InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Fruition ❯ Flash Fire ( Chapter 39 )

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

"You've been quiet since we got home last night," Charity remarked, leaning in the doorway as Ben shuffled through papers on his desk.  "Is there anything I need to know?"
He shot her a quick glance before turning his attention back to the paperwork once more.  "Kyouhei was at the party last night," he said, shaking his head, a foreboding scowl on his face.  "Gave me a list of all the dissidents, complete with their affiliations, their home jurisdictions . . . And it's all a damn fucking mess."

"Is there any way to put them under surveillance?"

He shook his head.  "If we ignore the nearly five hundred of them that are operating out of Europe under the direct protection of Ian MacDonnough, that still leaves nearly five hundred more, so putting them all on watch would prove pretty near impossible."

"But the ones that are the biggest threats?"

"I can ask Kyouhei, but . . ."

She winced.  "But you don't want to worsen his position even more."

Ben looked entirely irritated, not that she could blame him.  "Something like that."

Pushing herself away from the doorframe, she wandered over, slipped her arms around him over the back of his chair.  "It's Christmas Eve, Ben . . . This stuff . . . It'll all be here the day after tomorrow, right?"

Dragging his wire-rimmed glasses off his face, he tossed them onto the paperwork with a heavy sigh.  "I feel . . ." He grimaced.  "I feel like I'm racing against the clock," he admitted.  "I feel like, should I fail, should something manage to slip past me, that the price might well be more than any of us are willing to pay."  Heaving a sigh, he turned his chair just enough to catch her around the waist, to pull her into his lap.  "It's your family, Cherry," he reminded her gently.  "I can't shake the feeling that something's coming . . . Something none of us bargained for . . ."

"Okay," she agreed slowly, quietly, toying with a lock of his hair that had fallen over his shoulder.  "I understand, but . . . Well, the girls aren't quite ready for bed yet, so I thought maybe you could at least take a short break?  Spend some time with us until they're tired?  It’s not like anything’s going to happen tonight, right?"

He managed a wan smile.  "Let me forward all of this to your father and to Zelig, and I'll call it good for the night."

She leaned up to kiss him on the cheek before standing up again.  "They're having a Christmas special marathon on TV . . . Should we introduce the girls to Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer?"

He chuckled, and the shadows didn't leave his gaze, but he seemed a little more at peace, and that was something . . . "Give me five minutes," he promised.

Charity detoured through the kitchen to grab a small tray of Christmas cookies and homemade eggnog that Gin had sent home with her earlier when she'd run out there to drop off presents so that they wouldn't have to remember everything in the morning.  Then she grabbed the babies' bottles that she'd prepared before hunting Ben down, and she carried everything into the living room.

The girls were right where she'd left them, lying in the middle of the wide play mat.  Emmeline was chewing on one of the teething rings that was connected to the mat while Nadia occupied herself by rolling over onto her tummy then back again, and every time she managed it, she'd squeal happily and kick her little feet, wave her chubby arms . . .

Charity giggled and set the tray on the coffee table before joining the girls on the floor.  "Look at my big girls!" she said in a high-pitched, crooning tone of voice.  "You're such a big girl!  Look at my Nadi!  Did you roll over?  You did!"  Nadia shrieked happily.

"Rudolph, huh?" Ben remarked as he ambled into the room with sleepers for the girls draped casually over one arm.  He dropped the on the floor beside Charity and picked up the remote to turn on the television.  The girls stopped at the new sound, and both of them turned their heads to stare.  Ben set the remote aside and sank down beside Charity, slipping an arm around her as she settled back against him.

"Do you want a cookie and some eggnog?" she asked, resting a hand lightly on his chest.

"Does it mean I have to move?"

She laughed.  "I'd be happy to get it for you," she told him.

"But then, you'd move," he said.

"Probably."

He pulled her closer against his side.  "Then, no."

"I like this, too," she replied, savoring the contentment that seemed to well up from somewhere deep inside.  "Ben?"

"Hmm?"

Frowning at the almost sidetracked undertone in his voice, she leaned back to peer up at him.  He seemed to be looking at the television, but he was almost scowling, and she bit her lip.

'Still thinking about all of that stuff,' she thought.

'Ben's too used to having to worry about everyone and everything.  He's done it for so long that it's become second nature.  I mean, sure, he has reason to be worried about the threat of an uprising, but we both know that he's underestimating your grandfather.  Sesshoumaru did not get to be Inu no Taisho for no reason.  He's more than capable of dealing with the likes of those who think they could usurp him . . .'

For some reason, staring at him, she had the feeling that there was something else, something darker, something a little more sinister . . .

She sat up straighter, rested one hand on his shoulder, used the other to gently turn his face toward hers.  "Tell me what's making you frown like that," she urged.

For a split second, he looked like he was going to brush off her concern.  Then he sighed, eyes clouding over as he slowly shook his head.  "It's just something Kyouhei said . . . It doesn't involve your grandfather or anything.  It's just . . ." With a grimace as he trailed off, he let his head fall back and just stared at her.

"Just, what?"

"I tried to talk Kyouhei into walking away from it," he said.  "It's too dangerous, but . . ."

She nodded.  "Good.  It's not fair to ask him to do such a thing, not when it's your father, and—"

"He thinks that chichiue would rather kill him than to let him go."

She stopped, stared at him for a long moment as she slowly shook her head . . . "N-No . . . I mean, he's your father . . . A father wouldn't—"

"After everything I've told you about him, you doubt he would?"

She flinched, her gaze falling away as she struggled to comprehend just what he was saying.  "You . . . You believe it . . ."

"I . . . I do . . ." Ben admitted quietly.  "And Kyouhei . . . He does, too . . ."


"You realize that they're probably not going to open any of these," Ben said, holding his finger in the middle of the ribbon that Charity was tying around one of the gazillion gifts they'd bought for the girls.

She laughed and carefully tied the bow.  "You're probably right, but it is Christmas . . . We can't just shove unwrapped presents under the tree."

Ben rolled his eyes but grinned. "They're cats.  They're just going to want the boxes."

"They're your daughters, you know!" she scolded despite the smile on her face.

"I know. That's why I know they're just going to want the boxes."

"You're terrible," she insisted, leaning forward to grab the last present as she stifled a yawn with the back of her hand.  "What time is it?"

He paused as he gathered up gifts to take downstairs to the tree to glance at the clock on the nightstand.  "Nearly midnight," he replied.

She made a face.  "Good thing they're babies . . . They won't mind sleeping in tomorrow . . ."

"Well, they are babies, so they probably will mind," Ben countered dryly.  "Besides, aren't we supposed to go to Zelig's?"

"Oh, and that," she allowed with a shrug as she carefully measured the paper and cut it with the claw of her index finger.

Ben leaned back against the side of the bed and smiled as he watched her.  She'd piled her hair atop her head in a messy but adorable bun to keep it out of the way while she worked, with little wisps and odd tufts sticking out here and there, and wearing the oversized tee-shirt she always donned for bed and the tiny pair of pink shorts . . . Atop her head, her cute little hanyou ears twitched and turned, forever monitoring their environment, which made her even better at hearing the girls when they stirred.  At least they had stopped waking up in the middle of the night since they had started them on a thin cereal just before bedtime.  Isabelle had been of the opinion that they were only waking up because they were hungry, and she was right . . .

Reaching up to shove an errant lock of hair out of her eyes with the back of her limp wrist, Charity frowned as she concentrated on wrapping the last of the gifts.  Turned as she was, she'd presented him with a nice view of her profile, and he stared thoughtfully at the back of her neck, the delicate arch, the gentle curve . . . It wasn't the first time that he'd felt drawn to that particular spot on her, and before he could stop to consider it, he scooted forward, slipped his arms around her tiny waist to draw her back against his chest between his spread knees, his lips dropping to the graceful hollow, as she gasped softly, as her head fell to the side . . .

He was content to nuzzle against her, to breath in the scent of her—that breathtaking shifting of smell that convoluted and twisted and rolled upon itself, only to somehow manage to smell even more like her.  "Cherry . . ."

She sighed, her body seeming to melt against his, reaching up over her shoulder, twining her fingers into the hair that slipped over his shoulder, and she turned her head, captured his lips with hers, in a long, slow kiss that rocked him to the very core.  It wasn't designed to be rampant or overwhelming, and yet, it somehow managed to be exactly that, yet so much more.  He uttered a low growl, slipping an arm under her knees, picking her up to settle her on his lap as her kiss deepened, swelled, surged through him, settling into a burn, an ache, a seething sense of longing . . .

With every beat of her heart, with every quiet whimper, every slow sigh, her youki seemed to synchronize more fully with his, drawing her closer, so close, and yet, not nearly close enough.  She grew more daring, her lips parting, issuing him a silent invitation as her hands slipped up around his neck, her fingertips dancing over him, only to sink deep into his hair, claws grazing over his scalp as a riot of shivers ran straight down his spine, and those tremors created a cadence that exactly matched the throb of her youki.  The tenderness of her every movement, held in check by an innate sweetness that delineated everything she did, everything that she was, she hid nothing from him as he lapped at her mouth, as he tasted her deep while the burn of the kiss scattered and swelled and blossomed.

The ache that ignited under his skin was tempered by the desire to love her, to show her just how much she meant to him in a way that words would fail.  She held his emotions in the palm of her hand, and in return, she gave herself up to him, trusting him implicitly, her kiss as slow, as deep as an overwhelming sense of absolute transcendence crashed down on him, leaving him reeling, leaving him breathless, leaving him humbled, even as she lifted him, raised him, as she bolstered him with everything in her . . .

The chime of the massive grandfather clock in the foyer broke through the idyll, and Charity laughed softly, almost gruffly, when he leaned back just enough to look at her.  Cheeks beautifully flushed, eyes unnaturally bright, she let her fingers trail over his face with an infinite tenderness that brought a smile to his lips.  "Merry Christmas," she said as the clock tolled out the final strike.

He chuckled.  "Merry Christmas, Charity," he replied, leaning down, letting his nose tweak hers.  "I'll take these down and be right back."

"Okay," she murmured, starting to pull together all the scraps of unused paper and stuffing it into a large shopping bag.

Striding out of the room and down the hallway, Ben headed for the stairs as quietly as he could, just in case the babies weren't as deeply asleep as he hoped.  Negotiating the stairs, however, was a little trickier, given that he was weighed down and couldn't rightfully see around the mountain of oddly shaped packages he carried.

He stuck the rest of the boxes under the tree and fussed with them for a minute before deciding that it was good enough.  Considering it was the fourth trip downstairs with wrapped gifts, he figured that it was about as good as it was going to get, he thought as he stood up and patted his pockets for his phone.  He figured he should get a few shots of the tree since Charity seemed to be big on capturing every moment, and he frowned.  He must have left the device upstairs since he'd already changed into a pair of sweatpants for bed.

He started out of the living room but stopped short as he neared the front door as his scowl darkened.  A strange trill of foreboding shot up his spine.  He could sense the creeping malignance of a strange youki coming closer.  It was more of a reaction than a conscious thought as he strode into his office and yanked the swords down off the wall.

In all the years he'd lived, he'd had this same feeling only a handful of times, and each time, there had been good reason for it.  Glancing up at the stairwell as he strode back toward the front door, he frowned.  He hesitated as he reached for the door handle.  Charity started down the stairs with a bag of trash in one hand and his phone in the other.  "Ben?"

He shook his head as her eyes widened at the sight of the swords.

"What are you . . .?" Trailing off, she gasped softly, her eyes flashing wide as her head turned toward the door.  She must have felt it, too, and she dashed down the steps, dropping the bag of trash in her haste to grab his arm.  "Ben!  No!" she blurted.  "You don't know—"

He shook her off gently but firmly.  "You stay here.  Lock all the doors," he commanded quietly.

"Who—?"

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out."

"I'm coming with you.  I'm—"

"No," he stated once more.  "Stay here with the girls."

"But—"

He turned to face her once more, his gaze serious, stony.  "Trust me, Cherry.  Stay.  Here."

She didn't want to agree.  It was there in the depths of her eyes.  Finally, though, she nodded curtly as she quickly threw her arms around him, giving him a quick hug before she stepped back.  "Okay," she said.  "Just . . . be careful."

He nodded, and then he grasped the handle and turned.


Charity waited until the door closed behind him to slap the lockdown panel beside the door, grimacing as the sounds of every lock in the house resounded in the quiet: doors, windows, everything, and she shoved aside the curtain to look out the window.

'This isn't good, Cherry . . . We don't know who it is, but there's more than one of them.  You sensed it, too . . .'

Gritting her teeth, she winced when Ben stepped off the porch, the darkness of the overcast night closing around him entirely too fast.  She saw the glint of his swords as he moved, but she couldn't make out anything else—not Ben, and not the youkai who were out there waiting . . .

'The phone!  Cherry, didn't Ben say that Kyouhei-san was there last night at the party?  Maybe . . .'

Swallowing down the panic that twisted around her stomach, she bobbled with the phone.  When the display flashed to life, she growled as she dismissed the missed call screen, her hands trembling as she located Kyouhei's number and hit, 'dial'.

"Nii-san?  Kind of late for a social call, isn't it?"

"Kyouhei!" she squeaked, a sudden and vicious surge of relief rattling through her.  "It's me . . . Where are you?"

"Charity-san?  What's wrong?"

She smothered a sob as she spotted a flash of Ben's sword, still held by his side.  "There's someone here," she blurted.  "More than one, and Ben—"

"Where is nii-san?"

"He's outside . . . He's looking for—"

A sudden boom like a crack of thunder rattled the windows as an unearthly flash split the night like a macabre strobe.  Charity screamed, dropping the phone as she yanked on the doorknob.  It wouldn't budge as Kyouhei's alarmed voice came from the forgotten device lying on the floor.  "Damn it!" she growled, yanking again on the knob.  It wouldn't give, and she nearly screamed again as she slapped her hand against the panel once more to release the lock.

Throwing the door open wide, she didn't think as she dashed out into the night, as she half-slid, half-ran across the porch, down the steps to reach Ben where he'd fallen—Where blood soaked the front of his chest, as it pooled on the ground below him, drenching the snow in a nightmarish shade of black in the darkness.