InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Metempsychosis ❯ Slow Understanding ( Chapter 5 )

"For the most part, the Canadian region tends to be fairly quiet, which is why Craig didn't actually stay up there most of the year," Ben remarked as he scanned through the quarterly reports, dating back ten years.

"Why did he give up the position?" Ashur asked as he settled back in the easy chair, caddy corner from the sofa.

Ben shrugged.  "Well, he never actually intended to keep the position that long.  He filled in more as a favor to Zelig, and he wanted to get back to his original occupation as an archaeologist, so it was good timing, really."

Ashur nodded slowly as he looked through the reports.  As far as he could tell, the Canadian region had been remarkably stable and had only really had one notorious moment, and that was due to the old general, Jared Brantley, who had been proved to be one of the most perfidious men that Ashur could credit.

As the story went, Brantley, along with another youkai named Cal Richardson, had indulged in the sport of hunting and killing prostitutes, which had come to light when Bas’ wife, Sydnie, had killed Richardson to avenge her sister’s death.  She was little more than a child then, but she’d seen the two of them, watched as they’d hunted, raped, and murdered her sister in a derelict building in Los Angeles years ago.  Bas had ultimately confronted Brantley and killed him in the name of the tai-youkai for those crimes.  Ashur had heard the story from Bas, first hand, and all he could say was that he agreed entirely with the outcome.

"I don't understand," he said slowly, thoughtfully.  "Tell me how a man like Jared Brantley managed to fool the Zelig into becoming one of his generals, in the first place?"

Ben sighed.  "His father held the position before him, and when he died, Cain just figured that Jared had been raised around it, so he understood what it would entail . . . There never was any indication that he wasn't all he pretended to be until Sydnie came forward with her story."

Ashur nodded.  He supposed he could understand that.  People were damn good at hiding their not-so-innocent machinations, after all.  Just look at their father . . . If anyone had mastered that particular talent, Hidekea Muira had done that for years, and with flair . . .

"Daddy!"

Ashur shook off the reverie and glanced up as Kells dashed across the floor, heading straight for him.  "Where's the fire, Kells?" he asked dryly.  "And why are you wearing that?  It's too cold to go swimming yet."

"It's warm!" Kells insisted, hiking up his slightly oversized swimming trunks that he'd begged for less than a week ago.  "Please?  Ple-e-e-e-ease!  Can I have the key?"

Ben arched an eyebrow.  "The key?  For the pool gate?"

Kells nodded emphatically.

"You're not allowed to swim alone, not to mention that it's still only March," Ashur reminded him, "and I don't have time to go out there with you right now.  Maybe in a little while . . ."

Kells wrinkled his tiny nose, twisting the tie of his swimsuit around his fingers so tightly that the tips turned a hideous shade of crimson-blue.  Ashur reached over and cut through the single loop of string with his claw before Kells managed to cut off his circulation entirely.  "Jessa's gonna swim wif me!"

Leaning forward to snug the string and tie them to keep the shorts from falling down, Ashur shook his head.  "I don't think that swimming—"

' . . . Ashur . . .?'

'What?'

'. . . You . . . You need to look . . .'

Turning his head to see just what his youkai was barking about, Ashur stopped, blinked, and stared.

It was her.  In a swimsuit.  Not just any swimsuit, though—kami, no.  She was wearing a ridiculously tiny black two-piece thing that might well have been a bikini on a two-year-old, and her lithe body, her generous curves, were entirely on display, though that insanely red hair of hers fell over her shoulders, covering some of what he was staring at, but not nearly enough, oh, no . . .

Somewhere in the back of his mind, it registered that he was very blatantly staring, and yet, he couldn't seem to stop himself, either.  Perfect, wasn't she?  Absolutely perfect, from the top of her crazy-wild hair to the bottom of her delicately formed feet, he couldn't quite believe that she was real, that she was standing there in his living room, her gaze full of an understated wariness that lingered just below the surface . . . If Ben could see it, Ashur didn't know, and, at the moment, he didn't care, either.  Somehow, someway, this mysterious girl, this being that should have only existed in the confines of dreams or fantasies . . . There she stood, her chin raised, just enough to give testimony to the unabashed defiance of a young woman who refused to be ashamed of who and what she was . . .

Ben coughed rather indelicately.  "You must be Jessamyn," he said, rising out of his chair to shake her hand.  "I'm Ben—Ash's brother."

"Just Jessa, is fine," she replied, those bewitching eyes of her, wide, unblinking.

She stepped forward and cautiously shook his hand.  Kells happily leaned on the arm of Ashur's chair and hopped up and down like a jackrabbit.  "Keys, Daddy!" he hollered again.

Heaving a sigh as he forced his attention off the girl, Ashur stood up to dig the key out of his pocket, but he didn't hand it over to the boy.  "Here," he said, extending the key ring to Jessa.  "Don't let him have it.  He loses everything."

"I don't lose stuff!" Kells argued.

"Thought you wanted to go swimming, brat," he muttered.

Kells giggled and grabbed Jessa's hand, dragging her toward the French doors and outside to the pool that Ashur had fenced in shortly after purchasing the townhouse since Kells had showed an abnormal interest in the pool from the beginning.

Ben cleared his throat, his gaze trained on the doors that the two had just stepped through.  "She . . . doesn't look a thing like Myrna, does she?"

"Just because they're related doesn't mean that they're twins," Ashur remarked rather acerbically.

He chuckled.  "True, but there's very little in the way of any family resemblance."

Rolling his eyes, he wandered over to the French doors, just in time to see Kells barrel into the water while Jessa set aside the towel in her hand, placing the keys carefully on the table near one of the lounge chairs.

"Are you worried that she won't keep an eye on Kells?"

Ashur shook his head, watching the two.  Jessa sat down on the edge of the pool with her feet dangling in the water.   Kells splashed her, and she squealed—he could vaguely hear her, even through the doors—and she kicked her feet, sending water at Kells in retaliation.

"Kells really seems to like her," Ben went on in an entirely too-casual tone of voice.

That comment only earned him a grunt as Ashur turned away from the doors and strode back over to the chair before flopping back down again, burying his face in his paperwork and refusing—refusing—to glance back at the French doors again.

"Watch, Jessa!"

Jessa lifted a hand to shield her eyes as Kells half-ran, half-walked-really-fast toward the edge of the pool and jumped in.  She laughed and clapped as the boy came up, sputtering and wiping his eyes with a bright grin on his face.  "Excellent form, Kells," she told him.

He doggy-paddled over to her and grasped the side of the pool where she sat with her feet dangling in the water.  "Did you see?  I jumped!"

She laughed, reaching over to smooth his hair back out of his bright blue eyes.  They'd already been out here for a few hours, and her skin was starting to get a bit warm.  She never burned, of course.  Being a fire-based youkai had its advantages, especially when her skin was otherwise such a milky-white shade of nothing.  Because of her natural tolerance to fire and sun, she never burned, but on the flip side, she never tanned, either, which just figured.  She'd even resorted to using self-tanning lotion before, and that almost always turned out badly, resulting in hideous orange skin that was normally ridiculously streaky and otherwise even more ghastly-looking.  All in all, she figured that she normally resembled a ghost with a weird wig on . . . "So you did," she agreed.  "Have you had enough swimming yet?"

He wrinkled his adorable little nose as he quickly shook his head.

"Not even if I promised to buy you some ice cream?" she prompted.

He blinked as he considered that offer, his long, spiky eyelashes, dripping water off the tips.  "Daddy says I can't have sugar," he confessed, though he was unable to completely hide the hint of belligerence in his expression.

"Why's that?"

He heaved a sigh, jutting out his bottom lip in a very pronounced pout that was adorable on him, just the same.  She couldn't resist as she reached over and flipped his bottom lip a few times.  His pout disappeared as he giggled instead.  "Daddy says sugar makes me hyper . . .  er . . ."

She choked out a giggle.  "Hyperer?  Is that even a word?"

He shrugged.  "I don't know!  I'm only fwee!"

"You're only two, Kells.  You won't be three until May."

Her amusement died on her lips as her back stiffened, as she slowly turned her waist to peer up and behind at Ashur, who stood, hands in his pockets, an inscrutable look on his face.  The way the sun glinted off his hair—clubbed back in a low hanging ponytail—seemed to lend him a strange sort of glow, even as the warm afternoon sun cast his face in a study of dark and light, and it struck her, just how ridiculously attractive that particular man really was.  He carried himself with an easy kind of grace, a dexterity that so many men tried to achieve, but in him, it was entirely effortless.  Maybe it was due to his background—he had to have some sort of cat in him, didn't he?  His brother was very obviously panther-youkai, and, though Ashur didn't have the typical hallmarks of a feline-youkai, that sense of dexterity was unforgettable, too . . .

He was tall—taller than her father, and Niall O’Shea was one of the tallest men she had ever known—lanky, yet not at all what she would consider wiry, either.  Broad shoulders, narrow waist, he was the kind of man that made women turn and stare whenever he walked by, wasn't he?  Entirely too pretty to credit, she supposed that maybe it had something to do with his bone structure in his face.  At least, that's what her mother would have said.  Her father would have just called him a good-looking man . . .

'He's . . . He's . . . beautiful,' she thought as she absently wondered why he would possess such deep, dark shadows in the depths of his gaze.  It was those shadows that seemed to add age to his otherwise youthful appearance, that brought out a far more unapproachable air to him, as though he'd rather level a death-glare at someone rather than to let them come anywhere near him . . . But . . . But why . . .?

Yet, the seconds seemed to tick away as he just stared at her, neither of them speaking, neither of them seeming to realize, just what they were doing, in the first place.  Kells kept splashing in the shallow end of the pool, babbling to himself as he played and remained entirely oblivious to the strange undercurrent passing between Jessa and his father . . .

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she understood, just how rude she was being, and yet, she couldn't quite help it, either.  Something about his gaze held her riveted—the way the blue of his eyes seemed to churn, reminding her of the Irish waters that she'd left behind, of standing on the cliffs on her father's estate, as she stared out over ever-frothing water of St. George's Channel . . . It was the same shade, that blue—the same cold that existed over the rougher tint of a turbulent shade . . . He almost seemed as though he were trying to ask her a question, but she couldn’t quite understand it, either.

He didn't move at all—not a shift in his stance, not a twitch of his muscles, as the warm March air rippled over him, tossing the end of his long ponytail, blowing his bangs into his eyes.  The set of his jaw, the fullness of his lips . . . For some reason, a distinct shiver ran down her spine as her stomach flopped over, unleashing a certain languor that coursed through her body, but it wasn't exactly unpleasant, either; not in the least . . .

Suddenly, though, she gasped and smothered a harsh shriek as a small blur of a child smashed his cold, wet body against her back.  Kells had gotten out and decided he wanted to hug her, and she jerked involuntarily at the shock.  "K-Kells!" she exclaimed, swinging her legs out of the pool and hastily scrambling to her feet as she hurried over to retrieve his towel off the back of a deck chair.  She picked him up, but only after wrapping him in the cloth as he giggled, his teeth chattering as the cooler air hit his tiny body.

"Oh," she said, carting around to hand Ashur back the gate key.  She stopped short at the strange glow alight in his gaze.  "A . . . Ashur . . .?"

He blinked at the sound of his name, shaking off whatever he had been thinking as he drew back slightly, forcing his gaze away.  "I, uh . . . I thought maybe you were hungry," he blurted, sounding a little more uncertain than he had since she'd met him.  "But if you leave it to him, it'll be somewhere like Chuck E. Cheese," he warned.

She shook her head.  "What's that?"

Ashur made a face.  "It's the bane of parental existence," he muttered.

She frowned. "What?"

Flicking his wrist, he turned back toward the house again.  "Never mind . . . Just . . . If you want to go, uh . . . you should probably get dressed . . ."  He sighed, turning back to take Kells from her.  "Come on, you little tyrant."

Kells huddled closer against his father's chest, obviously seeking warmth since the temperature was starting to drop just a little.  "I wanna go to Cheesy!"

Ashur sighed.  "I'll meet you in the living room in an hour," he called over his shoulder.

"Okay," she called after him as she stopped to lock the gate once more.  She frowned.  Whatever she thought she'd felt, whatever she’d thought that she'd seen in his eyes . . . She shook her head as she dismissed it, convinced that it was all in her head, and even if it wasn't, well . . . Well, she really didn't know exactly what it was, in the first place . . .

Even so, the idea of going out for dinner didn't sound so bad, after all . . . It beat the usual of a cold meat sandwich that was actually pretty disgusting, but seemed to be about the only thing in the refrigerator . . . A hot meal—any hot meal—would probably be better, wouldn't it?  Even though she still had no idea just what Chuck E. Cheese actually was . . .

He sat at a mushroom-shaped table in the sprawling play land known as Kid Zone, which was the result of a careful negotiation with Kells since the food here was fairly decent, provided one avoided anything listed as 'healthy', but that still contained enough entertainment for a hyper two-almost-three-year-old despot to get his energy out in a relatively acceptable way.  Kells was busy, dragging Jessa from one activity to another, having abandoned Ashur about the moment that they'd walked through the door.  They'd already done the rock climbing wall, followed by a jaunt through the ball pit, and it was anybody's guess as to where, exactly, Kells was dragging the girl off to now, but she might well score some points with him if she could keep up with the child for more than another ten minutes . . .

'Which is all well and good, considering we get to sit here and watch her . . . Maybe we should buy her a few more bikinis . . .'

Ashur didn't deign to respond to that as he frowned at the mushroom and Swiss burger and fries arranged on the platter before him.  He hadn't touched it yet, even though it did look a far sight better than the congealed cheese-covered pizzas that were just a step above disgusting that were served at Chuck E. Cheese.

'Admit it, won't you?  Whatever you might think of her, she's dead damn gorgeous, don't you think?'

That also didn't deserve a response, as far as Ashur was concerned.  Heaving a small sigh as the boy struggled into a fuzzy coverall, he shook his head despite the trace smile that quirked the corners of his lips.  Kells finally allowed Jessa to help him zip up the bright green jumper, all but bouncing right out of the silly outfit as the girl held onto his arm while the attendant explained a few base rules to the child, who was well beyond actually listening.  Then he took off at a sprint toward the spring board that launched him toward the Velcro wall, and even from the distance, Ashur could hear Kells' pealing laughter as he stuck fast, a good fifteen feet off the ground—probably a record, all things considered.

The poor attendant actually had to get a short ladder since Kells was stuck well enough that he couldn't peel himself away from the wall.  As it was, the kid had to yank on Kells' upper arm and leg, only to let go as gravity took over, and, in essence, rolled the boy down the wall that way until Jessa could reach him and yank him free, and the whole time, Kells howled in giddy joy as he wiggled out of the coveralls.

With crisis neatly averted, the young man who had rescued Kells from impending doom leaned down to whisper something in Jessa's ear.  She gave him a tepid little smile that was little more than a perfunctory gesture on her part.  Entirely undaunted, he grabbed her wrist just to stop her when she started to walk away with Kells in her arms, hurrying to scribble something on a tiny slip of paper that he tucked into her hand with a rather bashful little grin.

She stuffed it into the pocket of her low-rise black jeans before giving the bottom of the pristine white crinkle-cotton babydoll blouse a tug so that it floated back into place around her hips again.  Kells grabbed her hand, almost dragging her forward, and it was only as they neared the table that Ashur realized that he was growling.

Cutting it off with an inward snort, he sat back, blanked his expression, ignoring the little nudges that goaded at his rising irritation at the numerous male heads that turned, that watched the girl as she passed—appreciative stares, openly leering expressions from men, sitting with their families, for kami's sake . . .

'What do you expect?  Jessa's damn gorgeous.'

'And she's little more than a child herself,' he reminded his youkai.

'Apples and oranges, Kyouhei.  She's youkai, and that makes a huge difference.'

'Not really, it doesn't . . . and it's, 'Ashur'.'

'Suit yourself . . . for now.'

"Can we do it again after we eat?" Kells asked as he climbed up into his chair and grabbed a French fry to jam it into his mouth.

"It depends on your da," Jessa replied as she slipped into the next chair over, across from Ashur.  If she minded the burger he'd ordered for her, she didn't comment as she picked it up and bit into it.

The boy turned his attention on Ashur at last.  "Did you see me, Daddy?  Did you see me get stuck?"

"They should have left you up there," Ashur remarked dryly.

"But I was hungry!" he argued.

Ashur nodded.  "Good, then eat your dinner."  Arching an eyebrow when he noticed that Jessa had set her burger down and was lifting the top bun to inspect it, he shrugged.  "If you want something else, that's fine.  You two took off before I could ask what you might want."

"Oh, no, this is fine," she said, her cheeks pinking just a little under his close scrutiny.  "I was just trying to figure out what's on it," she explained.  "It's good.  I've just never had anything like it before."

"Just Swiss cheese and mushrooms," he said.

She nodded.  "We never had dairy," she said, replacing the bun and taking another bite.  "My ma was lactose intolerant, so it was just never in the house."

"A lactose intolerant youkai?"

She considered it for a moment, her eyes taking on a slightly perplexed hue.  "She said she was, but then, maybe she just didn't want the extra calories or something.  Who knows?"

"I see," he said.  "Are you?"

Jessa shrugged and bit down once more.  "Lactose intolerant?  I don't think so."

He shook his head.  "You'll know, one way or another, in about half an hour," he countered dryly.

She sat there for a long moment with a rather curious expression on her face, as though she were considering something, and finally, she blinked and frowned thoughtfully at him.  "Did you just tease me?" she asked at length.

Ashur paused with a fry halfway to his mouth as he considered her question.  "I suppose I did," he admitted.

She nodded slowly as a little smile quirked her lips, adding a sparkle to her eyes, a slight pinkness to her cheeks, as a little giggle slipped from her.  "Oh, then that's quite all right," she decided, nibbling on a French fry.

"You need kep-chup!" Kells blurted, rising up on his knees and waving his hand toward the bottle of ketchup in the middle of the table.

"Oh, no, you don't," Ashur said, grasping the back of Kells' shirt and tugging him into place again.  He then retrieved the bottle and squirted a small pile on the boy's plate.  "There."

Kells wrinkled his nose.  "Not for me!  For Jessa!  And I need more, all over my fwies!"

"Your dinner plate does not need to look like a crime scene," Ashur replied, "and I daresay that Jessa wouldn't like that, either."

"Da-a-a-addy!"

Heaving a sigh, he handed over the ketchup bottle and shook his head as Kells proceeded to dump half the bottle all over his food before snapping the plastic lid closed as she smiled happily at the mess he'd made.  Then he turned and held the bottle out to Jessa.

"Uh, n-no, thanks," she said, taking the bottle and setting it back in the middle of the table once more.

"But it's good!" Kells insisted.

Jessa laughed and reached over to tousle Kells' hair.

Ashur watched the exchange, but remained silent as he bit into his half-cold burger, realizing absently that it was the first time he'd felt even slightly hungry in a long, long time . . .