InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Vivication ❯ Above the Law ( Chapter 14 )

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

Stomping into the study, brushing off Vasili's very real umbrage, Fai started to close the door, only to be stopped when Yerik shoved his way into the room behind him.  The questions were rife in the air—Fai could feel them—but almost perversely, he opted to ignore them instead, heading straight to his desk to dig through the pile of correspondences that had accumulated during his absence and completely ignoring his sibling in the process.

Pushing aside the return call notes Vasili had stacked neatly atop the mail, Fai started to sort through it, dropping unimportant things into the trash without bothering to open them, frown darkening as he shifted through a number of 'past due' notices, he dropped the rest of the mail on the desk as he reached for the telephone.

Yerik leaned over, smashing his index finger down on the phone cradle hook, arching an eyebrow at Fai.

"It's hard to make a phone call when you're holding that down," he pointed out, cocking an eyebrow of his own at his younger brother.

Yerik stared at him for another long moment before giving in with an ungracious sigh.  "Okay, Fai.  We'll do this your way.  We always do.  So, we just made what should have been a five—six—day trip in just over two with barely a word spoken at any point during.  Saori kissed you.  There's obviously something there between the two of you, and you ordered me to arrest her?  What the hell is going on?"

"Regardless of what I think, of what I might . . . might feel . . . she broke the law, and if she got away with it, then the precedent that would set . . ." Fai dropped the receiver on the desk in favor of rubbing his forehead.  "I can't allow that."

"Because she kidnapped you."

"Appropriated me," Fai corrected.

Yerik rolled his eyes.  "Whatever, Fai.  How long are you going to keep her here?"

"Until I feel that she has been duly chastised for her actions," Fai replied.  "Oh, and while I'm thinking about it, go find wherever Vasili stuck her and take her cell phone.  She won't be needing it during her stay."

"Don't you think you're being a little—?"

"Don't you want to be a hunter?" Fai interrupted, pinning Yerik with a no-nonsense look.

Yerik looked like he wanted to argue, but in the end, he gave one curt nod before pushing away from the desk and striding over to the door.  "As you wish," he called over his shoulder as he slipped out of the office.

Fai watched him go, but only after the door closed did he finally release the breath he'd held, pent-up.

'You realize that Yerik can see right through you.'

'Don't know what you're talking about.'

'Don't you?  Then answer Yerik's questions, at least to me.  Why did you order her arrested, Fai?'

That question alone was enough to bring that memory back in full-force: of Saori, the urgency, the near panic, so rife in her youki, as she burst through the door, hesitating on the porch long enough to call out his name . . . The luxuriant ripple of her waist-length gunmetal hair, streaming out behind her as she flew down the steps, across the distance that separated them, only to throw herself into his arms, and her kiss . . .

Those rouged lips, the unnatural brightness in her eyes as her eyelids fluttered closed, the dusting of her sooty lashes against the paleness of her cheeks . . .

And the absolute shock of her lips under his—something he was entirely unprepared for—the moment of instant connection that slammed through him with the finesse of a sledgehammer as his brain froze, as tactile feel took over . . . He’d felt like he was dying, only to be reborn in her, with her, alongside her . . .

What was it about her?  From the moment she’d breezed into his life, something had changed, flip-flopped, set his entire world on its head, and he wasn’t entirely sure if the knowledge that things had veered so far from normal scared him worse, or if it was just the innate understanding that . . . that it was all right with him . . .

The unwelcome intrusion of reality was too fast, too soon, giving rise to an unreasonable rage that had little to do with Saori's perceived audacity and everything to do with the bitter disappointment as she pulled away from him—and that flash of realization that, as soon as he got into that car, it would be for the last time . . .

'And you didn't want to let her go, did you?  Didn't want to go home, knowing that she wasn't going to be with you—that you may never see her again . . .'

'Don't be ridiculous!  It had nothing to do with that . . . I just . . .'

'You just reacted.  It's all right.  Objectively speaking, sometimes you have to go with your heart instead of your brain.'

He snorted, snatching up the receiver and dropping it into the cradle of the telephone.  'That's not what I was doing,' he insisted stubbornly.  'Not even close!'

'Okay, okay, if you say so.'

Somehow, he had the feeling that his youkai was just humoring him, which was enough to make his temper soar just a little higher.  Stifling the urge to growl out of sheer irritation, he grabbed the receiver and shoved the entire infuriating discussion aside as he punched in the number for the banker.

"Sberbank.  Vladimir Gostoyev's office.  This is Natasha.  How may I help you?"

"This is Faine Alexandrov Demyanov.  I need to speak with Vladimir."

"Yes, let me see if he's busy.  One moment, please."

Drumming his claws on the thick wooden desk, Fai waited impatiently.

It didn't make any sense.  None of his cards were working—all of them had been declined—and the stack of past due notices?  That shouldn't have happened, either.  There was no way that his accounts were so low that any of it should be an issue, and he was going to get some answers, damn it . . .

"Ah, Your Grace!" Vladimir Gostoyev's booming voice greeted him over the line.  "What can I do for you?"

"For starters, you can tell me why all my cards are being declined and why I have a stack of past due notices here on my desk," Fai growled.

"Oh, well, let me check into it . . ."

He heard the clicking of a computer keyboard as the banker accessed Fai's accounts.  Stifling the desire to sigh, Fai focused on holding together what was left of his waning patience.

"Hmm, it looks like there was suspicious activity, and so your accounts were frozen since we could not reach you to verity the transactions.  There's one attempted purchase in Traska that looks like it triggered the shut down . . ."

"That was a valid charge," Fai muttered.  "Not now, though. It's been paid.  I trust you can release my accounts?"

"Well, it's not as simple as that, Your Grace . . . Because you didn't respond to our messages in a timely manner, it triggered an audit of your accounts—all of them—and it may take another week to gain the releases on them . . ."

"Unacceptable," Fai snapped.  "Release them now."

"I don't know if I can do that," Vladimir hedged.  "I really have no control over it, and there isn't a way to override it at this point."

"And meanwhile, services will come to a screeching halt," Fai growled.  "Absolutely not."

"I'll see what I can do, Your Grace.  I'll call you back as soon as I find out anything."

The line went dead, and Fai uttered a frustrated snarl as he dropped the phone back into the cradle once more.

It just figured, didn't it?  The situation overall was precarious enough.  If those who opposed his position caught wind of it, it could easily escalate into something very ugly, very quickly.

'Yet something else I could blame on Saori,' he thought as he strode over and sloshed vodka into a sparkling glass.  If she hadn't dragged him off that day, then none of this would have happened, either.

'You could,' his youkai agreed, 'but you won't.  After all, blaming her for it?  Do you think she meant to sabotage you?'

He sighed.  No, he supposed he really couldn't.  She didn't know that this would happen.  It was just a really crappy bonus.

Even so . . .

Dropping into the chair behind the expansive desk, Fai sighed and drained half of the glass in one swallow as he glared at the phone, willing it to ring . . .


'This is all your fault!'

Pacing the barren chamber where she'd been locked in, good and tight, Saori rubbed her arms against the chill coming off the stone walls of the ridiculously large and just as ridiculously empty room.  It could easily have been a master chamber or a spare bedroom—she didn't know, but there were also a number of other closed doors she'd been hurried past by that rather stoic and curt old butler that had escorted her here and left her.

She could see the sun starting to set through the small window that she couldn't open without breaking it, and she sighed.  No bed, no blankets, no anything . . . and the bathroom was little more than an ancient looking toilet and a tiny sink, ensconced in a tiny room that she could barely turn around in . . . All in all, she had to wonder just what this room was used for or if it had somehow become forgotten over time, which seemed like a rather melancholy kind of thought . . .

Nope, the only thing in the room that she could move at all were a few small rocks that had crumbled away from the window frame.  Tossing a stone into the air and catching it, over and over, she heaved a very frustrated growl, quickening her step as she continued her prowling.

'How is this my fault?' her youkai-voice demanded.

She snorted.  The sound echoed in the empty chamber.  'What do you mean, how?  If you hadn't freaked me out about Fai-sama leaving, I never would have kissed him, and if I hadn't done that, he wouldn't have—Well, he just wouldn't have!'

'That's not my fault!'

'How do you figure?'

'Easy!  I don't have lips, girlfriend!  They're yours—yours—and you're the one who just had to go plant one on him!'

'I didn't—! Keh!  That was totally your doing!  If it weren't for you, we'd be at the airport now, getting ready to fly home!'

'Think what you want, Saori, but that was entirely on you!'

'You're so full of—'

The sound of keys, banging against the wooden door, drew her attention as she whipped around, just in time to see the door creak open.  Yerik stuck his head inside, a dark scowl on his face, but he heaved a sigh and shook his head—and managed to duck a split second before the rock that was in Saori's hand just barely missed his head.  It smacked into the wall hard enough to send out a few sparks from the fissure where the stone connected, and Yerik arched an eyebrow at her as he slowly straightened up again.

"Well, I was going to take you to a different room," he said in an inordinately dry tone.  "Unless you're going to keep trying to knock my block off, that is . . ."

She snorted, crossing her arms over her chest since she still hadn't quite forgiven any of them just yet.  "A different room?" she echoed dubiously.  "Why?"

Yerik shrugged and pushed the door open a little wider.  "Because this wing of the castle isn't heated—or ever used, actually," he said.  "Oh, and I'll take your cell phone, if you will."

"My . . .?" she blurted, pulling the device out of her pocket and wrinkling her nose since she'd completely forgotten that she even had it, to start with.  "Why?"

Yerik stepped forward, plucked it out of her hand.  "Tai-youkai's orders.  I suggest you ask him if you want to get any answers."

"He's being awfully mean," she pointed out, though she didn't really expect that he'd agree with her at all.  "I mean, I told him I was sorry—that I panicked.  I didn't mean to . . . to . . ."

Yerik didn't look impressed with her claims of innocence.  "Come on," he said, jerking his head toward the door as he slowly pivoted on his heel to lead her out of the room.

She almost declined, simply on principle, but she swallowed what was left of her tattered pride and followed Yerik out of the bereft room and down the hallway.

There was nothing, literally, in this wing of the old castle.  She'd noticed that on her way up to the room, to start with, accompanied by the old and immaculate butler who Fai had called Vasili.  No paintings, no carpeting, no curtains, no adornments—nothing at all to break up the harsh and cold feel that sank in, bone deep, as she involuntarily rubbed her arms once more . . .

"Why is this wing so barren?" she heard herself asking, her gaze slowly taking in the rising stones, the cold edifice.  Ten?  Twelve closed doors that all added another layer of darkness to the already filmy light.  There were no lamps at all, nothing, but even in the semi-haze, she could still make out the intricately carved patterns surrounding each of the doors, the graceful scrollwork, almost like vines, that ran along the base of the walls, etched deep into the stonework . . .

"The legend says that this wing stopped being used around my great-great grandfather's time," Yerik said, his voice a little quieter, but that might have been simply because of the enormity of the space that swallowed the sound.  "He had a very large family—seven sons, four daughters, and they all lived here for a long time—most of them stayed until he died.  One of them, though—the youngest daughter, Dominika . . . She was playing in the red room—that one," he said, pointing to a closed door they were fast approaching, but he didn't open it.  "That room was built as a play room for the children, and there's a balcony in there—it's beautiful, actually—but . . . Well, somehow, she climbed onto the railing and slipped.  It was never clear to me how it was possible, but she got her head stuck between the railings, and by the time they found her, it was too late.  After that, they moved out, one by one, but by the time my grandfather was born, his aunts and uncles had all died, too—many of them in sick and twisted ways . . . Some of the staff swore that they'd seen a ghost up here—Dominika's ghost, most likely—and many of them flat-out refused to even mount the stairs from the great hall, so, when Grandfather thought to renovate, he didn't bother with this wing.  He simply had the great doors closed, and it was forgotten."

"And that's why there's no electricity up here, either," she mused.

Yerik nodded.  "I used to play up here sometimes when I was small.  Fai told me not to, though.  He doesn't put much stock in silly superstition, but I guess that when it came to me, he wasn't given to taking any chances.  Then again, maybe he thought that I would slip, that I would end up, strangling myself like Dominika did.  Who knows?"

Something about Yerik's brief historical account of the castle was an interesting mix of fanciful and arcane, but it made sense in the end, as to why that area of the castle was basically forgotten.   "So . . . uh . . . sorry about the rock," Saori said, mostly to break the unnerving silence that made her want to scream.  "I . . . I lost my temper, was all, and . . . and I didn't even think about it . . ."

"Is that why you kidnapped my brother—err, the tai-youkai?" he asked almost conversationally—almost.  “Because you didn’t think about it?”

She wrinkled her nose.  "It wasn't kidnapping as much as it was—"

"—Appropriation.  I got that.  You know, though, it doesn't matter what you call it.  The end result was the same.  It could be considered treason—a crime that's punishable by death.  If you were Russian, there would be no room for argument on it, but since you’re not, then the, uh, tai-youkai might have a bit of wiggle-room, so to speak . . ."

She blinked since she hadn't actually considered the overall severity of her overall actions.  "Is . . . Fai-sama going to . . . execute me?"

“He might.”

She swallowed hard, wishing fervently that she could interpret whether or not Yerik was kidding.  He didn’t sound like he was, but she also couldn’t rightfully make out the expression on his face in the weak and waning light . . . “That sounds kind of extreme . . . I mean, I didn’t hurt him or anything . . .”

“You knocked him out,” Yerik reminded her in the same mild tone.

“That was accidental, and it wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t made me cry . . .”

“Your powers of reasoning are astounding,” he replied dryly.

She sighed.  “Don’t you care about the orphanage?  Fai-sama said that it was something your mother felt strongly about . . .”

“I don’t remember her,” Yerik said.  There was no bitterness, no anger in his tone—just a sense of practicality that somehow dug at Saori’s heart.  “Before you ask, I don’t remember Father, either.”

“You . . . You don’t . . .?”

He glanced at her, probably because she hadn’t been able to keep the absolute horror out of her voice.  She grimaced inwardly, but he quickly looked away once more.  “I don’t.  I don’t know if that’s good or bad, to tell you the truth.  What I do remember is Fai—everything he’s done for me, everything he’s said to me . . . I assume that the things that he’s taught me are things that Father and Mother taught him, so I know they were good people, but to me?  They’re just that—people.  It’s not like I have any real emotional connection to them, but Fai?  So, when someone comes along and, say, kidnaps him?  I do have some fairly strong feelings about that.  You understand.”

“I . . . I would have asked him to come with me if he hadn’t been knocked out,” she grumbled, unable to staunch the flow of blood under her skin.  “I mean, he would have said, ‘no’, but . . . I never meant to hurt him or anything . . .”

“Why did you kiss him?”

That question stopped her dead in her tracks, and the blush that she’d tried to fight back positively exploded in vivid technicolor.  “Wh-Wh-Why . . .?”

He nodded.  “Why would you?  You don’t strike me as the kind of girl who just randomly chooses to kiss some guy out of the blue.  Are you?”

The last thing she actually wanted to do was to admit to Yerik, of all people, that she hadn’t actually kissed anyone prior to the other day when she’d thought she’d never see Fai again . . . It was information that he just did not need, as far as she was concerned.  “Of course, I don’t,” she mumbled, wishing he would drop it, yet feeling that he wasn’t going to.  “I . . . I don’t know why I did that . . .”

Yerik considered that for a moment before shrugging and offering a little nod, but opted to let the subject drop, much to Saori’s vast relief.  He paused long enough to yank the huge, hulking, impossibly heavy wooden doors closed on the hallway, before leading her down a couple flights of stairs to a wide landing that veered off to the left to the entryway of the great hall.  He ignored that, however, leading her up the stairs straight across the landing.

It was as different as night and day.  On this side, the hallway felt warmer, more inviting.  She’d seen it all, albeit it briefly in passing, but hadn’t gotten a chance to really examine it, either, given that she was being herded into that drafty old room at the time . . . Deep maroon and gold carpets extended down the long, darkened hallway, illuminated by wrought iron wall sconces that looked old and almost draconian, accented with thick and heavy polished wooden doors—a far cry from the dulled and tired looking doors in the defunct wing of the castle, but the intricate carving along the baseboards and up around each of the doorways was the same, and in this area, those same carvings were more pronounced, almost crisper—absolutely stunning.  The doors themselves were also the same, though these were highly polished, meticulously gleaming, and they also bore the intricate carvings in a larger scale like a mural . . .

There wasn't much in the way of actual adornment on the understated cream embossed wallpaper or anything other than the carvings, but it wasn't lacking, either—the kind of simple elegance that fine structure alone could provide . . .

"So, you don’t know why you kissed him?  Interesting . . ."

Saori grimaced at that reminder.  She’d hoped that he’d opted not to delve any deeper into it.  She should have known.  He didn't see her reaction, though, since he was slightly ahead of her, which, she figured, was better.  "I . . . I got a little carried away," she muttered, unable to keep the blood from flooding into her cheeks.

"Is that what you call it?  You know, don't you?  It's highly improper for anyone to touch the tai-youkai.  It's almost taboo."

She frowned, staring at his back, wondering if he were being completely serious or not.  She couldn't tell, and she sighed softly.

"Anyway, as you mentioned, Fai said you . . . appropriated him so that you could convince him to keep funding the orphanage," Yerik went on, as though his previous statement didn't mean anything.  "Thanks for that."

"For what?" she said, almost by rote since she was still pondering his prior observation.

"No one else would have been able to change his mind.  In fact, I could count on one hand, how many times anyone’s managed to do that," Yerik said.

"Oh . . . I don't think that it was me, exactly," she admitted.  "I mean, he said he didn't want to defund it—that it was something he had to do.  Lack of money . . ."

He sighed.  “When I said that I didn’t remember my parents, it wasn’t to say that I don’t care about the orphanage.  I do.  It’s a very worthwhile establishment, regardless of whether Mother championed it or not.  I could have ended up there, had it not been for Fai, so yes, I care.”

“You . . . You care about your brother a great deal,” she mused, more to herself than to him.  “It’s obvious . . . I think I’d feel the same way if something happened to nii-chan.  He’s a lot older than me, too, kind of like the two of you . . .”

“Nii-chan?  That means ‘brother’?”

She nodded.  “Well, yes, but it means ‘big brother’.  Strictly speaking, you can use it to refer to your older brother or you could use it when addressing any older male.  If you’re not related, though, it’s often better to use, ‘san’ instead of, ‘chan’ . . . It’s more correct.  ‘Chan’ infers a certain level of intimacy that ‘san’ does not.  Does that help?”

Yerik chuckled.  “It does.  So, if I were to address Fai using that, then I’d probably use ‘nii-san’ because it would be more respectful?”

She nodded again.  “Yes.”

“Understood.”

Yerik shrugged as he led her down the hallway on the third floor.  Stopping outside the room on the end on the left-hand side of the corridor, he gestured for her to enter.  She did, slowly shifting her gaze around the well-appointed room—the ornate, four poster bed that stood in the center of the room atop a raised stone dais amidst a network of off-white netting that hung, suspended from the ceiling in soft billows, all the way to the floor.  The lengths of it were tied to the tall bedposts, and, though it looked opulent, beautiful, she knew well enough that the netting was there for pragmatic reasons to guard against the rampant mosquitoes that plagued the entire country during the summer months.

That aside, the room itself was fairly sparsely furnished—a huge and heavy teak wardrobe against the far wall with a standing full-length mirror beside it, a small but comfortable looking easy chair near the window with a table where a silver dome sat next to a full glass of what looked to be kvass was waiting.  Even from where she stood, she could smell the food under that dome, and her stomach growled uncomfortably loudly.

"Your bathroom is there," Yerik said, gesturing at the solid door next to the closet doors.  He hadn't stepped into the room and only lingered in the doorway.  "I'll leave you alone now.  Good night, Saori."

He started to reach for the door.  She swung around to face him.  "Wait, Yerik?"

"Yes?"

"Do you . . .?  Do you know how long Fai-sama wants to keep me here?"

Yerik stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable, much like Fai had a tendency to make.  "I have no idea," he admitted.  "I'll check in on you in a little while."

“Thank you,” she said, offering him a bow of courtesy.

He chuckled, letting his head fall slightly to the side, the gentle light catching in the strands of his golden hair.  “You know, I like you, Saori,” he finally said.  “Just don’t make a habit of kidnapping the tai-youkai, please.”

She winced, but grinned. “I won’t . . . and I like you, too, Yerik.”

He chuckled again, and she watched as he pulled the door closed, her smile dying away as a frown replaced it when she heard his footsteps, dulled by the carpeting in the hallway, as he strode away.  He hadn't locked the door, but that didn't really matter.  Even if she did manage to get out of the room—out of the castle—there wasn't really anywhere she could go, and, because Yerik had hustled her right into the car, she also didn't have her clothes or her purse, either . . .

She was stuck, absolutely.

Shuffling over to the small table, to the food that had been left for her, Saori opted to brush aside the questions about her forced confinement—at least, for now.

A still-steaming bowl of borscht, a few thick, slices of black bread, a plate of stewed meat—beef? served along with roasted potatoes, sprinkled delicately with fresh herbs and what looked to be a thin buttery sauce . . .

Sure, she probably ought to be trying to figure out a way out of here or at least, a way to convince Fai that he ought to let her leave, but at the moment, she was just too hungry to care.