Page 12 of Power of the Mind
Tallus fucking Domingo had me wrapped around his baby finger.
“Just look into her. If you still think I’m out of my mind, I’ll go back to my little old life and leave you alone. I promise.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.I didn’t want that either.
“Fine,” I mumbled inaudibly. “But it’s stupid.”
“Was that a yes?”
A rumble resonated deep in my throat. It was answer enough, and Tallus grinned and rose on his toes, pecking a soft kiss on my cheek under my eye where I wore the worst scar. “You’re the best. Thanks, D.”
“You’re a manipulative asshole.”
He chuckled. “It’s my superpower, but you love it.”
He spun on his heels and sashayed into the other room. “Come on. I’ll show you what I’ve found.”
And like the salivating, attention-starved puppy I was, I followed.
***
As I suspected, theproofTallus had was bogus. He’d lost his marbles. What he’d discovered was twoloosecoincidences. Not facts.
But like the powerhouse he was, Tallus took over the desk and computer, leaving me to pull up an ugly orange plastic chair from the waiting room so I could sit beside him like an underling.
“Amber Wells is case number one. But her brother isn’t the only one convinced Madame Rowena was using mind control to manipulate her clients. Several other people claim she gets inside their heads in an invasive manner. Then, there’s this.” Tallus spun the screen so I could see the article he’d pulled up.
Before I could read the selection, Tallus barreled ahead. “Sixty-one-year-old Allan Cornell was found dead in his apartment shortly after nine on the evening of August seventh after a neighbor complained about a smell. The retired schoolteacher had taken his own life, but the scene, according to emergency responders, wasdisturbing.”
Tallus tapped the word on the screen as though suicides were never disturbing, and the word alone explained something I wasn’t understanding. “Although eyewitnesses wouldn’t go into details, they did share that a suicide note was discovered. Allan Cornell claimed he needed to make it stop because it was inside him. What Cornell was referring to is unknown. The police are not commenting on the possibility of enemies and don’t feel Cornell was under threat. The retired schoolteacher was not known to have suffered from dementia or any other mental health illnesses and was said to be quiet and amicable, according to his family. However, a close neighbor of the deceased told reporters Cornell had been acting out of the ordinary for several weeks, exhibiting symptoms of paranoia and distorted thinking. According to the same neighbor, Cornell’s symptoms manifested following the commencement of a new treatment plan for his rheumatoid arthritis. The police do not feel the two things are related.”
Tallus held up a finger. “Hang on. There’s more. The newspaper didn’t do a follow-up that I could find, but I came across this. It’s talking about the same person.”
He clicked over to a new article written by an honest-to-god tabloid magazine featuring the headlineMy Neighbor was Mind-Controlled into Killing Himself. The reporter had interviewed one of Allan Cornell’s neighbors who had embellished the idea that the retired schoolteacher was suffering paranoia and delusional thinking before his death. The neighbor suggested Cornell had been possessed and manipulated bya supernatural being. “He wasn’t okay. That’s for sure,” the neighbor was quoted as saying.
After giving me time to browse the write-up, Tallus gave me an anticipatory look, like the answers to my questions had been wrapped up with a big fat bow.
“I don’t get it.”
“Mind control. The two cases are the exact same.”
“They’re not.”
“Cornell’s symptoms manifested after he sought treatment for his arthritis.”
“No.”
“And Madame Rowena is a self-proclaimed psychic healer. Her website claims she helps people suffering from medically known ailments such as rheumatoid arthritis, and she does this by relocating an invasive spirit that has attached itself to a person’s aura.”
He said it so definitively I had to bite back a derisive snort. “Are you hearing yourself?”
“I know, I know. I told Memphis he was out of his mind, but I was wrong. This”—he tapped the article on the screen—“is exactly what happened to Amber.”
“It’s not.”
“It is… loosely. Amber saw Madame Rowena for migraines. Amber’s brother claimed his sister was actingparanoid and delusional, just like Allan. The woman got inside her head and told Amber to kill herself, the same as she did to dear old Allan. They are carbon copies of one another.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and ground my teeth. “You don’t even know if this Allan guy was seeing a psychic healer, let alone Madame What’s Her Face.”