Mystical Love

by Rachel James

  “He’s not going to make it, Reed,” the lieutenant said, wiping his bloodied hands on a towel as he settled beside Logan and watched the female’s efficient ministrations. Logan didn’t offer a comment. “You’re scowling. What are you thinking?”

  “His mind zap didn’t work.”

  “Not that we know of,” Cutter said, tossing the towel into the corner of the chamber. “However, if the bastard lives through this, we’ll fry his ass for murdering David and attempting to kill Sonny.”

  “Look at his face,” Logan said. “Even unconscious, he’s worried. It’s as if he suspects the mind transfer didn’t have time to work.”

  “He swamped her mind, Reed,” the lieutenant said. “Just look at her face. It’s devoid of life. If she wakes, what will she be? A vegetable?”

  Logan snarled at the insinuation. “It will take more than two or three mind zaps to take Sonny down. The question is did he have time to execute the entire program before we arrived?”

  The sound of thundering rotors and loud sirens filtered down to the basement.

  “Trauma Hawk,” Cutter said, moving away.

  Logan grasped his arm. “Ned doesn’t ride in the chopper with Sonny,” he stated.

  “The man needs surgery, Reed.”

  “He doesn’t ride with Sonny,” Logan emphasized. “Send him by ambulance.”

  “He’ll die along the way,” the lieutenant advised. He eyed Logan’s frigid expression. “Jesus! You’re hoping he dies along the way.”

  Logan headed towards Ned’s prostrate form. Seeing his approach, the officer who had been tending his wound rose and stepped away.

  “He’s coming around,” she told Logan as she passed him.

  Logan glanced down and saw pain-filled eyes staring up at him. The voice was barely audible as it spoke.

  “I was sure you wanted me dead,” he whispered.

  Logan dropped to his haunches. “Killing you would’ve served your purpose, not mine, Chalmers. It would’ve been foolish to kill you this soon. And trust me, I’m not a fool.”

  “Thank you for not killing me this soon,” Ned said sarcastically. He broke off, his face mired in pain.

  “Yet,” Logan emphasized, hearing a raspy pant. “I haven’t killed you yet.”

  Ned’s mouth twisted into a lopsided grin, and a spurt of blood spread across his lips. “Once the program is set, it can’t be undone,” he wheezed. “There’ll be no miracle. You won’t save Sonny. She’s one with the darkness now.”

  “I believe you,” Logan said. “But I also believe that you would never damage her brain entirely.”

  He heard another busted wheeze. “You can’t imagine the thrill—the power one gets from killing empaths I had to have Sonny’s.”

  “By turning her into a brand new person?”

  Ned’s eyes were dilating now. “I would’ve been good to her.” He tried to raise his hand, but it fell back quickly. “With her talent and my cunning, we would’ve been unstoppable.”

  A scuffle sounded behind them, and when Logan turned, Brad was pushing past two security officers and bearing down on them. When he reached Ned, he dropped to his knees.

  “How could you do it, you bastard?” he demanded, his accusation scathing. “How could you send Sonny’s mind to God knows where?”

  Ned’s wheeze was filled with matching contempt. “At least I’m no sniveling coward.” He coughed up blood. “I was willing to gamble that Pandora was still viable, and I was right. Pandora works.”

  “So you fried Sonny’s brain all in the name of your precious ego?”

  Ned coughed up another stream of blood. “Go away, Brad,” he gasped. “Let me die in peace.”

  Incensed, Brad reached for Ned’s neck, but Logan’s hands stopped them mid-flight.

  “No one wants the bastard dead more than I do, Fletcher, but if you strangle him, he’ll find peace. And I don’t want him to ever have peace, in this life or the next.”

  “Let me kill him then,” Brad said, knocking Logan’s fingers from his. He lowered his voice. “He deserves to feel the same pain Sonny did.”

  “He will. He’s going to bleed to death right here on the floor. I intend to see to it. He’ll never make it into surgery.”

  A rasp whistled through Ned’s lips. “Dark … ness.”

  The stutter was barely audible, but it still rocked Logan’s ears. He glanced at the face, suddenly devoid of life, and breathed a sigh of relief.

  “The bastard got his wish. He’s trapped in darkness for eternity.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  Something warm tickled her face, and she opened her eyes. At least she tried to. A horrendous pounding erupted deep in her head, and a tiny voice urged her to sleep. She sank into a wonderful euphoria, until that same tiny voice came again, demanding she open her eyes. Once again, she felt the same warmth on her face and attempted to lift her lids. When they shot up, she saw a white ceiling.

  Flinching under the light, she immediately closed her eyes and fell back to sleep. But the tiny voice came again, urging her to stay awake. She opened her eyes, and this time, they stayed open. The white ceiling shimmered in a blur and then shifted to the top of a glass-paned door. Somewhere close by, she heard a light scratching sound. She followed the sound and saw a tree branch bobbing against an open patio door. A sprinkling of light peeped across a stone wall, capturing her attention. Sunlight. It was morning, and the sun was rising. But what sun? And where?

  She let her gaze drift left and studied the tree branch. Where was she? She tried to think and found herself hit with that same pounding in her head, although it wasn’t quite as painful this time. She closed her eyes, seeking release from the tiring ache, and the tiny voice let her.

  Soon, too soon for her liking, the voice came back, prodding her to wake up. The thought made her suddenly cry. It felt as if her mind was trying to test her in some way, trick her.

  She attempted to raise her hand and brush the annoying wetness away, but found she didn’t have the strength. What was wrong with her hands? She glanced down and spotted bandages covering both of them. She flinched under the jolt erupting in her head. For a moment, she thought the tiny voice would advise her to go to sleep, but when her gaze remained focused on the bandages, the pain drifted away. Why were her hands wrapped? Had she tried to commit suicide? Yes, she must’ve. That’s why her brain was testing her. She had lost touch with reality and tried to kill herself. She had been locked up because she was crazy. Her glance found the open doorway again. No, that couldn’t be the answer. There weren’t any open doors in insane asylums—just cells, little cells, with shackles and chairs. And pain, intense pain.

  The throbbing pain in her head ignited again, sending her into a dark place with shackles and chairs. Think. No, don’t think, it’s too painful. Go to sleep. No, don’t go to sleep. Think. Too hard to think. Better to sleep. Yes, sleep. No, think. Find the answer. Too hard. Must sleep. No, better to know the answer. Time to remember the answer. Yes, time to stop sleeping …

  A musky aroma wafted into her nose, and she opened her eyes. Aftershave. Who was wearing it? She attempted to turn her head and found her neck muscles stiff and sore. What the hell had happened to her neck? She glanced down, surprised to find IV lines protruding from under her bandages.

  Slowly, her mind began to backtrack. She had been driving on a sharp curve. Blinding lights had hit her head-on, and then, intense pain and ... nothing. The rest was lost, at least for the moment. She tuned in to the rhythmic tick of a heart monitor above her head and lowered her chin. A set of wires jutted from the top of her hospital gown onto the pillow under her head. By some miracle, she had survived a car accident. She had been brought to a hospital. But when? And how long ago?

  She felt the sheet around her toes rustle and followed the sound. Her eyebrows shot up when she spied a white-coated figure standing at the foot of the bed, totally engrossed in the clipboard he was holding. His expression telegraphed concern as he lifted each of
the pages and read them. Was she in that bad of shape? Perhaps the accident had left her paralyzed. No, she realized. She could move her arms and had wriggled her toes slightly. You couldn’t do that if you were numb from the waist down. It had to be her head. It had taken a walloping hit during the accident, but how long ago? Days? Weeks? Was that why the doctor’s brow was so furrowed?

  She let her gaze travel the strong lines of his face. Confident, trustworthy—everything a doctor should be. She’d speak to him. Let him know he needn’t worry anymore; she was fine. She felt her eyelids flicker down. A second later, she heard movement, and a strong grip encircled her wrist.

  A deep voice called, “Try to stay awake if you can.”

  She followed the instructions, opening her lids to find a pair of gray-green eyes leaning into her.

  “You must focus on my voice ... No, don’t try to speak. You must save your energy. You’ve been a very sick young woman, but you’ll get better now that you’re awake.” He cast a harried glance over his shoulder and then reached up above her head. He must’ve adjusted her IV, because she felt a euphoric dizziness consume her.

  “Don’t ... make ... me … sleep ... ” she mumbled.

  “My God, she’s awake! Awake!”

  Scuffling sounds ensued, and then two tall figures leaned over her bed and assessed her face. More doctors? She must’ve really banged herself up during the crash to garner so much attention. There was even a doctor on standby, just inside the door. Why hadn’t he rushed to the bed in concern like the others? A blinding pain erupted in her head at the question, and she reeled back into the pillow. She felt her pulse taken quickly and turned her attention to the doctor on her right. She heard his soft mutter.

  “Take it easy. Do you know where you are?”

  She attempted an answer, surprised to find her voice hoarse and strained.

  “Hos … pi … tal.”

  She heard him mutter, “Thank God,” beneath his breath. In the next instant, she found her fingers raised and pinched by the female doctor on her left.

  “How do you feel? Can you remember your name?”

  She didn’t answer right away, stunned by the doctor’s show of affection. The woman was holding her fingers as if she personally cared what happened to her. Did she know the woman? Her gaze scanned the beautiful face. She seemed familiar; however, she couldn’t put a name to the face. The confident doctor spoke again.

  “Stay focused, if you can. I realize the medicine makes your mind drift, but don’t space out on us now.” Her gaze swam back to his, and he gave a sigh of relief. “Do you know who you are?”

  “A ... manda ... Amanda King.”

  Disbelief, shock, and disappointment flooded his face all in the space of a few seconds, and Amanda had the feeling she had said something horribly wrong. The doctor on her left dropped her fingers as if burned and took a step back. She saw the same dismay register on the woman’s face, and then she was turning, looking off to the doorway at the figure just out of the range of her vision.

  “Can you remember what happened to you, Miss King?” the doctor asked.

  “Car ... accident ... Headlights ... Confused ... ”

  Again, she saw disappointment flood the doctors’ faces. What had she said to make them so worried? Unexpected tears pooled around her eyelashes, and the female doctor stroked her wrist.

  “Don’t cry, Miss King. You’re safe. Your body’s been through a rough shock, that’s all. Can you tell us how old you are?”

  Amanda stirred. The doctor was testing her memory. “Twenty-four.”

  A gentle pat touched her hands.

  “Good. That’s enough talking for now. You just close your eyes and sleep. We’ll talk again when you’ve rested.”

  Once again, Amanda saw the confident doctor reach above her head and adjust her IV bag. A blissful euphoria invaded her limbs, and she floated away. As her eyelids flickered down, she heard movement around the bed. The doctors were leaving.

  “I’m sorry. I wish the news could’ve been better. However, I did warn you.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” a new and deeply pleasant voice advised. “She’s alive, her brain intact, and nothing else matters.”

  Umm, a doctor who really cares, Amanda thought, attempting to open her eyes. Was it the doctor at the door? She’d steal a peek; he sounded nice. Though her brain asked her to open her eyes, her eyelids remained shut. Once again, she floated on a cloud. Umm, they were giving her glorious drugs. She’d thank the nice doctor at the door tomorrow for such exquisite, mind-altering drugs.

  • • •

  The first call for boarding passengers pealed from the overhead speakers, and Logan sprang to his feet. The hour wait had been interminable. Reaching down, he hoisted his duffel bag to his shoulder. Half turning, he extended his hand to the man standing beside him. The lieutenant greeted the gesture with a frown.

  “I wish you’d stay a bit longer, Reed. Sonny’s making incredible strides in her recovery.”

  “I’ve already overstayed my welcome. I’m needed back in New York.”

  “Bullshit! The agency can stand another week or two without you. What’s your hurry all of a sudden?”

  Logan clutched his shoulder strap, lifting it to a more comfortable spot on his collarbone. “I’ve been assigned a new case—an empath missing from the Bronx.”

  The lieutenant shook his head. “Let the agency assign the case to someone else! You need to stay a few more days.”

  The overhead speaker echoed a second boarding call, and Logan checked the crowded doorway. He wished he could tell the lieutenant the truth, that he didn’t have the courage to stay a few more days. A hole as big as Texas had been punched in his heart the moment Sonny had roused with no memory of her life as Sonny Blake. The knowledge he had lost her for good was slowly eating away at him, and if he didn’t leave today, he might never leave.

  The cost of staying would be the loss of his soul, and perhaps Sonny’s. Besides, he simply didn’t have the heart to stay now that they were sure she would never recall anyone from her former life. It was ironic really; he had found his life again, thanks to her, but the cost had been the loss of hers. His gaze swam back to the lieutenant.

  “You’ve got my number, right? In case she needs anything.”

  “Hell, Reed, what else could she need? You’ve seen to it that her monies have been transferred from her old life to her new one. How did you arrange that, by the way? Not even Brad could circumvent the roadblocks being thrown at us.”

  Logan managed a wry smile. It hadn’t been easy. But, in the end, his money and Meta Corps’ clout had talked in a gigantic way. His bank account had dwindled substantially, but it was a loss he was willing to take.

  “The less you know about how it was accomplished, the better,” he finally stated.

  The final boarding call blared, and Logan extended his hand again. This time, the lieutenant took it. A flash of humor crossed Logan’s face.

  “You have a home in New York City if you ever need one. You’d make a damn fine Meta Corps agent.”

  Cutter’s mouth twisted wryly. “Don’t have the stomach for it. I like protecting John Q. Public.”

  “Well, if you change your mind, Meta Corps could certainly use a rent-a-cop with scruples. By the way, I did a background check on you last week. You spent years off the radar. Down in some hellhole in Somalia, wasn’t it?”

  “What are you implying?”

  “Not a damn thing. Blake was lucky to have you protecting him; so was Sonny."

  The lieutenant grimaced. “A lot of good it did. I let Ned get away with assaulting our female guests for years. There’ll be hell to pay for that—in this life or the next.”

  “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

  Cutter’s mouth quirked with humor suddenly. “When you get back, tell Dresden I said you’re not such a screw-up after all.”

  Logan grinned, shifting the duffel again, and heading towards the steward collecting tic
kets at the entrance ramp. Left with only a boarding pass, he turned and sketched a wave, surprised to find the lieutenant close on his heels. He allowed a lopsided grin to surface.

  “I’m a big boy, Cutter. I can ride a plane all by myself now.” Logan dipped his head. “Another time, another place, Lieutenant.”

  This time, Cutter didn’t move, merely nodded. Logan continued down the walkway, finally giving a last look towards the terminal doorway. The lieutenant had literally disappeared into the crowd. And now it was his turn to do the same. It was time to pick up the pieces of his life and move on.

  Buckling his seat belt two minutes later, Logan glanced out the window. He wasn’t sorry to see the last of New Mexico, but he wasn’t all that anxious to see New York City again, either. He frowned, his thoughts drifting to Sonny. Just as her mind had been wiped clean and been reborn, so had his. Thanks to her, he had finally learned what it was to put someone’s welfare above his own and not care. The love he had for her would sustain him in the long, lonely days ahead. One day at a time, old man, his inner voice piped up. You’ll forget all about her if you just take it one damn day at a time.

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  Amanda studied the scrub brush outside the window and wondered how much longer Dr. Ramsay was going to make her wait. She was tired of sitting, and certainly tired of having to engage in long, drawn-out therapy sessions. Had there been a snag in signing her discharge papers? The thought caused her heart to flutter, and she rubbed the area absently. Why did the thought of leaving the hospital fill her with such dread?

  Ever since Dr. Ramsay had announced she was well enough to leave and resume her life, she had been deluged with sheer terror. What was there to be afraid of out there? Nothing. The flutter in her heart stilled. Driving wouldn’t be an issue, either. It was something else. Something she couldn’t put a name to.