InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Metempsychosis ❯ Confrontations and Compromise ( Chapter 9 )

"And tell me: just what the hell are you doing in a place like this, dressed like that, Jessa?"

"A-Ashur . . ."

He must have gotten tired of waiting for a more prolific answer, because he said nothing as he dragged her through the bar and toward the front doors, and Jessa's resistance seemed to mean nothing to the stubborn man—if he even noticed at all.  'Curse him for being so ridiculously strong,' she fumed as she tried to yank herself free.

Rock stepped into their path, arms crossed over his chest, and, while he was enough of a mountain to make a human think twice, Ashur made to step around him, only stopping when Rock moved over to block his way.  "Look, pal, I don't know who you are, but you'd better let go of her unless you want to tangle with me."

Ashur didn't blink and didn't let go of Jessa, either, his free hand flashing out in a blur of motion, connecting with Rock's jaw, sending the bouncer flying back into the wall as he dragged Jessa out onto the street.  "If you know what's good for you, you will not speak until we get home," he growled from between clenched teeth.

She wrenched her arm, jerked away from him, only to cross her arms over her chest as she glared up at him.  "Are you mad?" she blasted.  "Have you lost your mind?  You could have hurt him!"

He snorted, planting his hands on his hips as he glowered back at her.  "You're right.  I could have.  I didn't, but I could have."

She rubbed her forehead, struggling to get a grip on her own rising temper as she turned on her heel and started back toward the club.

He grabbed her arm again.  "Forget it.  You're not going back in there, ever again."

"I have to finish my shift!"

He stared at her for a moment, but he must have decided that he was done arguing with her because he dragged her into the alley beside the club, only to let go of her just long enough to pick her up with absolutely no effort, despite the fact that she was struggling to get free.  Then he leapt onto the building and set off at a sprint across the rooftops so fast that she gasped and grabbed onto him, just in case he thought to drop her.


They reached Ashur's townhouse in ridiculously short order, but he refused to put her down until they were inside.  By the time he did, however, she was well beyond 'angry' and fast approaching 'beyond all reason' . . .

"Move," she said, crossing her arms over her chest as she scowled at him.

"You are not going back there," he growled, refusing to move away from the door.  "What the hell were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that I need a job!" she yelled back.  "Now, no thanks to you, I've probably been fired!"

"Good.  You don't need a job.  You need a warden!"

She was dangerously close to losing her temper entirely, and she strode over to him, poking him in the center of his chest to emphasize her words.  "Yes, well, you don't even want me here, so get out of my way!  I've almost got enough saved up to move out, and—"

He snorted indelicately.  "Why do you think I don't want you here?" he challenged.

"You made it pretty obvious from the beginning!" she yelled.

"That wasn't about you," he growled.  "I didn't—" Cutting himself off abruptly, he dragged his hands over his face and heaved a heavy sigh in an attempt to calm himself down.  "Never mind.  It's not important.  I don't mind having you here.  Just where do you think you'd find a place that you could afford on tips?"

She shook her head.  "A friend," she said, wondering why she was bothering to try to explain herself to him, in the first place.  "She told me that she has a spare room."

"A friend of yours?" he echoed as he narrowed his eyes on her, gaze flashing with an angry fire as he drew his own conclusions.  "From that bar."

"Does it matter?"

He snorted again.  "And just what the hell do you think Myrna would say if she found out that her cousin is working at a strip club?"

"Don't pretend that she cares," she shot back.  "Don't presume to tell me anything!  What do you know?  You have money.  You have a home.  You have a family.  I don't have any of these things, and I'm stuck here, in a house where I’m not wanted, and I have no way of even buying myself the barest of necessities, so yes, I needed a job—any job—and I found one that pays well, and you have no right to judge me!"

"What do you mean, I have no right?  Do you even see what you're wearing?  Every last detail of your body is right there, on display, and if you don't care enough about yourself to cover up certain parts of you, then that is a problem!"

"It's none of your business!" she insisted.

"You're not going back there, ever," he growled.  "If you try, I'll turn that place in for hiring a minor."

She snorted.  "That's not a problem anymore."

"Since when?"

"Since midnight!"

For some reason, her admission seemed to bring him up short, and, while he still looked angry, there was something else there, too, and if she weren't so irritated, maybe she could interpret it.  As it was, though, she glared at him for another long moment before turning on her heel and stomping off toward the sanctity of her room.

He watched her go, frowning at her back—at the tiny slip of a skirt that barely covered her ass, at the three-inch stiletto heels, at the black halter top that exposed too much of her belly, cut too low in front that he knew damn well that she wasn't wearing a bra.  Hell, the ties from the apron she was still wearing hung down past the hem of that skirt.  All in all, he figured that he had every reason to come unglued when he'd stepped into that kami-forsaken excuse for a club, only to find that foolish human proposing to her, of all things . . .

'You can at least admit that it bothered you, you know.'

Ignoring the wry statement from his youkai-voice, he made a face.  Just how long had she been working there, anyway?  Sneaking out a night when he'd thought that she'd gone to bed . . .?

And it was Kells who had inadvertently tipped him off.  He'd left one of his toys in Jessa's room, he'd said, but he couldn’t go get it because she always locked her door when she went to work.  It had taken Ashur about five minutes to ascertain that she was gone, and he'd known, hadn't he, that there weren't any decent jobs that she'd have to work overnight.  So, he'd dropped Kells off at Ben's for an impromptu sleep-over and had tracked her down . . .

'But you heard what she said, didn't you?  She didn't feel welcome here from the start, and if you were her, you'd want to get out, too.'

'That's ridiculous!  I gave her a place to stay, didn't I?  What was I supposed to do?  Throw her a welcome party?'

'No, but you could have tried a little harder.  She'd just lost her parents, remember?  And Kells told you—'

'That he loved her; yeah, sure . . .'

'Baka!  Think back!  Think about what Kells said that first morning.'

'What he said . . .?  How the hell am I supposed to remember?  Kells talks all the damn time!'

His youkai sighed.  'He said that she was crying.  Do you remember?'

"I sweep wif Jessa . . . She was cryin'."

"She was . . . crying . . ." he muttered to himself.

'Now, do you understand?  She had to leave everything she knew, everything she loved, only to come here and find out that her cousin didn't have time for her, either, and even if you weren't unkind to her, per se, you weren't nice to her, not at all.  You never even once asked her if she was okay.  Even if she lied to you and said that she was fine, it wouldn't matter, would it, because the point is that you still didn't bother to ask, and all that time, she's been alone . . . and you, better than anyone, know what that feels like, don't you?'

Rubbing his face with his hands, Ashur heaved a sigh into his palms.  Yeah, he supposed he did know—knew just how it felt to be entirely alone, to feel as though everyone in the world was watching and whispering and judging . . . The complete destruction of his family's honor was harsh enough, but those looks, those whispers . . . The ones that stopped the very second he walked into the room or when they saw him, walking down the street, and then, Kells . . .

'The two of you—Jessa and you—are far more alike than you know, and maybe she needs you in the same way that you needed Kells in the beginning . . .'

And that was true, too.  In those days following his parents' deaths, when the gravity of what he'd done had slowly taken hold of him, as he'd tried to deal with the shock and rage of what Hana had done, the only thing that had drawn him out of his self-imposed isolation was the crying of the tiny infant—the life he'd saved because he hadn't had a choice—Kells . . .

But Jessa . . .

Heaving a sigh, he pushed himself away from the door and frowned at the panel for a moment before pushing the button to lock everything down, including the windows since he wasn't entirely certain that Jessa wouldn't try to sneak out again.  For some reason, though, doing that bothered him more than he could credit.

'And just what did she mean, when she said that you couldn't report that place for employing an underage waitress?' his youkai pondered slowly.  'She said it wasn't a problem anymore . . .'

"Since . . . midnight . . .?"  He frowned.  "But that . . . would mean . . ."

Eyes flaring wide as slow realization dawned on him, Ashur strode through the house and tapped on the closed door that led to the maid's quarters.  She didn't answer.  He didn't expect that she would, but to his surprise, it was unlocked.

The first thing that he noticed when he opened the door was the soft, sad, vague smell of tears that hung in the air, and he grimaced.

'Just do us both a favor and take it easy on her,' his youkai warned him as he stepped into the hallway and headed for the stairs.  'Give her a reason not to want to run right back to that place.  We can't lock her into the house forever, especially now, but if we let her go, let her move in with her friend or whatever, you know as well as I do that that's a really bad idea . . .'

'I know,' he replied tersely as he stepped off the stairs onto the hallway landing.  Her bedroom door was open.  She had to know that he was there.  He heard her suddenly sniffle, as though she were trying to choke back her emotions, felt the way her youki constricted, withdrawing from the space as she pulled it in close.  "Happy birthday," he said, leaning against the doorframe, digging his hands into his pockets as he stared at her, bathed in the melancholy radiance that spilled over her where she sat in the window seat, her feet drawn up, her thin arms wrapped around her legs, her hands locked together around her ankles, her hair spilling around her like a fiery cloak of curls and tangles and moonlight and shadows.

She didn't answer him.  She didn't even acknowledge him.  He could sense her irritation, though he somehow understood that it was directed more at herself, at her inability to hold full control over her emotions, than it was at him, but the underlying sense of sadness, of a despair so deep and so cutting that it nearly made him wince, was far, far worse, far uglier than anything else in the world could be.

He sighed.  "You . . . You don't belong in a place like that," he told her.  "Your parents—"

"—Aren't here for me to ask," she interrupted quietly, her voice a little rough, a little ragged.

He nodded.  She didn't see it.  "I deserved that," he allowed.  "But you have to know that they wouldn't want you working in a dive like that."

"Stan asked me to take over one of the girl's shifts on Friday and Saturday nights," she told him.  "As a dancer."

She was baiting him; he could feel it.  It didn't stop him from scowling at her, though.  "I hope you had enough sense to tell him no," he remarked tightly.

"I'm not stupid," she muttered.  "Waiting tables is fine.  Taking my clothes off?  Can't say that it interests me—but then, at least your behavior could have been expected."

"I'm not going to apologize for getting you out of there."

She let out a deep breath.  "I didn't expect you would."  The silence grew, thicker and heavier as the seconds ticked away on the small clock on the nightstand.  "Of course, that just leaves me right back where I started: no job, no nothing . . . and no way to get one, considering I don't have a green card or a work permit here . . ."

He frowned since he hadn't actually considered, just why she'd have chosen to get a job in that disgusting hole that called itself a night club.  No, he supposed she couldn't find a decent job, could she, not under those conditions . . . "If you . . . If you want a job, then I'd be happy to pay you to help me with Kells," he said.  "I have meetings and things that I cannot take him to, and he likes you."

"You mean, like a nanny?"

He considered that, wondering if there was something he was missing before he answered since she sounded like she was on the cusp of being very offended.  "Yes," he finally replied, carefully measuring his words, his tone.  "Exactly like that."

She didn't answer right away.  "Is this some sort of handout?"

"Handout?  No," he scoffed.  "My brother and Charity usually watch him, but they're getting ready to move to Maine, and even if they weren't, I need to move to Canada soon, so having someone I can trust with Kells is very important to me."

Something he'd said gave her pause, and for the first time since she'd retreated to her room, she slowly turned her head to look at him.  Her face was hidden in the deepest shadows, though, so he couldn’t actually make out her expression, but her youki seemed to quiet by degrees as the pinpoints of light that were her eyes flickered when she blinked.  "You . . . You trust me with Kells?" she asked, her voice almost a whisper.  "You . . . You do?"

He nodded.  "I do."  For some reason, she seemed to be stuck on the idea that he trusted her, but then, maybe that wasn't so surprising.  Trust, in Ashur's world, was a difficult thing to come by, after all . . . Maybe it was in hers, too . . .

"I . . . I like him, too," she replied at length.  "He's a very sweet little boy."

Ashur grunted.  "I assure you, it's not because of my influence."

"Well, no, I didn't think so," she said, and even though he couldn't see her face, he had a feeling that she might well be smiling just a little.  "All right," she agreed slowly, "but . . . can I ask you a question?"

"No, you're not going back to that club, no matter what reason you might try to give me."

She flicked her hand in blatant dismissal without lifting it from her ankle.  "It's not that.  It's just . . ."

"Just what?"

She swung her legs off the window seat, tilting her head to the side as she continued to stare at him.  "It's none of my business, of course, but . . . But what happened?  To Kells' mother . . .?"

Pushing away from the doorframe, Ashur slowly strode over, sat on the seat beside her, staring straight ahead at the opposite wall, at the painting of a single purple iris on a cream-colored canvas.  "I . . . adopted him," he said simply.  "Biologically, he's my . . . my brother."

"Oh . . . Then that's why . . ."

Ashur frowned, turning his head to face her while she kept her gaze deliberately trained on the floor under her feet.  "He doesn't know anything about it, and I prefer to keep it that way," he said.  "You understand."

She nodded.  "I-I'm sorry," she blurted.  "I was just curious.  I mean, there's no woman here, and . . . I wasn't trying to pry . . ."

"It's fine," he assured her.  "I just . . . I don’t usually tell anybody anything.  They can draw whatever conclusion they want, but I guess your question makes sense."

She sighed.  "I . . . I thought maybe it was an arranged thing—that you have a mate, but . . ."

He snorted.  "There are no such thing as arranged marriages anymore," he scoffed.  "That's archaic, and—"

"It's done sometimes," she ventured, sounding just a little too casual about the entire affair.  "Some youkai asked my father to arrange one for his son and me . . . Da said no, of course, but . . . but I heard him discussing it with my mother . . . Fancied himself to be the next Marquess of Aumberlese."

The bitterness in her tone surprised him.  "That's . . ."

"Barbaric," she supplied.  "That's what my ma said."

He shook his head.  "Your ma was right."

She looked at him, her eyes catching the faint moonlight, the reddish hue, seeming to glow in the shadows.  She seemed surprised, a little disconcerted, almost as if she hadn't really expected him to understand the very real horror, the disgust, that a question like that had even been raised.  Yet, she didn't say anything, and neither did he.  Words weren't necessary—maybe even a little evil—as they stared at each other in the companionable darkness as the night around them lengthened and grew . . .