The ride up was short and quiet. Apparently even weirdoes in crazy cults hated elevator music.
When the brushed metal doors whispered apart, Cherry put a gentle hand on Kasumi’s shoulder and ushered her into a wide room done in deep reds and polished wood. The carpets were a shade lighter than the blood-red walls and the cushions on the three lone chairs were more of a cherry red. There was a small desk off to the left that looked to have been picked up at a mass-market furniture store, something that she would expect Dent to buy not only because it was easy to put together, but that it offered no personality to the rest of the red room. And behind that desk sat a bored looking man. Kasumi found it curious that he wasn’t all crazy smiles and laughter like the rest of the people she had seen about the compound. Only the two men guarding the elevator downstairs seemed to share this man’s unhappy demeanor.
In the land of crazies, beware the sane, she thought, a sense of panic washing over her.
“Let me sign in real quick,” Cherry said quietly.
Cherry walked over to the boring desk and slid an open folder around, giving it a quick signature with a gold-plated pen that was in some sort of magnetic contraption that, when Cherry put it back, made the pen seem to float on its point above the desk.
The guard — because that was what he had to be — watched Cherry’s every movement without moving a muscle. If the man had a tail, Kasumi figured it would be flicking back and forth, warning the two women in the room that he was ready to pounce. He watched as Cherry came back to join Kasumi, and Kasumi caught a glimpse of a blue light in his right ear.
Cherry’s eyes were intent on Kasumi, who in turn was intent on keeping an eye on the guard, who turned his head just enough to keep both women in his sights. It was enough to finally make Kasumi blink and look up at the blonde woman.
“Come on, now,” Cherry said, a tinge of excitement in her voice, ignorant of the baleful cat-man behind her. “Time to meet Jeffery.”
The woman’s excitement did nothing to alleviate the growing concern Kasumi was feeling. Maybe it was the color of the room, maybe it was the way the man behind the desk acted toward Cherry, maybe it was Cherry’s obliviousness to the whole scene.
Maybe it was all of it combined. Kasumi shuddered.
“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” she stammered, keeping her eyes on the guard.
Cherry whispered, “Why’s that?”
It took Kasumi a second to realize she’d spoken her thoughts out loud and just prayed that the cat-man behind the desk hadn’t heard her. This had all sounded like a solid plan back in the protection of the sheriff’s house, but now that she was actually here, possibly about to meet a cold-blooded killer, she wasn’t so sure anymore.
When Cherry turned toward the double doors she placed a hand behind Kasumi’s back and gave her a gentle prod forward. Her feet remained glued to the carpet, her uncertainty forcing her legs to lock and her breathing to become rapid.
Cherry looked down and her ever-present smile melted away. Her gentle urging hand then dropped to her side as her lips parted in confusion, a question forming but not given voice.
“Can we come back later?” Kasumi asked up to her, surprised to hear her voice not crack. “Maybe we can grab something to eat first?”
Cherry’s eyes flicked from girl to door and back. She was being caught up in Kasumi’s doubt and fear. That was good. But the woman wasn’t completely taken over.
“I don’t know,” Cherry said. “Jeffery really wants to speak to you.” Another eye flick to the doors.
Kasumi took a slow step back, back toward the elevator. Whatever hold this man had over Cherry, it was strong, but it was fading as Kasumi bled her own emotions out into the red room. She tried to focus harder on her doubt, her uncertainty and fear of the situation — which wasn’t all too hard as that was exactly how she was feeling — and then send that feeling out to Cherry.
She took another small step back.
Sweat began to bead on Cherry’s forehead. Kasumi had no idea what internal struggle was going on in the woman, but if Kasumi could keep it up they might be able to make it back to the elevator.
Another small step and this time Cherry moved with her.
Ha! It was working.
And then ….
Mister Security Guard finally moved.
He stood and came out from behind the desk, stalking his way over to the two retreating women. Kasumi’s eyes widened just a bit at the sight, and she could have sworn that he gave her a feral grin in response.
Stopping on the other side of Cherry, the cat-man said, “He’s waiting for you. For both of you.”
Cherry stopped inching toward the elevator.
Son of a ….
Kasumi was losing the battle. She fed more of her doubt and panic — well, more panic now than doubt — into Cherry, but the presence of the security guard tempered the woman’s resolve. The woman shook her head slightly, parted her lips to speak, but Kasumi cut her off.
“Just five more minutes,” Kasumi said, the words infused with a slight question, but the guard stared her down and bluntly told her “No.”
When neither woman made a move toward the double doors and Jeffery beyond, the guard sidled over to put himself between them and the elevator, their only means of escape. He looked down at her like a cat would a mouse.
She reached up and gently tugged on Cherry’s arm. “Cherry ….”
The security guard, somehow unaffected by Kasumi’s emotions, lifted his arm in the direction of the double doors before walking over and opening the left one. As he moved he kept glancing at Kasumi, still like a cat stalking a mouse, but now it was more like she was a poisonous mouse, like she was fair game but would no doubt leave a bad aftertaste in his mouth.
And then, with a deep breath, Cherry had finally given in to whatever hold this psychotic compound had over her. She draped her arm around Kasumi’s shoulders and ushered her forward, a crazy smile on her face.
“Come on, Kasumi,” she said. “You’ll simply adore Jeffery.”
“In my experience,” Kasumi replied, “if someone has to keep telling to you something, then that something probably isn’t true.”
Mister Security Cat-man let out a scoffing noise but kept his tongue. Probably choking on a hairball.
“You’ll see.” Cherry’s arm dropped and her fingers clasped Kasumi’s. With no other choice left, Kasumi allowed herself to be led to and then through the open door.
The soft squeak of oiled metal hinges behind them caused her to turn around, catching the leering grin of the cat-man as he pulled the door closed, leaving the two women alone in Jeffery’s lair.
XXXIV
The door clicked home as softly as a coffin lid and Kasumi noticed there were no locks on it.
That’s good¸ right?
She turned to survey the room they were in. The room that they were not locked in, the room that she should be able to get out of, if only she used her mind, used all the little things Dent had taught her over the past few months they’d spent together.
First things first, know your battlefield.
She let her eyes scan the room, looking for exits, for dangers, for anything that could be used to her benefit, doing it all in the span of a few heartbeats.
Her first glance made her choke on her breath because the room was done with a Japanese influence, if heavily Americanized. The hardwood room was wider than it was deep, with the wide entryway a single step below the rest of the room. To the far left and right were potted plants and dwarf citrus trees, with black-and-white ink-wash mountain landscapes framed in bamboo mounted behind them.
The step up led from the blood-red carpeted entryway to a hardwood flooring gleaming with wax or polish in the light streaming in through the single floor-to-ceiling window at the far left of the back wall. A desk with two computers sat before the window and a low set table sat almost in the middle, near to a four-foot square wood-framed Zen garden. To the far right cor
ner, a small section was hidden by two shoji screens with dancing tigers and floral patterns.
And then there were the two people.
She had expected Jeffery — he had to be man with his back to them, his focus somewhere outside the window he was facing — but there was a kid in the room as well. The boy, maybe a bit older than Kasumi, was on his knees, busily rearranging small volcanic-looking rocks in the Zen garden. He didn’t acknowledge the arrival of the two women in any way. He just kept playing with the rocks and smoothing out the sand with his hands.
The black man, obviously Jeffery, turned slowly, gracing the two women with a smile. But Kasumi wasn’t drawn in by that welcoming smile. Instead, she was focused on the small flash of blue light in his right ear that she noticed as he made his turn.
Just like the others.
Was it an active ear bud? A miniature phone? Two-way radio? Something else entirely? Was this guy the head of security as well as the cult leader?
“Cherry!” Jeffery announced with wide arms and a tone that made it sound as if he hadn’t been expecting them, that he had no clue they were just outside his office doors for a good five minutes.
Just for that fakeness alone Kasumi took an immediate disliking to Jeffery. And the sad thing was, she was probably the only person in this whole insane place that thought that way. And to prove her point ….
“Jeffery!” Cherry squealed, jumping up the single step and across the room into the man’s open arms.
The two hugged tightly, murmured something to each other.
Friends? Lovers?
The two finally pulled apart and stood there, allowing Kasumi to take them in. They seemed super friendly. And when Kasumi looked to the boy, she had a thought that these three could be a family. She knew they weren’t, knew that the kid was too old to be Cherry’s, but the kid was definitely a halfer — black and white. To anyone that saw the three together it would be an easy assumption to think they were a family.
That’s when it hit her.
The sheriff and Dent said that the murders back in town were being — What was the word? — perpetrated by a family, or people posing as a family. Were these three the murderers? No, she couldn’t believe it. Cherry was too sweet, too … well, too Cherry to be a killer and the kid still acted like he had no clue he had visitors. In fact, the kid acted like he wanted nothing to do with anybody.
That left Jeffery.
Was he the killer?
Why would a man who was using some sort of eTech to make people devoted to him go around and kill people? It didn’t make sense.
He didn’t look like a killer, standing there, one arm around Cherry, his teeth flashing in Kasumi’s direction. But then again, what does a killer look like?
And image of Dent flashed in her mind.
No — Dent was different. He may not show many emotions, but she knew deep down that he wasn’t a cold-blooded killer. And here was Jeffery, all smiles and warm hugs. Are murderers all smiley like that?
As if reading her mind, Jeffery extracted himself from Cherry and walked over to ruffle the boy’s mop-top head of hair with a fatherly kindness. He then walked to stand on the other side of the low table.
“Kasumi, right? So glad to finally meet you.” His voice was light, polite, inviting.
It made her want to throw up.
“Yeah,” she replied.
“I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Really? And I keep hearing only one thing about you.”
He spread his arms in a show of humbleness. “Ah, my ‘devotees’ as I’ve heard them called by those unfortunate enough not to understand. I can’t say I really approve of that name, though. But, what can you do?” He smiled.
Kasumi didn’t.
“Well,” he said after clearing his throat, “now that you’re here, maybe we can talk.”
“About?”
“How about the man you seem to be attached to. Dent is his name, right?”
No need to answer.
“Okay, okay.” Jeffery laughed lightly. “But I am curious about Dent. Rumor has it that he is claiming to be an agent of some sort.”
“That’s the rumor.” She wasn’t about to give up any information to the man. Besides, Jeffery probably knew all about Dent.
“And you are … What was it? In witness protection? Now that couldn’t be true, could it?”
The bastard spoke like he was her best friend, and Kasumi could feel herself being pulled in by his golden tongue and sweet demeanor.
She steeled herself from the emotional intrusion and said evenly, “I am under Dent’s protection.”
“Oh, of that I have no doubt. I’m just wondering why you two happen to be here, now.”
She fought a foreign urge to answer him honestly. Whatever eTech he was employing, it was fairly strong, strong enough to tickle even her emotions. Kind of like a mix of personal happiness and the need to make him happy. If it was able to touch her, then it must be slapping Cherry across the face.
She narrowed her eyes and said, “Just passing through.”
His face flashed momentarily, like he was unhappy with either her answer or the fact that she was resisting his emotional tampering. But that same smile, completely fake, found its way back to his lips and he said, “Most people who are just passing through tend to, well, pass through. You two have been here for a while. And staying at the good sheriff’s house, no less.”
Back near the window, framed by slanting rays of sunlight, Cherry shivered. It wasn’t an overly-dramatic shiver, but it was enough to catch Kasumi’s eye.
Before she could process what the shiver meant, Jeffery drew her attention, saying, “So why don’t you tell me what you’re really up to.”
“You seem to know everything,” she snapped. “Why don’t you tell me?”
At her harsh tone the boy finally looked up from his playing. He shot Kasumi a heavy frown then looked up to the back of Jeffery’s head. Without looking back, Jeffery held out his arm and the boy hopped up and scurried over, all quick steps and hunched shoulders. When he made it into Jeffery’s protective embrace the man looked down and gave the boy a slight squeeze about the shoulders.
“It’s okay, Connor,” he cooed down to the boy.
Then, to Kasumi, he said in a tight voice, “Let’s try again. Why are you here?”
“I said we’re just passi—” A persistent intrusion washed over her, muddling her thoughts, killing the lie on her tongue.
The boy, Connor, stared into her eyes and she almost blurted out the truth about why she and Dent had been sent to this funny farm. She clamped her teeth shut, to both keep herself from answering and in an attempt to gather her mental defenses.
“You were just what?” Jeffery pressed her.
Kasumi shook her head, sending her gaze flitting across the room, searching for the source of the emotional field that was bringing her to her mental knees. She frantically cast about, looking for anything remotely eTech-looking. Maybe the computers to the left? Something behind the shoji screens on the right?
“Something wrong?” Jeffery asked innocently. Deviously.
“You do have eTech here!” she blurted out. Oops. She mentally slapped her stupid brain.
This got a raised eyebrow from the man before her. “Why would you think that? Is that why you were sent here? Who sent you?”
She fought to keep the emotional intrusion form overwhelming her. She curled her toes in her shoes and she bit the inside of her cheek. She needed to turn the tide, to throw back whatever influence Jeffery was using on her.
She grabbed hold of the intrusion, the implanted feeling to make this man happy, and focused on it, played with it like it was a ball of wet sand from Connor’s serenity garden. She latched onto it, recognized it as a foreign emotion, and then she wrapped it with her own emotions, feeding it, amping it up — but with her own control over it. When she finally had contained it all, she let that ball explode, filling the room with her own version of it, war
ping the others’ emotions, forcing them to want to make her happy.
And three separate reactions broke out.
Connor went wide-eyed and slack-jawed, Jeffery actually took a stumbling step back and lowered his eyes and head, and Cherry looked like she was about to cry, her moist eyes darting from Jeffery to Kasumi, no doubt because her devotion to the man had just been dealt a heavy blow. Kasumi just hoped the woman wouldn’t run over and give her a hug like she had when she first saw Jeffery.
“How about you answer some questions now?” Kasumi threw at the man, taking a small step forward.
Jeffery’s brows knit together and he began to chew on his lower lip. But instead of bending to her will, he cleared his throat then called out over his shoulder.
“Cherry, dear? Kasumi and I have much to discuss. Fetch us some tea, please. From my own personal supply.” He cocked his head in thought. “I think the chamomile would be perfect.” He raised his brows questioningly at Kasumi.
“Whatever,” she told him, glad that he was finally in the mood to talk to her. She kept her focus on keeping him amenable, hoping that he would give up his real plans for being in this stupid compound. Maybe, just maybe, this plan of hers would work. It had started off rocky, but now ….
Cherry practically tiptoed across the room, exiting the door to the far right, just this side of the shoji partitions. Jeffery watched the woman leave, that stupid smile plastered on his face the whole time. But as soon as the door closed behind the woman, the smile faded and his hard eyes drilled into Kasumi.
“Who sent you?” he hissed. “Who is Dent working for?”
“Who’re you working for?” she shot right back.
He opened his mouth to reply and then caught himself. He may have an idea of what was going on, what she was doing, but he was strong-willed enough to fight it.
“Such talent,” he observed, almost sounding impressed. “Tell me, Kasumi, what is your specialty?”
Specialty? What was he talking about?
“Right now my specialty is dealing with jerks,” she told him.
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