InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Metempsychosis ❯ Masquerade ( Chapter 42 )

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

~~Chapter Forty-Two~~
~Masquerade~ 

~o~

 

“You're really a lady?  An honest to goodness lady?”

Jessa smiled at the borderline-awe on the tai-youkai’s mate’s gorgeous face.  “I am,” she allowed.  She didn’t really see anything special about it, but Gin Zelig apparently did.

“Lady Jessa O’Shea,” Gin breathed, leaning back, icing spatula in hand, looking entirely dreamy at the idea of Jessa’s ladyship.

Smiling just a little despite her otherwise dark thoughts, Jessa shrugged.  “Technically, if I’m introduced as such, they’d use my full name: Jessamyn.”

Gin giggled.  “Lady Jessamyn O’Shea!  I like that even more!  So pretty!”

Jessa laughed, too, carefully picking up the glass cake stand with the gorgeous white coconut cake to take it into the formal dining room.  Gin caught Jessa's arm as she started out of the kitchen.  "If anyone asks, tell them you made that," she said, whispering in Jessa's ear when Jessa leaned to the side to hear what Gin wanted to say.

Jessa blinked and shook her head.  "But you made it . . ."

Gin shook her head, too, very, very adamantly.  "If you say I made it, Zelig-sensei won't share it," she said.  "So, whatever you say, I didn't make it!"

“But—”

Gen grimaced, biting her lip, wringing her hands nervously.  “He’s done it before.  One year, I made Sebastian a cake, and Cain refused to let him have it.  He even ran out and bought cupcakes because the one I made was only for him, he said,” she hurried on to say.  “I went to the store to buy one, but none of them really looked very good, and . . . Well, please, just play along or there won’t be a birthday cake!”

Jessa wasn't entirely sure that it made any sense.  Even so, she nodded, which seemed to do the trick as the tension drained out of the beautiful hanyou woman, all at once.

Ben strode into the dining room with a rather suspicious-looking paper bag.

Charity raised an eyebrow.  "What's that?"

Ben chuckled as he dumped the bag onto the table—as innumerable boxes of candles spilled out all over.

"Oh . . . my God . . ." Cain Zelig remarked as he strode into the room with his young boys in his arms.  Most of the children were outside, running around in the yard, playing tag and hide and seek.  "There's no way in hell they're going to fit on . . ." Trailing off, he narrowed his gaze as he turned his head to stare at his wife.  "Gin?  Why does that cake look like one of yours?"

"Nope," she replied, batting her eyelashes in an entirely innocent kind of way.  "I just gave Jessa my recipe; that's all.  I swear!"  Suddenly, she gasped.  "Zelig-sensei!  Did you know?  Jessa's a real, live lady!  A real one!  Lady Jessamyn O’Shea!"

Cain nodded but didn't take his gaze off the cake.  "Yes, she is," he allowed.  "Are you sure you didn't make that?"

"Make what?" she asked, her lips twitching just a little.

"How old is he, anyway?" Bas Zelig interrupted, as he let go of the streamer he'd just finished hanging to forestall the altercation he felt brewing.

"I don't know," Ben replied with a shrug.  "I just bought all the candles I could find—in five stores."

Charity heaved a sigh, but laughed.  “You’re older than he is, you realize,” she pointed out with a quirked eyebrow.

Ben grinned.  “No idea.  I stopped counting,” he quipped, sounding way more earnest than he ought to.

“Wait, wasn’t Gunnar coming up, too?” Cain asked, setting the boys back on their feet.  One of them—Jessa wasn’t sure, which one, given that they were identical in almost every single way—ran over and clawed his way up Bas’ broad back, only to lock his small hands around the big man’s throat.

“Careful of your claws, buddy,” Bas remarked, making no move to dislodge the young one.  “He is.  He said he was going to finish up a couple things before leaving, though, so I imagine he should be here soon.”

Cain nodded, turning his head to watch as the other twin ran toward the kitchen.  “Okay, good.”

Jessa stared at the party hats, the noisemakers—Charity's idea—and shook her head.  Truthfully, she highly doubted that anyone actually could get Ashur to put one of those on . . .

Carol slipped into the room and gave Jessa's shoulders a quick squeeze while Gin and Charity hurried into the kitchen to grab the platters of appetizers and assorted small-bite items that Jessa had spent all afternoon preparing.  "How are you holding up?"

Jessa smiled.  "I'm good," she assured her.

Carol didn't look entirely convinced, but she nodded, letting it drop as she and Jessa followed the other women into the kitchen to help with the food.

It had helped that Ashur had a long meeting-slash-lunch about some business that he was considering putting a bid on, and then, he'd said he'd just pick up Kells on the way home.  Jessa had woken up this morning after a fitful night's sleep, thinking that maybe she was overreacting.  After a long talk with her youkai-voice that had reminded her of Hana's very obvious trouble with English, she'd concluded that maybe the things that the woman had said were just misunderstood, that maybe she ought to at least try to talk to Ashur about it all—if he'd give her any real answers, anyway . . .

As for the whole nanny episode?  Well, that still stung—she'd be lying if she tried to say that it didn't.  The truth of it was, however, that nannies really didn't attend meet-the-teacher nights, and she knew that logically, even if she didn't like it . . .

So, she'd spent the day cooking, baking, creating some very fancy hors d'oeuvres since she'd figured that his birthday might well be easier to keep casual.  She'd run into the city and picked up about ten bottles of champagne, too, along with sparkling juice for the little ones.

Still, she'd debated for a long while about whether she should go ahead and give Ashur the presents she'd bought for him or if she should wait.  In the end, she knew that he'd like them well enough, so she'd packaged them up and added them to the ridiculous pile on the side table.

‘Except that the real reason you chose to give them to him like this is because you’re afraid to try to get him alone.’

Scowling at that since there was more than a little truth in that assessment, Jessa scooped up another tray of hors d'oeuvres and headed out of the kitchen again.  Most of the guests had migrated to the living room, which also suited Jessa just fine.  Considering how precarious her current mood really was, it was hard to try to manage too much in the way of small talk, anyway.  Gin, however, had been kind of a godsend, given that the woman was way too sweet, way to endearing, and way too ebullient, and spending kitchen-time with her had really been such a welcome thing.

Besides, it wasn’t exactly that she was afraid, per se.  It was more that, given everything going on, she thought maybe it’d look strange if she didn’t give him a present when everyone else did.

The doorbell rang, and Jessa hurried over to set the tray down.  "I'll get it," Sydnie called, turning on her heel and hurrying to answer it.

"Oh, crowded house," Devlin remarked as he stepped into the room a minute later to deposit a gift on the table.  "Hey, Irish, this is my mother, Cris.  Mum, this is Jessa, whom you have heard so much about."

"Pleased to meet you—finally," Cris said, grasping Jessa's hand in hers and giving it a little squeeze.

Jessa blinked, stared.  If she'd thought that Devlin fell into the 'pretty' category, his mother was absolutely stunning, and, yes, she’d seen pictures of the woman, but somehow, she was even more dainty, even more ethereal than the images had implied.  The same merry blue eyes as Devlin, the same brown hair, the same rich color with slight reddish highlights . . . The tiny slip of a woman was smaller even than Gin Zelig, but her smile was absolutely dazzling, and for some reason, she reminded Jessa of the old tales that her parents used to tell her: folklore about the fairies of the glen . . .

"Cain Zelig," Cain introduced himself, stepping back into the room and setting his daughter down so that he could shake Devlin's hand.  "My wife, Gin's around here somewhere . . ."

"Bas," the big man said, also shaking Devlin's hand as his mother stared up at him with very, very wide eyes.

"He's a titan!" she exclaimed softly, her hand fluttering over her chest like she might well pass out.

"Oh, he's just a puppy!" Bas' wife, Sydnie said, winking at her mate and making him blush just a little.  “Pleased to meet you.”

Devlin laughed and inclined his head.  "Pleased to meet you, as well."

"So, where's the birthday bo—My God!" Devlin exclaimed, eyeing the mountain of candle boxes.  "How the hell ancient is he, anyway?"

Ben chuckled.  "As near as I can tell, I think this is his three-hundred-sixty-fourth birthday."

Devlin snorted.  "And why hasn't he bloody well stopped counting, then?"

Cris tapped Devlin in the center of his chest with the back of her knuckles.  "Mind your language, Dev," she chided.

Devlin shot Jessa a rather cheeky grin.  "Quite so . . . I apologize."

Satisfied that he'd been properly chastised, she stepped toward Jessa.  "You're not the swan, are you?"

Blinking since the only swan that Jessa knew of was Manami, she shook her head, casting the woman in question a quick glance.  "Oh, no, that's her, over there," she replied, nodding at Manami, who was speaking in hushed tones with Sydnie, just inside the kitchen archway.

"Oh, she's stunning, Dev!" Cris breathed with a huge, happy sigh.

"Mum . . ."

Cris wrinkled her nose.  “But I’m whispering!” she insisted.

Devlin slowly shook his head.

"Oh, dear God . . . What is this?"

Kells giggled happily, hopping up and down and clapping his hands.  "It's your birfday, Daddy!"

Ashur shook his head, looking slightly uncomfortable as Charity hurried over to grab his arm before he could escape.   "Happy birthday, Ashur!"

"Uh, thank you . . . I think . . ."

He looked a little shocked as the crowd converged on him, everyone wanting to shake his hand, to offer him congratulations . . . Through the gathering, Ashur caught Jessa's eye.  He didn't smile, but he did nod just a little.

-==========-

 

Ashur leaned down, snagged the gift bag that he'd stowed under the table when no one was paying much attention.  It was the one from Jessa, and, while he didn't think there was anything untoward in it, he also didn't care for the idea of opening it in front of everyone, either.  He'd much rather wait and open it with just her, somewhere quiet and special, just the two of them.

Everyone else was preoccupied.  The men were in the living room having drinks with Gunnar Inutaisho, who had just arrived about half an hour before, while the women were out back, enjoying the cool night air and probably also drinking around the fire pit while Jessa had mentioned something about hanging out with Carol—at least, that's what Manami said on her way out the back doors . . .

In any case, Ashur took a moment to put the gift in his room before checking in on Kells, who was soundly sleeping with Bailey, Connor, and Hayden, all having a makeshift camp out in sleeping bags on the floor of his bedroom.  He wasn't sure if the girls were all sharing a bedroom upstairs, but he figured it was likely since all eight of the bedrooms were likely taken, and a few of the couples were actually staying in the bunkhouse.

The men were, of course, talking shop when he walked into the living room.  Bas and Gunnar were discussing one of the cases that they were working on, and when they spotted Ashur, they stopped for a moment, both of them turning a speculative eye on him.  "What?" he asked, giving them both a rather suspicious look.

Bas cleared his throat and glanced at Gunnar.  "Well, we were just wondering . . . I mean, you're between business ventures right now, so we thought maybe you'd consider opening up another branch of the youkai special crimes office?  There are still a ton of cases to go through—some of them originated from up this way . . . If you're not interested, that's fine, but you have a good head for this kind of thing . . ."

"Another office?" Ashur echoed.  He hadn't actually considered anything of the sort.

Bas nodded.  "All expenses would go through the tai-youkai's office—some of them actually get underwritten by the Inu no Taisho since there are a good number of cases that are international in nature.  All travel expenses, everything . . . And you'd get a monthly stipend, too.  If you don't have anyone you can think of to pull in as a partner or assistant, we'd be happy to make some suggestions, too."

Ashur crossed his arms over his chest.  "Would that make you my boss for a second time?"

Bas chuckled.  "Nope.  They'd be sister offices, but they'd also be fully independent.  I've got my hands full enough as it is without having to do something stupid like oversee your office, too."  He shrugged.  "Give it some thought, and let us know."

Cain sighed.  "If you can take it, that is.  Some of the cases can be a little grisly . . . Not something that a lot of people would want to take on."

"Youkai special crimes . . . I've heard of you lot," Devlin remarked, idly swirling his snifter of brandy.  "Sounds dead depressing, if you ask me."

"Not always," Gunnar remarked.  "When you solve a case that's been open for fifty years or more?  That can feel pretty damned good . . . Had one a few years ago . . . Seventy-eight years, it sat.  Took the better part of two years, but we were finally able to put a face on the killer—and we were able to hunt him down.  Then we got to go inform the families of the five youkai infants that he murdered, and that . . . It was worth it."

Bas nodded.  "Just the look on their faces, like they finally got some closure . . ."

"Speaking of families," Cain remarked, "have you heard anything else from MacDonnough about Jessa's estate?"

Bas snorted.  "He won't even return my calls, Dad," he muttered.  "Damned old bastard, anyway . . ."

Ashur strode over, took his time pouring cognac into the snifter as he considered Bas' offer.  He'd gone to see a man who was interested in selling his biotech business.  He'd started it ten years ago, and it did well enough, though not nearly as well as it probably could.  Ashur had thought that maybe it would be okay, but the downside of it was that, taking over that business would cut into his free time significantly, and with Kells still being so young, he wasn't entirely sure that he wanted to commit to something like that right now.

Turning back to face the gathering, he frowned.  "How much time is necessary to put into something like the youkai special crimes unit?"

Bas shrugged.  "It really would depend on if you have someone in there you can trust.  If you do, then you split stuff, so really, it's no worse than any other job.  I mean, the cases are already cold.  Taking weekends off or walking away at five o'clock isn't going to make or break any of them."

"Speak for yourself, Bas," Gunnar muttered.

"Yeah, well, not everyone is a workaholic like you, Gun."

Gunnar smiled at that.  "I take that as a compliment."

Bas rolled his eyes.  "You would."

 

-==========-

 

"He's a jerk—a big, fat jerk!"

Carol nodded in complete commiseration as she tipped the bottle of sake to her lips—one of the two that Jessa had stolen when she'd slipped out of the party just after watching Ashur, take her present and slip it under the table.  Then she'd grabbed not only the booze, but also Carol and had fled to Carol's apartment.

"I can't believe he thought that Eddie cooked all that food!" Carol slurred.  "What a dick!"

Jessa wrinkled her nose.  "I know!  Eddie hasn't been here all week, and he's been in the fridge . . . He should know that that stuff wasn't in there!  It just—poof!"

"All right," Laith said, neatly nabbing the bottle that Carol tried to hand Jessa.  "I'm pretty sure you’ve both had more than enough."

Carol rolled her eyes.  "And you haven't had nearly enough," she accused.

"Someone has to make sure the two of you don't get into any trouble," he told her, grinning just a little.

Jessa pushed herself onto her hands and knees and crawled over to Laith, her gaze trained on his face as she leaned to the side just enough to balance while she lifted her hand, poked his cheek with her index finger.  "You've got dimples!  They're so cute!"

Laith chuckled as Carol flopped down next to her and shoved her with her shoulder.  "Back off, hussy!  This one's mine!  Yours is in the big house, being a dick with all the other stiffs . . ." Suddenly, she giggled.  "A dick with the stiffs!"

Jessa giggled, too, leaning against Carol as the two fell over each other, laughing rather maniacally.

"Oh!  You know what he can do?"

"Carol . . ."

She waved a hand to shut him up.  "He can get it up and keep it up—three times in a row! That's gotta be some kind of record, don't you think?"

Jessa snorted, pressing her hand against her nose as she laughed some more. "That's nothing!  Ashur's fallen asleep with his still in me, and then he does it again, first thing in the morning!  I mean, it's a helluva way to wake up!"

"Dear God, details I really don't think I wanted," Laith muttered as he tipped the bottle to his lips.  "Now I need to get sloshed, just to get that image out of my head . . ."

"Are you kidding?" Carol demanded before rounding on Laith again.  "Can you do that?"

He shot her a sidelong look and downed more of the sake.

Jessa giggled so hard that she snorted, which only made her giggle more.  "He's blushing!" she howled.

"Hello?  Irish?  Hello-o-o-o . . ."

She sat up straight, glanced around wildly.  "Why do I hear Dev?" she demanded.

Carol, who had crawled onto Laith's lap, peered over her shoulder at her friend as she hung onto Laith.  "I hear him, too . . . Maybe he's dead . . . Maybe he's talking to us from beyond . . ."

Devlin snorted.  "I am not dead . . . Are you two drunk?"

"I'm not drunk," Jessa huffed indignantly, "and where are you?"

Devlin sighed.  "I'm at home, Irish, in my bed . . . You're the one that called me . . ."

"I did . . .?  Where the hell is my phone . . .?"

"There it is!" Carol said, waving a hand at Jessa.  "You must've boob dialed him when you were crawling around . . ."

Jessa made a face.  "I have very talented boobs, you know.  Just ask Ashur . . . the bastard . . ."  Tapping a finger against her lips, she shrugged.  "Maybe I should go see if he wants me . . . I could use some cash . . . Spent wa-a-a-ay too much on his birthday, and he didn't even want the damn gift!"

Devlin cleared his throat.  "Ashur pays you for . . .?"

"Fucking him," Jessa stated matter-of-factly.  Unfortunately, Laith had just taken a healthy swig of sake, and he choked, sputtering the liquor in a fine spray.

"Eww," Carol squealed.  "You spit on me!"

He chuckled.  "Yeah?  You don't complain about that in bed . . ."

Carol giggled.  "You're right, I don't . . . Why don't you take me to bed now, Laith?"

Jessa stuck out her tongue, grabbing her phone as she got up and staggered to the door.  Considering Carol already had her hands up his shirt, she figured it was time to get out of there, anyway . . . "Bye," she muttered, yanking open the door on the third try before stumbling outside.  Whether either of them heard her was anybody's guess, and Jessa sighed.

"Irish?"

She blinked, having forgotten for a moment that Devlin was still on the phone.  "Oh, hi!  When did you call?" she asked, smashing the phone in the vicinity of her ear.

Devlin sighed.  "You called me, Irish, remember?"

"I did?" she asked, scratching her head as she frowned and stumbled forward.  "Oh, I did . . ."

He sighed again. "You're entirely foxed, aren't you?"

"No . . .Yes."

"Tell me something?"

"Hmm?" she muttered as she concentrated on not falling on her ass.

"Do I need to kill your Ashur?"

She snorted.  "Firstly, he's not mine; he's Hana's—Isn't that a pretty name?  Hana?  So pretty I want to set her hair on fire . . ."

"No fire-starting, Irish.  Ashur isn't really paying you for . . . for favors, is he?"

She sighed, reaching out holding onto the fence as she shuffled past it.  "Sure . . . the first time, it was a diamond tennis bracelet.  Then it was a gift card . . . There was something else, too . . . Oh!  And the car—mustn't forget the car . . ."

"Those weren't just gifts?"

"Yes, gifts that he gave to me after I let him fuck me.  Spread m’ legs, and whoosh!  Jewels fall right out of my crotch!" she slurred, staggering across the yard, heading around the back of the house.  "Next time, I should ask for an island . . ."

"You asked for those things?"

"Of course not," she muttered.  "It's just what he figured I was worth, I guess."

"Love, I get the feeling that he is giving you gifts because you've bewitched him, not because he's . . . paying you . . ." He let out a deep breath when she grunted in reply.  "Okay, so about this, 'Hana' . . . She's the chit from the restaurant, right?"

"He said she was his friend, but she wasn't his friend.  She said she was his one love—his one love . . ."

"Irish?"

"Hmm?"

"Promise me something."

"What?"

"Promise me you're going straight to bed, that you won't go try to confront him until you're not so . . . foxed . . ."

"Yeah, yeah, okay," she muttered just before clicking off the phone and stuffing it into the pocket of her shorts.

Staring up at the balcony, she was still trying to decide if she ought to jump or not when a quiet thud sounded in her ears as she gasped and fell back, only to be caught by a pair of very strong arms.  He didn't let go of her as he jumped back up onto his balcony once more and set her down on her feet.  "Are you drunk?"

She snorted.  "Drunk is such an ugly word, Ashur—Kyouhei—whoever you are.  I prefer foxed or pissed or—"

"Who told you my name?"

She rolled her eyes since he was entirely missing the point.  "Hana did when she told me everything else you didn't think was important," she grumbled.  "Anyway, as I was saying, if you're asking, then yes, I might have drank—drunk—drinked—" she snorted.  "Is, 'drinked' even a word?"  She waved a hand to dismiss it before he could answer.  "I imbibed a bit of sake."

He caught her arm and held onto it when she started to turn away.  "When did you talk to Hana?"

She sighed, head lolling back as she slowly met his gaze.  "What does it matter?  I'm so stupid, you know?  Even after everything she told me, I still . . ." Trailing off as she turned to face him, as she grabbed his shoulders to steady herself, she stared at him, eyes so sad in the moonlight as she blinked at him, slowly, almost enough to mesmerize him . . . "You love her, but you'll use me . . . Do you want me, Ashur?" she asked, her voice dropping to a husky caress as her hands rubbed his chest, his shoulders, as her gaze took on that slow, tilted heaviness—the same look she got whenever they made love . . .

Shaking himself just enough to break the trance that she inspired in him, he shook his head.  "What are you talking about?  I don't love—"

"I know," she said, her bottom lip quivering precariously.  "I know you don't . . . It's all right, though . . . Just don't . . . don't push me away . . ."

Closing his eyes as she pressed her lips against his, he couldn't help the low groan at the spark, at the fire, at the overwhelming contact of her body against his.  Her kiss was desperate—too desperate, and he hesitated for only a moment before he leaned away.  "Jessa . . . you're drunk—really, really drunk . . . and I want to know what Hana said to you."

"I don't want to talk about her," she insisted.  "I just . . ."

He sighed, gently grasping her hands, pulling them away.  "You need to sleep it off.  We'll talk . . . later."

He scooped her up, held her close, spared a moment to kiss her forehead before jumping over to her balcony, but he didn't stop there as he strode into her room, as he settled her on her bed and drew the duvet up to her chin.  For a brief moment, he considered leaving her there, but discarded the idea, realizing that she'd just follow him back—and probably fall and hurt herself in the process.  Settling on the edge of the bed, he reached out, stroked her hair, winced as the salt of her tears stung him.

She didn't cry, though, more than a couple of tears.  Whether it was just because she was too exhausted to do so or because she simply refused to cry in front of him, he didn't know. He wanted answers, but he wasn't going to get them—not tonight.  Still, the sadness in her eyes—the same sadness that cloaked her youki . . .

"I'm not in love with Hana," he said quietly.  "I've never been in love with her.  We . . . We were close, yes, and for a long time, she was my best friend, and I suppose that on some level, I did . . . love her . . . but not . . ." he sighed, slowly shook his head as the sound of her light snoring broke the night stillness.

 

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Final Thought from Ashur:
What the hell did Hana say … and when …?

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Blanket disclaimer for this fanfic (will apply to this and all other chapters in Metempsychosis):  I do not claim any rights to InuYasha or the characters associated with the anime/manga.  Those rights belong to Rumiko Takahashi, et al.  I do offer my thanks to her for creating such vivid characters for me to terrorize.

 

~Sue~