Disclaimer: Kenshin does not own the Yuu Yuu Hakusho characters (they are the property of Togashi Yoshihiro et al), and does not make any money from said characters.
What Kenshin does own, however, are all the original characters 2in this work. Any attempt to "borrow" these characters will be
met with the katana, or worse.
Idiot Beloved takes place shortly after the Dark Tournament; Firebird Sweet directly follows. As always, thank you for your reviews and faves!
This particular tale casts Shayla Kidd in the role of detective.
Title: Dimensions: A Shayla Kidd Mystery
Author: JaganshiKenshin
Genre: Action/Adventure, Mystery
Rating: K+/PG-13
Summary: A house of horrors, and Shayla Kidd walks into it.
When a black cat crosses her path, the nightmare begins
Dimensions: A Shayla Kidd Mystery
by
Kenshin
"I draw the line at breaking and entering," said Kaitou Yuu, as he handed Shayla Kidd a can of coffee. She popped the top, taking a sip of hot liquid as she pondered the case.
"But it'll be fun," insisted Hiei.
"In spades," said Kurama, gazing raptly at a small box in his hands, leaf-green eyes alight like a kid on Christmas morning. "I can test these Tibetan seeds Kaitou got me." He added with relish, "One of them might actually explode."
While the three men squabbled genially about the best way to get into the house, Shayla Kidd worked on a possibilty.
They had gathered in Kaitou's cramped downtown office, Shadow Warriors the four of them, unsung, thankless, sent out on covert missions no one else could do.
In this case-investigating a house of horror.
Kurama, whose gentle voice disguised a rather flinty nature, and whose long russet hair concealed an arsenal of plant weapons, leaned gracefully against the office door.
Kaitou gazed out one grimy window, his supremely un-athletic build, cropped black hair and eyeglasses disguising an equally flinty devotion to duty.
Lastly, her own Hiei, lounging at Kaitou's desk, black-flame hair bristling with a testy amusement, white headband concealing the Jagan, his implanted third eye.
Shayla Kidd herself possessed a few hidden gifts. Putting her coffee on a squat file cabinet, she turned to Kaitou, batting her lashes for effect. "I will need," she said in her most honeyed tones, "a beater car."
Kurama said flatly, "It's too dangerous."
"Don't worry," she replied. "I have a plan."
Hiei straightened, alert but silent.
"I can get the car." Kaitou reached for the phone. In his role as freelance writer, he had a wider circle of acquaintances than anyone, and could fulfill almost any request.
"He's like Q in the old Bond movies," said Kurama.
Old movies. Shayla Kidd had grown up on them.
Kaitou Yuu hung up the phone, grinning. "Bingo."
O-O-O-O-O
Fifteen minutes later, Shayla Kidd was on the road.
"Hiei," said Kurama, once she had gone, "are you all right with this?" He cut his glance toward the door.
Scowling, Hiei drummed on Kaitou's desk. "She's got her gun, and Voice, and you don't know what it's like once she's made up her mind."
"Thank goodness for small favors. Nevertheless-"
"Yeah." Hiei rose. "I'll keep an eye out."
"Which one?" said Kaitou, ducking just in time to miss the paperweight Hiei flung at his head.
O-O-O-O-O
White slavers.
The ancient white Datsun had no air conditioning, a tricky third gear, and black vinyl seats that were badly sprung. Shayla Kidd threaded through quiet residential streets, going over her story and the info Kaitou had gathered about Horror House, as they'd dubbed it.
The house, built in 1931, was owned by a dead person.
Hideyoshi Ken, the owner, had passed away a few years ago. Someone presenting himself as an heir had then moved in.
Except Hideyoshi had no heirs.
A human-looking youkai, Kosui by name, was a known trafficker. An informant had spotted him in the neighborhood.
Kaitou's gambit of knocking on the front door to sell newspaper subscriptions had failed; no one answered. Yet someone lived there. Neighbors reported a stream of cars arriving many nights, men getting out, staying an hour or two.
Last night, Hiei and Kurama had sensed unusual flashes of youki near the house. Time was short. The Shadow Warriors needed an opening. And a woman could get in where men might not.
Women entrapped, then sold at their captor's whim to a stream of anonymous men until they were used up and tossed aside. Girls who wouldn't be missed, lacking family or other close ties. It was the sort of business that made Shayla's blood boil.
No time to disguise her marigold-bright hair, no sunglasses to hide her gray eyes. Her loose yellow overshirt concealed the .32-caliber Beretta holstered to her side.
The Horror House was an ordinary-looking single-story concrete structure, behind the usual barrier fence with an iron entry gate. She parked just in front of the gate.
Maybe she should have asked for backup. No time for regrets now. She got out of the car.
The day was hot, close, shrill with the rasp of cicadas. The gate was unlocked, and gave with a rusty shriek. A small black cat sat on the roof, studying her. Then it turned, and was gone.
A black cat? The hairs on the back of her neck tingled. She hesitated, then hurried down the walkway past the weed-strewn yard to the peeling front door. She leaned on the bell.
A girl of about 20 opened the door on a dingy house, soiled beige paint on the walls and only a few sticks of furniture. Quiet. Almost unnaturally so. No hint of booze or cigarettes or animals, but the air smelled... old.
The hallway, running almost the length of the house, opened onto a dining room at the back. The dining room had a sickly yellow-green door that might lead to the yard.
Shayla Kidd tried her gambit. "I'm so sorry to intrude; may I use your bathroom?" The girl hesitated. Shayla pressed on, adding a touch of Imperative via her own hidden skills-made plausible by the coffee she'd drunk. "Please? I'm desperate."
"Of course." The girl politely inclined her head. "Down the hall." Shayla charged through the open door to her right into a bathroom no larger than a broom closet.
The girl was waiting in the hall when Shayla emerged. Not Japanese; of European or American origin, though her Japanese was fluent enough. Thin, wan, with lank bobbed hair of a muddy color neither blonde nor brown, dull colorless eyes to match. Hint of a fading bruise on her left cheek, and one on her right arm.
Taller than Shayla, she wore a shapeless navy dress, the hem falling almost to her bony ankles. Wispy thread of a voice.
Shayla Kidd sighed. "Miss, you're a lifesaver; I had nowhere else to turn."
"Oh?" The girl displayed only a faint hint of curiosity, as if beaten down to a state of dullness.
"I-I'm on the run from-" began Shayla.
The girl drew a startled breath. "From whom?"
"Doesn't matter. I ran. But if he tracks me here-"
"Don't worry," said the girl. "He can't."
"Are you alone?"
The girl plucked at her sleeve, a jerky, nervous gesture. "For now," she murmured.
But why, she wondered, would the girl's captors leave her alone in the house, even for a few minutes? "Then... could I please impose on you for another favor?"
"Certainly." A refined girl, Shayla estimated, of good background, innocent, but fallen into evil hands?
"I'm very thirsty. Would you...?"
"Oh," said the wan girl. "Please help yourself. The kitchen is down the hall, then again to the right."
Shayla Kidd went into the kitchen, glanced at the bare kitchen counters, then rifled through the cabinets. Nothing that screamed human trafficking, just a dreary assortment of rice crackers and ramen packets.
Been here too long already. She opened a base cabinet, balanced on one knee.
Youki! Faint, but-
Better get out now, take the girl with me, bring her somewhere safe. Say something along the lines of, 'I know we're in the same boat, we can flee together.'
A touch startled her; she almost yelped, then breathed out in relief. It was only the small black cat from outside, at her elbow. Nice kitty. Go away.
She reached out toward the silent, urgent cat, trying to brush it aside, but it disappeared from under her hand-
Shayla Kidd lost her balance, slipped forward, sensed a faint whistle of air. The blow connected with the back of her head. Stars exploded before her eyes. Then darkness.
O-O-O-O-O
When Shayla Kidd came to, her head felt like a wrecking ball had taken a swing at it. Her eyes were gritty. When she tried to open them, a burst of fireworks danced in the dark behind her eyelids. Dizziness struck in nauseating waves.
I will NOT faint, she thought grimly.
She was tied to a wooden chair, hands behind her back. This much she knew even with eyes closed.
Her surroundings felt stale, the air sour. But she was lucky. They had not gagged her, whoever had sapped and tied her. Even with a dry mouth, she could still use her Voice.
Her bonds were cruelly tight, but she was flexible and nimble-when she hadn't just been sapped. Her ankles were tied together, but not to the chair. She tried wriggling her wrists. The coarse rope bit into her flesh.
Opening her eyes hurt. When she turned her head to look around, fireworks started up again, and she had to pause, swallowing hard to quell the rising nausea.
A bare, orange-tinted concrete room, some 10 by 12 feet. A pile of dust in the lefthand corner. The stale smell-no windows, no wonder.
The scuffed ladderback chair to which she was tied stood near the back wall. In the front wall, a sickly yellow-green door. This was likely where they used the captive girls.
No pancake holster strapped to her side.
Of course. They took it. But even without the gun-
She was a trained dancer, strong, quick, agile. Maybe not so strong that she could tear phone books in half. And not so quick with her head spinning, and not so agile from being tied to a chair for-how long?
Impossible to tell in this windowless room. She didn't wear a watch, and they'd taken her phone along with her gun.
Pain shot through her shoulders; hands and feet tingled from being tied, but more luck fell her way: the chair had a wicker seat. This meant it was not as sturdy as one of solid wood. She twisted her hips. The chair groaned in answer. Maybe she could get out of it, but she was no glutton for punishment.
She called to Hiei, via the psychic link made possible through his Jagan. /Help,/ she signaled, /in suspect house./
Hiei could blow through the door in nothing flat.
/Hailing frequencies open./
No response.
She tried again: /In concrete room, tied to chair. Help./
Hiei could free her and get her safely away in half nothing flat. But no reply.
She concentrated until she broke out in a sweat and black spots danced before her eyes. Hiei would come-eventually. But by then, it might be too late. And the girl, she worried, what happened to her? Is she being punished for letting me in?
"Nyan!" She looked down at the sound. The slim black cat was crouched at her feet, ears pinned, tail lashing, staring up with startling Ming-blue eyes.
A talking cat. I'm going to pretend this isn't a result of being sapped. "So they got you, too," she murmured, and was stunned to hear it reply.
"Tried to warn you." The cat had a high, thin mewl of a voice. "You didn't listen."
No time to wonder about this bizarre event. She looked it straight in the eyes. "I'm listening. Warn me about what?"
The cat bristled. The doorknob turned. It spat, "Dimensions!" Then it simply vanished.
The door creaked open. The girl wearing a navy sack dress stepped inside, closed it behind her. Shayla Kidd sighed in relief, then looked again.
Same outfit as before, but-no bruises. And the hair...
"My, my, we are in a predicament, aren't we?" If this was the girl who had let her in the front door, not only had her appearance changed to something older, harder, but also her demeanor: there was an eerie flatness to her eyes, as if all light had died from them. They could have been chips of stone. Her voice was different, too, thick with mockery.
A born Spellcaster, Shayla had trained with Genkai-shihan, honing her natural skills until, with the right wording, pacing and pitch, she could convince anyone to do anything-as she had to gain entry in the first place. "Untie these ropes." She spoke with precise intonation.
"That won't work here." The thin lips spread in an unwholesome smile. "I know who you are, and who your man is. By the time he finds you, you'll be a pile of dust."
Shayla Kidd went bone-cold, but glared in defiance.
"Oh?" Sack Dress lifted an eyebrow. "Such a look. How scary." She edged closer. "Maybe we won't let you die here of starvation and thirst. Maybe we won't kill you at all."
We. She's not alone after all. Who else is here?
"Pretty little thing..." Sack Dress put a hand under Shayla's chin, yanking her head so the gray eyes looked directly into the dead-flat ones. "Maybe we'll try-something more fun."
Shayla tried to squirm away from the reptilian touch. The fingers tightened, painfully. Then the woman released her hold to stroke Shayla's hair with a bony finger. "Yes... pretty."
She backed out and shut the door.
Shayla Kidd let out a long, shaky breath. Room must be soundproofed, and whatever's blocking my psychic link to Hiei is also blocking my powers. She didn't gag me, even knowing who and what I am. Could have spotted Hiei and Kurama last night, guessed my identity. And who is here with her? She can't mean the cat.
I'm on my own.. Her heart sank, but she rallied herself.
Having grown up on movies and TV shows from before she was born, Shayla Kidd had watched characters escape from situations like this. No shard of glass or jagged metal with which to cut her ropes, but-
The rope was thick jute. More luck. Jute has some give. Her hands were tied behind her back, and to the chair; ankles tied together, but not to the chair. Gritting her teeth, Shayla forced her ankles apart. The ropes strained, bit back.
We, she said.. If the youkai came into the room instead of the eerie girl/woman-
She tried again, diligently working her ankles against the ropes. At last, she was able to pry them apart enough to rise in a half-crouch, still tied to the chair. She hobbled backward to the wall, soundproof room working in her favor now. Knocked the side of the chair against the wall. A spurt of pain, more fireworks in her head. She paused, breathing hard. Tried again.
Bam, chair against wall. The lefthand stile splintered.
Hiei, Kurama, Kaitou. Even me. We're not what we seem; each has a hidden talent, secret identity. Who is Sack Dress? Slaver, shapeshifter, both? How does a talking cat fit in?
Again, striking the wall. A cross rail cracked. She swung her weight again. The broken stile splintered further. Again, this time grazing her elbow, making her cry out. She was losing strength. Her sweat-damp shirt clung. Again-
Crack. She slipped, and the chair fell, taking her with it. But the impact finished the broken cross rail, the stile, and one leg. She lay on the hard, uncomfortable floor, recovering enough breath to go on, aware that time was running out.
With the chair broken, she laboriously worked her tied hands around to the front. She undid her ankle ropes, but it was slow, painful. How much time left?
The man who wasn't the owner's heir. The human trafficker seen in the neighborhood. One and the same, perhaps?
At last, the ropes gave. She was free. In a locked room.
She rose slowly, gasping for breath, head throbbing, but no longer helpless: she had weapons: rope, wicked shards of wood. To choke, to stab-
She kept one loop of rope in hand, tucking the rest into a back pocket of her jeans. One long, slant-pointed shard of the stile went into another pocket.
But she was bruised, concussed, aching, unable to move with her usual swiftness. There would be only one chance, and she had to make it count.
O-O-O-O-O
At that precise moment, across the street from the concrete house, Hiei was well-hidden in the fragrant branches of a camphor tree, elevated enough for a good view of the house, yet able to reach it in a moment. He watched Shayla Kidd emerge from the Datsun, open the gate, pause, then hurry to the front door. She rang the bell. If there was trouble, he would know it through the psychic link of the Jagan. He waited.
O-O-O-O-O
Shayla Kidd waited for her captors, sweating.
Dimensions, the cat said. The dimensions of the room? A hidden panel? She glanced up. The ceiling was as flat as the floor and walls, solid concrete, with that unusual orange tint. How had the cat escaped?
Dimensions. Yojigen Mansion. She had only been there once, years ago. The House of Four Dimensions that Kaitou had briefly occupied. Kaitou told her how that strange house operated. Apart from normal rooms, there were certain doors opening onto peculiar, space-distorting dimensions. Maybe...
O-O-O-O-O
Someone opened the front door, someone Hiei could not see from his leafy perch. Shayla Kidd went into the suspect house.
He waited. Then he sensed it: the faint flicker of youki.
Kurama was right. Too dangerous for her.
Shayla Kidd had been inside the house no more than a couple of minutes, but with youkai loose, it was time to move in, smash through a window if necessary.
O-O-O-O-O
As she searched the room for hidden panels, Shayla Kidd pondered the term 'dimensions.' What exactly were they? Her mind spun like a whirlpool. Exhausted, dizzy, waiting for a possible attacker, she could reach no useful conclusion.
O-O-O-O-O
The camphor branches sprung to life in a sudden gust of wind, leaves tapping Hiei's face. He coiled to leap toward the house when something bumped his knee.
A cat, slim and black, butting its head against him. Brushing it aside, Hiei launched himself into space.
O-O-O-O-O
Shayla Kidd lacked a sense of time, stuck in the windowless room. Windowless. But then-how was the light getting in?
For there was flat illumination all around, like the unnatural tinge of fluorescent bulbs. Combined with the orange walls and green door, the effect was at odds with itself, almost nauseating. She felt not just injured, but sick.
And the pile of dust in the left corner made her uneasy.
This is like being trapped a Twilight Zone episode. How did it go, that old black and white series? Cue eerie music. The narrator says: ... 'a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind...' then, against a black background, an hourglass, sand sifting through-
She stilled, barely breathing. It's time, she thought triumphantly, TIME!
She would have only one chance.
The door creaked, then opened. Shayla Kidd did not hide.
It was the wan girl again, pathetic, surprised. "Oh!" Her colorless eyes widened when she saw the broken chair. "What happened? What are you doing in here?"
Ignoring the scream of abused muscles, Shayla Kidd sprang forward and locked both arms around the taller girl, using all her remaining strength to bear her backward.
Not to attack. To save her.
"Stop, please!" Ignoring the girl's outcry, Shayla Kidd charged out the door of the bizarre, tainted room, pushing the girl before her, now out through the hall, now grinding to the front door, exhausted legs scrabbling, aching arms clamped around the struggling girl's bony ribs.
"What are you doing? Let me go!"
"We have to get out! It's our only chance!" She could still at least tear herself and the girl from the grip of this monstrous house. But she had to pause a moment, fumbling at the front door. The girl nearly wrenched herself free. Shayla Kidd pulled the girl back. The door opened at last.
They burst into the yard, tumbled down flat on the walkway, when Shayla Kidd saw, from the corner of her eye, the black blur of Hiei in action, and her heart lifted. He landed next to her, tough, capable, his garnet eyes glinting in curiosity.
They were safe.
The slim black cat stood at his side, intent on the girl in the navy dress.
Cicadas rasped in the heat-shimmered air. Hiei glanced toward the house. "What's going on in there?"
Shayla Kidd on her knees, gasping from that last push. The girl lay on her back, eyes staring at the sky, still as death.
No. No. NO!
"Who's the girl?" Then Hiei fell silent.
The girl was withering before Shayla Kidd's eyes, aging in mere seconds. From her 20s, to her 40s, to the thick-voiced, unsavory monster who had pawed her; shriveling, sallow skin clinging to ancient bone, all in a few blinks of an eye.
Then, nothing but a shapeless dark sack of a dress, and a human outline made of dust.
Far away, the sounds of traffic.
"What the-" Hiei helped her to her feet. "What the hell was that? You were only in there five minutes."
Tears of exhaustion stung her eyes. She leaned into Hiei, trying to draw his strength to her.
She shuddered. "It was an eternity."
O-O-O-O-O
Hiei drove the Datsun. The rush of adrenalin that had fueled Shayla Kidd's desperate charge had vanished, leaving her weak and shaky. She waved away offers of medical attention until the cat, who had hopped into the back seat, filled them in. Kurama could see to her later.
She wanted it all to end. Wanted a long, hot shower, then a long, peaceful sleep uninterrupted by nightmares. Kurama could give her something for that.
"I thought I was saving her." She clenched a fist until her knuckles whitened. "That girl. By getting her out of the house. Instead, I caused her death."
"Not you," said the cat's mewling voice. "The house."
The cat, they learned, was an agent, originally from Makai, now working on behalf of an agency he was reluctant to name. Shayla Kidd understood his need for secrecy.
"My size and skills," he said, "made me the obvious choice for this job. No one notices a stray cat."
"Skills?" It was Hiei who spoke.
"I alone possess certain abilities that include a resistance to the house's time-shifts."
"Then," said Hiei "it was your youki we sensed."
"Possibly." The 'man' passing himself off as Hideyoshi's heir, the cat explained, was the human-appearing youkai and trafficker, Kosui.
Whirlpools of time existed in the house. The windowless room was the main source from which other, smaller whirlpools were born. These shifted without warning. An unwary creature would become trapped; humans with a strong sixth sense (like Shayla Kidd) might feel there was something wrong, but would never actually be able to see the whirlpools. He could. "I can see also the colors-"
Colors? she wondered. I never even saw the whirlpool.
"Amethyst, topaz, aquamarine. They indicate where to jump." The cat could step into the vortex and 'jump' from one space to another. "Which," he said to Shayla Kidd, "you have witnessed."
How long was I actually in that room? I don't suppose I'll ever know. Shayla Kidd forced herself to ask. "Then, the young girl and the older woman were one and the same?"
"Yes." The cat lashed his tail. "She, and others before-or after-her, were trapped in the time prison. We can only guess whether she was first, or last. Its victims never understood what it was. They never escaped. As soon as a girl entered one room, time rewound, and she forgot."
Shayla Kidd shivered, imagining the blind, fumbling horror of such an existence. One minute, wan victim, the next, reptilian abuser, losing and regaining your mind for decades.
Hiei spoke. "How were these girls lured to the house?"
"Flyers," said the cat, "listing rent next thing to free. Kosui met each girl at the house, and in showing them around, trapped them. By the time you stepped in, all but one were already gone."
"And Kosui?"
"Himself consumed by the house."
The dustpile in the windowless room. The dustpile around a now-empty dress. Shayla Kidd shivered. She was tired. So tired. Her head throbbed.
She didn't think it was a serious concussion. When she saw Kurama, he could assess her injuries. Best of all, Kurama made house calls.
Her eyelids seemed impossibly heavy. "It will have to be destroyed," she managed. "That house."
"That is so," mewled the cat, "but my powers do not run to the destructive."
"Mine do." Hiei snorted. "I'll level it in five minutes."
"I won't... let you..." She fought to keep her eyes open.
"The lady is correct. That house must be destroyed-but it is too dangerous for anyone besides myself to enter."
Shayla Kidd sank back in the passenger seat. The last puzzle: how to destroy the house. She was almost in a dream state now, with the rumble of the car, the mewl of the cat from the back seat, Hiei's reassuring solidity beside her.
Kurama makes house calls.
"That's it..." she murmured. "Has to be done at night... Kurama makes house calls."
It was to their credit that they knew what she meant, because in the next moment, Shayla Kidd drifted off to sleep.
O-O-O-O-O
Shayla Kidd woke in her own bedroom, Hiei dozing in a nearby chair, as if he had spent the night watching over her. The other side of the bed was undisturbed. She let him sleep on.
She had a vague recollection of debriefing, while Kurama treated her injuries. The back of her head had been cleaned and bandaged where she had been sapped, and she was still a little sore, a little hung over. But her attention was drawn to the nightstand. To a note, and a small cardboard box.
She opened the box first. Her gun and phone.
Then she unfolded the note. It was written with navy blue ink on heavy, cream-colored paper, in Kaitou Yuu's precise hand.
This was dictated by that black cat, the note began.
"The house is gone. Your ally Kurama came with me last night after he treated you. He gave me a small plant I deposited in the house. It will seem like a gas line blew. I had a little time before the explosive in the plant was activated. I found your gun and phone on the kitchen counter. Thank you for your help. No one will ever again fall victim to that house."
Her hands shook. She re-read the last line:
No one will ever again fall victim to that house. She put down the note, blinking away tears.
That poor wan girl, whose name Shayla Kidd had never learned. Maybe now she could rest easy.
-30-