InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Fruition ❯ Just Before Dawn ( Chapter 17 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Police were called to the 700 block of West Fourteenth Street at 10:43 pm to investigate reports of a domestic disturbance and possible gunshots fired.  Upon entering residence at 758 W. 14th St, they discovered the bodies of Melinda Winslow and her children: four minors: Travis, 13, Miley, 10, Stephan, 6, and Ferris, 14 months.  Police investigation reports are still pending, but the coroner has been quoted as saying that they were 'torn up' . . .

Heaving a sigh as he read through the first write up on the incident in question, dated July 18, 2029, Ben rubbed his forehead and scrolled through the attached images with his thumb. Bas had asked him to take a look at the file since he and Gunnar had both been combing through the assembled information for the last couple months.  He'd thought that maybe Ben's fresh eyes might see a clue that the two of them had missed.

The images were horrific—worse than the ones he'd seen attached to Kurt Drevin's file all those years ago.

According to the official police reports, the family had been murdered with a 'sharp, heavy object, quite possibly an axe or shovel.  They, however, knew better—knew what claws could do, knew how fast another youkai could move.  Also not surprising, there were no eye witnesses, no one who had seen anyone coming or going from the residence except for one, and either he didn't remember or he just didn't want to say what he knew . . .

'Do you think the guy's lying about what he remembers?  Do you think that it's possible?  I mean, if you saw something on the night when all this happened, don't you think it'd make an impression on you, especially if you thought you'd heard gunshots?'

'Both Gunnar and Bas have been out there, have talked to the guy, and they got nothing.'

'Which might be true enough, but think about it.  You know, right?  Your gut's telling you that the old guy's hiding something, and another thing.'

'What's that?'

'If no one saw anything except for this guy, then who the hell called 911?'

'So, you think that either he or someone else called . . .'

'What I'm saying is, either he called 911 or there's another witness out there, and maybe that witness knows something . . .'

Ben sighed.  'Yeah, but if the actual recording is gone, then there's really no way to know.'

'Hand it back to Bas now.  At least, run the thought past him.'

Snapping the file closed, Ben glanced at the clock and made a face.  It was nearly midnight, but knowing the young man, he was pretty certain that Bas would still be awake.

"You're calling someone at this hour?" Charity asked when Ben reached for his phone.  "Isn't that a little rude?"

"Not really, no.  If Bas is sleeping, he won't answer, and besides, it's not a social call."

Charity didn't look impressed by Ben's bald answer, and he chuckled.

"Zelig."

"Hey, it's Ben . . . I just finished looking over the Winslow file."

Bas sighed.  "What did you think?"

"Is there any way to access the original 911 call?  Did they log the recordings back then?"

"Uh . . . I'm not sure . . . Maybe.  I can look into it.  Why?"

"I'm just wondering," Ben said.  "I mean, it says that there were no witnesses except the one you've already spoken to, so either he made the call, or . . ."

"Or there's another witness."  Bas let out his breath in a long whoosh.  "Damn!  I never thought about that!"

"Do you need me for anything else?" Ben asked.

"Oh, uh, no . . . Let's just hope they kept recordings."

"All right.  Give me a call if there's anything else I can do."

"Will do.  Thanks, Ben."

The call ended, and Ben dropped the phone onto the nightstand once more, scooting down to lay back and rubbing his face in an exhausted kind of way.

"Is the case bad?" Charity asked, slipping a bookmark between the pages and setting the book aside.

"Pretty awful," he admitted.  "I've seen some pretty depraved things over the centuries, but sometimes, something comes along that shocks even me."

She considered that for a long moment, idly drawing circles on the coverlet between them.  What was it about Ben?  Why did he, alone, seem to have the ability to remain so unaffected by a lifetime of experiences?  She'd met youkai before who weren't as old as Ben, and yet, they had always seemed so cynical, so jaded—like it was something that naturally and invariably just happened over the passage of centuries.  So, why didn't those same things affect Ben like that, too?  It was something she'd always noticed about him: something that she could truly appreciate. There was no underlying darkness in the depths of his gaze, no misanthropic acrimony in his expression, no sense of disillusion that served to keep people at bay . . . It was, in fact, quite the opposite, and that, she supposed, was likely what had always compelled her to be near him.

"Why are you so quiet?" he asked softly, startling her when he reached over, when he tucked a long lock of hair behind her human ear with infinitely gentle hands.

Cheeks pinking as she met his gaze, she swallowed hard.  Those eyes of his seemed to glow in the half-light of the bedside lamps, adding a richness of shadows to his solemn expression.  Staring at her as though he were trying to read her mind, he didn't quite smile, but he didn't have to, either.  She could feel the emotion in his youki . . .

"You really do look so much like your mother, it's uncanny," he ventured.

"Papa says that, too," she replied.  "It's funny, though . . ."

"Hmm?"

She shrugged, drawing her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them.  "Chelsea and I are supposed to be identical twins.  Not many people can tell us apart—except on our human nights."

"Oh?"

She nodded.  "I have Mama's coloring, but Chelsea . . . She has jet black hair and dark brown eyes, just like InuYasha-oji-chan."

He blinked in surprise.  "She does?  That's . . . Really?"

She laughed, letting her cheek fall against her knees.  "Everyone else has Mama's coloring, though—You should see Mamoruzen.  He's ridiculously pretty."

She could tell from the expression on Ben's face that he was struggling not to laugh outright at that, not that she could blame him.  Considering how pompous Mamoruzen could be at times, it wasn't entirely surprising.  "I don't know . . . That might be fairly disturbing."

"He always hated it, too," she went on with a smile.  "When he was really small, Chelsea would hold him with her legs to keep him from running away while we curled or braided his hair."

"Did you help her?"

Schooling her features, she shook her head.  "Of course not," she assured him despite the impish grin that she failed to hide.  "Okay, maybe once or twice . . ."

He grimaced.  "Never thought I'd ever feel sorry for him," he admitted.  "Wow . . ."

"It wasn't that bad," she insisted, rolling her eyes as she stretched out her legs and rolled onto her side, facing Ben.  "It was only really terrible when Chelsea would get bored and put makeup on him."

". . . Makeup?"

She nodded.  "Chelsea thought it was funny to try to paint him up like a geisha."

Ben choked.  "Okay, now you have to stop," he complained in mock-disgust.  "Otherwise, I'll never be able to look him in the eye again."

". . . Papa used to let us make him up, too . . ."

"The geisha treatment?"

She shrugged.  "Or the J-pop, girl group treatment."

". . . And hair?"

She nodded again.  "And nails, too."

Ben heaved a melodramatic sigh.  "Thanks.  Now I'll never be able to look at Toga again without laughing, either."

Unable to hold back the giggles at the absolutely horrified expression on his face, Charity waved a hand as she struggled to control her amusement.  It took her a minute.  "He had four daughters," she reminded him.  "You know, Kagome-oba-chan has pictures of InuYasha-oji-chan and Ryomaru and Kichiro in makeup, courtesy of Gin . . ."

Ben cleared his throat, tried to pin Charity with a serious look.  "So, what you're saying is that my time is coming?"

She smiled.  "Something like that.  I mean, if the girls come to you and want to make you pretty, are you really going to say no to them?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it almost immediately.  Then he sighed and slowly shook his head.  "No," he admitted.  "I probably wouldn't."

Her smile widened, and she giggled.  When she offered no explanation other than louder giggles as she waved her hand and smashed her face into her pillow, he snorted.  "Now what's so funny?" he demanded mildly.

It took a minute for Charity to regain a semblance of her composure enough to prop herself back up on her elbow again.  "I'm just picturing you, looking all pretty . . ."

He shot her a look designed to let her know exactly what he thought of her misplaced amusement, and when it sent her into another bout of laughter, he grunted, reaching over to drag her close to his side.  "Go to sleep, woman," he grumbled despite the trace amusement sparkling in the depths of his gaze.

She settled herself against him, resting her hand on his chest and her head against his shoulder.  "Ben?"

"That's not sleeping, Charity."

She giggled again.  ". . . Can I make you pretty?"

His answer was a longsuffering sigh and a hand over her mouth to shut her up.  It wasn't enough to staunch her laughter, though . . .


"So, you're saying that the babies have trouble recognizing Charity when she's human for the night."

Toga sat up a little straighter against the headboard as he watched Nadia, who was trying her level best to roll over.  It wasn't working out so well for her just yet, but he figured it wouldn't be long before she managed it.  Beside her, Emmeline kicked her feet and tried to stuff both of her fists into her mouth as Sierra laughed softly and leaned down to kiss the child's very round cheek.  "Yeah, and I know that they'll eventually understand, but it's hard on her and them, both . . ."

Sesshoumaru sighed in the background—a rather strange sound, coming from him. "Well, you could do it, of course.  I would, if I were there . . . It's well within your power as the Japanese tai-youkai, and as Charity's father."

"That's what I figured," Toga replied.  "But I wondered if it might be better to see if they can't bring the babies to Japan—unless you're planning a trip stateside soon?"

"It will not matter whether it's you or me, Toga.  Do you believe they wouldn't fall under my protection, regardless?"

Breaking into a slight smile, Toga shook his head at the droll expression on his father's face as he adjusted his hold on the cell phone.  "Not at all, tou-san."

The vaguest hint of a smile surfaced on the Inu no Taisho's face as he watched the infants' antics over the video connection.  "It would help, though, if that's what you're worried about," Sesshoumaru remarked at length.  "Besides that, your mother . . . Well, it's safe to say that she won't be able to travel abroad for a good . . . nine months, give or take."

Toga blinked, his body stilling completely for a moment as the ramifications of Sesshoumaru's statement took its sweet time, sinking in.

"Kagura's pregnant?" Sierra blurted.  "Oh, my God!  That's fantastic!  Congratulations!"

"Oh . . . wow . . ."

Narrowing his amber gaze at his son, Sesshoumaru regarded him for a long moment.  "Surely it is not that surprising, Toga," he chastised dryly.

"Nope, nope, not at all," Toga replied with a wolfish grin.  "Omedetou gozaimasu, tou-san, kaa-san . . ."

"Thank you, Toga, Sierra," Kagura's voice drifted to him, though she wasn't in the video feed's line of view.

"Nah, it's just the idea that you and kaa-san had sex . . ." Toga went on, his grin widening.

Sesshoumaru heaved a disgusted sigh and shook his head.  "Entirely too much time with that baka half-brother of mine," he muttered.  "Good night, Toga."

He chuckled as the connection ended, and Sierra reached over to smack his arm with the back of her hand.  "That was just wrong," she chastised.

Toga laughed.  "I know," he admitted, casting her an entirely unrepentant kind of grin.  "It kind of ruins the mood when you stop and realize that your parents just had sex . . ."

She shook her head but giggled.  "Stop it!"

"I mean, he stuck his—"

"Toga!" she hissed despite the laughter that escaped as she leaned over to smash her hands over Toga's overzealous mouth.

"Okay, okay," he relented, catching her hands, kissing her palms before letting go of her.  ". . . But he did . . . So, at least we know his antique balls still work, right?"

Rolling her eyes despite the pretty blush that stained her cheeks, Sierra smacked him upside the head with a throw pillow.  "That's really the last visual I wanted or needed, you know."

He winked at her then cleared his throat, switching gears mentally as he turned his attention onto the babies once more.  Gently lifting Nadia, he nuzzled her cheek for a moment before cradling her in his arm and touching his index finger to her forehead.  All amusement died away as he frowned in concentration, feeling the energy gathering in him as his fingertip erupted in a soft, white glow that extended outward, encompassing the infant's body in the same aura.  He could feel the resistance of Nadia's youki in a vague sort of way, and in another moment, he also felt it give, easily accepting the energy that passed from him and into her.  She uttered a happy shriek, as though she felt and understood what Toga had just done, and he smiled, sparing a moment to kiss her again before handing her over to Sierra and reaching for Emmeline to repeat the ritual.

"So . . . care to tell me what you just did?" Sierra asked when he'd finished.

Brushing away the hint of mental exhaustion that threatened around the edges, Toga managed a weary smile as he let her take Emmeline from him.

"I infused them with a little bit of my youki," he said, as if it were answer enough.

Sierra raised an eyebrow.  "Which means . . .?"

He yawned.  "Basically, it affords them the same protection as anyone else in our family," he replied.  "It should help to strengthen the bond between Charity and them since she's my daughter, but it'll also give me the ability to know if they are in trouble in a stronger way than anyone would normally."

She considered that, nodding slowly.  "So, everyone does this when they adopt a child?  Why didn't you just let Ben do it, then?"

Scooting down and propping himself up on his elbow, Toga blinked slowly as he stared at his mate.  "To be honest, as powerful as Ben is now, considering he has to be well over seven hundred years old, I don't know if he can do it.  Very few are able to—mostly just the Inu no Taisho and his bloodline—me—and even then, not everyone could do it in our family, either.  One day, Mamoruzen will be able to, I think, though I'm pretty sure he can't do it now.  Charity cannot, either . . . Yasha-oji-chan probably could, but only because he's uncannily strong, hanyou or not.  Zelig-san could, too—probably did do it with Jillian, back when he adopted her—but it makes more sense for them to have my protection and not his . . ."

"Okay, but . . ."

"But?" he prompted when she trailed off.

Sierra shook her head, dangling a teething-ring above Emmeline's head.  The baby swung at it a few times but couldn’t quite grasp it, either.  "But what about other families that adopt?  They can't do that, right?"

"All I've really done is speed up the process of bonding the twins with Charity since she's my blood," he said.  "Other families bond, too.  It just takes a little longer, that's all.  I just thought that it should help so that they're not so reactive on Charity's human nights."  He chuckled, gently rubbing a hand over Nadia's downy head.  He was damn near exhausted, to tell the truth, but Sierra didn't need to know just how much it took out of him to do what he'd done.  "You probably can't tell, but they already smell a little more like Charity, too."

Sierra considered that and smiled.  "They do seem a lot more content."  Suddenly, though, she narrowed her eyes at him.  "Are you sure you didn't just do that so they'd like you better than they like me?"

He chuckled, forcing his eyes open to smile at his mate.  "No . . . Well, maybe . . ."

She made a face, but laughed as Toga's eyes drifted closed.


'I can't get over how different she looks . . .'

Letting out a deep breath as the filmy darkness surrounded them in a transient blanket of serenity, Ben stroked Charity's fine, blonde hair, just kissed with the barest hint of red—her mother's hair, absolutely.  He wasn't entirely certain why he wasn't sleeping, though, if he were to stop and consider it, he had to wonder if it wasn't an instinctual thing: protecting her in her vulnerable state . . . protecting Charity . . . even if there wasn't a reason why he'd need to do any such thing; not here . . .

'I . . . I want to protect her . . . forever . . .'

There was something entirely too fragile, too precarious, too hard to define with mere words . . . something about her that spoke to him in such gentle whispers and sighs that it was hard to understand, and yet, there it was, wasn't it?  Right in front of him, as she had been for so very long.  This time, however, it felt completely different, completely right, as though time and fate had finally come to a logical conclusion, a culmination of everything he'd ever thought and ever hoped to feel.

The stingy illumination seemed drawn to her face, filtering through the window: the parsimonious light of the waxing quarter moon . . . It brushed against the rise of her cheek, kissed the tip of her nose in such a familiar way that it left him feeling just a little jealous, a little resentful of the perceived closeness that clung to her in such a way that Ben never could.  She possessed such a fragile beauty, an empyrean existence that was as necessary to him as the air he breathed.

'Fanciful thoughts, Benjiro,' his youkai remarked with a soft chuckle.  'The purest element of fire . . . of passion . . . That . . . That sounds about right . . .'

'How is it that she's here?  That she's with me . . .?  Did I . . .?  Have I ever done anything to deserve her . . .?'

'Is it about deserving her, Ben?  I don't think it is. It's just the way that it works, I think.  Just count yourself as lucky.  And don't screw it up, okay?'

Smiling at the warning, Ben pulled her a little closer, inhaled the blunted scent of her, content to do nothing, but to hold her close to his heart.

And he watched as the darkness started to fade, started to thin into a hazy half-shadow.  Her skin took on a grayish hue, like a faded old photograph in muted colors, wisps of burnished memories.  Fascinating, to watch as the light grew slowly bolder, retaining the watercolor feel of a Zelig masterpiece.  Still, the night stubbornly held onto her, as though loathe to leave her as the paradox of all that she was converged in an insular moment, in the blink of an eye.

Ben gasped softly as the shadows of darkness slowly seeped into her hair, as the pale locks gave way to the darkest black strands.  They wrapped around each other, the color deepening, siphoning into each strand like a light being flipped on, and he watched, spellbound, as the woman in his arms shifted into the being that he knew best.  The human ears seemed to shrink and then vanish as the adorable hanyou ears sprang back into place, as the tickle of her claws brushed against his chest when they sprang back out of her fingertips.

He'd never seen a hanyou change before, and he had to smile to himself.  It was as extraordinary as Charity herself was.

And then, he finally closed his eyes as her scent filled his senses, as her youki melded with his.