InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Metempsychosis ❯ Disturbance ( Chapter 27 )

Jessa watched in silence as Carol slowly looked around, arms crossed over her chest as she pondered the possibilities that she'd presented to her last night after they'd returned from the pub.

"And you're sure that Ashur's okay with this?" she asked for the twentieth time since Jessa had suggested that Carol look over the bunkhouse apartments.

Rolling her eyes since the answer to that question hadn't changed, Jessa nodded.  "Yes, he's fine with it," she assured her.  "He said that if you liked the apartment, you could stay here as long as you wanted to."

"I'd just pay him rent, then . . ." Carol concluded.   She opened and closed a few of the kitchen cabinets, nodding to herself in silent approval.  The apartments weren't big by any means, but they were definitely larger than Carol's apartment back in New York City.  They were all single bedroom units with a kitchen, living room, and a bathroom.  All were decent sized, just right for a single person or even a couple without children.

"Yes," Jessa replied, unable to hide the little smile that touched her lips.  "What do you think?"

Carol laughed, waving a delicate hand as she slowly turned around in a circle, taking in the sight of the apartment.  "I think I might like it here," she remarked.  "Providing I can find a decent job . . ."

"I'm sure you can," Jessa insisted.  "Besides, maybe you can get to know a certain stable-hand a little bit better, too . . ."

"Ladies, it's time to get to the airport," Ashur said, stopping in the open doorway, casually tossing his keys into the air, only to catch them on the way down.

Carol sighed and reached for her purse that she'd left laying on the counter.  "You're sure you don't mind me staying here, Ashur?" she asked, leveling a no-nonsense look at him.  “I mean, I know I’d be living here, but I really don’t want to impose.”

He shrugged.  "It's fine," he told her.  "Does that mean you've decided?"

She nodded slowly, sparing a moment to grin at Jessa.  "I think so," she allowed.  "I mean, I think I'll work a few more weeks, long enough to get some money saved back, but it shouldn't be hard to find someone willing to sublet my apartment."  She frowned thoughtfully.  "Maybe I should just sell most of my stuff.  I mean, it'll be kind of a pain to try to move everything."

Ashur stepped back to allow the girls to pass him before closing the door and securing the keypad lock.

"You could always mail some of your things," Jessa suggested as they headed for the car.  "That way, you wouldn't have to worry about moving a lot of stuff."

"Good idea," Carol said.  "Oh, just a minute!  I wanted to say bye to Laith!"

She dashed away toward the stable.  Jessa laughed.  "Thank you," she said, casting Ashur a little smile.

He snorted indelicately.  "Let's just say that you owe me," he grumbled.

Her smile widened as she leaned a little closer to him.  "Oh?  And what do I owe you, Ashur?"

He narrowed his eyes a little as the barest hint of a smile quirked the corners of his lips, as the summer breeze tossed his bangs almost lovingly.  "I'll think of something," he assured her.

Something about the glow in his gaze, the lazy, almost caressing tone in his voice, was enough to send a very distinct, very delicious little tremor, right through her, and she pressed a hand against her stomach to quell the racing butterflies that had fluttered to life.

"Jessa . . .?"

"Hmm?"

He chuckled very softly, very low in his throat as he leaned down to whisper in her ear, bringing the very scent of him so, so close.  "You're blushing," he murmured.

She swallowed hard, turned her head to look at him.  "A-Am I . . .?"

He nodded, his gaze dropping to her lips for a painfully long moment before flicking up to meet her eyes, glowing with an intensity that he didn't try to hide.  "You are," he said.

For one long, dizzying second, she thought that he might kiss her as every synapse in her body coiled, tightened, anticipated, his lips hovering so very close to hers: close enough to feel the warmth of his breath, ripple over her, feeling the balm, the heat that brought a weakness to her knees, a stuttering, stammering beat to the rhythm of her heart . . .

He was deliberately baiting her, teasing her, so very near, and yet . . . With a maddeningly slow sense of suspended reality, he reached up, stroked her cheek with the back of his knuckles, only to grasp her chin as he dragged the pad of his thumb lightly, gently, over her lips, barely touching her as the riot of shivers shot through her again . . .

"I'm ready," Carol said, darting over to intercept them.  She cleared her throat and giggled.  "Sorry for interrupting," she added.

"Right," Ashur murmured, dragging his eyes off of Jessa before taking a step back and straightening up once more.  "Let's go."

Jessa cleared her throat as her gaze fell to the ground beneath her feet as Carol grasped her arm and gave it a little squeeze.  "I'm totally sorry I messed up your moment," she whispered as the two of them fell into step behind Ashur.  "That was . . . hot . . ."

Jessa made a face and waved a hand at her friend, who just giggled as they headed for the car.

Jessa wandered through the house without an actual destination in mind, stopping to stare at paintings she'd already seen, to examine statues she'd already touched . . . As though she just couldn't quite find a way to occupy herself, she brushed aside the melancholy that had set in about the time they'd driven away from the airport terminal where they'd dropped off Carol for her return flight back to the city.

It was as if she simply couldn’t settle down, couldn't bring herself to do any of those things that she might normally do to relax.  Even the idea of taking Stardust out for a jaunt wasn't appealing, but she had no idea why.

She couldn't get her mind off that near-kiss from this morning.

It lingered in her head, no matter how many times she tried to shake it, to ignore it, and for some reason, the memory just grew stronger, a little more potent, every time she tried to cast it away . . . It was rather perverse, actually, if she stopped to think about that.

What was it about that man that could reduce her to nothing more than a puddle of raw nerves, anyway?  It wasn't right, not in the least.  It shouldn't be possible for him to be able to do what he did with a simple look, now should it?  Besides that, shouldn't she be able to affect him, too?

'Is that what's got you all up in a snit?'

'Oh, it's you.  And just what do you want?' Jessa shot back dryly.

Her youkai-voice laughed.  'You know, maybe it's a good thing that he can get to you.  I mean, it'd be a damn shame if he couldn't, don't you think?'

She wasn't sure that deserved a reply, and she snorted.  'I don't think so.   Shouldn't he be at least slightly disconcerted?  It's not right, I tell you . . .'

'And who's to say that he isn't?  You can't read his mind, you realize.'

'Like I'd need to be able to read his mind to know!' she scoffed.  'I don't!  It's quite apparent.  He's in full control of his faculties all the time, blast him.'

Her youkai sighed.  'Sometimes, you're such a child, Jessa.  I mean, really.  He's complex, you know.  He's not going to act like your average Joe, and that's why you like him, isn't it?'

She heaved a sigh as she wandered into the sun room—a room that no one used much, since it was back beyond the kitchen and tucked away into a calm little alcove of the house.  The entire space was little more than a construction of windows—so many that Jessa had to wonder just how warm it was in the winter time.  There were a couple of antique-looking settees off to the side, along with a few sparse plants, arranged near the windows, and it struck her that it would probably be a fantastic place to sit and read.

She felt like she was existing in a state of limbo, never knowing from one day to the next, exactly where she stood in anything.  All in all, it was an ugly feeling, reminding her a little too well, just how precarious her entire situation really was.  She was entirely reliant upon Ashur, and, while he was nice enough to her, it didn't really offer her any true reassurance.  That savage feeling that she simply wasn't sure, where she stood in the grand scheme of things was frightening at best, downright terrifying at worst.

She hated times like this most of all, though: times when she really didn't know anything, aside from the unbidden feeling that she liked being here, liked being near Ashur and Kells.  But just how quickly could that all be taken away?

If she had access to her parents' accounts, that would change everything, she supposed.  Knowing that she was where she wanted to be as opposed to being where she had to would make a world of difference.  But then, if her inheritance did suddenly get worked out, just what would that truly mean for her?  Once it was all said and done, would Ashur just send her back to Ireland, no questions asked?

And then, that upheaval would come, all over again, and for some reason, Jessa couldn't help the feeling that this time . . . This time would be so much more difficult . . .

The sound of her cell phone cut into her musings, and she sighed as she dug it out of the pocket of her jean shorts.  It was a number she didn't know, but she bit her lip as she connected the call anyway.  "Hello?"

"Jessa!"

She laughed as her bleak mood suddenly snapped wide open.  "Kells!  How's your vacation?"

He sighed melodramatically.  "It's fun," he told her, sounding anything but overjoyed at the moment.  "I miss you and Daddy."

"Aww, I miss you, too, my lad," she replied.  "Tell me what you've been up to, you scamp?"

He giggled.  "We went to Funtown," he told her excitedly.  "Tomorrow, we're going to King's Island, but Uncle Ben said there weren't any kings, so it doesn't make sense."

She laughed, wishing that she could reach through the phone, wished that she could touch the child, to hold him and hug him and cuddle him . . . "Because Kings Island should have kings," she replied.  "I see.  But I'll bet it'll be fun.  Is it another amusement park?"

"Yeah!" Kells exclaimed.  "Uncle Ben said the woller coaster will make me puke!"

She made a face at Kells' statement, but giggled, just the same.  "Is that right?  That sounds like . . . um . . . fun?"

Kells laughed hysterically, like something she'd said was highly humorous to him.  "Yeah!  'Cause puking's fun!"

Entirely gross.  And entirely amusing on some weird level, too . . . "You'll be fine, won't you?" she asked instead.

"Yeah . . . I gots to go now.  It's time for s'mores!"

"Okay, Kells.  Have fun, and I miss you."

"I miss you, too, Jessa," he said.  "And I miss Daddy . . ."

"I'll let him know," she assured him.

The connection cut off abruptly, and Jessa sighed.  She wasn't entirely sure what a, 's'more' was, but Kells seemed to be excited about them.

Sinking down on the edge of the nearest settee, Jessa stared at the phone in her hands.  Talking to Kells only served to remind her of just how much she missed him, and she sighed.

"There you are.  I was looking for you."

She glanced up as Ashur strode into the room with a marked frown on his face.  "Kells called," she said.  "He wanted me to tell you that he misses you."

He nodded.  "Kells called you?"

"Yes, why?"

He frowned.  "He didn't call me."

"Well, you could call him back, but he said that they were getting ready to have s'mores—whatever those are."

Ashur heaved a sigh.  "Oh, God . . . graham cracker, chocolate, and marshmallows, all melted together and . . . and kind of gross, actually . . ." He grimaced.  "I told them not to give him sugar . . ." Then he shrugged.  "Guess they'll figure it out in about an hour, give or take . . ."

She almost smiled, although, she herself was a bit intrigued by the description of the s'more.  "You were looking for me . . .?" she reminded him gently.

He blinked for a moment, as though he had completely forgotten whatever it was that he wanted to tell her.  Then he sighed, and the frown that he'd worn into the room resurfaced once more.  "Did you ever meet anyone by the name of Kingston?  Maybe at one of your parties or something?"

She considered that, then slowly shook her head.  "Not that I recall . . . but then, there were a lot of people at those functions, so it's hard to say.  I mean, I could have, I suppose, but if I did, I don't remember them now . . ."

His frown deepened.  "Carl Kingston, Duke of Portsmouth."

Her eyes widened.  "Oh, the Duke Portsmouth," she repeated.  "I believe I have met him a time or two, but nothing in particular; just formal greetings, that sort of thing.  Why?"

Ashur stood, one arm over his stomach, the other elbow, braced on his fist while he propped his curled fingers of the other hand against his lips.  He flicked that hand once, as though he were waving off her question.  "You ever meet his son?"

"Hmm," she murmured as she considered it.  "I don't recall that, no . . . Why?" she finally said.  Something about the entirely too-dark look on his face, though—the way his eyes seemed to be lost in shadows, the lines that furrowed his brow, a little too deep . . . "Why?" she asked again, this time, a little more forcefully.

He sighed, glancing at her briefly, a foreboding sort of expression on his face.  For a moment, she thought that he wasn't going to answer her or that, if he did, he was devising some sort of lie at worst or a half-truth at best, enough to satisfy her curiosity.  Then he sighed again.  "I just talked to the Zelig," he said, very obviously measuring his words carefully.  "There are no reports from the mechanics about the recent vehicle safety inspection you spoke of, but the mechanic remembers doing it and filing the paperwork as was required by law, and it was as we figured: because the accident was well over a year ago and the investigation into it has been closed, the car itself was destroyed, too, which means that we can't send someone else in to check it over . . . but that all indications are that there was something else going on in that car, something that caused the accident."

"Like Da said . . ." she murmured, absently glad that she was already sitting because her knees felt like jelly all of a sudden.

He nodded slowly.  "And . . . you need to know.  Kingston is the one who was trying to get your father to agree to betroth you to his son—and the MacDonnough was aware of it—and had actually suggested it.  There's reason to believe that he may be looking for you now to, uh . . . force the issue, and I'm . . ." He grimaced and sat down beside her.  "I'm telling you this because I need you to be very, very careful about strange men who might approach you when I'm not around—who may come looking for you.  For now . . ." He made a face, shook his head.  "For now, I ask that you not go anywhere alone—not until we can figure out exactly where Kingston's son is."

"What do you mean, where his son is?" she demanded, her voice a little harsh, just a little ragged.

"No one knows where he is," Ashur replied.  "I'm not trying to scare you, but . . . But you have to know because it'd be more dangerous for you if you didn't.  I don’t want to take away your freedom here—that’s the last thing I want to do.  I know how much you love, taking the horse out and stuff. Just . . . Just be careful . . . and let me know if you’re going out somewhere.  Okay?"

"Because he might try to force the issue?  You mean that he could . . .?"

He nodded, his scowl darkening.  "That's exactly what I mean," he replied.

She stared at him for a long moment as the gravity of his statement slowly sank in.  On the one hand, the idea was absolutely preposterous, wasn't it?  And yet . . . And yet, it wasn't, either, was it?  No, because she knew Ashur—knew him well enough to realize that he wouldn't tell her any such thing, just for effect or even to frighten her.  He told her because . . . because something about it . . . It frightened him, too . . .

She finally nodded.  "Okay."