InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Vivication ❯ Aftermath ( Chapter 70 )

Fai stood, eyes closed, head tipped forward, under the flowing tap as hot water beat down on him.

He’d slept for almost three hours—a fitful sleep, full of nightmares and half-formed dreams that were forgotten as soon as he neared consciousness.  He really didn’t have to have memory of them, though, to know what they were all about.

“It’s so easy to bring down a dynasty, you know.  All it really takes is one loose wire—the right one, that is . . . and the cards come tumbling down.”

And it really was as simple as that.

He’d tried to stay in bed when he’d realized that there was no chance that he’d manage to drift off again.  As exhausted as he was, his brain simply wouldn’t stop, no matter what he tried, no matter how hard he’d sought to put it all from his mind.

So, he’d kissed Saori on the temple and carefully got up, heading down to the hidden annals, searching for the copy of the official report on the fire in Sri Lanka all those years ago.  It said, of course, what it had always said: malfunction of the solar cell collection batteries that had caused an electrical short in the house.  It was an accident.  That was what she’d wanted it to seem like—Katja—Ekaterina—Petrova . . .

From as near as he could figure from recollection, from the scant information he’d been able to find on the internet, she’d worked for Evgeni for a very long time, and all that time, by her own account, she’d been the one manipulating him, and all the while, he’d thought that he was the one—the mastermind—and he’d gone into his grave believing it, too.

Common sense told him that he really needed to find a way to let it go.  After all, all the parties involved were all dead on both sides of it.  That was easier said than done, and that was the problem.

That same common sense, too, told him that it wasn’t his fault; that he couldn’t have possibly known.  They hadn’t wanted him to suspect a thing, and they’d done their jobs well.  That didn’t really alleviate the consuming sense of guilt that twisted his gut: the feeling that he was nothing but a gullible fool for taking everything at face-value—for taking Evgeni at face-value . . .

‘But you realize, don’t you?  At some point, it’s going to have to be enough.  There’s nothing else you can do.  You cut off the serpent’s head, so to speak, and you brought everyone home with you.  There’s really nothing else you’ll ever be able to do, and eventually, you’re going to have to make peace with that, too.’

He sighed, reaching out, shutting off the water as he fumbled blindly for a towel.  ‘Maybe, but . . . But now, how do I really know who I can and cannot trust?  After everything . . . Evgeni . . . I thought . . .’

‘You thought he was your friend because that’s what he wanted you to believe, and he was damn good at convincing you, too.  But you know how to figure out, who you can trust.  Look at Kostya.  You’re not wrong about him.  He’s about as loyal as they come, and if you were to try, I’m sure you’d find more allies than you ever thought you had.  Those men who have been loyal to the Demyanov family are still just as trustworthy as they’ve ever been.  There was a reason they were named your regents in the beginning.  Sure, being tai-youkai can be a lonely job, but you’ve already realized that it’s something that you really can’t do alone.  Just look at the other tai-youkai.  Every last one of them has a board of advisors, just like your regents, who are there to assist their leaders.’

Wise words, really—if Fai could figure out, just how to allow himself to loosen the reins that much.

It didn’t take long for him to dry off and dress.  His hair was still on the wet side, but he didn’t really care as he clubbed it back to keep it out of his face.  Glancing out the window, he sighed.  It was still dark out, but he could discern the slight lightening on the horizon.

He’d make a breakfast tray for Saori and him, and he’d spend the morning with her.  Then he’d try to figure out, just what to do about Taras Stepanovich . . .

He made his way downstairs, stepped into the solar to grab a cup of coffee, but he stopped short when he spotted Rinji, already at the table, idly turning a mug between his hands, staring at it thoughtfully with a marked frown.  From the way he was sitting, Fai had to wonder, just how long he’d been there.  The normally friendly and upbeat man he’d come to know was subdued, almost somber—almost sad . . .

“You’re not sleeping?” Fai asked, pouring himself a cup and shuffling over to take a chair nearby.

Rinji sighed, his expression almost foreboding, delineated with a seriousness that was entirely intense.  “I . . . I couldn’t,” he admitted.  “I tried, but I . . . I couldn’t stop thinking . . .”

“I know that feeling,” Fai said, slipping into a chair, sipping the hot brew.  “Was the poison still bothering you?”

“Uh, no,” he said, shaking his head as he made a face at his mug.  “Well, a little, but nothing I can’t tolerate.”

Fai frowned, jaw shifting to the side as he stared thoughtfully at his brother-in-law.  “Arrida . . .” he concluded.  It really didn’t take much to figure it out, and it didn’t really surprise Fai, either.  Given that Rinji really was a decent and kind person . . . Well, it had surprised Fai, to say the least . . .

The slight tightening in his jaw was accompanied by the vaguest hint of a nod.  “I just . . . I mean, I did the right thing.  At least, I think I did . . .”

Fai grimaced, but Rinji didn’t see the expression, which was probably a good thing.  He’d been briefed on the way back home about what had gone on after he’d taken off to find Saori, and he didn’t have to be brilliant to realize that Rinji, despite his feeling that what he’d done was the only real thing that he could have . . . “If it helps, I think you did the right thing, too.”

Rinji nodded slowly, almost methodically.

From what he’d been told, after Evgeni had shot himself, Arrida had begged them to kill her, too, said she didn’t want to linger, didn’t want to waste away with nothing but her memories.  No one had seemed willing to comply with her voiced pleading, though—no one but Rinji—Rinji, the logical one who could easily rationalize any given situation, all the angles, all the variables, and all within a matter of minutes—maybe seconds—who could ultimately understand the wider scope of things, the ramifications . . . Arrida would die eventually, and if it were him, Fai wasn’t sure he could have wanted to try to hold on, either . . .

“To her, it didn’t matter, what he’d done,” Rinji said, his voice rather gravelly, very low.  “She still loved him, and there wasn’t a point in belaboring the process for her, especially not after everything she’d seen . . .” Trailing off with a sigh, he downed the coffee in his mug and made a face since it was pretty cold.  “It was the kindest thing I could do for her.  Even so, I . . .”

“You . . . You made the call that no one else could, didn’t you?  Even though they all knew that it was the kindest thing, that doesn’t make it an easy choice,” Fai said, standing up to retrieve the insulated carafe of coffee off the sideboard.  “It was the right thing, absolutely, given that the options were few.  If I had been there, I’d like to think that I’d have chosen to do what you did . . . But it still bothers you.”

Rinji grimaced again, only this time, it had nothing at all to do with the coffee.  “I’m not in the habit of fighting to the death,” he said, “and I’ve never, ever taken a life outside of a fight.  To be honest, yesterday was the first time, and . . .” He winced, slowly shook his head.  “It’s just . . . It’s ugly.”

Fai nodded, sparing a moment to slosh more coffee into Rinji’s mug before refilling his own.  “I figured it was something like that.  To be honest, I think that I’d feel pretty much like you do if it were me.”  Slowly swirling he contents of his cup, Fai stared at the churning drink, watched idly as the steam rose from the surface.  “The, uh . . . The first time I was challenged was soon after my father disappeared—days after, actually . . . an old weasel-youkai who didn’t think that someone my age could lead the youkai . . . I knew logically that I couldn’t back down.  It’s not an option, and yet . . . It wasn’t a fair fight.  The weasel had to know he couldn’t have won against me, and still . . . But, as I stood over the place where I’d defeated him, and I tried to rationalize everything in my head—tried to tell myself that I hadn’t had a choice, that it was the result of any challenge ever made: there would always be a winner and a loser . . . And I thought, I was just doing what was expected of me.  Then I realized that this man . . . He probably had a mate, a family, back home, waiting for him.  And I wondered for a long time afterward, were they still waiting for him . . .?  But he . . . He’d never go home again, and . . . and that kind of realization . . . It’s tough.”

Rinji shifted his gaze without moving his head, pinned Fai with a quelling kind of expression, one that brought Sesshoumaru heavily to mind.  In that moment, the familial resemblance between Rinji and his esteemed grandfather was even stronger than it normally was, and at any other time, it was already glaring.  It was rather astounding, really.  “I . . . I keep telling myself that it was for the best.  I just . . .”

Fai nodded, offered Rinji a small smile.  “If you didn’t feel the way you do, Rinji, then you wouldn’t be half the man I think you are.”

Rinji blinked, frowned, and grimaced.  “Thanks,” he said, lifting his fresh mug of coffee, hovering it before his lips.  “I . . . Thanks . . .”

Saori awoke slowly, feeling the lethargy of peace that delineated everything around her, and she realized that she was home—in her home, in her bed—and she smiled, even before she opened her eyes.

The rustle of paper drew her attention, though, and she rolled over, pushing herself up on her elbow as she stifled a yawn with her other hand.  “Fai . . .”

Lowering the edge of the newspaper he held, he shifted his gaze to the side.  “Morning,” he said, shaking out the paper before folding it up.  “Did I wake you?  I didn’t mean to . . .”

“Uh uh,” she murmured, sighing happily as he scooted down and pulled her against his side.  “I slept so well . . . I didn’t sleep as good in Japan.”

“I didn’t sleep well while you were gone, either,” he admitted.  Then, he sighed.  “I’m sorry . . . You shouldn’t have been put into that situation, and it’s my fault.  You—”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” she interrupted, smashing her hand over his mouth to stop his words.  “You’re safe—I’m safe . . . Everyone came home with us, so everything’s just fine . . . At least, it will be.”

Reaching up, catching her hand that covered his mouth, he grasped her fingers, kissed her knuckles.  “The official reports say that it was a faulty wire that caused the batteries in the house to overcharge.  That’s what it said caused the fire.  It didn’t occur to me . . . Or maybe I just didn’t want to believe . . .”

“It’s over now, though, isn’t it?  You defeated her, and—”

“We defeated her,” he corrected.  “Which reminds me.  Did I tell you just how magnificent you were in your visceral form?”

She giggled and buried her face against his chest.  “I lost my temper,” she admitted.  “That was why . . .”

“Yes, well, it happens, right?  Besides, seeing you like that . . .”

She giggled in an almost embarrassed kind of way, and he let her for a few moments before catching her under her chin with a crooked index finger, lifting her face, kissing her gently as her laughter died away.

“I have to admit, I thought it was hot as hell,” he murmured between kisses.

She gasped softly as he nipped at her lower lip, rolling over, only to catch himself on his elbows on either side of her as he slowly, deliberately deepened the kiss.  The tremors of sheer anticipation rattled through her as his lips pressed against hers, as he gently flicked the tip of his tongue against hers.  She let them open with a delicious shiver, savoring the taste of coffee on his breath, the underlying emotion that tempered his rising need.

Running her hands up under his untucked shirt, she marveled at the feel of his skin under her fingertips, the rises and hollows, the give and take as the muscles under his skin moved in a perfect dance.  Everything about him crashed down on her, overwhelmed her in a wholly welcome way.

He groaned against her mouth, the sound captured and muffled, even as he pushed himself up, his breathing, ragged and harsh, and he fumbled with the buttons of his shirt—his hands were shaking.

Saori sat up, pulled off the oversized tee-shirt she’d donned after a long bath the night before, discarding it on the floor beside the bed as she dropped back down against the mattress once more, only to hook her panties on both hips, lifting her pelvis to slip them off.  Fai heaved a longsuffering sigh as he pushed himself up off the bed to remove his pants.  She giggled when he forced himself to draw in a deep breath before attempting to unfasten his slacks.  “Maybe you should have stripped before you crawled back into bed?” she teased, making no bones about giving him a very, very lazy once-over.

Her question earned her a very dry look.  “Hush, woman,” he growled, giving the slacks a rather vicious yank.

She rolled over, onto her hands and knees, pushing herself up on the edge of the bed to slip her arms around him, kissing the exposed flesh of his stomach.  “My mate is such a handsome man,” she whispered.

His answer was a very pronounced growl, accompanied by a discernable shiver as he finally kicked his pants aside and reached out to grab her.  She was quicker than him, though, and, with a giggling squeal, she tried to crawl away.  He caught her hips, yanked her back, unleased a loud, long groan as he slammed into her in one fluid motion.

She gasped, her head falling back as a visceral shudder ripped through her, as a need so vast, so deep, spun out of her control.  Reacting on a primitive level, she whimpered when he started to pull away from her, only to yank her back once more, an almost vicious surge of power, of strength, and she cried out, her body trembling, as she reared back against him, reeling from the pleasure that bordered on pain.

Grasping handfuls of the blankets beneath her hands, she moaned, panted, gave herself up to the absolute passion that goaded her, balancing so precariously on the cusp between want and fulfillment, that hazy space that felt just out of her reach.

Fai gasped, groaned, pulled her legs a little wider apart without missing a stroke as the scent of their bodies blossomed in the air.  She could feel the tension in him escalating as he thrust harder, faster, and she couldn’t help the scream that tumbled from her lips as the invisible bands the held her back suddenly snapped, as she tumbled into the sheer and consuming light that obliterated all reason, all sanity, and somewhere, as though from a distance, his own cry melded with hers, his body bearing her forward, down against the bed, as he crashed down on her, as he thickened, released, trembled, shook . . .

It took a few moments for her mind to clear, for the oblivion of her orgasm to fade, but it wasn’t done.  Somehow, he’d managed to turn her over, was still inside her, but this time, he moved with such a sweet slowness that matched the lingering kiss as he brushed the pads of his thumbs over her cheeks, buried his fingers, deep in her hair.  She kissed him back, slipped her arms around him, holding him as close as she could, bracing her feet against the mattress, undulating her hips against his in the maddeningly slow cadence.

“My . . . mate . . .” he murmured between kisses, his voice, barely more than a whisper, a caress.

“Fai . . .” she breathed, wishing that she could say more, unable to command language when the surge of absolute love she felt had the power to render her breathless.

So, she told him the only way she could, the only way that made sense, in the entirely intuitive flow of her body.  Slipping her legs up over his hips, locking her ankles together to hold him near . . . He groaned at the deeper access she allowed him, hefting himself up on his elbows, reaching down to cradle her hip, her ass, against him . . .

The beat of his heart, so erratic and yet, so reassuring, sounded in her ears.  His labored breathing was a balm on her emotions, a welcome shelter in the turbulence of her spinning desire.  Everything about him spoke to her, steadied her, even as the wispy tendrils of passion built slowly, steadily.

Every thrust was painfully slow, and yet, there was a steadiness that somehow felt so very right.  As though he were afraid of breaking the moment, the tenderness in his every movement was enough to bring tears to her eyes.

She felt everything, savored the raw emotion that he laid bare, just for her.  It was more than just a carnal act, and she felt that, too, with every caress, every touch, every murmured endearment.  He was telling her, wasn’t he?  Telling her that he would never let her go again, and that thought . . .

Even so, the need that built inside her was brutal, unyielding, and as much as she loved it, the mounting desire was too hard to ignore.  Dragging her claws up and down his back, tightening her legs around him, only to release, to allow him to withdraw just a little, before dragging him in deeper, she asked him without words for what she truly needed, and he responded, quickening the pace of his thrusts, rising up on his hands, bracing himself on either side of her as he slowly increased his movements, grinding his hips against hers, touching the very core of her . . .

“Kami,” she breathed, opening her eyes, just for a moment, yet unable to meet his gaze as her body clouded over her mind once more, as sensation nudged aside reason.  “Fai . . .”

He understood what she wanted to say, and with a growl, he slipped his arms under her, rolled them over, her knees falling onto the mattress on either side of his hips, as he pushed into her a little deeper.  She gasped, rocking her hips against his, weaving her fingers between his, allowing him to brace her as she rose and fell on him.

It was shocking, stunning, and every thrust only served to fuel the fiery burn.  So deep, so hard, so thick . . . She moaned, keened, braced her hands against the center of his chest as he grasped her hips, as he jerked her down on him time and again.  She could feel his body thickening, pulsing, and he pulled her down hard one last time, only to manipulate her hips in a tight circle, grinding her body against his as the last strands of reason snapped once more, as she collapsed against him, half-laughing, half-crying, and somewhere in the middle, she heard her name, tumbling from his lips as his orgasm—scorching and wickedly welcome—filled her, overflowed her, dripped from her onto him . . .

She heard him talking, gasping out words that made no sense to her, felt his hands, stroking her hair, savored the wildly erratic beat of his heart under her cheek as her own heart hammered against her ribcage.

It took what felt like such a long time for her breathing to calm, for her mind to clear.  Cossetted in the warmth of his arms, her head against his chest, she uttered a choked and raspy laugh that turned into a groan when he slipped out of her.

“That was mean,” she told him, squirming around to lean on her elbow.

“Maybe,” he agreed with a chuckle.  “You know, I brought you breakfast.”

She gasped, sat up, started to toss her legs over the side of the bed, but he caught her and pulled her back down against his side.  “Thought you wanted me to—”

“But you brought food up here,” she interrupted, “and I haven’t eaten anything in a couple days—nothing substantial, anyway.”

He grunted.  “You’ve got to be kidding me . . .”

“On the contrary, Fai, I never joke about food,” she informed him.

He sighed and kissed her forehead.  Then he let go and got up to retrieve the tray he’d left on the small table near the window.

Saori giggled as Fai led her by the hand, out onto the patio where, he’d been told, everyone was gathering for a late lunch.  He stopped short, and she crashed into his back.  “Fai!” she scolded, leaning to the side to peer around him, only to blink and stare as she watched . . . Well, she wasn’t entirely sure, what she was watching, to be honest . . .

“Who the hell is that?” Fai mumbled, almost more to himself than to her.

“I . . . I don’t know, but . . . Oh, kami!”

With a loud shriek, she pulled her hand away and dashed around Fai, over to the stone steps that led to the garden below, leaving her puzzled mate in her wake.

“Saori-chan!”

“Evan!” she yelled, literally throwing herself into her cousin’s open arms.  He looked positively dreadful—crazy orange hair, weirdly too-vividly-green eyes—but it was most certainly him—Evan Zelig, son of the North American tai-youkai and his mate, who Saori had always called Gin-oba-chan.  “What are you doing here?”

He spun her around, eliciting a very loud round of giggles, before depositing her on her feet once more, though he kept one arm, slung around her shoulders.  “Eh, have a gig in Moscow tomorrow night, so I figured I should at least check in on you.  Brought you a wedding present, too, but I’m not sure where you’ll keep it.”

“What did you bring me?” she asked, knowing Evan’s penchant for gifting people with the strangest things.

His already broad grin widened even more.  “You’ll see.  So, this mate of yours . . . a tai-youkai, huh?”

She giggled.  “Yes, but that’s not why I’m with him!”

He laughed.  “Well, hell, no!  It’s because he has a tai-youkai-sized-penis, right?  I mean, he does, doesn’t he?”

Her giggles turned into something more of an embarrassed chatter, and she hid her face against Evan’s chest.

“I may not be speaking for everyone, but I, for one, really would rather not hear the sordid details regarding Fai-sama’s penis,” Rinji remarked in an even drier than normal tone.

“Well, it’s kind of a valid question,” Aiko murmured, tapping her chin with a tapered claw in an almost philosophical way.  “I mean, are there special prerequisites for the job that we don’t know about and really haven’t considered?”

Sesshoumaru narrowed his eyes.  “If you’re wondering if I made the ones I chose, drop their pants in order to earn the right, no, I did not.”

“Maybe, but, to be fair, I should assure you that Fai has nothing at all to be ashamed of,” Saori remarked.  “In fact—"

“How about we change the topic?” Fai growled, cheeks pinking as he reached over and pulled Saori away from her cousin.

“Are you attempting to belittle His Grace’s manliness?” Konstantin growled, looking properly offended at the perception that his tai-youkai might be lacking in any area as he crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at Evan.

“Stand down, Kostya,” Fai muttered.

“How is this normal family conversation?” Taras asked dubiously, shaking his head as he glanced from one face to another.

Yerik chuckled.  “This is entirely messed-up . . .”

“We could compare,” Evan added for good measure, reaching for the button on his jeans.

Sesshoumaru sighed.  “Kagura, fetch Tokijin.  I think it’s time Zelig lost one of his own.”

“No need for that,” the wind sorceress quipped, flicking open a fan, holding it before her lips.  “Whip it out, and I’ll chop it off, hell-spawn,” she went on in a remarkably pleasant tone.

“Granted, I have not seen it, but I assure you, His Grace’s penis is sure to be of incomparable size and stature!” Konstantin bellowed.

Fai heaved a longsuffering sigh and covered his face with a hand.  “Kostya, you’re not helping.”

“Show them, Your Grace!”

This time, Fai shot Konstantin what should have been—might have been—a quelling glower—if his face weren’t ten shades of red . . . “I am not—"

“Then he obviously hasn’t met Bubby yet,” Evan said with a wolfish grin.  “I mean, you wanna talk length and girth? You should see the schlang on him!  It’s gotta be better than a good fo—”

The miscreant cut himself off with a hoot of laughter as a single wind blade exploded at his feet.  Hopping back, he grinned entirely unrepentantly at his great-aunt, and then, he had the audacity to wink at her.

Kagura rolled her eyes, shook her head, but the sparkle in her magenta eyes was unmistakable.

“Fantastic.  I’m never going to be able to look at Bas, ever again,” Rinji grouched.

Konstantin snorted indelicately, crossing his beefy arms over his chest in a show of umbrage.  “Tch!  ‘Tis naught!  That would be little more than a child’s plaything!  I’m certain that His Grace’s penis is at least double that and more!  In fact—”

Yerik sighed.  “Kostya, stop before Fai kills you,” he warned, nodding his head in Fai’s direction.

Konstantin glanced at Fai, then recoiled slightly before managing to put his bravado back into place once more.  “My apologies, Your Grace.”

Fai slowly shook his head, wishing that his skin wasn’t as red as he suspected that it was.   “I don’t think I like this cousin of yours, Saori,” he ventured in a very loud stage whisper.

She giggled.  “Oh, he’s harmless.”

Evan, troublemaker that he was, only grinned.

Fai leaned back in the chair, staring thoughtfully across the wide expanse of desk at the quartz-youkai, who met his gaze and returned it without blinking.

They’d retired to his office to discuss his part in the whole kidnapping incident since Fai had enough time to clear his head and after watching the man interact with the others for the greater part of the afternoon.

He’d heard everything that the others had told him—most especially, Kagura, Aiko, and, of course, Saori.  The men, it seemed, hadn’t actually dealt with Taras directly, and they were remaining strangely silent on the matter, allowing Fai to draw his own conclusions.

Right now, however, the rest of them were all outside, trying to figure out, just what to do with the gaudy metal statue that Evan had brought along—a wedding gift, he’d said—a work of art created by one of Evan’s best friends, or so he’d also said.  When asked what the fifteen-foot-sculpture was, it hadn’t really surprised Fai to hear that the name of it was Orgasm.  He sighed.

“Tell me why you were working for Evgeni,” Fai asked, settling in for the discussion.

Taras frowned.  “Does it matter?  The beginning and end of it is that I kidnapped your mate, knowing well enough that Evgeni meant to harm her.”

“Then, why did you change your mind?”

“Aside from her, poisoning me, you mean?”

Fai blinked.  “Come again?”

Taras shook his head.  “She poisoned me, so I didn’t really have a choice—and then, she offered me more money than Evgeni was paying me, so it was an easy decision.”

“So, it’s not a question of allegiance,” Fai concluded.

Taras’s expression turned a little more foreboding.  “In my line of work, there isn’t such a thing as allegiance, Your Grace.  It’s all about the bottom line.”

“Why is that?” Fai countered mildly.

Taras seemed a little surprised by the directness of Fai’s question.  “I . . . have my reasons,” he muttered.

“Considering you ought to be trying to convince me to allow you to walk away from here, then I suggest you try being a little more forthcoming,” Fai warned.  “After all, you, alone, survived yesterday, and to be honest, I’m not entirely sure that I should overlook your involvement.  Any way you look at it, you took Saori there, knowing that it was dangerous, and, even if you warned her, that doesn’t excuse what you’ve done.”

The look Taras shot him spoke volumes.  He hadn’t ever really believed any differently, had he, even if Saori had assured him that she’d talk to Fai on his behalf.  “There’s always a risk in my line of work,” he replied.  “It never goes away.  Nine hundred, ninety-nine times, I will succeed.  This is the one time I did not.  Do what you feel is right, Your Grace.  It’s a risk I always weigh.”

Fai shook his head, unable to piece together what Taras said with the reality of it all.  Maybe it seemed almost weirdly noble, but he couldn’t help but to think that there was something else—something far deeper—something that Taras simply didn’t want to talk about . . . He stood up, ventured over to pour a glass of vodka, and, upon second thought, he poured one for Taras, as well.

Maybe it was Saori’s influence, and yet, he couldn’t help but think that maybe she was right.  Perhaps Taras hadn’t told them everything, and maybe the rest of it would make a difference.  After all, simply pursuing money . . . Somehow, Taras didn’t exactly seem the type.  Maybe it was his overall demeanor; Fai didn’t know, but it just might matter a lot, if he could comprehend what drove him . . .

Setting a glass on the desk before Taras, Fai took his time, heading back to the chair he’d vacated.  “You know, you don’t strike me as the type who only cares about the bottom line,” he remarked rather thoughtfully.  “I’ll make a deal with you.  I’ll tell you nothing but the truth if you do the same for me.  Right now, I’ll be honest.  I have no idea, just what to do with you.  If I can ascertain that you’re not a threat to me, then I really have no qualms in allowing you to walk free.  So, you . . . you need to trust me.”

A few emotions flickered vaguely over the quartz-youkai’s features, but none of them were concrete enough for Fai to get a good read on.  The seconds ticked away as Taras tried to come to a decision.  It really all came down to whether or not the man could trust him with his story, Fai supposed.  It wasn’t an easy thing to gauge.

Slouching slightly to the side, Taras rubbed his eyes in a weary sort of way before he reached for the glass that Fai had set before him.  He drained the vodka before he spoke.

“I . . . I have a brother,” he said slowly, haltingly, as though he were measuring what he was saying—how much he was willing to give voice.  “My parents died almost a year ago, and I’ve been caring for him since, taking over my father's business—mercenary, private detective, often times on the wrong side of it, but Father never got involved, did only what was asked of him.  It was never personal, just a job.  My mother’s brother—my uncle—never approved of my father’s profession, and he . . . He stole my brother away while I was out on a job eight months ago.  He took him.  I was able to trace them to Auckland, New Zealand, but they disappeared in the mountains, and I . . . I can’t find them.”

Fai considered that, carefully watched Taras, trying to detect any hint of a lie.  There was none, and the misery, the irritation in the man’s expression . . . Just how would Fai feel if someone had taken off with Yerik?  He grimaced.  He knew damn well how he’d feel about that.  He’d have moved heaven and earth to find and recover him; that’s what . . .

“So, you’re doing whatever you can do to make money so you can find your brother.  Am I right?”

Taras ground his teeth together but jerked his head once.  “My uncle hails from New Zealand.  He knows the countryside better than anyone.  Those mountains . . . Once you go in there, you’re lost unless you’ve got a native to lead you through.  I may never find Dash, but . . . but I’ve got to try . . .”

Fai nodded slowly, comprehension and understanding dawning upon him as the entire story fell into place—the missing part of it that Fai understood.  A brother—a younger brother . . .

He sighed.  “Taras, can you promise me that you’ll work for only me?  Can you do what you do, but in the name of the tai-youkai?  In return, I’ll see if I can’t find a way to help you regain your brother, but I have to know that your allegiance lies with me.”

Taras’s chin lifted, his eyes brightening as though he hadn’t considered what Fai was offering.  For a moment, he seemed to be considering whether or not he could trust him, but in the end, he slowly nodded.  “I . . . I can do that,” he allowed.

Fai gave a curt nod, too.  “Good.  Now, give me all the information you have on your brother and his whereabouts.  I’ll start by calling Jude Covington, see if he knows anything.”

Taras rubbed his chin, seemed to be thinking about something.  In the end, he just cleared his throat.  “Your Grace . . . I . . . I won’t let you down.”