Adult-FanFiction.org : Inuyasha / Yashahime

Walks at Midnight
By : Henrietta
Category: InuYasha > General
Views: 4163 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own InuYasha, nor make money from this story.
Chapter List
- 1-Walks at Midnight
- 2-Whiskey
- 3-Blood
- 4-Swamp
- 5-The Girl
- 6-Bugs
- 7-Poetry
- 8-Braids
- 9-Dead Man Walking
- 10-Trouble
- 11-News
- 12-The Wind
- 13-Plans
- 14-Vengeance
- 15-Cleaning up
- 16-Souls
- 17-For Erin
- 18-Alive again
- 19-The Search
- 15
- 16
- 17
Disclaimer: I don�t own Inuyasha or any of its characters.

Does a house have a soul?

The view from the street of the great, white French Revival home had become obscured over the years by the untamed growth of the garden left to its own devices, as well as by the low hanging oak branches and masses of tangled gray vines. Consequently, since Fortune was standing on that well-lit, pleasant street in front of his home, he did find that he had to crane his neck every which way to find a clear view needed to glimpse his home�s interior through the windows.

But in order to look into a house�s soul, you must be able to see through its windows.

Light was shining brightly through the large windows across the lower story, but even so they appeared strangely vacant and devoid of life. They have not always looked so, Fortune recalled.

---------------

Years ago, a niece, a nephew, and more cousins, all of varying ages, had once skidded up and down the long hallway of the home and across the wood floors in games of chase and hide and seek. Bounding from room to room, they pounded up the stairs to the bedrooms and out the back door to the hide and run in the garden. Charlotte, never having had children of her own, doted on these children, enjoying the added warmth and life with which they seemed to endue her home. She encouraged them to spend their summers here, trampling the newly planted tulips in her gardens and hiding under the large pine beds.

�Aunt Charlotte, we picked you some flowers for you. See,� Lilith, her young niece, chimed happily, her chubby little fingers holding out a spray of jasmine and something wild she had found growing along the edges of the garden.

Smiling, the elegant, dark-haired woman held out her own delicate hand to take the flowers. She leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to the child�s forehead before the little girl bounded off again to join her older cousins. She preserved the flowers later between the pages of a thick volume containing an anthology of birds.

During the winters, Charlotte entertained a more mature crowd in the parlor with witty conversations, games of poker and canasta, and occasionally, in the dining room with strong drink and well-spiced food cooked by her maid, Mary, who was blessed with ample culinary skills. During the months designated for the Madi Gras season, relatives, friends from out of town, and even the children poured in and out of the home, caught up in the myriad of activities, grand balls and parades surrounding the festive season proceeding Lent. These mid-winter days were often spent sleeping until noon, while the nights were a flurry of activity; white, tan and lavender trimmed dresses tossed to and fro in fits of feminine indecision. Her husband would arrive home late in the evening still needing to change into his dark dress clothes, but there was time. The events would last well into the night, leaving sufficient room for belated appearances.

After all the noise and bluster, the house was finally left dark and quiet for the evening as Charlotte had turned her silver key in the door lock. Husband and wife, arms linked, descended the broad porch steps together to attend whatever ball their section of New Orleans�s society was throwing.

The house was never the same without Charlotte around. It was not only her vibrant, personality or keen eye for decorating, but also her knack for attracting appealing and lively guests to the home that ever filled it with laughter and interest. After her death, the house was left, as Fortune preferred, nearly as it had been in Charlotte�s day. The color scheme was preserved with her vivid reds, blues and soft creams setting off the dark hued rosewood and oak furnishings. Her prized Staffordshire figurines and collection of Birdseye maple decorative boxes were left in their originally strategically placed positions on various furniture pieces. All the meticulously planned themes and small personal touches with which she had decorated the home had been left fastidiously intact. He had been reluctant to make even the smallest change, even in the name of functional and modern renovations. However, at Emma�s prodding, nearly seventy five years later he had consented to a few of these changes.

The fact that he desired consistency and valued repetition also made it pleasurable to maintain the home in its traditional fashion. Still, none of these measures were able to preserve the warmth and vibrancy that had made his niece�s home so attractive to Fortune while she was still living.

Yes, even Fortune was in and out of the grand home on several occasions while Charlotte was alive.

The house and its possessions could still be called lovely�but in distant way, taking on an almost artificial, museum-like quality. After over a hundred years of legal possession, he still did not feel like the true owner of this house. Instead, he felt like a naughty child who happened across the key �a sort of inhuman Goldilocks who sat in chairs too big or two small, slept in beds too soft or too hard, as well as stealing the lives of those around him to obtain nourishment. It was an unusual feeling, to feel like a stranger in what was, for all intents and purposes, your own home for so many years.

He had quickly discovered this one truth�that the house he has so coveted during Charlotte�s lifetime, the home which seemed to glow with life and laughter and radiate contentment and joy, was only an empty shell, a mere reminder, after her death.

He already knew this, but still he had stood out there in the darkness, straining to catch a glimpse of the life inside of the large white house.

Nighttime suited the home now. If you walked its halls by daylight, the sunlight would reveal a set of dusty and faded ladies� hats carefully preserved in their original position, untouched by human hands so long as to lose their sense of utility. When entering the parlor by day, the illusion of a wealthy and plush atmosphere was dashed by the subtle fading on large portions of the velvet cloth covering the furniture. There were tracks where a hundred years of sunlight had traveled, leeching the color and leaving long swathes of material with a slightly yellowed appearance. Some of the oil paintings had also faded in streaks where the countless hours of sunlight had played across its pallet. Others simply had landscape colors which had faded from once brilliant jades and rusts into dull green- browns and gray. It was obvious that no one had utilized the carefully preserved rooms of the home for quite some time.

Fortune had allowed this to happen. He was not ignorant of the slow, stealthy workings of time and sunlight on the colors and dyes of his possessions. Yet he did not shift or shade the furniture and pictures in attempt to protect them from the ravages of time. They belonged to him, as he did reside therein, but he did not feel he had the right to disturb this place, nor did he desire to. Thus, his obsessive nature and his memory of the home�s former warmth kept him from moving the pieces, even to protect them from time.

Despite all these things, at times, Fortune did feel a certain affinity. He knew what it felt like to be without a soul, or at least to have one which was both sorely neglected and hopelessly impractical in his current position. If anything, it must be an ancient, withered artifact of his humanity preserved pitifully inside of the immortal shell of his body. It was left only to sit and grow pale and yellowed under the weight of time. What was left of it, if anything, after all this time, all this violence, all this blood? Left to grow pale and yellowed under the weight of time�or, would his soul instead be stained darker, blacker with dried blood and disuse?

As for his home, he had long ago come to the conclusion that the house and its many possessions, as illogical as it sounded, only responded to Charlotte�s presence. While she was alive, the distant beauty was nonexistent, instead the home around her glowed with charm and geniality. You felt welcome, as if by the mere association with Charlotte�s presence you belonged there as well. Fortune could not decide if this was due to her natural charm or if, by design, she had forged some sort of connection to the house through her careful ministrations to make it beautiful. Either way, it acted almost as an extension of her vivacious and gentle personality.

Realizing all of this, that he could never have the warmth of humanity which had initially made the home inordinately attractive, did not make him sad. Frustrated perhaps, even foolish, but never sad. He had spent many long years in conflict, before he slowly loosened his grip on the last tattered vestiges of his humanity. He had reconciled himself to this fact and so no longer grieved its loss. He had always known, in the back of his mind, that the house�s soul, his own soul, were now inaccessible, fleeting qualities which he could no longer touch. They were tied to humanity and death�things lost to him long ago. Instead he was left with two museum pieces, the human soul preserved inside his immortal body like some sort of brittle half-formed fetus, as well as the empty corpse of a house containing her carefully preserved and unused possessions.

Fortune finally left the street and started toward the back of the house. He had stood outside of many homes looking in, watching the humans there, their lives filled with a million frivolous, repetitive daily actions�cooking, cleaning, dressing, and working. He saw also the distinct, noteworthy events�arguments, joyful embraces, lovemaking. He observed their mercurial existence and wondered what it was that could possibly be lacking.

An inhabited home, with its personal and private belongings, Fortune imagined, seemed to steadily chant,

I�m alive, I�m alive, I�m alive�.

He also fancied that his own habitation would voice a similar mantra as the boarded up, abandoned homes just a mile or two off in the lesser neighborhoods to the north. Its empty windows would seem to whisper,

I was once alive, I was once alive�.

------------------

Sesshoumaru watched Erin slowly rocking back and forth in the old chair, each movement eliciting an abrasive and annoying creak, creak from the wooden baseboards of the wide porch.

He was mulling over the events of the previous evening. Fortune had been trying to draw her out in conversation and she had responded, though in a halting and shy way. He was not sure if he approved of this new interaction between the two of them. It left the bitter taste of jealousy on his tongue, causing him to watch and overanalyze every little move, every gesture, and each word that passed between the two of them. It was his nature, he supposed, to be protective and jealous. He sighed, realizing this was similar, like so many other things, to what had transpired before.

Fortune was due to arrive any minute. The sun had set just minutes before and, in the dark branches of the trees, some sort of summer insect had begun its soft hypnotic droning. He had asked Erin what sort of insect it was out of idle curiosity.

�Someone once told me they were locusts,� she answered uncertainly, �this time of year; I used to find their shells stuck to the bark of the trees. I�d pull them off and stick them to my sister�she�s so scared of bugs.� She chuckled at the memory.

Sesshoumaru gave her a look that might have been one of mild shock. �Why would you do that?�

�I don�t know. I guess it was fun to chase her. She would scream too. It�s not like they could hurt her or anything.�

Sesshoumaru paused a few moments, as if carefully weighing whether or not he should say anything more on the subject before he continued, �You shouldn�t have done that.�

�What?� Erin was confused. Was he still talking about bugs?

�Never mind.� He dismissed the subject abruptly.

Erin accepted this, closing her eyes and enjoying the feeling of the steady rocking. The previous discussion and the sound of the low droning of insects brought to mind hot summer evenings spent playing with her older sister. Before her mother had died, they had spent many summers on her Aunt�s spread of land outside the city. Her home was a small trailer situated at the edge of a couple of acres of empty pastureland bordered by thick woods. They would spend their days exploring the woods and a shallow creek flowing near by and the long, quiet hours of the late evening sprawled out on the floor of her Aunt�s trailer together, watching television.

Oftentimes, her Mother and Aunt would leave them for an hour or two in the evenings before turning out the lights and directing them to go to sleep on the fold out couch. The girls would watch stealthily from cracks in the window blinds as their Aunt backed the old Ford Mustang down the gravel drive. The sweep of headlights illuminated the surrounding trees and they searched them for the ghostly outlines of animals or the eerie green reflection of eyes peering out of the surrounding woods.

�I think I saw a raccoon!�

�Too low to the ground, that was just an opossum, or a rat.�

�Look! I think that�s a deer.�

�No, that just was the neighbor�s dog.�

�Or a coyote maybe?�

�Doubt it.�

This nightly ritual helped the girls feel more secure in knowing what creatures were lurking in the woods near by. Still, it was both terrifying and strangely exciting to think that one day they might see the outline of something large and feral such as a wolf or bear caught in the retreating beams of light, or even something more sinister.

�I saw �Rudy� dragging his bloody foot.�

�Ha ha.�

�Yeah, it was probably just a serial killer.�

They made a game of daring each other to venture outside alone. They would stand in the dark, trembling, until fear sent their feet scrambling back towards the trailer. Sometimes it was for thirty seconds, a minute, or even longer in her sister�s case. Erin could never seem make it past a minute� her heart would begin racing and she would start feeling small and cramped, as if the darkness were closing in around her. Sometimes her sister would hold the door closed until she would scream and cry in terror, beating her small fists against the door. But part of the role of a little sister was to ignore these things and, inevitably, she would agree to try again. Once, her sister had dared her to run through the dark to the tree line and back.

Erin could hear the gravel drive crunching under her feet, the only indication of how far she was from the tree line since her eyes had not yet adjusted to the darkness. Finally, she felt cool grass under her feet, �not far now.� Her eyes had adjusted partially by then and she could barely make out the grayish forms of the trees ahead of her.

She stopped short.

A pair of eyes flashed in front of her, reflecting the light shining from the trailer�s windows. �It�s probably just a rabbit,� she thought, trying to calm racing heart.

It growled.

Erin tore back across the yard towards the trailer, her heart and legs pumping furiously. �I won�t make it, I won�t make it.� The thought kept circling in her head. She felt her foot scrape the gravel of the driveway and she was instantly blinded by a flash of light. Relief flooded over her, melting the terror away. Her Mother and Aunt�they were back. With that thought, a new fear wormed its way into her thoughts. �I�m going to be in so much trouble.�

That event marked the last of their nighttime escapades. Her Aunt moved away to Nevada shortly thereafter. At the time, Erin was both sad and relieved.

Her reverie was interrupted by the creaking of the door and Fortune�s smooth voice, �Are you two going to sit out there all night?�

He escorted them inside and down the hallway to the parlor. He thought they might play a game of cards tonight, or perhaps chess would be nice. The game tables had not been used in years.

---------------------

Sesshoumaru stood watching Fortune and Erin play chess in corner of the parlor. Actually, Fortune was teaching Erin to play chess, and making a mess of it. The vampire was not very patient with the girl, expecting her to understand the intricacies of the game without sufficient tutoring. Sesshoumaru did not interfere, since he knew that his own nature also lacked adequate patience to tutor a fourteen-year-old girl. Idly, Sesshoumaru let his fingers glide over the top of an antique writing desk, claws harmlessly upturned to avoid leaving scratches on its deep cherry wood stain. Instead, his fingertips left long trails in the dust-covered surface. Did Fortune never clean his home?

Sesshoumaru almost snickered at the image of Fortune in a maid�s uniform complete with frilly duster, busily cleaning the room. Good god! How could he have just found that image amusing? With thoughts such as these, he must be spending too much time with the vampire. Was his ridiculous sense of humor somehow contagious?

He eyed the vampire suspiciously. Fortune seemed to be studying the pieces on the board intently, while Erin looked bored.

�Come on, Fortune. It�s been three minutes. You aren�t nervous, are you?�

�Pah! I�m just having a hard time deciding my next move. And do shut up�it�s rude to interrupt another player.� No closer to deciding his next move�he was highly paranoid the girl would win this time due to Sesshoumaru�s coaching�he looked around the room for a distraction.

�Sesshoumaru, are you still standing around like a�what kind of animal stands all the time? Oh, like big, pink flamingo in my living room. I thought weasels were supposed to instinctively burrow, not stand around looking constipated,� When Sesshoumaru ignored his taunt, Fortune stated again more loudly, �why don�t you sit? Make yourself comfortable, or at least pretend to do so. You are making Erin here feel nervous with all your weasel-y glaring.�

�I am a dog youkai. You forget.�

�Forgetful, yes, that�s it. At any rate, you look like a weasel. Could you please humor me and sit down and stop making us nervous.�

Again, he ignored the vampire. Any unease on Erin�s part was likely due to her close proximity to the vampire. It pleased Sesshoumaru to note that his mere presence could still unnerve her. However, she certainly was much more comfortable with the vampire now than a few days ago. Despite her obvious distaste for his bloodthirsty nature, there was an easing of tension of sorts between the two of them, enough so that they conversed freely with one another now.

Sesshoumaru was not sure how he felt about this easing of tension between Erin and Fortune. The events of a few evenings past were not entirely disastrous. The only fatality had apparently been one of his favorite shirts�as expected, the blood stains did not come out. In a seldom-indulged fit of anger, he had melted the thin material using his poison until it disintegrated completely beneath his angry gaze. Fortunately, no one was present to witness his transgression.

Not that it had bothered him in the least�the tension, that is. All that had been important to him was Erin�s well-being and her continued fondness for him. Yes, he admitted to himself this time around, he was quite pleased to be the recipient of the young girl�s attentions and admiration. Little did he care if that regard included the vampire or not. No, he corrected himself, a part of him did care. That baser part of him, the instinct driven beast within, preferred to have no rivals for her attentions. Having her and Fortune at odds had given that instinctual side of himself a feeling of both superiority over the vampire and reassurance that her attentions would not be divided. Not that he needed anything else in order to feel superior to the vampire, he reminded himself.

Still, considering the potentially hazardous events of the previous eve, there were practical advantages of having the two companions on good terms. He would not have to worry overmuch about Erin becoming another of Fortune�s victims. And, accordingly, she did not appear to show any preference for the vampire�s company. Not ideal, perhaps, but then what was in this life�other than himself, of course.

A snippet from an earlier conversation he�d had with the vampire drifted through his mind.

You mean you eat your friends?

Um, no, not exactly like that�well, yes, I have done that�.

At any rate, Fortune could not very well be expected to be the able and deferential bodyguard that Jaken had been for Rin. He was too bloodthirsty for that.

So much for Erin being safe with her new friend, Fortune, Sesshoumaru thought sarcastically. I really should kill the vampire. Wait, he groaned inwardly, now that she and Fortune were �friends� that would not be possible. At least he was amusing at times�

This time it was Erin who interrupted his thoughts, �What does it mean exactly, to be an inu-youk�,� she paused here, struggling to remember the correct pronunciation of the word.�

�You mean a dog demon?� Fortune offered helpfully, still intently studying the board in front of him..

�A demon? Is that the same thing as a youkai,� Erin asked, looking up at Sesshoumaru.

�That is one translation for the word, yes.�

�A demon,� Erin repeated again incredulously, �does that mean you come from hell, torture souls, work for Satan, the whole bit?� Somehow this did not at all fit the silver- haired angelic figure standing before her. �Can you enter holy ground?�

�Of course it�s true. Didn�t I tell you that he tortured all those other young girls,� Fortune offered with a smile much too broad to be fitting for such a statement.

�I did no such thing,� the youkai corrected. Though his face was unreadable, he had been highly amused that she might think that he �worked� for the devil. In attempt to clear the confusion caused by the imprecise translation, he clarified, ��Demon� is indeed one of the English equivalents to �youkai�, but it is not an accurate summation of what I am. I do not work for Satan, and I am not a demon of the sort that you would find in Christian mythology. There does not seem to be an completely acceptable translation�perhaps spirit or magical creature might be another word equivalent to youkai, but those are not very precise either.�

�I was thinking �fairy�,� Fortune offered snidely.

Erin thought she was more confused now than before, but she was a little relieved to hear that at least he was not purely evil. She had been raised catholic and it was nice to know that she was not endangering her immortal soul by association.

�I liked it better believing you were an evil dog sent from the pits of hell to torture us with your dim wit and dull sense of humor,� Fortune added.

Erin was reminded of her earlier question, �What does it mean that you are a dog demon, then. You certainly don�t look like a dog. You look more like an elf, or even a vampire.�

Sesshoumaru looked rather taken aback by this comment, but made no reply.

�Yes, that is true.� Fortune looked thoughtful. �You do not resemble a dog, perhaps that is why I keep forgetting,� he chuckled.

�I think not.�

�Truly, your characteristics are more�feline.� Fortune was pleased to see the youkai stiffen slightly at this comment, though, as usual, no emotion registered on his features. �I am not joking. And, I think Erin will agree with me here, what dog ever uses its claws to fight.� He got up and walked to the corner where Sesshoumaru stood, extending his hand, �if I may,� he requested and grasped the youkai�s hand, holding it up for Erin to see. �Look at these claws, very much like a cat�s, don�t you think, Erin?�

Sesshoumaru hastily jerked his hand free of the vampire�s grip. He would not be made into as a sideshow by the insufferable leech.

"And, his eyes,� Fortune continued, gesturing towards his face �as you can see, the jewel-like color reminds one of a cat�s eyes, plus they are slightly slanted in shape like a feline. And these stripes,� Fortune reached towards his cheek, �why they remind me of whiskers.�

Sesshoumaru slapped the vampire�s finger away, �my eyes are the shape that they are due to my heritage, buffoon.�

�I�ve seen dogs with yellow eyes before,� and it was kind of creepy, Erin protested, trying to show her support.

�Yet you cannot deny the problem with the claws. A dog�s main defense is his ferocious bite and I�ve never seen Sesshoumuaru bite anyone, have you?�

�That would be your territory, vampire.�

�Plus, you are quite fast, and amazingly agile�dogs are simply not so agile�are you certain that you aren�t feline?�

�Yes.�

�How can you be sure? Perhaps your mother lied about your father�s identity?�

�No.�

�It happens.�

Fortune�s assertion was met with stony silence, but this did not hamper his ability to continue the conversation unaided.

�But�but how can you be sure you aren�t mistaken,� Fortune repeated, almost laughing at this point. �Perhaps I am the first soul brave enough to inform you of this mistaken identity which has followed you throughout your entire life�how long have you labored under this misapprehension? Five hundred years?�

�I am not mistaken,� Sesshoumaru simply stated again, flatly.

�But, how do you really know? You are obviously in denial. Look at all the evidence which I have presented to the contrary�you are definitely a feline youkai and judging by your hair,� he paused here, squinting one eye quizzically, �and appearance, hm, I�d say your breeding hints of some sort of pampered Persian.�

Hoping to end Fortune�s amusement at his benefit, Sesshoumaru crossed his arms over his chest and turned away. This further served to help prevent him from slashing out angrily at Fortune with his claws.

You won�t stop me that easy, Fortune thought stubbornly. He grinned broadly and began to shuffle through one of the drawers in the antique writing desk. He pulled out a photograph and shoved it towards Sesshoumaru.

It was a photo of a yellow Labrador retriever, hovering mere inches from his face. Sesshoumaru�s eyes bled red for a moment and he swiped at the photo, slicing it in two with a flick of his claws. Irritation and desire to strike at the vampire grated his nerves. He used his sharp claws of his other hand to dig into the antique desk to his left, releasing his poison into the wood.

�My picture of Bo-bo! My desk! Sesshoumaru, no! Bad, bad, bad kitty!�

Swiftly, Sesshoumaru slapped the Fortune across the face, leaving him with five thin, red scratches running down his cheek and a dumbfounded expression. I didn�t see that one coming, he thought, bemused.

�Stop that,� Erin yelled, causing both men to turn immediately in her direction. Faced with the intense glare of two pairs of otherworldly eyes, Erin simply stood and stared, hands gripping the table in front of her and a frightened expression on her face.

�All is well, Erin,� Sesshoumaru said soothingly, as if he were attempting to calm a frightened animal, �we will not fight again.�

�You could have fooled me,� Fortune drawled out scathingly, brushing a hand over the thin lines of blood trailing down his pale cheek.

With this reassurance, Erin�s grip on the table relaxed and she stood, pushing herself up from the table and approached the two males. She stopped a couple of feet away and bent down to the floor and began feeling around. What the hell does she think she is doing, Fortune wondered.

Erin righted herself, holding in her hand several pieces of the ripped photograph. Carefully, she pieced them together and looked at the uneven photograph of the dog. �Was this your dog?�

�Yes,� Fortune seemed embarrassed. Sesshoumaru gave him a sharp look. The vampire never ceased to amaze him. �No animals would be able to tolerate your presence�your scent would be too disturbing,� he commented in a matter of fact tone.

�Yes, well, Bo-bo, he was unique,� Fortune clarified, a little hesitation in his voice.

More likely the dog was exceedingly dim-witted. Sesshoumaru chose not to voice this insult, since he was relieved that the attention had finally been drawn away from the questioning of his true nature. Taunting the vampire would only serve to further draw out this tiresome ordeal.

�Aw, I think that it was so sweet that you had a dog, Fortune. No one ever said that vampires can�t have pets.� Erin looked up at Fortune with shining eyes. She really liked dogs.

�Very human of you,� Sesshoumaru could not resist adding after witnessing Erin�s beaming face. She was giving him far too much credit.

�I always thought so.� Fortune glanced at Sesshoumaru, giving him an amused smile.

�Sesshoumaru,� Erin said, laying the torn photo carefully down on the writing desk, �is it true then, that you really are a cat youkai?�

�No,� he spat. He was beginning to get a angry again. First, the vampire and now the girl were bent on harassing him to the ends of his patience today. Was there some conspiracy to annoy him? He did not miss the vampire�s amused look at the exchange.

Erin lowered her eyes, communicating wordlessly that she must have been a little hurt by his sharp response.

More softly this time, he explained, �I am, indeed, a dog youkai.� He saw Fortune�s mouth open to speak again and he quickly raised a finger to silence him. �I know this for a fact since when I transform, I take the form of a canine.�

�You can transform into a dog,� Erin asked incredulously.

�Prove it,� taunted Fortune, still wanting to continue his feline jokes, even though he was also a bit eager to see this new side of the youkai.

�No, I will not. My size would not permit that. I am several stories tall in my true form and, if you wish your house to remain intact, you should not ask this of me.�

�Hm,� was Fortune�s only response. He was looking dreamily off into the distance and Sesshoumaru wasn�t sure if he were processing this new bit of information, or were now bored with the conversation and had moved on.

�Wow,� Erin responded, slightly more coherently.

Satisfied that his explanation had cleared the air and would allow the discussion to move forward to more appropriate topics, Sesshoumaru moved to stare out of the window into the darkened garden.

�You have not actually seen yourself in a mirror after you have transformed, have you Sesshoumuaru?�

Sesshoumaru stifled an irritated groan. He plans to continue this ridiculous banter all evening, doesn�t he? Surely this is the true meaning of torture.

----------------------------------

�This place is dusty.�

�I know that. Perhaps you would like to volunteer your services?�

Fortune looked across the chessboard at the back of Erin�s head. She had gotten restless and began wandering about the room while he took his time in deciding his next move. Currently, she stood, with her back to him and next to Sesshoumaru, looking down at the trail of fingerprints he had left on the surface of the writing desk.

Her hair..., Fortune thought, It was the wrong color, but its soft appearance reminded him of Emma somehow. Perhaps if she cut it shorter and styled her curls instead of straightening them, she would look quite similar to Emma.

In fact, he seemed to remember having this very discussion with Emma.

�I guess I could,� she finally responded. She did not sound too enthused, but it caught him by surprise that she was even willing, �it really does need it,� she added.

This reaction was certainly different, he noted, looking Erin over carefully. Those two are not so similar in personality. For some reason, that thought pleased him. Erin is more innocent and naive. I suppose that comes with her being younger.

Tonight, Erin wore a couple of cheap, plastic bracelets sporting words such as, �Strength� and �Sassy�. Other than these, she was unadorned and he thought she looked a bit frumpy in her faded jeans and t-shirt. He remembered that Emma had always loved jewelry�he had obtained several pieces for her during their time together�rings, elegant bracelets, expensive necklaces. Her smile was always so bright, and greedy, when presented with his expensive, if ill-gotten, gifts. With the exception of one time�he had given her a set of gold and sapphire earrings. Her lips had turned down slightly in that attractive pout of hers for an instant before she gave him a fake smile and thanked him a little too enthusiastically.

After prodding her, she finally admitted her deep distaste for yellow gold, �it�s gaudy. I believe it should only be worn by rich old women.�

She had been such a spoiled little thing.

He wondered how Erin would look if he presented her with a pretty, little trinket.

At least I might be able to get that stuffy youkai�s goat. With that thought, he now knew what he would be spending tomorrow evening.

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AN: Thanks to the reviewers of chapter 15!

Botticelliangel: I�m so glad you enjoyed Fortune�s history. A little more of it here, in a round about way. I hope you like this next chappie!

Gem: Thanks for the word of support�I�m glad the change of pace went over well. Quirky is good, ne?

Golden: So nice to hear from you again. Going into a reading frenzy�that sounds like loads of fun. I�m sooo jealous.

Dark Avenger: Thanks for the review. Glad you like the story, and thanks for all your help as a beta. I will get those early chapters that you�ve completed up after this posting.

Special thanks to LiberatedMysteryGirl and Metria for their help in beta reading this chapter, as well as previous chapters. Couldn�t have done it without you guys! *big kiss*

I will be re-posting edited versions of the first couple of chapters soon. I will include a note in the summary that that is what I am doing so it won�t seem like a new chapter is up. (trying to do better about that). Have first part of Chapter 17 written, so it should be up on or hopefully before next Saturday. A quicker update, yes!

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Walks at Midnight	By : Henrietta Category: InuYasha > General Views: 4163 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own InuYasha, nor make money from this story.

Walks at Midnight