was the problem, wasn't it?  Somewhere, deep down, he could feel it—the whispers in the shadows, unseen, maybe, but . . .

But they were closing in fast . . .

Charity made a face, trying not to let the twins' collective fussing get to her.  At least, this time, she was expecting it.  The last time it had happened, she hadn't been, so it had been shocking and beyond distressing when the infants she loved so much had suddenly cried and then continued to fuss most of the night until they finally fell into an emotionally exhausted slumber, all because Charity looked and smelled different for the night.  By the time they'd finally passed out, Charity had been beside herself, despite knowing that there really wasn't anything she could do.  In the end, she'd grabbed a couple of her sweaters that should still retain enough of her scent to offer the babies comfort, and she'd wrapped them up in them, hoping that the familiarity would help them to sleep, and it had.

Sierra patted Emmeline on the back, swaying from one foot to the other, and she smiled encouragingly at Charity as she rocked Nadia in her arms.  Toga gave her shoulders a quick squeeze.  "Why don't you let your mama and me take care of them tonight?" he suggested gently.

She opened her mouth to argue, but she sighed instead, forcing herself to give a quick nod since she knew deep down that it likely was for the best.  Besides, it was just one night, wasn't it?  By tomorrow morning, everything would go back to being normal again—at least, for another lunar cycle, anyway.

Heaving a sigh, she kissed Nadia on the cheek before letting Toga take her, and she paused long enough to give Emmeline a kiss, too, before she headed for the door.

'At least Ben's here this time,' her youkai-voice remarked.  True enough, that . . . Last time, he'd had to leave to oversee a small art show opening in San Francisco for a couple of Cain's paintings.  He was only away for a couple days, and by the time he'd returned, everything was back to normal.  She simply hadn't anticipated how upset the babies would be, and she should have.  After all, at this stage in their lives, they relied upon their senses of smell and sight to learn about their world, and, given how different Charity looked and probably smelled on her human night, it stood to reason that they'd be upset . . .

That didn't really make her feel any better about it, and Ben could easily take care of the girls tonight, but Charity wasn't entirely sure that they'd be any better about it if she were near enough to be considered a stranger . . .

'Maybe I should just go close myself in my room and not come out till morning . . .'

It sounded like a good idea despite the nagging accusation that she was just feeling sorry for herself.  'Of course, I am,' she thought with a mental snort.  'My own babies don't want anything to do with me because they can't tell that I'm their mama . . .'

Blinking quickly at the abrupt rise of tears prickled the back of her eyelids, Charity hurried down the stairs, instead.  She might as well fix bottles for the babies, and then she'd go hide . . .

It didn't take long for her to measure out the powdered formula and additive drops, and she was in the process of shaking them up with water when Ben strode into the kitchen, glasses perched on the end of his nose that he pushed up with one hand, a black slim-file held open in the other.

"Ah, Sierra, have you seen Charity?"

She blinked, her head swiveling to the side as an incredulous expression along with a healthy dose of unbridled annoyance nudged aside the acute sense of self-pity.  "Have I seen—?  That's not even funny, Ben Philips!"

He glanced at her, only to do a classic double-take, his eyes narrowing for a moment before flaring wide as the slim-file slipped out of his hand, only to clatter angrily on the floor.  "Ch-Charity?"

She narrowed her gaze on him and uttered a terse, 'hrumph', before pivoting on her heel to stomp out of the kitchen without another word.  As if it wasn't bad enough that she was human for the night, that man just had to tease her about it, didn't he?  And of course, he could think it was as funny as he wanted, couldn't he?  Their babies didn't have any issues at all in knowing exactly who he was all the time, now did they?

"Charity, wait . . ." Ben said as he hurried to catch up with her.  Grabbing her arm gently but firmly, he tugged her around to face him.  "I'm sorry.  It's just that you look uncannily like your mother—and you smell just like her, too, so I just thought—"

"Shove a sock in it," she growled, pulling on her arm, to no avail.  "I know what I look like, damn it."

"What's the matter?" he persisted in his infuriatingly calm way.

To her horror, she couldn’t stop the tears that sprang to her eyes.  Whether it was because of the genuine concern in his voice or the already-heightened emotions from having the twins reject her for the night, she didn't know, but she choked out a sob as he sighed and pulled her into a hug.

"Come on, Charity," he murmured, stroking her hair, trying to soothe her like she was little more than a child herself.  "You're stronger than this . . . Tell me what all this is about."

She tried to stop crying; she really did.  All she actually managed to do was to squeak out a few high-pitched noises and a couple gasps.

He sighed and picked her up, not stopping until he'd carried her into the living room and sat down on the sofa with her cuddled on his lap.  "Want me to beat someone up for you?" he deadpanned.

For some reason, his question squeezed a choked laugh out of her.  Harsh and entirely out of place, it did the trick, though, and she sniffed and shook her head.  "I'm just having a bad day," she managed between sniffles and hiccups.

He shifted slightly, just enough to dig a pristine white cotton handkerchief out of his pocket that he proceeded to use to wipe her cheeks.  "Well, sometimes it's not as bad as you think.  Want to tell me about it?"

She sighed.  "The babies . . . They don't know me," she admitted.  Saying it out loud hurt a lot more than thinking it, though, and the tears returned with a vengeance.

"Because you're human," he mused.  "They'll understand as they get older," he promised.  "You know they love you . . . They smile and laugh for you a lot easier than they do for me."

"That's not true," she sniffled.  "And you could go in there, right now, and they'd be right as rain."

She felt the warmth of his lips against her temple.  "Charity . . ."

"I know," she blurted, taking the kerchief and dabbing at her eyes, disgusted at herself for her emotional outburst.  "I'm being stupid," she grumbled. Then she hiccupped.  Then she sighed.  "I'm just . . . feeling sorry for myself for no good reason."

"You have a good reason," he assured her, "and you're anything but stupid."

"Here," she said, holding out the fresh bottles she'd just prepared.  "You take them to Mama and Papa?  I . . . I don't want to upset the girls again."

He didn't answer her right way, and when she sat up straight to look at him, she could tell that he didn't really want to concede, either.  In the end, he let out a deep breath and nodded once.  "All right, I tell you what.  I'll take these up to them, and then we can watch another movie or . . . or play a game or whatever it takes to get your mind off of things for one night.  Fair?"

"You don't have to," she mumbled, cheeks pinking as she scowled at her hands.  "I was just going to take these upstairs and go read a book or something."

He considered that for a moment.  "You could bring your book and keep me company while I look over that file . . ." He chuckled.  "The one I think I dropped in the kitchen . . ."

"No . . . It's okay . . ."

"I could put my towel on," he offered.

She choked out a laugh.  "Yes, because Papa wouldn't completely flip out if he saw you wearing that in the morning if I accidentally fell asleep on your bed again."

Ben made a face.  "Considering I usually sleep naked, I would guess that the towel would be preferable."

She gasped, her cheeks shooting up in flames.  "You do not!"

Raising his eyebrows, he smiled at her.  "Actually, I do.  Well, I did, and I hope to do it again one day."

She rolled her eyes and scooted off his lap, holding out the bottles so he could deliver them.  "Keep your clothes on, Ben," she retorted, unable to staunch the blood that continued to heat her cheeks.

He took the bottles and chuckled.  "Go get your book, Charity, and I'll meet you in my room."

"All right," she allowed, drawing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them.  He winked at her as he stood up to go.  He was almost to the archway when she stopped him. "Ben?"

Turning to face her, he was still smiling.  "Yes?"

"You were kidding about the naked-sleeping-thing, weren't you?"

He uttered a very low, very husky laugh as his gaze met hers and held it.  "No, Charity. I wasn't."

And then he walked away.