"I need to begin with the morning I struck my head when I fell at Corsair Financial," he said carefully, remembering how he had awoken in Vince Logan's body and had promptly cracked his forehead against a chair with such force it had caused his body to spasm. Or perhaps that had been part of the transfer process. Either way, it had left him bloody and confused. "I was in that conference room about to be terminated when I felt chest discomfort. Sharp, crushing pains that made me believe I was having a heart attack, and that was on top of my new head wound."
Yvette's expression softened slightly. "I remember. I heard about it through the grapevine. I also heard that the company was dreading a lawsuit, and they quickly reinstated you with a promotion. Some luck, huh?"
"Yes. It was when I fell. It caused me to black out for a moment. When I awoke, much of my memory had vanished."
He paused and rubbed his forehead where a faint scar remained.
"But something else happened. The head injury awakened abilities I never knew I possessed."
"Come on. You can't be serious," Yvette scoffed. "What kind of abilities?"
Morthisal moved closer to her. "I discovered I could influence people's thoughts. Suggest actions to them. It manifested as a peculiar cloud in my mind. A presence I could direct outward. It is an ability that is not always available. I must make pains to rest to, shall we say, recharge them." There was no way Morthisal was about to tell her about the electricity connection.
Yvette shifted uncomfortably. "That sounds crazy, Vince. You sound crazy. I thought you were going to be honest with me."
"I know how it sounds, and I have no explanation as to how or why they materialized inside of me." He gestured toward his head. "The trauma somehow unlocked latent capabilities. Perhaps it is similar to savant syndrome, where brain injuries sometimes grant unusual talents."
"So you're saying you can control minds?"
"Not control. Influence. Suggest. And it is not particularly powerful. It works best on those who are already weak-willed or susceptible."
Yvette stepped back. "Wait. If this is true, and I'm not admitting I believe it, but…have you ever used this ability on me?"
"Never. I would never violate your trust in such a manner."
"How can I believe you? If you really have this power, how would I even know? This is ridiculous. This was a bad idea." Yvette lowered her voice. "You promised me."
"Wait. Please. I can explain. There is something unique about you. Something I cannot penetrate."
Morthisal studied her face. She looked both skeptical and afraid. He reached out tentatively with his abilities and found the familiar obstruction. The titanium plate on the right side of her skull.
"May I?" He raised his hand toward her head.
Yvette drew back initially, then stopped. "What are you doing?"
"May I touch your head? I wish to show you something."
She hesitated, then nodded slowly.
Morthisal gently placed his palm against the right side of her skull, where he sensed the metal barrier. He didn't have to feel around. He knew exactly where it was located. "The titanium plate that resides in your head. This prevents me from affecting you in any way. Your mind is completely protected."
Yvette jerked away from his touch. "That seems awfully convenient."
She crossed her arms again and shook her head.
Morthisal sighed. "I promised you honesty, and I am being truthful." He snapped his fingers. "How about a simple demonstration?"
"You just said it does not work on me."
"I must go outside for a moment."
"If we go out there, I'm leaving," Yvette warned.
"Please. You can leave in another moment if this is not proof enough." He turned toward her and held out his hands. "Please, Yvette. I wish to prove to you that I am not lying and that I am most sincere."
She shook her head and muttered something under her breath that Morthisal could not make out.
Morthisal went to the door and opened it. "Please grant me a moment more."
He stepped onto the balcony and looked down at the pool area. Big Eddie sat sprawled across his usual chair.
"Big Eddie!" Morthisal called down. "Can you join us for a moment?"
Big Eddie rocked forward in his chair, where he had been sitting with his legs straddling the worn pool lounger.
"You got beer? Right?"
"I do."
"Sure thing, Vince. I'll be right there," Big Eddie called back.
A moment later, heavy footsteps echoed on the stairs. Big Eddie appeared at the top, slightly winded. "Vince. You look better than earlier. I could have warned you not to compete at Kenadee's level. That guy's a fucking machine. Now about that beer."
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
"Please, come inside."
As Big Eddie stepped through the doorway, his eyes settled on Yvette Sterling even as she tried to put her hands over her face.
Big Eddie's mouth fell open as he saw her face. "Son of a bitch! You look just like her! Yvette Sterling!"
Morthisal lashed out and seized Big Eddie's mind. He clamped down until Big Eddie stood there with a vacant look.
"Who is that in front of you, Eddie?" Morthisal asked.
"Yvette Sterling or her twin."
Morthisal used his power to whisper in Big Eddie's mind while he spoke aloud. "That is not Yvette Sterling. That is my cousin from Seattle. Her name is Mary. You don't see her as Yvette Sterling. You see her as Mary. You never saw Yvette here."
"Mary, huh? Nice to meet ya. I'm Big Eddie. I'm an actor, and yeah. I'm that guy you've seen me in a bunch of stuff!" Big Eddie said and shook her hand enthusiastically.
Yvette's face went completely blank with shock.
"Eddie. I was mistaken, and I do not have beer. Apologies, my friend. I shall bring some to the pool later."
"Yeah. Sounds good. Great to meetcha, Mary. Enjoy the Cali sun. Just put some sunscreen on, unlike your cousin here. Almost got himself into a fuck around and find out the situation." Big Eddie laughed, loudly clapped Morthisal across the shoulder, and departed.
Morthisal slowly turned to look at Yvette.
She looked equal parts astonished and skeptical.
"You two planned that."
Morthisal sighed in exasperation, but he quickly came up with an idea.
"Yvette. One last test. Join me. We will walk outside, and you can pick anyone at random."
Yvette chewed her lip.
"Tell you what. Let's go for a ride to Sunset Strip. I'll pick someone, and you can prove I'm wrong, which I'm not. When you can't verify it, I'm leaving you there and going straight to the airport." She said, clearly a challenge.
Morthisal inclined his head. "Very well."
Yvette motioned for Morthisal to get in first. She then slid into the passenger seat of a sleek black SUV. She'd put her disguise back on. Her driver, an older Latino guy with short hair and a trim dark beard, didn't even give her a second look.
"If we're going to do this, I need your phone."
"For what purpose?"
"So I know you're not contacting anyone to…I don't know. Get into position."
"You would know if I had my phone out."
"Whatever. If I'm right and this is all a big game to you, I'll throw your phone in the trash after we drive away and leave you on the strip. You can find your way back to your motel, and we will never speak again."
Morthisal slipped his hand into his pocket, withdrew his phone, and handed it to Yvette without hesitation.
Her eyebrows shot up as he called her bluff, then she shook her head and muttered something he couldn't make out.
They rode in silence for several minutes before Morthisal shifted toward her. "How are things at Corsair progressing?"
"Can we save the small talk?"
Morthisal crossed his arms and turned to stare out the darkened window.
Palm trees lined the wider boulevards as they headed toward Sunset Strip. The landscape shifted from rundown motels and check-cashing stores to trendy restaurants and boutique shops. Billboards towered overhead, advertising movies, fashion brands, and plastic surgery clinics. The sidewalks were filled with tourists in shorts and flip-flops thanks to the blazing sun.
Morthisal let it all sink in.
They passed a line of people waiting outside a restaurant with no visible sign. Street performers worked the corners. A man in a Thor superhero costume posed for photos with a family, while another, dressed as Spider-Man, hung upside down from a lamp post.
The SUV slowed as traffic thickened near the Strip. Luxury cars crawled between lanes. A red Ferrari revved its engine at a stoplight next to a rusted pickup truck blasting music.
"Here," Yvette said as they reached a stretch of sidewalk packed with people.
She instructed her driver to circle back in fifteen minutes. Yvette wore her complete disguise but kept her head down as they stepped onto the scorching pavement.
The sun blasted down on them without mercy. People streamed past in both directions. Street vendors hawked tour maps and bottled water. The smell of hot dogs and exhaust fumes hung in the air.
Morthisal joined Yvette and waited patiently.
A man in a long-sleeved shirt approached with a practiced smile. "Excuse me, folks. Want to buy a watch?"
He lifted his sleeve to reveal an array of gaudy timepieces strapped to his forearm. Gold and silver bands flashed in the sunlight. Diamonds and gems decorated the faces.
"Are those real?" Morthisal asked.
"Yeah, man. Real as shit. I'll give you one for fifty bucks. These things go for hundreds or thousands. I just need the money. My mom's sick and-"
Morthisal seized the man's mind with a quick thread of power. "Are these watches stolen? How did you procure them?"
The guy's face slackened. His pupils dilated slightly. "Nah, man. They're just fakes. No offense meant."
"Does your mother suffer from a malady?"
"Mala, what?"
"Is she truly sick?"
"I ain't talk to that bitch in fifteen years. She's probably buried in a bottle of Jamison somewhere."
Morthisal glanced at Yvette; her expression was unreadable. He turned back to the street dealer. "Leave us alone. Do not bother any tourists for the rest of the day."
"Sure. Yeah. No problem." The man nodded, then spun and walked away with a vacant expression.
"Did you somehow know that man?" Yvette asked.
"How in the world could I have known where we were going today? I only found out a few moments ago, and you have my phone."
"Something's not right…"
A tall man dressed as Superman walked past. His padded costume did a terrible job of creating the illusion of muscular chest and arms. He was handsome enough, though a few years too old to be Superman convincingly. His cape swished behind him as he flashed a dazzling smile at passing tourists. He laid eyes on Yvette and made straight for her.
"Hey, little lady. Need a hero? Superman is here for ya. I can do a picture with you for ten bucks. I'll even pick you up and hold you. You can be my Lois Lane."
"No thanks."
"You sure?" He looked her over from head to toe. "I can hold a little thing like you. No worries."
"Excuse me? I didn't ask for your attention, nor to be reduced to a little lady."
"Oh, Jesus, Lady. Take your woke shit somewhere else. I'm trying to make a living out here. No need to be a bitch."
He turned toward Morthisal with an expression of exasperation. "Should keep her on a leash, pal."
"Stop," Morthisal commanded with a blast of power.
Superman's face slackened.
"You are rude."
"I'm sorry," the man said quietly.
Morthisal turned to Yvette. "What should we do with him?"
"You can't be serious," Yvette trailed off, then added. "Wait. He was really rude. Um…tell him he is Batman and that he needs to spend the next fifteen minutes creeping around and randomly telling people he is Batman."
Superman looked at Yvette in confusion, but Morthisal cut him off with another surge of mental energy.
"Did you hear what the lady asked of you?"
"Yeah. I'm Batman. I'm to creep around and randomly tell people I'm Batman for the next fifteen minutes. Want me to do the Batman voice?"
"Yes," Yvette said with a barely suppressed smile.
"Go. And do not belittle others because they don't want your attention. It is rude."
"Got it. Sorry about that, sorry to both of you."
The man set off with his cape swishing behind him. He held his forearm near his face and approached a woman pushing a stroller. "I am Batman," he announced in a gravelly voice before slinking away, then turned and added, "I am the night!"
Yvette couldn't help but laugh.
"Now do you believe me?"
"I'm not sure what to make of this, Vince. It's so outlandish and yet. I don't know."
"You have witnessed it three times."
"I know. It's just that…dammit. How about one more? I'm still trying to figure out what is really going on here."
"Very well, but I must mention that this ability is quite draining."
"Can you handle another?"
"Happily." Morthisal inclined his head. "Yvette. There are limits to how much I can do." He didn't mention the TENS machine thumping against his back, slowly refreshing his powers. "One more is all I can do."
"You know. If this is real, it would be handy in some of the meetings I have to attend."
"Anything you want, Yvette. I am here for you."
Yvette smiled for the first time since she had met with Morthisal today.
Table Talks 34
- I’m not sure what this is
Hooking Readers With a Series. Room: 447-448
- Readers love to get immersed in a rich world and an engrossing story, so it’s no wonder there are so many well-loved series in sci-fi and fantasy! Our panelists will discuss the strategies, considerations, and pitfalls of writing in series, from managing all those characters to keeping your plots engaging.
How Indie Authors Shape Storytelling Trends. Room: 443-444
- Indie authors have the ability to publish quickly and pivot fast, which often means they’re at the forefront of new trends. They also have the ability to write to niche audiences that traditional publishing houses may not cater to. This panel will discuss the ways indie authors have shaped the science fiction and fantasy market, and share thoughts on where the future might be trending.
Indie? Trad? Why Not Both? (being a hybrid author) Room: 443-444
- From indie authors signing trad deals to trad authors self-publishing their back lists, more people than ever are going “hybrid” and dipping a toe in both worlds. Join this panel of hybrid authors to discuss their diverse paths to publication, along with the strengths and considerations of various publication options.