Mystical Love

by Rachel James

  A sound mind isn’t everything, her inner voice chided. It can’t hold a candle to hot, sweaty sex with a devastatingly handsome man.

  Sonny made a face at her reflection. As if we’d ever meet a man like that, she shot back. You have to be out in the world to accomplish that deed. And when was the last time we were out in the world? No answer came from her ego, and Sonny’s smile switched to laughter. That’s right, Miss Empath. Cross “one sexy hunk” off our Christmas list this year.

  Sonny’s mouth twisted into a cynical smile at her rambling mind; however, her thoughts soon switched back to the mysterious Meta Corps agent. What was his name? Was he one of their best? And why didn’t he call?

  “Here, drink this,” a pleasant voice said from behind her. “You look like you could use a refreshing pick-me-up.”

  Sonny turned, smiling at the tall woman offering her a mug of steaming liquid. “You’re an angel, Cassy,” she said, grabbing the mug and taking a quick sip. “Mm. Chamomile tea. Just the thing to calm my rattled nerves.”

  “As usual, you’ve been conducting too many sessions in one day.”

  “Those sessions pay the bills, Cassy.”

  A haughty sniff came from her friend.

  “You have enough money for two lifetimes. Why put yourself through such mental distress when you don’t need to?”

  “I have to help people, Cassy. It’s my job.”

  Her sniff came again, followed by the soft sound of something dropping to the floor.

  “You really must be rattled today. You’ve dropped one of your fancy cards on the floor.”

  Picking it up, Cassy offered it to Sonny, who took one look at it and turned away. Ugh! The Death card. Whose Death did it indicate? The frightened girl’s? Or her own? Who cares, she answered her own question. We are through thinking about hypnotic voices that bury bodies under the trees.

  Sighing, she returned to her desk and kicked off her shoes. “It’s time to stop focusing on Death cards and focus on work; otherwise, we’ll be days behind in arranging my aura portrait classes.” She leaned forward, riffling through the pile of letters Cassy had brought with the tea and laid on her desk “Anything pressing in the mail?”

  “Just more requests for your services.”

  “Turn them all down,” Sonny said suddenly. She handed the stack back to Cassy. “You’re right. It’s time I take a break from absorbing people’s energy for a while.”

  “Well, hallelujah,” Cassy crowed. She sketched a wave and sashayed from the room, not bothering to the close the door behind her. Sonny grinned and then let her gaze drift to the High Priestess painting on her far wall.

  The Seeress. The Empath. The Guardian of the Doorway.

  But what doorway? her inner voice asked. And why are our talents showing signs of deterioration after all these years?

  Stop asking questions we can’t answer, she advised her ego. Focus on ones we can.

  Her gaze scanned the top of her desk, spotting the peekaboo card still taunting her. She opened the drawer, pulled it out, and tossed the card back onto the top of the desk. It skittered across the smooth glass, stalling at the edge. It was time to focus on the Tarot cards and discern an answer. She collected the baggies and laid the cards out in a straight line. Did she want to know the answer? Touch them, her inner voice nudged. Just take off your gloves and touch one of them. You’ll know the killer’s identity immediately.

  Sonny squirmed in her chair. No thank you, Miss Empath. You know we’ve given up touching objects that send us down rabbit holes filled with visions we can’t interpret. The price is too high. We’re just going to get a “feel” for the evidence. She shifted her torso and settled back in her chair. Thank God she hadn’t told anyone about Meta Corps’ request. She’d appear more of a fool than the Fool card.

  She let her gloved fingers slide over the cloaked skeleton with a giant scythe. A sudden tremor of an image started to emerge, and she pulled her fingers back rapidly. What the hell was that? She had almost initiated a vision through her gloves. Her current stress level must be higher than she thought. In the past, her talent had no way of setting off as long as she was wearing gloves. She took a last look at the skeleton.

  “You are nothing but a big, fat jokester,” she told the card. “You have no power over me.” A flash of words assailed her mind.

  I KNOW YOUR NAME AND

  WHERE YOU LIVE.

  Absorbing the words, Sonny felt tears ring her eyelashes. The victim had been taunted through a phone call by an annoying, arrogant bastard. No wonder she’d stopped going out and cried all the time. Sonny dropped the baggie back onto the desk and wiped her wet cheeks. She wasn’t quite ready to “feel” what this victim had felt.

  She turned her attention to the Judgment card. Lifting the baggie, she studied the figures rising out of the coffin. Had the second victim been buried alive? Make a note to ask the sexy Meta Corps hunk that they send, her inner voice advised. And when he confirms your suspicion, give him a big, fat, juicy kiss as a reward.

  Exasperated, Sonny dropped the card. What is your problem, Miss Empath? You’ve become fixated on all things sexual. Get your mind out of the bedroom and concentrate. No further jabs came, but drops of blood did—all over the plastic baggie.

  Seeing the mess, Sonny sprang to her feet, snatching a tissue from a box on her desk and wiping down the plastic. Holding her nose, she fled to the bathroom and attempted to staunch the flow of blood. She dropped her head back and wondered whether it wasn’t time to see a doctor. She was showing signs of a complete unraveling. First, her mind; now, her body.

  The sound of voices floated through the bathroom door, and Sonny recognized them immediately. Great. Now, on top of bleeding all over police evidence, she had to deal with her aunt and Ned. What the hell did they want?

  She checked her face in the mirror, pleased to see no red marks stained it, and then, taking a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders and exited the bathroom. Her lips snaked upward as she joined the pair.

  “Both of you at once?” she quipped, dropping into her desk chair. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  Ned spoke first. “I’ve brought your damn receipts,” he said, dropping a fat file-folder in front of her. He motioned to a metal box on the edge of her desk. “And here are the damn discs you demanded to see.”

  Sonny’s eyebrows rose. “I didn’t demand to see anything, Ned. Daddy did.”

  “What? You could’ve told me that sooner.” He dropped his massive frame into a chair and glared at her. “You take perverse enjoyment in telling people only half truths, don’t you?”

  “Oh, leave her alone, Ned,” her aunt interrupted. “If David told her to acquire the discs, she had no choice but to do it.”

  “He could’ve asked me himself,” Ned scoffed. “His telephone works.”

  Sonny saw her aunt begin fidgeting. A clash between them was imminent; she could feel it. She took back the conversation quickly.

  “I’ve a lucid dreaming class in a few minutes, so if anyone has anything important to say, say it now.” Her gaze impaled her aunt. “Aunt Charlotte?”

  “You’ve been oddly preoccupied all week, Sonny. I want to be sure nothing serious is going on with your health.”

  “Define serious.” Time to break the news, her inner voice advised. Sonny waved her hands at the baggies in front of her. “Meta Corps has requested I look at some evidence involving a serial killer.”

  “Dear God! You didn’t accept?” Her aunt looked repulsed by such a request.

  “Of course I did.”

  Ned settled back in his chair, fussing with a pleat in his trousers. “I should think by now, Charlotte, you would’ve learned that Sonny does what she damn well pleases—regardless of what anyone else thinks or says.”

  Hearing the annoyance in Ned’s tone, Sonny matched it. “I do it to irk you, Ned—as payback for all the ragging you do on me.”

  “If we rag on you, it’s because we love you and want to
protect you,” her aunt threw in. She leaned forward, placing her jeweled fingers over Sonny’s gloved ones. “I know how terrible it was for you to lose your mother at twelve and then be homeschooled by me. You missed out on a lot of friendships.”

  “It can’t have been pleasant for Daddy to lose his wife and gain an empath at the same time,” Sonny retorted. “But I always appreciated your trying to keep the press from learning my secret and plastering it all over the news.”

  Her aunt released her hand and then lifted one of the evidence baggies. Sonny tamped down an urge to snatch it from her fingers. Instead, she switched the subject.

  “If there’s nothing more you need from me, I need you both to leave. I’ve got to prepare my mind for the upcoming session. And I can’t do that with your negative vibes stuck to me.” The pair continued to stare at her, rather than rising. “What? Spit it out, Aunt Charlotte,” she demanded.

  “You’ve grown into quite a stunning woman over the years, Sonny,” her aunt remarked.

  Sonny schooled her features. Here we go. Bash the ego. “Do you think so?” she finally asked. “Stunning enough for a rugged, good-looking man to offer me hot, sweaty sex?”

  “Don’t be vulgar. You know I abhor vulgarity—especially in you.”

  “Lighten up, Aunt Charlotte. You know I’m only joking. Where is your sense of humor today?”

  An odd silence descended on the room, and then, out of nowhere, Ned spoke up.

  “As your aunt has just pointed out, you’ve been off your game lately. Both of us wonder whether you shouldn’t back off your schedule and take a vacation. Why don’t you and I go to Europe? It’s been years since we’ve enjoyed a holiday together.”

  Sonny’s mouth turned down. “If I remember right, we took a holiday together not because you wanted to go, but because Daddy ordered you to take me to Europe as a graduation present. Now that I’m a grown woman, I can’t imagine a worse trip. We’d be arguing the whole time. I’d rather go with a man I adore, and we’re on our honeymoon.”

  “I can give you the names of at least three suitable men who’d like nothing better than to marry you, Sonny,” her aunt interjected crisply. “Just say the word and I’ll set up a date night.”

  Sonny fired up at the offer. “Get out of my office, Aunt Charlotte, and take Ned with you, before I forget that you are family and I love you. And for your information, I am capable of finding a man on my own, preferably a virile one who can take me past naked desire to ecstatic fulfillment.”

  Her aunt’s scowl reappeared. “You’re being vulgar again.”

  “No, being vulgar is pointing out that sex doesn’t take place in the hands, but between the thighs.”

  Her aunt shot to her feet. “If you insist on talking like a common whore, this conversation is over.” She whirled around and strode out the door without a backward glance. Watching her disappear, Sonny sighed. One down; one to go. Her gaze drifted to Ned, who hoisted his large frame out of the chair.

  “You can be an awful bitch sometimes, Sonny.”

  Sonny’s mouth snapped open, as if to vent an objection; however, seeing the fire behind Ned’s eyes, she wisely backed down.

  “I’ll apologize to Aunt Charlotte as soon as my class is through.”

  “See that you do.” He approached the desk and studied the plastic bags spread out on the desk. “Is it wise to help Meta Corps with such a big case?” he asked. “Your talent is fine in small doses, but to burden yourself with a serial killing seems like psychic suicide.” He fingered the plastic coverings, and it took all of Sonny’s willpower not to snatch the bags away. She admonished him verbally instead.

  “You know better than to touch pieces I’m working on, Ned. You’ll smudge the vibrations with your own energy.”

  His fingers drew back. “You really are a bitch, Sonny.” He whirled from the desk and exited the room, leaving Sonny to curse softly.

  “In my world, it takes a cunning bastard to recognize a cunning bitch. Welcome to my world, Ned.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Glancing at the three women assembled beyond the two-way mirror, Ned Chalmers smiled. It was going to be a very productive morning fulfilling these women’s desires. Their pleasure always got his juices flowing. He studied the woman closest to the window. Sarah Winters was a mid-fifties empty nester who longed to relieve her boredom by reliving her youth. She paid him big bucks for the adventure, and he always paid special attention to her desires when he put her under.

  His gaze tripped to the teen seated beside her. Troubled Maddie Sharp. She sought a different way out of her problems, besides heroin and coke. He always paid special attention to her, too. Once under, he gave her the ultimate high—a new and improved sex life. He snickered at the thought. He hoped her boyfriend back home was grateful for his new-found sex slave.

  Next, his gaze landed on a blonde in a yellow tank top and matching shorts. Margie Hunt was a frequent visitor to the retreat, and while here, she always spent her time and money delving into past-life regressions. To her credit, she wasn’t one of the messed-up ones. Her sparkling personality was always in force, and that joy never wavered, not even under hypnosis. It was as if her spirit was so good that no amount of negativity could touch it.

  She was his first appointment today, and by the looks on the other women’s faces, she was regaling them with some past remembrance of a therapy session. They were all laughing, and the sound filtered through the mirror, reminding him of his last session with Margie. She had gone under fast and stayed under longer than he expected. And for that he had been paid handsomely when she woke.

  A familiar figure appeared in the waiting room, greeting the women and then heading for the chamber door. As it opened, Ned turned.

  “You’re up early, Charlotte,” he greeted her.

  She shut the door quietly. “We’re heavy on appointments today. I noticed an odd thrumming in the headpieces yesterday, so I’m recalibrating all of them before the sessions start. We can’t risk being sued because we’ve electrocuted one of our guests.”

  Ned frowned at her words. “I check my headpieces daily. They don’t need any further monitoring.”

  “That doesn’t seem to stop you from checking my equipment daily, though, does it?”

  “You’re hallucinating,” Ned said. “I’ve never interfered with your dream lab equipment.”

  She ignored his statement, moving to the mirror instead. She gazed out at the seated women. “I see Margie Hunt’s here again. Perhaps we should restrict how many sessions she’s allowed to indulge in while she’s here.”

  “It’s her money,” Ned retorted. “Let her spend it how she wants. Besides, it’s clients like her that bring in other clients. When she leaves here, she recommends The Sanctuary to all her friends. I have no intention of telling her she’s unwelcome.”

  The woman beside him sighed. “Very well. Do as you like. You always do.” She moved from the window to a raised chair on a platform. Once there, she lifted a green headpiece from its holster and studied the dials situated on either side of the crown. Obviously not liking what she saw, she withdrew a small screwdriver from her pocket and adjusted the screws.

  Giving her space, Ned returned to the main console and waited for her nod. When it came, he powered up the circuit board. Green lights rolled on one by one, and in seconds, the entire system was set to go. He moved to the door and then stepped back as Charlotte swept past him, back into the waiting room.

  “You’re first, Margie,” she called. “Have a great session.”

  The woman sprang from her chair, her face glowing with an eagerness Ned couldn’t help but savor. The woman couldn’t wait to go under, and he couldn’t wait to give her what she wanted. She took her seat in the chamber chair quickly, settled the green headpiece on her head, and then waited patiently for Ned to acknowledge her readiness. He hit the “on” button, and a prerecorded voice came through the room’s speakers.

  “It’s only moments before dawn. It’s a
beautiful summer morning, and you’re outside, enjoying the beginning of a new day. You notice a gentle, warm breeze and the scent of the morning air. You can hear birds chirping in the distance, and the sound is muted and pleasant as they welcome the dawn of a new day … In front of you, you see a very beautiful, gated gazebo. There are four steps up to a gate. It’s a green gate … Can you see it?”

  “I see it.”

  “You walk towards it, thinking it’s the perfect place to relax and watch the sunrise from … And now you’re going beyond the sunrise … beyond the colors of dawn, into the center of the sunrise … Where are you now?”

  “I’m riding in a gondola in Venice. Monte and I are on vacation. The sky is blue, and music is playing from an apartment building nearby. We’re happier than we’ve ever been … ”

  “And where are you now?”

  “Monte and I are having incredible sex in the moonlight. The stars are shimmering like silver. Monte’s a wonderful lover, knows just where to touch me … ”

  “And where are you now?”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Panting heavily, Logan rubbed his right side. He wasn’t used to hiking up steep hillsides, and his body was rejecting the climb with every step he took. So far, he had stalled by two rocks, clung to a tree, and pleaded for a refreshing drink of water. When he didn’t oblige his body, his brain complained of all the dirt and rubble on the path. He grimaced. Dirt had been his only companion as he ascended the hill, and he was damn tired of breathing in the particles.

  Glancing up, Logan was grateful to see he was finally closing in on the jutting overhang above him. He had been following the marked path of arrows since starting his climb, and he wondered if he was ever going to reach the scenic overlook.

  Bent on reaching the overlook in less than two minutes, he doubled his pace. Three minutes later, he reached the scenic plateau, wheezing lightly. Studying the vista now spread out before him, Logan immediately took in its beauty. The Sanctuary was a magnificent piece of real estate; Dresden hadn’t lied about that. Down the hillside, the canyon floor was awash with colorful blooms of purple, yellow, and blue. To his right, adobe cottages dotted the hillside, and off to his left, tall buildings surrounded a large lake. Serenity, the shuttle driver had called it, as the van had circled the lake—the side of the retreat that catered to the guests’ desire to take classes, have personal readings, or indulge in a variety of metaphysical pursuits.