Page 21 of The Lost Fae
How do I shatter someone's mind?
"Oh, we are not practicing that."
"No and I don't want to. I'm just curious so I know what to stay away from." I turn and look at him. He watches me debating on if he should tell me or not.
Grab their mind, the entirety of it, and squeeze with all your might.
"And what happens?"
They lose their mind, or become a vegetable. Some say it's better for them to be nothing at all than without their sanity.
"Can I do it to Fae?" The unasked question is... Can I do it to Cordelia? Should I feel wrong for the joy that it would bring me to break down her mind? To make her a watered-down version of herself now? One that couldn’t make coherent sentences anymore?
His voice is rough. "It's much harder. Fae are more trained in guarding their minds. Cordelia, specifically, has had years and years of practice guarding every mental gate she has. Even most untrained Fae are good enough to hold onto some portion of their mind... their greatest secrets, their most treasured memories, the image of their children... most have something they hold dear to them and would never let you hold at all."
"What else can I do?"
"That muscle, where I showed you it can flex...flex it." He licks his lips. "And think of something you want... something you know exactly where it is at. It won’t work for a person or any living thing... but anything else. Food, clothes, weapons..."
"Clothes, you say?" I arch a brow.
Grinning, I focus inward, on the muscle that feels like it's a part of me but also not, and I flex. Hard.
"Now think of where you want those items to be. Make it come to you." His voice sounds distant.
I yank my magic and hold my hands out in anticipation. Worn fabric drops into my hand. Two loud thumps land just a few inches in front of me. I crack an eye and squeal.
"Jeans and a t-shirt? Your old boots? That's... that's what you want right now?" Lincoln says, his voice full of skepticism. "You do realize you'll have to cut the back of the t-shirt out to make room for your wings, right? And weren't the pants short on you?"
My excitement deflates. He's right.
"But at least I did it..?" I ask.
"Oh, fuck. Yes." Lincoln claps as if he forgot that this was my first attempt and it was successful. "You did really well, actually."
"Wait. Let me do it again."
I picture my favorite cheeseburger from a local restaurant that's open twenty-four-seven. Part of me feels guilt, because if this works then those burgers are coming from somewhere and I only hope I don't cause too much strife. An annoyed cook and a waitress getting stiffed for her tip, probably. All my attention is pointed at remembering how the burgers smell, how they taste, and what they look like on the plates under the heat lamps between the kitchen and the waiting servers. I hold out my hands again. Smooth and hot, a plate appears in my hand, two steaming burgers on top of it.
"Hot damn! It worked." I laugh and hold the plate out for Lincoln to see. He leans away. "Oh, my god. I can't believe it actually worked." Pulling the plate up to my nose, I inhale deeply and my mouth fills with saliva.
"What. Is. That?" Lincoln bites out.
"A burger." I offer the plate again and point to the second burger specifically for him.
"It looks greasy and it smells... weird."
"But it tastes so good!" I push the plate closer to him. "I know you're hungry. Just try it."
Like a good sport, Lincoln doesn't say another word as he gingerly picks the sandwich up. He rotates it in front of his face examining it from all angles. Cheese drips down the patty and onto the bun and the grimace on his face flattens. He is right about them being greasy though. The bun shines underneath the moon, the meat glistening.
Setting the plate down, I take my burger in my hand and bring it to my lips. "Now take a bite."
He bares his teeth, not excited, but reluctantly sinks his teeth in. He chews, keeping his expression blank. Unwilling to wait, I shove the burger into my mouth and bite off as much as I can take.
"Do you like it?" I say through the food in my mouth. I hover a hand over my mouth to avoid flashing him what I've chewed up.
"It's almost... slimy." He swallows and takes another bite. “This might not be good for our digestion.”
