Hard Wired

by C. Ryan Bymaster

  All of this had been a result of Connor using his talent to bend people, to make them devoted to Jeffery. He may not have killed anybody personally, but Connor had handed Jeffery the loaded gun. Each person Connor forced into blind devotion to Jeffery was another bullet in that gun.

  She stepped closer. Sweat dripped down her back, her lower lip was swollen from where she hadn’t realized she’d bit it.

  Jeffery pushed Connor away from him for some reason. And now Connor, for once, showed signs of fear. He’d stumbled, and when he recovered his breath became rapid and his fingers twitched at his sides. His eyes became pinpoints as he took a long, deep breath and she was ready when he hit her with his devotion. She recognized it for what it was, but still she had to fight the urge to tell Dent to not hurt Jeffery. She stopped walking forward, couldn’t afford the extra effort it took.

  Like leaning into a gale, she put everything she had into retaliating.

  Time slowed for her, everything ceasing to exist except her, Connor, and the silent war they waged.

  Connor gasped when Kasumi took his twisted sense of love and devotion, added her own, and then slammed it all back into him. In that moment, she now knew why Dent did what he did for her. It was on a primal level, but Dent showed her, the only person he’d probably ever felt a connection to in his life, exactly how he was devoted to her. And it was her fear of what would happen to Dent when he realized all the pain he dealt in order to protect her because of his devotion that spurred her on.

  That is what she forced into Connor.

  She wanted Connor to know what it was like to be on the receiving end of that twisted devotion. She wanted him to live through what she hoped Dent never would. Connor wanted to make others devoted to Jeffery, make others kill for Jeffery? Well, she’d reverse that desire. She turned it on Connor, twisting it inside out and making him feel devotion for every single person he’d ever manipulated.

  A whimper, a crack in Connor’s will, and then she broke through completely.

  Connor gasped.

  His eyes shot wide as the pain of every single person he’d caused to be harmed ripped into him. His head began to shake in denial, but still Kasumi pressed him, making him feel every death like it was the death of a loved one.

  Somewhere far away, somewhere that she couldn’t go, Dent fired his weapon. She barely reacted to the sound and flash. From her periphery she saw Jeffery fall to the floor next to Connor. Another death that had resulted from Connor’s manipulation. One final heart-wrenching death at his hands.

  With that, Connor broke completely. A wordless moan and tears of pain came out of him.

  His knees buckled. At least, that was what Kasumi thought was happening. But Connor wasn’t collapsing, he was bending down, reaching for something.

  Jeffery’s knife. It had landed near Connor’s feet.

  Realization hit.

  Kasumi screamed, trying to rein in her emotions, trying to snap Connor out of it. But she was too late. She’d done too much damage, gone too far. Connor had felt too much of the damage he’d caused, suffered too much pain. With motions surer than she’d seen the boy capable of, he picked up the knife, stared into the polished metal, and lifted it toward his neck.

  The boy was broken. She had broken him.

  Lips trembling, muttering something unintelligible over and over, Connor looked heavenward, maybe begging for forgiveness. Kasumi couldn’t look away as Connor took a deep breath and—

  Dent grabbed her shoulder and roughly yanked her into his body, burying her face in his chest. She heard a disgusting sound, a ragged breath, and then something heavy hit the floor. The room was deathly quiet. She tried pulling away but, for some reason that she couldn’t comprehend, Dent wouldn’t let her.

  She knew words could never express her thanks to Dent for protecting her from the sight of what she had done.

  An eternity later, it was Cherry who’d managed to pry Kasumi from Dent. The woman pulled Kasumi out of the room, into the elevator, and out of the building.

  The ride home was a blur.

  Dent carried her up to his room. Put her in bed. Said everything would be okay after she rested. And she eventually did fall asleep, but it was nowhere near restful.

  She saw Connor again that night. He wouldn’t let her dream of anything else.

  XLVII

  Two weeks had passed since the incident at The Ranch. Dent hadn’t planned on sticking around, but Fifth could be extremely stubborn. Add in Bobseyn’s and Cherry’s insistence that Dent and Fifth stay at least until Dent was patched up, and Dent had lost the battle.

  Handing Dent a mug and then seating himself at his kitchen table, Bobseyn let out a heavy breath.

  Dent sipped his coffee.

  Another heavy breath from the sheriff. A hint of some sort?

  Dent played in to the game. “What?”

  “Well, since you asked so nicely ….”

  “You kept making nois—”

  Bobseyn held up a stalling hand and Dent closed his mouth.

  “You’re going to have to keep an eye on Kasumi.”

  That was a pointless statement and Dent told the man so.

  Another one of those heavy breaths. “I’m not talking about protecting her, Dent. Well, I guess I am, in a way.”

  Dent remained silent.

  Bobseyn stared into his coffee. “You and I, we’ve taken on our roles in this life. And in doing so, we have taken lives in our roles. That’s a hard thing to do. At least, it is for a normal person.”

  “And you’re saying I’m not normal.”

  “No. Well, yes, you’re not normal, that goes without saying, but Kasumi ….”

  “You’re saying she’s not normal.”

  “No. Well, yes, but ….” He threw up both hands. “Just shut up, Dent.”

  Done and done. Dent sipped his coffee, checked his watch. Fifth and Cherry had been gone for over six hours now. They’d both insisted Fifth needed new clothes, even though Fifth had a closet full back home. And Fifth insisted that she’d needed one of Dent’s credit cards and some spending cash. He still was trying to wrap his mind around that fact. Why did Fifth need “spending cash” if she had his credit card? Again, the girl could be stubborn, so he’d given in.

  “You need to keep an eye on Kasumi after what she’s been through.”

  Dent mimicked one of Fifth’s actions, tilting his head to the side, in a show of not understanding what Bobseyn meant.

  “Don’t do that. You look ridiculous.”

  Dent complied.

  “I know that the girl’s already seen too much pain and death in her life before the two of you showed up in my city. But that doesn’t mean that you should keep subjecting her to that type of life. She’s already acting withdrawn over what happened at The Ranch, and the death of that young boy weighs heavily on her.”

  Dent hadn’t noticed any change in her behavior. “She told you this?”

  “No, Dent. It’s plain as day. She feels responsible for killing the boy and that’s a heavy burden to bear.”

  “She did what was necessary,” Dent defended Fifth’s actions.

  “That doesn’t make it any easier for her.”

  “She saved your life.”

  “And I am forever in her debt. Hell, I’m in your debt, for what that’s worth.”

  Dent shrugged, showing exactly what it was worth.

  Bobseyn curled the corner of his lips, but it was definitely not a smile. “Exactly my point. You live without remorse. Kasumi — hell, the rest of the damned world — does. You need to remember that. If Kasumi doesn’t learn to live with her grief, it will eat her up from the inside, destroy her.”

  “And what can I do about it?”

  “First off, stop taking her on your ride-alongs. She’s a kid, Dent. She needs some semblance of normalcy in her life.”

  “I’ve told you that as long as Chisholme is out there, she can’t live a normal life.”

  “But you can try your best to
minimize the violence you bring to the table.”

  That was an incorrect statement. “Violence finds me.”

  Bobseyn spread his hands wide. “You walked into the middle of all this, Dent!”

  Dent opened then closed his mouth in one action. He couldn’t discount that fact. Though, in his defense, it was Fifth who’d talked him into coming out here.

  Bobseyn brought his hands back down, swirled his coffee around. “I’m just saying that Kasumi is going to need some help in the months to come.”

  Dent didn’t know what to say to that. If the man was right, then exactly what was Dent supposed to do? It would be like a deaf man trying to describe to another what a symphony sounded like.

  Bobseyn must have deduced Dent’s dilemma as he leaned forward and said softly, “Being a parent — or whatever you’re trying to be — it isn’t easy. And in your case, as god-awful as it sounds, being a parent means not killing people in front of the girl.”

  Dent almost pointed out the fact that killing people is exactly what had saved the man’s life two weeks ago, but he knew it would be like pouring water in a bucket with a gaping hole in the bottom.

  Instead, he asked, “What am I supposed to do?”

  “Honestly? I’d say make yourself a home here. Kasumi and Cherry get along well enough. I could find you a job, maybe as a park ranger.”

  Dent looked at the sheriff. “Why a park ranger?”

  “Puts you a good eight hours a day out and away from the public. And plus, I’d figure your sort of personality would fit right in with a bunch of trees.”

  Dent was beginning to think that Bobseyn and Fifth had similar ways of insulting him without being blunt about it.

  Bobseyn’s cell chirped. And when he looked at it his brows furrowed. He typed something in and a second later a response chirped back. He looked up at Dent, a look on his face that Dent didn’t readily recognize.

  “Trouble?” Dent asked.

  “Of a sort.” The sheriff slid his cell across the table. The quick conversation had been with his daughter. It read:

  Is Dent with you at the house?

  Yes.

  Make sure he doesn’t have his gun handy.

  Dent stiffened, then looked up through the ceiling to where his gun was tucked away in his room.

  “Easy, easy,” Bobseyn said. “It’s not that type of trouble, Dent.”

  “Then what?”

  The front door, newly installed and still unpainted, opened. Cherry, with four full shopping bags in hand, came in first. She threw her keys onto what Bobseyn insisted was called a key table, looked into the kitchen, and gave Dent a strange smile.

  “You have to remember, Mister Dent, a lot of this stuff was on sale,” she told him.

  “Cherry …,” Bobseyn said, in what Dent guessed was a not-so-approving tone.

  She shrugged and then stepped aside. Fifth came in through the door.

  Well, she squeezed and maneuvered her way through the door, no less than eight bags either gripped or slung over her shoulders. The smile she gave Dent was almost exactly the same smile Cherry had just given him moments ago. If he didn’t know better, Dent would swear the two girls practiced that smile in the driveway before coming in.

  “So … Um … Your credit card is maxed out,” Fifth informed him.

  “What did you buy?” Dent asked quickly. “It has a two-thousand daily limit!”

  She shrugged off three bags, dumped the rest on top of them in the entryway. “Clothes. Some necessities.”

  Fifth had plenty of clothes back in her closet at home and Dent made sure she never lacked in the things she called necessities. To go and spend that much money in one day was ridiculous, even to Dent. It was completely wasteful.

  “Are you supplying an army for winter?” Dent snapped.

  Fifth ducked behind a chuckling Cherry and Bobseyn laid a hand on Dent’s arm.

  “Parenting rule number one,” Bobseyn said. “Don’t ever give a teenager your credit card.”

  Dent was tempted to knock the smile off Bobseyn’s face. “Why didn’t you say anything when they left this morning?”

  Leaning back in his chair, hands folded behind his head and staring up at the ceiling, Bobseyn replied, “Because I know better than to argue with Kasumi.”

  Dent turned back and stared at Fifth.

  “No shit,” he said.

  “Hey!” Fifth called out to him from behind Cherry. “Language!”

  XLVIII

  “You know what?”

  Dent didn’t look up from his EB, where he was busy trying to find out any recent news feeds on Chisholme. He knew that Fifth would answer her own question whether or not he acknowledged her.

  “I said, do you know what?”

  That tone of voice was different.

  He put his EB down on the bed next to him and looked up. Fifth had her face in the window, arms folded on the sill, staring out at the night.

  “What?” he finally asked.

  “Took you long enough to answer.” She didn’t even turn his way when she spoke.

  “You were going to answer … Never mind.” He rolled his shoulder, put a hand to his tender ribs. “What?” he asked again.

  “I like Cherry.”

  “Then why aren’t you in her room?”

  “Because,” she finally turned, corner of her lips curled, “girls need their privacy.”

  “And men don’t?”

  “Eh.”

  “That wasn’t an answer.”

  “I could have shrugged, but that’s more your thing.”

  This pointless conversation could go on for minutes if he didn’t stop it now. “Your point? With Cherry?”

  She sighed and pushed away from the window to hop onto the foot of the bed. His bed. She twisted, smacked his feet aside, and settled in after pulling out her own EB. She began to thumb through several screens. Apparently it was okay for her to put her face in her EB during a conversation.

  “You think she and her dad will be all right?” she finally asked.

  Dent was about to shrug, stopped himself. “I’m not an expert on people ….” He waited for her laughing to subside then said, “I think they will be fine. Especially with whatever you did to them.”

  “How do you know I did anything?”

  “One, the two were at odds with each other when Cherry first left. In my opinion, the probability of something like that fixing itself is very low. And two, I know you. You can’t help but to try fixing people.”

  “Yeah, well some people want to be fixed. Besides, I didn’t do anything major. Just made them both feel really apologetic for a while. That got the ball rolling.” She stopped scrolling through her EB and stared down at the screen.

  Dent waited.

  She asked, “Are we going back to New Jersey?”

  “For the time being, yes.”

  She looked up at him. “Think we’ll ever be able to stay in one place long enough to make friends?” She paused, then corrected herself. “For me to make friends?”

  “That’s the eventual plan.”

  “What if we stay someplace like here? We’re in the middle of nowhere. We could hide from Chisholme and my mother. And Noman.”

  The girl was forgetting one vital point. “Chisholme set up shop here.”

  Fifth’s face scrunched up and Dent wondered if she smelled something foul in the air that he didn’t. “Yeah, there is that,” she conceded.

  The conversation Dent had with Bobseyn yesterday played through Dent’s mind. Bobseyn had said Fifth was acting differently. Dent hadn’t really noticed any changes. The girl was less … rambunctious than normal, though. It did bother him not being able to tell the difference in her behavior, the same way it would bother him walking into a room full of hostiles with no way of determining which person was armed. To him, Fifth seemed her normal self around Cherry but may have been less talkative around Dent lately — if Fifth and less talkative could even be considered in the same sentence.r />
  “What’s wrong?” he asked, figuring that was what he was supposed to say at this time.

  She looked up at him, right brow raised. “Excuse me?”

  “What’s wrong?” He said it louder this time.

  “I heard you, Dent. Just surprised that you asked it.”

  He shrugged. And waited.

  And waited.

  Finally, she said softly, “Connor. He was like me.”

  Yes and no, but Dent didn’t give his opinion.

  “Whatever Connor was, he was able to do what I do. Although it was only one emotion he was able to force, to tamper with, he still was able to do it. And he was super strong with that one emotion.”

  “True.”

  “I thought I was alone. Being like this.” She sighed, her shoulders trembled slightly as they sagged. “But I was wrong. I screwed up.”

  “So we didn’t know there were others like you. Not having knowledge isn’t screwing up, Fifth.”

  “I’m not talking about the knowledge. I’m talking about what I did.” She looked down again, at her EB. “I killed the one person in the world that is like me. Was like me.”

  “Out of necessity.”

  “No, Dent. You deal in necessities. I deal in real life.”

  Dent wasn’t following. He sat up straighter, thinking that would tell Fifth that he was interested in what she was going on about.

  “I thought I was alone,” she whispered, “found out I wasn’t, and then made myself be alone again.”

  This … triggered something in Dent. The false statement Fifth had made brought a remark to his lips before he even knew what he was saying.

  “So that makes me nothing?” he asked.

  Her head shot up and she quickly patted his foot. “No, Dent. You aren’t nothing. I didn’t mean it that way. You know that.”

  Shrug.

  “I just wanted to know that there was someone else out there like me. Someone who knows what I’m going through. And there was, and then I ….” She trailed off, angled her head away from Dent.