InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Metempsychosis ❯ Rain ( Chapter 18 )

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

"All right. I'll see you on Thursday."

Heaving a sigh as he ended the phone call and dropped the device onto the sofa beside him, Ashur leaned forward, elbows on knees, letting his face drop into his open palms.  "Damn," he muttered, wondering if he needed to hire a secretary.  Ben had warned him that people would want to meet with the new Canadian general.  He hadn't expected all the attention, though.  This guy—Thurston Margreave—was a well-known patron of the arts in Quebec.  He owned the largest theater in the region and was probably looking to garner more support for it, which was fine, he supposed.  Just add another person to the growing list of weird and random visitors . . .

Kells dashed into the room, his little Sonny Sunshine backpack slung over his shoulders.  "I packed my stuffs, Daddy!" he exclaimed happily, skidding to a stop next to the sofa, planting his hands on the arm as he bounced up and down in his excitement.

Letting his hands drop away from his face, Ashur blinked as he met Kells' rapt expression.  "You packed," he said, sounding more than a little dubious.  Rolling his eyes, he held out a hand, wiggling his finger to hurry the boy along as Kells shrugged off the backpack and handed it over.

Toys and games and his handheld kid tablet . . . Not one shred of clothing, and no tooth or hairbrush, either . . . "Kells, you stink at packing," Ashur replied, handing the bag back to the boy as he pushed himself to his feet and headed out of the room.  "You don't have to go if you don't want to," he said as Kells skipped along beside him.  "You can stay here with Daddy, if you want."

Kells stopped suddenly, tilting his head to the side as he pondered Ashur's statement.  "You don't wan' me to go, Daddy?  You wan' me to stay home?"

Ashur forced a smile as he tousled the boy's hair.  "If you want to go, that's fine.  They'll have a lot of fun, you know.  I'm just saying that if you'd rather stay here with me, then that's okay, too.  Whatever you want to do, Kells."

His face scrunched up into a comical show of concentration, and he shrugged.  "I wanna go," he finally said, "but I wanna stay wif Daddy, too . . ." He smiled, throwing his little arms around Ashur's leg, almost making him stumble.  "I love Daddy!"

A very rare, very true smile quirked the corners of Ashur's lips as he scooped the boy up and continued up the stairs.  "I love you, too, Kells," he replied.

Kells ferreted his head under Ashur's chin, snuggling against him as he heaved a sigh.  "I need lots of cuddles for when I'm gone," he said.

"All right," Ashur agreed, stepping into Kells' room.  He had to admit, he loved these kinds of moments: quiet moments when the boy was content, just to be held, to be cuddled.  They didn't happen nearly as often these days as they used to, and he missed it—a lot.

"Okay," Kells finally said after a few minutes of cuddling.  "My cuddles is full 'gain!"

Ashur chuckled and kissed his forehead before setting him back on his feet.

It didn't take long for Ashur to fill a satchel with a good number of clothing changes along with the boy's swim suit, hair brush, a few towels, toothbrush, and bubble gum flavored toothpaste—the one with the dinosaurs on the tube.  After he considered it a moment, he also tossed in a couple sweat shirts and jeans, socks and underpants, and a couple nicer shirts in case they went somewhere and needed slightly more formal attire.  "Okay," he said, zipping up the bag.  He still needed shoes, but Ashur would grab those downstairs since they were kept in the closet by the front door.  "I think that's good enough."

"Oh . . . Packing?  I thought that they were picking him up this weekend," Jessa said as she stopped in the doorway.  Ashur blinked and shot her a second glance.  Cheeks flushed, eyes bright, she looked almost . . . happy . . .?

"Aunt Nami wants to see me!" Kells hollered, tossing his arms around Jessa's leg in his exuberance.

"Family friend," he supplied, crossing his arms over his chest as he slowly regarded her.  "So, they're coming to get him a little early."

"I see," she replied, smiling down at the boy.  "I'll bet you'll have so much fun!" she insisted.  "That's really exciting!"

"And just where were you?" Ashur interrupted, glancing at Kells as the boy darted over and hefted the satchel off the bed, struggling with it since it was almost as big as he was, as he shuffled over to the door.  Jessa stepped to the side, allowing Kells to pass, before she turned her attention back to Ashur once more.  "We got back, and you were gone—no note, no nothing."

She grimaced, then smiled at him, too, which was nearly enough to disarm him.  Something about the way her eyes lit up . . . "I'm sorry.  You're right; I should have left a note.  I will next time; I promise.  Our neighbor—Mr. Broughton—stopped by, offered to let me ride one of his horses . . ." She sighed happily—dreamily.  "It was . . . It was so nice . . ."

"Should you be out, running around with some random man you just met?"

She seemed genuinely surprised by his question.  "You're kind of a random man I just recently met," she reminded him.

He rolled his eyes.  "Your amusement is sorely misplaced, Jessa.  Anyone ever tell you that you're far too trusting of people?"

She snorted.  "I'm not," she insisted, flicking a hand in blatant dismissal.  "But the horses like him, and they tend to be better judges of character than you or I are in general."

He raised his eyebrows at her bald statement.  "So, you're trusting the reactions of . . . horses . . .?"

"Animals can sense if someone has bad intentions or not, so yes," she argued.  Then she sighed.  "I'm going to go start dinner.  You can grouch at me later, if you want."

"Jessa—"

The chime of the doorbell cut him off, and he uttered a terse grunt as he strode out of the room and followed her down the stairs.  This discussion wasn't over, not by a long shot, as far as he was concerned.  A girl that looked like her, without sparing a second thought, up and running off with some guy, just because he had a couple of horses?  Heaving a sigh as he reached for the doorknob, he tried to tamp down the irritation that wouldn't do a thing for him at the moment.  He'd talk to her later, absolutely, because he had to make sure she understood that she could easily be in danger from any number of things if she weren't careful.


"Is there anything I can help with?"

Jessa glanced up from the butter and olive oil, heating in the skillet, as Manami breezed into the kitchen with a brilliant smile on her movie-star-gorgeous face.  She wasn't entirely sure what she'd expected, but it certainly wasn't the radiant swan-youkai who stepped inside the foyer with a stunning smile and a huge hug for Kells and Ashur, both.  Then she went on to stand just a little too close to Ashur as they talked in hushed tones.  More than once, he'd had to lean in to hear what she was saying to him.

As they stood in the living room, drinking wine and generally playing a game of catching-up, Manami had touched Ashur's arm multiple times, letting her fingertips rest on his forearm, on his bicep, laughing a little too happily at whatever he was talking about, as he stared at her with a more indulgent, more contented, expression than Jessa had ever actually seen on his face before.

She'd watched as the two of them whispered to each other, as he listened intently to whatever she was telling him, while Ben and Charity had played with the children and had joined in the conversation here and there.

Jessa hadn't known what to make of it, the strange and almost mercurial change in Ashur's behavior.  He didn't tend to act that way around just Ben and Charity, either, and that was alarming enough, in her opinion.

'They act like . . . like lovers or something . . .'

Gritting her teeth at her youkai-voice, Jessa crossed her arms over her chest and turned on her heel, stomping off to the kitchen, not that Ashur noticed.  Why would he?  She snorted.

Her gut instinct was to rip the woman's platinum blonde hair out of her head, though she was a little shocked and not entirely sure why she felt that way, at all—and she didn't really want to delve into it too deeply, either.

"Oh, I've got it," Jessa insisted with as much of a tight smile as she could muster.

Manami laughed, either not noticing or not bothering to comment on the expression, as she stepped around Jessa and reached for the onion on the cutting board.  "Oh, nonsense!  I love cooking!"

"Okay," Jessa agreed slowly.  They were staying for dinner, but Ben had said that they needed to get back tonight—something about Manami and Charity's plans to take Kells and the girls for a day at the zoo followed by toy shopping or something like that . . . "Are you going on vacation with them?" she asked, in lieu of something better to say.

"I'm not," she admitted with a sigh as she made quick work of the onion.  "I wish I were, but not this time, unfortunately."

Jessa frowned thoughtfully.  "Do you often go on vacations with them?"

Manami scraped the onions together with a spatula and dropped them carefully into the sizzling oil.  "Whenever I can," she admitted.

She didn't know what to make of that, so she said nothing, focusing on her task at hand instead.

Manami hummed quietly to herself for a few minutes, somehow giving Jessa a sense of ease, of relaxed comfort that she tried to ignore, but when the swan spoke again, she did so carefully, as though she were measuring her words.  "Ashur . . . He's different."

"What do you mean?"

Manami shook her head, gathered up the cutting board to wash it off in the sink.  "He's more . . . Well, I guess you could say, he's a little more like he used to be, back before . . ." Trailing off, she sighed, deliberately taking her time as she washed the board.  "Before everything . . ."

"Before everything . . .?" she repeated when Manami fell silent.

Manami sighed and shot her an apologetic little smile.  "I'm sorry, Jessa.  It's not my place to tell it.  I really can only say that he's . . . He's been through a lot . . ." Suddenly, she laughed.  "Then again, haven't we all in our own ways . . .?  I mean, I daresay that you've been through quite a bit, too, of late, haven't you?  Your parents . . . I'm so very, very sorry."

"I'm . . . I'm fine," Jessa lied, hating the twinge of sadness that shot through her—hating that the woman actually sounded genuinely sad, genuinely concerned, and sorry . . . It left her feeling vulnerable, weaker than she wanted to be, especially in the face of this particular woman.  She wasn't sure why she instantly viewed Manami as a threat on some level, but . . .

Manami didn't seem to pick up on it, though.  "Kells loves you, too," she went on, completely oblivious to Jessa's inner thoughts.  "That boy . . ." She laughed.  "We all think he's special, of course, but Ashur . . . Ashur adores him . . ."

Jessa cleared her throat.  "You . . . You seem like you're . . . close . . . to Ashur . . ." she said, hoping that she didn't sound as interested in her answer as she suspected that she did.

"Close?  I suppose . . . I would guess that would depend upon your definition of it," Manami allowed, digging plates out of the cupboard as Jessa checked the boiling pasta.  "I guess I'm probably about as close to Ashur as he'll ever let anyone be."  She paused, gaze clouding over as a calculating sort of expression surfaced, and suddenly, she laughed softly.

"Is something funny?" Jessa demanded, unable to restrain the clipped tone in her voice.

"I'm sorry," Manami said, waving a hand despite the laughter that still escaped her.  "I apologize."  Even so, she giggled a little longer before finally winding down to a very natural, very friendly smile.  "I feel like you're good for him, Jessa.  Maybe it's simply that you're so young . . ."

"I don't think . . . He doesn't feel that way," Jessa replied stiffly.

Manami laughed again.   "Oh, child!  If he doesn't, it wouldn't take much from you to change his mind!  Well, if you wanted to, that is . . ."

Snapping her mouth closed on the retort that had been forming, Jessa pulled the pot off the stove and took her time, draining it in the sink.  She really wasn't sure, what to make of that woman—not in the least . . .


Staring out at the blackened night outside the French doors that he'd left open, savoring the feel of the crisp evening air, smelling the scent of the impending rain as he searched the skies for stars that were hidden behind the gloom of the storm clouds that gathered in the dark, Ashur slowly sipped the snifter of brandy in his hand as he leaned in the doorway, one hand in his pocket, as he tried not to think about just how empty the house felt with Kells gone for the next nearly-three-weeks.  They'd left shortly after dinner, even though Ashur had been more than willing to lodge them for the night.  Ben had to get back, though.  Something about last minute things to finish up before their vacation started.

He sighed.  If he had his druthers, the boy would never know, would never, ever be told the truth of his origins, of how he came to be adopted . . .

The blood on the floor, on the walls . . . The stench of it, filling his nose, making him feel dizzy, sickened . . . The blood, staining his hands as he held the writhing newborn . . . It still lingered there, in the depths of his nightmares, and, though those nightmares had lessened over time, the ones he did have still held the power to keep him awake for nights on end . . .

That was a truth that Kells never needed to know, as far as he was concerned.  There was absolutely nothing good that could possibly come from telling him the truth, and maybe he was being foolish or selfish in hoping that it never became an issue . . .

"What did you send?  Why does that worry me?" Jessa said as she shuffled into the room.  He glanced over his shoulder, only to spot her near the archway, holding her phone to her ear.  She sighed.  "All right, Carol . . . I will . . . Okay, bye."

Ending the connection, she stopped abruptly when she noticed Ashur near the opened French doors.  "Oh, sorry.  I didn't know you were in here," she muttered, turning on her heel to leave.

"Jessa," he called after her, stopping her before she could escape.  He saw the way her back stiffened, the way her youki drew in close.  She was bracing herself, wasn't she?  But for what . . .?

She sighed, her shoulders slumping just a little under the draping fabric of the light sweater she wore.  "I'm tired, Ashur.  I . . . I'm going to bed."

He considered that, then discarded it.  She'd been acting strangely all evening—quiet, almost brooding . . . "All right," he agreed, "but before that, tell me why you were so quiet during dinner?  I mean, you were so happy after your ride earlier, so . . . did something happen?"

"No, nothing at all," she replied.

Frowning at the tightness in her answer, he pivoted on his heel, leaning back against the frame as he slowly sipped the brandy.  "Tell me why I don't believe that."

She stopped, turned, scowled at him for a minute, eyes darkening as she seemed to be considering . . . something . . . "I don't know," she said, quietly, evenly, as she took her time, moving across the floor, only to take the glass out of his hand and toss back the rest of the drink.  "Is Manami your lover?"

Eyebrows raising in surprise, Ashur blinked.  "My what?"

His question irritated her, he could see it in her gaze.  The storm clouds were gathering there in her eyes—dark, deep, just waiting for that one little crack, that one tiny fissure, before it broke wide open.  "Your.  Lover," she stated once more, slamming the snifter onto the nearby table.  "I'm not stupid, Ashur," she bit out, then quickly shook her head, uttering a terse laugh that held only a bitterness she really shouldn't have known, not at her age.  "Or maybe I am . . ."

"There's nothing—"

"You know what?  Save it," she blurted, cutting him off as her eyes narrowed dangerously.  "I don't care."

She turned to leave.  He caught her wrist, tugged her back, gently but firmly.  "I feel as though you're jumping to some odd conclusions in there," he said, tapping her forehead with his fingertips, his tone a little condescending, even though he hadn't meant for it to be.

"Go to hell," she shot back, yanking on her wrist, but unable to break his hold.

"Not until you tell me, just what's spinning around in that head of yours," he growled, his reaction being fed by her own.

"Just leave me alone!"

"Jessa—"

"Why the hell did you kiss me?" she hissed, yanking on her arm again.  "Why would you do that when you have her?  I am not your toy, damn it!"

"When I have—?  What the hell are you talking about?" he growled.

She jerked away, stumbled back a couple steps.  "Leave me alone!" she screamed again.

He started to grab her, but his cuff shot up in flames as she bolted past him, out into the night. With a muffled curse, he ripped the sleeve off before it managed to burn him, dropping it on the stone terrace as he took off after her.  The first flash of lightning, the first crack of thunder, announced the storm as the rain started to fall.  He couldn't rightfully see much of anything between the strobes of lightning and the rain, hitting his face.

"Jessa!" he bellowed, his voice swallowed by another crack of thunder, as the skies opened up, as the rain fell in great sheets.  "Jessa!"

He slipped on the soaked ground, but caught himself with his fingertips and without breaking his stride.  Following only his intuition and the vague scent of her that was so distorted by the wind, by the rain, that he wasn't even sure if he was headed in the right direction, he muttered a curse under his breath.

Another flash of lightning illuminated the world around him, and he caught sight of her, only for a moment: dead ahead, moving as fast as she possibly could.  Uttering a terse growl, he sped up, closing the distance, and he launched himself at her, grabbing her in his arms, bearing her to the ground with a squelch of earth and mud, as she struggled against him, tried to fight him off, beating her fists against his shoulders, trying to use her body to toss him off.

Smashing his knee down between her legs to still her, he leaned away, far enough to glower at her in the stingy light. "Stop it," he rumbled, his scowl darkening fast.  It should have been enough to silence her.  It wasn't, and she took a swipe at his face with her claws.  With a frustrated growl, he caught her wrists in one hand and slammed them down in the wet and slippery grass above her head.  "Stop.  It," he hissed again.  "What the hell has gotten into you?" he demanded.

Uttering a frustrated growl of her own, she bucked her hips, trying to unseat him.  If anything, it simply served as a reminder of exactly how precarious their positions really were, and he sighed.  "Get off me!  You're squashing me!"

"I am not," he argued.  "Now, answer me . . . Why the hell are you acting insane?"

"No!  We'll see how much she likes you when your face isn't nearly as pretty anymore!" she yelled, yanking on her hands, trying to break free to carry out her threat of maiming him.

"Knock it off, or I swear on all that's holy, I'll turn you over my knee and beat some sense into your ass!"

"I'd like to see you try!"

"Don't test me, woman!"

"Ugh!  Get off me, you bloody Philistine!" she hollered, writhing beneath him as she tried yet again to shove him off.

"Jessa, what the—?"

"Why don't you go ask your swan, you bastard?"

"My . . .?  What?" he blurted, stilling long enough to give her a very chagrined, yet puzzled, glower.

"Your swan," she bit out.  "She was all over you, wasn't she?  As close to you as anyone could be—those were her words, damn you!  Now get off me!"

"My swa—?  Manami?  That's what you're mad about?  Manami?"

She started to rage at him once more, but he cut her off as he broke out in laughter—great gales of laughter—laughter like she'd never heard from him before.  Some part of her had to acknowledge that the sound of it would be rather pleasant under regular circumstances.  At the moment, however, the sound of his amusement was almost enough to make her want to rip his heart out of his chest and stomp on it for fun . . .

"Get off me!"

Winding down to a few light chuckles, he slowly shook his head.  "Manami's just a family friend," he told her, though he still sounded entirely too amused to credit.  He sighed.  "I'll let you up if you're done trying to flay me."

"Still considering it, thank you very much," she bit out, turning her head and averting her eyes.  Even so, he sensed that her anger was fast-dwindling, and for that, he was thankful.

He chuckled at her petulant response, and he pushed himself off of her and to his feet, leaning down to catch her hands, to help her up.  They were both completely soaked, through and through, and the rain still showed no sign of letting up.  "Tell me why you thought that there was something between Manami and me?" he prompted, sounding much calmer than he ought to, especially since she wasn't entirely finished being angry with him.  "I mean, we did get drunk one night, and I kissed her, but it was weird, like kissing your sister or something like that, and nothing else ever happened.  Hell, that was . . . a couple years ago . . ."

She shot him a withering glower.  "Well, then, I guess that proves that," she muttered, stomping away from him.

"Proves what?" he yelled, hurrying to catch up with her.  "What are you babbling about now?"

"I don't babble, you odious debaucher!"

Heaving a sigh, he shook his head.  "Just tell me what the hell you're accusing me of," he demanded.

She spun on her heel, her feet squelching in the mud since she hadn't bothered to put on shoes. Jamming her finger within an inch of his nose, she glowered up at him, her eyes glowing like coals in the darkness.  "I'm not accusing you of anything!  I'm telling you that the next time you have a case of itchy lips, go find someone else to slobber all over because I'm done with you, Ashur Philips!  You and your fickle lips can go straight to hell!"

And then, she turned and strode away, back straight and proud, arms swinging to and fro with every step, her movements punctuated by the rolling thunder, by the strobes of lightning that tore the fabric of the skies, leaving a shocked and surprised Ashur in her wake.