InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Fruition ❯ Justice ( Chapter 40 )

"Ben!  Oh, kami, Ben!" Charity rasped out, smashing her hands down over the rent flesh of his chest.  It was too dark, there was too much blood, and she couldn’t tell how bad the injury was . . . The sickening smell of his blood blotted out everything else from her mind, everything but the base need to protect Ben, to get him help . . .           

'Calm down, Cherry!  He's not dead, and they're still here . . .'

Uttering a sharp gasp as her youkai-voice's words sank in, Charity forced herself to grab the swords that lay at Ben's sides, and she slowly got to her feet.  'I . . . I can't see anything . . .'

"You can't panic, no matter what.  It don't matter if you can see your enemy or not.  You're hanyou.  Use your senses.  You can smell 'em, and you can hear 'em, but don't lose your head, no matter what . . ."

The echo of InuYasha-oji-chan's words came back to her, and something about them forced her to bite back the panic that threatened to overwhelm her.  In her half-trance, she heard her youkai's voice, reminding her in a soft drone that Ben was still alive, still breathing—desperately hurt, but still alive . . .

Ears rotating slowly, twitching to intercept any sound at all, they flipped back, flattened out when the sound of a gun being cocked echoed in her head.  Reacting on pure instinct, she raised the katana as the shots were fired.  Grimacing as the bullets were deflected by the blade, she uttered a sharp growl as she pushed off of the snow-covered ground, bringing the two swords back and swinging them hard as she landed exactly where the shots had originated.  The tip of the katana met its mark with a hiss of breath, the rending tear of flesh, but she hadn't hit him deep enough to do any real damage, and she sprang back before he could come after her, landing in a crouch, smashing herself into the fluffy snow, lest the intruder fire the damned gun again.

"Shit!" the voice hissed a second before the sound of metal impacting on the ground broke the silence.  A couple of thumps—footsteps?—and the scrape of the gun being kicked away.

A moment later, a gloved hand landed on her shoulder, and Charity erupted in a menacing snarl as she was pulled to her feet in an efficient but not unkind manner.  "Charity?"

"Manami-san," she breathed as a flash of relief brought tears to her eyes.  She stubbornly blinked them back.  "Who—?"

"Jeet Unker and his mate," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.  "I disarmed him, but he's still dangerous. I'll—"

"No!" Charity hissed, her eyes flaring wide as understanding dawned on her.  "They're after my daughters, and Ben—"

"You need to get Ben out of here," Manami insisted.

"It's my fight," Charity countered.  "My family—my fight."  She swallowed hard.  "Help . . . Help Ben . . . please . . ."

She felt Manami sigh more than she heard her, but the woman sprang back out of the way as Charity refreshed her grip on the swords.  Straining to hear any sign of movement, she shot forward when another slight crunch of snow resounded in her ears.  Jeet barely managed to avoid her, but she lunged again, gritting her teeth as he raised his arms to block her, as the blade sliced cleanly through his forearm.

He sprang back with a hiss of pain, gripping the laceration through the thickness of the dingy leather jacket that had spared him from losing the limb entirely.  Charity didn't waste any time as she leapt forward again, as the clouds that had occluded the skies all night, suddenly broke apart, as the near-quarter moon's light shone down.  It wasn't much, but, given the alternative, it was enough, and for the first time, Charity could make out the man she was fighting.

"Oh, no, you don't!" a female voice screeched, and Charity leapt back as a flash of unfocused energy erupted from the woman's hand.  It missed Charity completely and exploded behind her.

'She's aiming for . . . for Ben . . .?'

Unleashing a menacing growl, Charity rushed forward to intercept the woman, who was gathering energy in her palm.  "Leave him alone!" Charity bellowed, pushing off the ground, aiming both swords downward as she bore down on the woman.

The woman dove to the side a second too late, and she screeched as the smaller sword impaled her leg, as it sank deep into the snow and into the frozen ground, stopping only when the hilt of the weapon could delve no deeper, blocked by the woman's flesh.  Charity let go of the smaller sword and pushed herself back, satisfied, at least for the moment, that she wouldn't be interfering again.

Rounding on the woman's mate, she leveled a glower at him.  "You dare to come here, to threaten my family?" she growled as the wind whipped her hair out of the last vestiges of the bun she'd worn while wrapping presents.  It blew around her, into her face.  She ignored it as she raised the sword and pointed it at Jeet Unker's chest.

"You are nothing but a worthless hanyou!" Jeet spat, cracking his knuckles as his other arm dangled limply by his side, his blood dripping from his fingertips like a gruesome rain.  "I want his life!" he bellowed, jerking his head in Ben's direction.  "He killed my boy!"

"I am the daughter of the Japanese tai-youkai," she ground out, "and you—You're the one who killed Hecht by sending him after my children!"

"Get his name outta your fucking mouth!" Jeet shrieked, dashing toward her as his youki roiled around him in a violent haze.  She sidestepped him easily, bringing the blunt side of the sword down across his back, and he sprawled, face down in the snow.  Rolling to his feet, he lunged toward her again, his claws digging into her arm, sending her careening back as she hissed in pain and fought against the urge to drop the sword to grip the limb.  He closed in on her, and she kicked out, spinning in a tight circle with her leg extended, catching his ankles as he crashed in the snow beside her.

She let go of the sword long enough to grab Unker's arm as she snaked her legs around it, wrenching it hard.  It gave with a pop at the elbow, as the crunching of bone against bone reverberated up his arm and into her hands, and she kicked him away, flipping up onto her feet once more.

He screamed, both arms rendered useless, and she stood over him, glowered down at him as a heavy thump sounded behind her.  "I guess you've got this entirely under control."

"Kyouhei-san," she breathed, sparing just a moment to glance at him as she retrieved Ben's sword again.  "Ben—He needs help.  You need to get him to the hospital."

"Charity!" Manami screamed, the panic in her voice, thick.

Kyouhei shook his head stubbornly, reached for the sword, but stopped when Charity erupted in a menacing growl.  "Take nii-san and go," he said, jerking his head the other way.  "I'll finish up here."

"You've done well, Charity," Manami said as she lit beside Kyouhei.  Charity grimaced, smothered a low whine at the mind-numbing scent of Ben's blood on the woman's hands.  "You've got no time—You must get Ben out of here," she said.  "You can take him, yes?" she asked, casting Kyouhei a questioning glance.

Kyouhei nodded, though he didn't look like he wanted to agree.  "But—"

"This is my job," Manami remarked.  "I am a hunter.  Now, go."

"Come on, Charity," Kyouhei said, slipping an arm around her shoulders to hurry her away.

"The girls—"

"I'll watch them," Manami said, turning her attention back to the Unkers once more.  Brenda was trying in vain to yank the shorter sword free, but Jeet . . .

A sudden crackling drew Charity’s attention, and she gasped.  The glow that erupted around Jeet Unker was foul, malignant, like a nightmare, come to life, and she started to turn back.  Kyouhei held onto her arm, guiding her toward Ben instead.  "Manami-san!  He's trying to transform!"

"Come on," Kyouhei insisted, dragging Charity toward Ben.  "We’ve got to go.  He . . . He isn't good . . ."

Manami flipped open the small pack she wore around her waist, drawing out the four throwing stars that she unleashed with a quick flick of her wrist.  The stars connected, driving Unker to the ground, pinning each of his limbs through his clothing for a moment while she pulled out the small half-circle blade and whipped it at him, too.  It struck true, the inner, blunted side circling the front of his neck as the ends embedded themselves in the earth.  The transformation died out as his limbs were forcibly contained.

A moment later, Brenda was trapped in the same way as her kami-forsaken mate as Manami strode forward, resting her boot on the half-circle, and she purposefully pushed down as she stared down into Brenda Unker's terrified face.  "You attacked the top North American general," Manami stated flatly as Kyouhei and Charity sprinted away with Ben, "as well as the daughter of the Japanese tai-youkai—the granddaughter of the Inu no Taisho—and both of those acts amount to treason."

"He . . . He killed our boy!" Brenda wheezed, trying in vain to shove her hands under the band that was slowly growing smaller, slowly cutting off her air.  "And you . . . You're on their side . . .?"

"You wanted to sell those babies," Manami pointed out with a delicately arched brow.  "You have no right to talk like an outraged mother now."  Then she pushed down with her foot, and Brenda's body disintegrated in a gust and a flash of light and a vile, black dust.

"Let me out of this!" Jeet shrieked, struggling against the shuriken, gurgling out a wheezing breath as the circle around his neck tightened.  "You bitch!  You lying bitch!"

"The only way you're getting out of that is when you're dead," she replied evenly, sauntering over, deliberately stepping on each of Jeet's forearms as he grunted and choked in pain.  She straddled the man's body as she leaned down, bracing herself on her knees, digging her the soles of her shoes into his arms just a little bit more.  "That circlet is my youkai-weapon," she said quietly, her voice nearly a purr.  "Once it connects with your jugular, it will tighten, and eventually, you will die.  Now, I'll admit, it's a sad way to go, so I rarely let it last that long, but you . . . Ben is my friend: my oldest friend—one of the few friends that I hold dear, and for what you did to him?  Well . . ."

Straightening her back, she stepped away from Jeet, only to turn back, crossing her arms over her chest as the barest hint of a smile twisted her lips.  "I'm going to stand here, and I'm going to watch you die . . . I'm going to watch as your limbs go numb—they already are, aren't they?"  She stepped forward, ground her heel into Unker's arm.  He half-shrieked, half-burbled as the limb under her foot exploded in a wash of light and wind and dust.  Then she repeated the process with his legs and remaining arm.  By the time she was finished, Jeet was sobbing in earnest, his face mottling purple, even in the wan and stingy light.  "You have roughly a minute left," she said, squatting beside his head.  "Pray to whatever gods you believe in because the only mercy you're going to get is from them."

And she stared directly into his eyes as the life slowly leaked out of him, as his body disintegrated with one last, long exhalation . . .

"Here."
< br> Charity blinked and glanced up at the coffee Kyouhei offered her.  "Thanks," she said as she took the paper cup and wrapped her shaking hands around it.

He reached down, tugged the blanket that a nurse had given her up closer over her shoulders.  "How's your arm?"

"Fine," she replied stonily.

"Will you let someone look at it?"

She shook her head, her gaze shifting toward the clear glass window that enclosed the private waiting room and the nurses' station beyond, as though she were willing someone to come give her an update.  "I told you, I'm fine."

He let out a deep breath and sank down into the chair beside her.  "I had no idea you could fight like that," he remarked.  "I'm impressed."

"We all were trained," she said, her voice little more than a monotone.  "The boys' training lasted longer, but . . . But we can hold our own . . ."

"I'd say so," he agreed.  "He'll be fine," he told her, giving her icy fingers a reassuring squeeze.  "Who were they?"

"The girls' biological aunt and uncle," she replied, draining the coffee cup, ignoring the scalding burn of the piping-hot liquid.

"Damn."

As though she couldn’t stand to stay seated, Charity shot to her feet, stalked the length of the waiting room and back again.  “Why are they taking so long?” she growled, more to herself than to Kyouhei.

“They’re doing everything they can,” he told her, careful to keep his tone, calm, quiet.  “They’ll talk to us soon.”

She paused long enough to shoot him a hostile kind of glance, then rubbed her face with trembling hands.  “I should have stayed there,” she muttered, resuming her pacing once more.  “I should have stayed—I should have finished it.”

Kyouhei slowly shook his head.  "You did what you needed to do, Charity.  We just have to wait.  It all depends on how fast his body can heal itself now," he replied.

"Mr. Muira?”

Both heads turned at the sound of that voice.  Charity narrowed her eyes at the doctor who entered the waiting room and closed the door behind himself.  “How’s my brother?” Kyouhei demanded.

The doctor—a thunder-youkai—sighed.  “We managed to get the slug out of his chest—it was the reason why he wasn’t healing yet,” he explained.  "Mr. Philips was lucky, though.  It just missed the major blood vessels."

Charity stared at the doctor for a long moment, then suddenly collapsed into the chair behind her as her knees gave way.

She slowly turned her face, her vision slightly blurring as she struggled to find words for what she was feeling.  If she saw it once, she'd seen it a million times: the flashes of fire, and Ben, falling, such a weird and disjointed way, caught in the strobe light effect caused by the gunfire . . .

There was so much anger, so much rage, so much hatred, and Charity shivered.  She hadn't realized that she could feel so strongly, hadn't known that she could possess that much loathing . . . and it frightened her, too.

“Can we see him?”

The doctor shot Charity a glance before looking back at Kyouhei again.  “In a little while.  We’re trying to stabilize him a little more first,” he said.  “He’s lost a lot of blood, and given your brother’s condition, I wouldn’t recommend staying long when you are allowed in.”  Turning toward Charity, he shook his head.  “You’re not . . . not related to Mr. Philips, are you?”

Kyouhei stood up, heaved a sigh.  She shot him a questioning glance, and he shrugged.  "She’s his mate.  You should talk to her, probably more than you should talk to me.  I’ll be right back, Charity,” he said as he strode out of the room.

Veering into a small alcove, half-hidden by a huge panel that was made of frosted glass, Kyouhei pulled out his cell phone and dialed.

"M-Moshimoshi," Toga answered, his voice bleary with sleep.  Given that it was closing in on three in the morning, it wasn't that surprising.

“Toga-sama.”

The tai-youkai grunted, and yawned.  "Uh, Kyouhei-san?  Is something wrong?"

"Sorry for waking you," he replied.  "We're, uh, at the hospital."

All traces of grogginess disappeared in an instant.  "What?  Why?" he demanded.  In the background, he could hear the squeaking of a bed as Toga got up.

"Toga?"  What's wrong?" his mate asked, her voice muffled, but not so much that Kyouhei missed her words.

"I don't know," he replied before clearing his throat.  "What happened?  Did something happen to Charity?"

"No," he said quickly.  "But, uh . . . Ben was shot."

"What?  Ben?  How is he?  Is he . . .?"

"He's alive . . . Jeet Unker and his mate showed up, and he shot Ben.  He's alive, but . . ." Kyouhei grimaced.  "But it's pretty bad . . . He lost a lot of blood, but otherwise, we don't know much yet, but we’re pretty sure that he’s going to make it."

"Oh, kami," Toga breathed.  "What hospital?  How are Charity and the girls?"

"Charity fought them," Kyouhei went on.

"Charity did?"

"She didn't have a choice.  She called me when Ben went outside to confront them.  I . . .” he winced, cleared his throat before he could continue, “I heard the gunfire, and I didn’t wait to hear more.  When I got there, there was another woman—she said she's a hunter—but Charity was fighting, and she was holding her own."

"Is she all right?"

"We're at Heilman General in Bangor . . . She took a hit to the arm, and she's refused to let them look at it.  I don’t think it's bad, but—"

"I'll be right there," Toga said.  The connection ended, and Kyouhei grimaced.

It wasn’t until after the connection ended that he had to wonder if he hadn’t just overstepped some kind of boundary with Charity, and yet . . . At this point, he wasn't entirely sure that calling the tai-youkai was a good idea, but Charity needed someone—someone who knew her better than he did.