Hokay, so, here's the new chapter. All pretty and long. . I have some really good ideas coming in the next chapter, so I hope you like what's happening so far. Please read and review, I always like that!
Iyami
The pounding on the door echoed throughout the house, the vibrations bouncing off the high ceilings of the parlor, up the narrow stairs with its crooked steps, down the corridor and into the small room. Kara's eyes flew open at the sound. She had been lying on the small, once fancy, bed that lay in the corner, carefully protected by shadows. Immediately she started to quiver. Were they back? After all this time, were they back?
The quivers spread to her lungs, making her breathe erratically. She couldn't breathe! Kara panicked, remembering the last time Karasu had entered her room and nearly beaten her to death for the information she had kept from him for years. He would have killed Kara too, if Toguro had not stayed his hand again.
Kara's eyes darted across her enclosing walls and ceiling and slid across the door. She lunged at it and scratched at the wood. If she could just get out before they got there, she might have a chance. There were already deep pits and grooves in the sturdy door where she had scratched for years, hoping for a glimpse of freedom, but to no avail.
She was starting to turn red now. Now a light shade of blue from the loss of air to her brain. The ground rose up to meet her, a comforting embrace for the tortured girl. A strange embrace that encompassed her in complete darkness and release from the horrors of her existence. It was the first time she had had a dreamless, nightmare-less sleep since she could remember. And she welcomed it.
Outside at the door, Kurama listened apprehensively. There didn't seem to be any sound coming from the house. He raised his hand to knock again and heard a thump from somewhere above him. His breath caught in his throat. Were the two demons there and done something to the girl, thinking it was she who had led him there? Kurama had to help her.
Gathering his worry about him like a cloak, Kurama pulled a thin nettle out of his hair and worked it into the lock. Using the skills that he had acquired as a thief, Kurama the kitsune broke through the lock with ease, barely noticing the magics placed on it to protect the house from being entered by those who were unwelcome. He had trained himself to break even the most complicated of lock spells so as to keep him from being detected during a robbery, a fatal move in the demon world.
Pushing the door open, Kurama lunged inside and was swamped by the power that had collected in the wood, metal, and other materials that made up and resided within the house. More demons than just Toguro and Karasu had resided here. This was a place of great power, and was very old. Older than Yoko Kurama himself, or any demon he knew. Such thoughts as to how this place came to be would have to be put aside and answered later. Kurama had a job to do just now.
Using his knowledge of what the house seemed like from the outside, Kurama made his way to the staircase. The house inside seemed much bigger than its proportions would allow for, with high ceilings and large windows draped in blood red curtains and simple cream carpets embellished with intricate signs for power and protection. It did not seem like the home of demons, but demons were a strange creation.
Climbing the stairs, Kurama almost fell. The steps were placed unevenly, so as to confuse any thief who dared enter the house. This thief was too good to make noises in a fall, but Kurama kicked himself for not noticing the jagged steps that seemed to climb on and on up the narrow tunnel of ceiling and wall. Finally he reached the top and turned right into a corridor, five doors on each side. The doors on his left he ignored. The room he had seen the girl in was on the right. Three of the five of these were locked, the other two opened into a library and a room of mirrors, many of them draped with dusty sheets. Kurama busied himself on unlocking the three remaining doors.
The first he had no difficulty unlocking. No spells lay upon it and it opened to another room of mirrors with a large one spreading across the wall, startling the ex-demon with his own reflection. The second door contained a multitude of spells, many some of the most complex he had seen in some time. These spells would take time to work through. Carefully, Kurama pulled the red rose he kept hidden among his long tresses of hair and delicately pricked both his palms with it just enough to bring forth a drop of blood from each. He then pressed his palms together and laid them across the knob. The power in Kurama's blood mixed with his own knowledge of the spells shattered the knob to smoking pieces. The bronze from the door knob coated Kurama's hands, and he merely wiped them off on his nice robe, no longer paying heed to its value.
The door swung open, revealing the girl from Kurama's dream lying sprawled on the floor, her face a light blue that darkened by the instant. Starting at the sight of her, Kurama gasped and jumped up and nearly dove at the suffocating girl. She was hardly breathing, and even that was unevenly.
Kurama rummaged in his pocket for the special salve he had made for his mother to help her breathe easier and spread it on her neck and under her small nose. Immediately, she began to breathe regularly, and her color slowly faded to its normal shade. Whatever had made the girl pass out, it had nearly killed her.
Gingerly, Kurama lifted her tall frame, surprised at how light she was. It must have been some time since she had last had a good meal, and, judging by her pale complexion, since she had been able to go out into the sun. Her rags of a dress hung loosely about her and the side of her collar drooped off her shoulder. Her brown hair was gnarled and dirty, as was her face. Her arms, legs, and face all bore a variety of scars that ranged from seeming old enough to have healed all the way to those newly healed and slightly puffy and pink.
What kind of life had this girl known? She must have suffered greatly, judging by the scars. Was it all at Karasu's and Toguro's hands? Kurama would find out once she awoke, but for now, he had to take her somewhere safe. Hoisting her body as he made his way carefully down the treacherous stair, Kurama was all too glad to leave this house and its sense of evil foreboding. A good shower with lots of soap and salves would not be able to cleanse him of the inky black feeling that clung to his very soul and trailed him from the house.