InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Metempsychosis ❯ Mayhem ( Chapter 26 )

"Good morning!"

Hanging the hammer on the railing, Laith reached out to accept the steaming cup of coffee that Carol held out to him as she wandered toward him through the dew-covered grass.  "Thanks."

She smiled at him, leaning in close, looking over his handiwork.  "Put you to work, did they?"

"Nah," he replied as he sipped the steaming coffee.  "Figured while I was here, I'd inspect the fences and stuff . . . Either that or sit around, being bored as hell."

She laughed, tucking a long strand of blonde hair behind her ear.  "I like a man who stays busy," she said, offering him a thick sausage patty with a fried egg tucked into a huge, flaky croissant.  "There's fruit and stuff in the house, too.  I can get it for you, if you’re busy, but I figured a strapping guy like you would prefer meat for breakfast . . ."

"Thanks," he said as he took the sandwich, too.  "I had a stale doughnut and a pot of really bad coffee already."

She made a face.  "Don't they feed you?"

He shrugged, chewing up about a third of the sandwich in one bite.  "I haven't been here long enough for that to be an issue.  Just got here the day before you did, as a matter of fact.  Figured I'd go find a grocery sometime later on today."

"Want me to ask Ashur if we can borrow his car again?"

"Nah, I’ve got the truck.  Just have to unhook it," he said, waving his hand toward the stables, indicating the truck hitched to the horse trailer as he polished off the sandwich and grabbed the hammer again.  For the most part, the fencing was good, solid.  He was just reinforcing any of the beams that felt a little wobblier than he liked.

She nodded slowly.  "Are you from around here?"

"Right now, I work for the Margreaves, and they live up close to Pont-Rouge.  Before that?  Here and there, I guess . . ."

"Okay . . . but where are you originally from?  Where did you grow up?"

He grinned, misty green eyes—a strange kind of color that wasn't quite green and wasn't quite gray, either—sparkling with his amusement.  "Oh, come on, can't some things about me remain a mystery?"

"You mean, you don't want to tell me?" she pouted despite the smile on her face.

He heaved a sigh to let her know, just what he thought of her overall impatience.  His chuckle ruined the illusion, though.  "Originally, I'm from a little farther down south."

She nodded, smiling as she turned to lean on the fence, staring out over the estate in a slow, sweeping kind of way.  " . . . What on earth are those two doing . . .?"

Straightening up from his task, Laith glanced at Carol.  She was watching Jessa and Ashur, who appeared to be having some sort of weird fight going on.

"Uh," he drawled, tipping back his Stetson as he narrowed his gaze at the two.  "Looks like they're training," he replied in a tone that indicated that Carol ought to have known that well enough.

"Training?" she echoed, glancing quickly at him before turning her attention back to Jessa and Ashur once more.  She grimaced as Jessa caught Ashur by the hand and managed to flip him over.  He landed hard on his back, but rolled to his feet, just out of her reach.  "Do they do this kind of thing a lot?"

Laith shrugged off-handedly.  "Dunno," he replied.  "It kind of looks like it, though."

Carol digested that in silence.  "There's something there, though, don't you think?"

He didn't smile, but it was a close thing.  "Where?  Between those two?"

She nodded.  "Yeah . . . I mean, there is, right?  I'm not just imagining it?"

He shrugged again, leaning against the fence beside her.  "I make it my business to stay out of other people's business," he told her despite the amused tone that underlined his words.  "Maybe you should, too."

She wrinkled her nose at him and rolled her eyes.  "Are you kidding?  That girl's so . . . so sheltered that she doesn't have a clue, and if I leave her up to her own devices, she'll never, ever get that man into her bed."

Unfortunately, Laith had just taken a huge swig of the now-cooled coffee, and he choked on it, sputtering out a few sprays as he tried to swallow and not die in the process.  "Definitely need to mind your own business, girly," he muttered, wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

She laughed.  "Oh, please!  She's a virgin—I mean, she didn't tell me that, but I can tell—and her first time needs to be memorable.  I have a feeling that that man could definitely make it memorable for her."

"You're just a little too preoccupied with Jessa's sex life," he told her.  "Ain't gonna lie, it's a little creepy . . ."

Carol laughed again.  "It's how women's minds work," she countered, waving off his cryptic commentary with a flick of her wrist.  "It's for her own good.  You'll see."

His answer was a very skeptical grunt.

Jessa poked her head into Ashur's office, biting her lip as she watched him read through something on the computer.  She couldn't see the screen, but she could easily see the scowl on his face as he clicked the mouse a few times.  Ponytail falling over his shoulder, bangs hiding part of his face, he leaned back in his chair, resting his elbow on the desk and propping his head on his hand.

She'd taken a long, hot shower after training since Carol had run into Quebec City with Laith.  Carol had insisted that she needed to pick up a few things while Laith wanted to find a grocery store, and she'd asked Jessa to come along.  Jessa, however, had opted not to go since she thought that maybe it'd be nice to allow Carol to have some impromptu alone time with the stable-hand, especially since she was leaving to go back to New York City in the morning—something that Jessa wasn’t entire pleased with, even though there wasn’t anything she could do about it, either.

The shower had done the trick, though, relaxing her more than she'd been in quite some time.  Then she'd put on a yellow cotton sundress in the hopes that it would reinforce her good mood, too.

"So, how long are you planning on just standing there, staring at me?" Ashur asked, his tone inordinately dry, without looking up from whatever he was reading.

She laughed softly.  "Does it bother you?"

"Not really.  I'm used to it.  Kells loves to do it, too."

"Speaking of Kells," she said, shoving her shoulder against the door frame as she slipped into the office and settled on the edge of one of the chairs facing him, "I miss him."

That made him look up, and he seemed a little surprised by her admission.  "You do?"

She nodded.  "Of course, I do . . . I don't suppose they’ve sent you any more cute pictures of him . . .?"

"Uh, yes, they did," he said, reaching for his phone.  He fiddled with it for a few seconds, and a moment later, her phone chimed.

There were five pictures that he'd forwarded.  The first one was of Kells, sleeping on Ben's lap, curled against his shoulder.  The boy looked so angelic that it was hard to reconcile him as the same child that bounced off the walls quite literally most of the time.  The other four were various action shots: Kells fishing with Bas and Ben and some other men she hadn't met, Kells sparring with Bailey with his little wooden sword, Kells roasting marshmallows over the fire with Nadia and Emmeline on either side of him, Kells, hanging upside down from a low tree branch . . .

Jessa laughed and scrolled through the pictures a few times, even though the sight of him set off a dull ache, deep inside.  She missed that child more than she'd thought possible, and she sighed.

"Sighing?  Surely you can't miss the little tyrant that much," Ashur teased.

To her absolute horror, her eyes misted over, and she furiously tried to blink away the misplaced tears.  After all, he'd be home in a couple weeks . . .

Ashur frowned.  "Uh . . . Do you want me to call Ben and have him bring him back?"

"No," Jessa muttered, clearing her throat a few times as she quickly shook her head.  "I mean, he's having so much fun, and he'll be home soon enough . . ."  She choked out a harsh laugh as she dashed a hand over her eyes.  "I don't even know why I'm crying, anyway . . ."

"Hmm . . . You do realize that the day you were hung over, he got it into his head that you're pregnant."

"Wh . . . What?"

Ashur rolled his eyes.  "Blame it on that bastard caterpillar," he replied.

She didn't quite understand just what he meant, but she slowly shook her head, willing her cheeks not to redden.  A sudden thought occurred to her, and she groaned, long and low.  "Oh . . . He's not out there, telling them all that I'm pregnant, is he?"

Ashur grimaced.  "God, let's hope not," he replied.  "Let's hope that his ridiculously short attention span has knocked that idea out of his head."

Fiddling with the hem of her dress, she shrugged.  "I . . . don't think I miss him anymore."

Ashur laughed.  "I did explain to him that you're not pregnant," he assured her.  Somehow, though, it wasn't reassuring at all, not really, at least.  "Of course, Kells doesn't always listen, so there's that . . . I figure that the odds that he's not going around, telling everyone you're pregnant is about . . . sixty-forty."

She heaved another sigh and yanked the scrunchie out of her hair to throw at him.  "You're terrible!"

He didn't deny it.  In fact, the odious cur laughed a little harder at that.

She stood up to stomp out of the study, but he called her back before she could make her haughty escape.  "Jessa . . ."

"What?" she snapped, stopping, but not turning to face him.

"I've been told that there's a very nice Irish pub in Quebec City if you'd like to go there for dinner.  The guy that told me about it said that they have dance performances every night, too."  He gave an offhanded shrug.  “I mean, I have no idea, just how authentic it is, but . . .”

The offer was enough to take the edge off of Jessa's temper, and she bit her lip as she considered it.  "That . . . sounds nice . . ."

"So, you really asked Devlin, here, to kiss you just so you could compare it to Ashur's?" Carol began as the two of them sat on the boulder near the pond.  They'd gone out riding and had come across Devlin while he was out, doing the same.  The horses were currently tethered nearby, enjoying the picture-perfect afternoon.  He was duly impressed with Stardust, which was not at all surprising.  That horse was gorgeous in every single way, absolutely champion material, if she had a mind to show him.  She didn't, but he was most certainly a show-stopper.

Devlin, who was laying down in the grass, half-under the canopy of summer foliage, snorted loudly, but didn't otherwise comment.

Jessa narrowed her eyes on her friend.  "I never should have told you about that . . ." she muttered, shaking her head and praying that the furious blush that she could feel wasn't nearly as noticeable on her skin as she figured it probably was.

Carol laughed.  "Relax, Jessa.  That's what girlfriends do!  Anyway, he is pretty nice-looking in an entirely feminine kind of way."

That earned her another loud snort from the subject of her statement, but he leaned up on his elbows to level an entirely bored look at the two of them.  "I do not look, 'feminine'," he stated flatly.

Carol slowly shook her head.  "Well, I hate to say it, Dev, but you kind of do—and by, 'kind of', I mean that you totally do."  She cleared her throat and held up her hands.  "Sorry."

He sighed.  "I don't think I like your friend that much, Irish," he told Jessa, but despite the dryness of his tone, there was a heightened glint in his eyes that bespoke his very obvious amusement.  "And just for the record, I have very little control over my genetics."

Jessa shrugged.  “She has a point, Dev, though, to be honest, I’m not sure I’d call you, ‘pretty’.”

Devlin nodded quickly, waving a hand in Jessa’s direction.  “See?  Irish sees that I’m not—”

“It’s more like, you remind me of those paintings of angels and devils—and you’re certainly not a devil,” she went on.  “More like one of those angels that kind of seems entirely androgynous—the ones that you can’t tell at a glance if they’re male or female.”

“Well, I think that angels are supposed to be neither by design,” Carol added, turning a little farther to get a closer look at Devlin, who snorted indelicately.  “But I can see what you’re saying.”

Devlin heaved a defeated sigh.  “I take it back.  I rather don’t like you, either, at the moment, Lady O’Shea,” he grumbled.

The girls giggled, and Carol waved a hand impatiently.  "So, does that mean you have a really pretty mom or a ridiculously pretty dad?" she went on.

"Actually, I look like Mum, or so I've been told," he replied, frowning at a small grass stain on the sleeve of his light blue shirt.

"Oh, I need to see your mom, then," Carol quipped.

Devlin rolled his eyes, but chuckled as he rolled slightly to the side, far enough to dig out his cell phone before flopping back into his original position once more: knees bent, feet resting flat on the ground, leaning on one elbow while he used his other hand to scroll through the pictures stored on the device.  "There," he said, holding out the phone.  "That's my mum."

Carol got up and ran over to grab it.  "Oh, my God," she breathed, dark blue eyes flaring wide.  "She's hot!  How old was she in this?"

"That's one of the dresses she insisted that she simply had to have yesterday," he replied.

Jessa leaned over Carol's shoulder to look.  Not surprising, the woman didn't look any older than maybe her late twenties, so Carol's reaction wasn't at all unusual—and also not surprising, she was . . . Well, she was, as Carol had so blithely put it, she was hot.  Rich, brown hair like Devlin's—not a flat or mousy brown at all, no, one with a million different tones and highlights shot through it, just like his.  The same sapphire blue eyes . . . Even the shape of her face—her high cheekbones, her smooth jaw and full lips—all of it was reflected in her son's countenance, too.

"There's no way your mother looks like this!" she scoffed, shifting the phone to the side to narrow her gaze on Devlin.

He chuckled.  "Can't control her genetics, either," he replied very congenially.  Letting out a deep breath, he stood, taking back his phone as he smiled at them.  "I hate to cut this short, and it was very nice meeting you, Carol, but I have some things I have to do . . . I'll come 'round for the horse tomorrow."

Carol giggled as she watched Devlin untie his horse and set off through the trees.  "It's the accent," she said with a very decided nod.  "Definitely the accent."

"Hmm, and I thought you had a certain fascination for Laith," Jessa teased.

She winked at Jessa and wandered over to untie Flicker.  "I do like him—a lot," Carol admitted with a heavy sigh.  "I hate the idea of having to go back home tomorrow . . ."

"Move up here."

She blinked and turned to stare at Jessa, narrowing her eyes when she realized that she was entirely serious.  "I don't have a job or anything up here," she said.  "I mean, I have nowhere to stay, and—"

"I'll ask Ashur," she replied.  "Maybe he wouldn't mind if you stayed here long enough to find a good job and rent a nice place."

"Jessa . . ."

"Just let me ask him.  What could it hurt?  If he says yes . . .?"

Carol slowly shook her head.  "I don't know, Jessa . . . I mean, I don't want to take advantage of him or you, and—"

"Just let me ask him," she repeated.  "The worst he'd say is no, and I don't know if he would do that, even."

She wrinkled her nose as she swung onto Flicker.  "He doesn't really strike me as the benevolent type," she said.  "Besides, just because he's good enough to take you in doesn't mean he wants to do a repeat with me."

Jessa laughed as she mounted Stardust and nudged him to get him moving.  True, she really didn't have any idea, just what Ashur might say.  Even so, she still had to try, didn't she?

Settling back in the semi-private booth in the cozy little Irish pub, appropriately named O'Shaunessea's Ireland, Ashur wasn't entirely sure if it was a good thing that he'd asked Laith to come along or not.  After all, it wasn't really a business dinner, and, given that he was working in the stable, but not on Ashur's payroll, he figured that it wasn't a conflict of interest or anything. Besides, he had to admit he rather liked the man's no-nonsense attitude and solid work ethic.  Things like that, he could totally respect.

"Can you dance like that, Jessa?" Carol asked as they watched the Irish step dancers.

"Among others, yes," she replied.  "Should I teach you?"

Carol laughed.  "Not sure about that one," she admitted.  "That one looks . . . way too controlled for me."

They clapped when the performance ended, and the house lights came up while the dancers curtsied and moved off the stage.  The stereo system gradually raised in volume once more, though it did not overpower the pub’s more laid-back atmosphere, either.

Laith stood up and winked at Carol.  "Come on," he said, taking her hand and dragging her out of the booth and over toward the couple pool tables.

"Do you play?" Jessa asked, noticing that Ashur was watching the two as they set up the game.

"Can't say I ever have," he replied, waving at the waitress to bring another round of beers.

"Hmm . . . Kells and a pool table?  Probably a horrible combination, really," she decided.

He groaned.  For some reason, those two nouns in the same sentence were almost enough to send shivers of abject fear, right down his spine as very loud, very obnoxious alarm bells rang in his mind.

She laughed, biting her lip, looking entirely too thoughtful, given that they'd just had a very nice dinner that Jessa had decided was, ‘pretty close’ to fare she’d find back in her homeland.  And very good beer.

"All right," he said, frowning at her silence.  "What's on your mind, Jessa?"

She blinked and shot him a quick, almost nervous glance, and he arched an eyebrow in silent question.

"I was . . . just wondering something," she finally said, pulling her hair over her shoulder and twisting it with a vengeance.  He wanted to reach over and stop her since he knew she only did it when she was decidedly anxious or deep in thought.  He didn't.

"Okay?"

Licking her lips, she tried to smile, but didn't quite manage.  "Well, I was thinking . . . Carol mentioned something about moving up here, but if she did, she'd need a place to stay while she found a decent job and apartment . . ."

The Kells-inspired-alarm-bells tolled louder in his head, despite the sudden redirection.  "Hmm, why do I think I won't like where you're going with this?"

She laughed—an entirely pleasant sound that grated against his nerves, just the same, since he had a very good feeling as to where, exactly, she was headed with this particular line of conversation.

"Would it be possible for her to stay with us?  Just till she finds a job and an apartment?" she reiterated.  Then, she grimaced.  “I know it’s a lot to ask, and if you don’t want to, then I completely understand.  I just thought . . . I mean, i-it was just a thought . . .”

It was on the tip of his tongue to say no, but when he got a good look at the entirely too-hopeful expression on her face that she was struggling to mask, he sighed instead.   "Can she stay in the stable house?" he asked, only half-joking.  The stable house was behind the outbuilding and was where live-in stable-hands would be housed if there were any, which, of course, meant nothing at the moment.  In actuality, it was more like five little apartments, and they were all fully furnished and very nice, if not on the small side.

Jessa's expression brightened even more.  "Oh, that might be perfect," she allowed.  "I mean, she wouldn't be imposing if she had a small place of her own, now, would she?  And then, she could just rent one of those, couldn't she?"

He opened his mouth to tell her that he was just joking, but snapped it closed before he could say as much.  Given that she really didn't have anyone else in her life aside from Kells and him, could he really deny her that?

'You could, but that might well make you the world's biggest ass, too . . .'

Glancing over at the girl in question, Ashur slowly shook his head.  It wasn't that he didn't like Carol.  He thought that she was nice enough, even if she did have an overzealous mouth at times, but then, he couldn't really fault her for being protective of Jessa, either.  He tended to be that way, too, didn't he?  Even so, knowing that Carol was human was another thing, entirely.  Given what he was, given the position he’d recently accepted for Cain Zelig, a part of him couldn’t help but to wonder if having her around so close might be a little more trouble than it was worth.

Still . . .

‘It’s not really that big a thing, you know.  She’d be living in the stable house, not in the room down the hall right?  So, she’d actually be farther away than she would be if she were your next-door neighbor back in New York City, proximity-wise.’

‘That’s kind of not the same thing.  Back in the city, the neighbors were strangers,’ he pointed out.

‘Yeah, but . . . Could you really say no to her?  To Jessa?  Especially when she’s told you, how it was for her, growing up . . .’

Watching as Jessa slipped out of the booth and wandered over to the stable-hand and her friend, Ashur sat back, crossing his arms over his chest as he considered her request.  He had to wonder, though, if his initial reluctance had more to do with his inherent tendency to keep people at bay.  It had always been there.  Growing up in that family as he had, with their superior-to-everyone ways, it wasn’t really any wonder, and then, given everything that had happened in and around Kells’ birth, that natural standoffishness had grown to be more of a protective mechanism, he supposed.

The thing was . . .

Maybe the idea that Carol was human helped more than it hindered.  Since she didn’t know a thing about youkai, then he didn’t have to worry that she had any ulterior motives in that way.  What was more, everyone for Jessa?  He knew damn well that everyone she’d ever cared about had been ripped from her already, and to deny her the only real friend she'd said she'd ever had?

He reached for the beer that the waitress had dropped off and stifled a sigh.

No, he didn't think he could do that; not to her . . .