Mystical Love (89 page)

“Like Pandora,” Logan stated.

“Right.” She laid the new cards over the original five and then placed the sixth card with Pandora's image above the row. She tapped the card. “If we believe Foster's story—and I don't want to, by the way—Pandora was designed to open the mind and empty it.” She tapped the Fool card. “The Fool card would then symbolize a fresh new start by taking a leap of faith into the unknown. See how the card depicts Dionysios, leaving the safety of the maternal womb. Like a baby bird leaving the safety of its nest for the first time, it takes a leap of faith.”

“The start of a radical new mind treatment,” Logan interjected. “Going boldly where no man has gone before.”

“Exactly,” Sonny agreed. She tapped the next card. “Here, the Judgement card shows the god Hermes in the role of psychopomp, the guide of dead souls. It was his job to summon the dead and lead them to their final reckoning. The figures rising from the coffin reflect our past lives being called up for review.”

Logan tapped the other Judgement card peeping from beneath the other. “The wake-up call. But who's blowing the trumpet?”

“In both our worlds, it would be a professional therapist, one with the know-how to lead the client out of their dark world and into the light of a new one.”

“Sykes fit that bill to a T,” Logan said. “And if we believe him, once you empty the mind, you are free to replace it with any ‘light,' good or bad.”

She tapped the third card. “This High Priestess goes beyond the one we labeled as ‘secrets.' Remember how Foster said a green door was always used to trigger the memory shift? As you can see, this is the only card with an actual door. It shows Persephone entering the underworld through a door and then down a set of steps.”

“That's pretty straightforward,” Logan stated. “However, she looks like she's going down those steps willingly.”

“She is,” Sonny agreed. “In myth, she was abducted by Hades, who, after seeing her beauty, desired her as his consort. He brought her to the underworld, where she ate the forbidden pomegranate fruit, and after that, well, she came to his bed willingly.”

“Lucky Hades,” Logan teased.

Sonny grinned at him. “More Svengali than lucky,” she chided. “Now, look at this Death card compared to the first. Here we see Hades collecting coins at the River Styx. In the underworld, no one could enter hell without paying the ferryman, Charon, a toll first. Once the toll was paid, the dead were free to leave their old lives behind and be reborn into a new life.”

“Another straightforward strategy,” Logan said. “A reprogramming of the mind through a new and unique set of memories.”

“Here's where it gets interesting,” Sonny said, slapping the new Tower card down. “This image shows the labyrinth, a tower built by King Minos to imprison a horrible creature known as the Minotaur. I won't thrill you with how the creature came to have a man's body and a bull's head; instead, I'll concentrate on the tower built to hide the hideous creature away from the world. Needless to say, as time marched on, the structure and its location couldn't remain in a stagnant state forever, not when it housed such a shameful secret at its core. The kingdom of Minos eventually fractured, and thus the myth of Theseus was born.”

“I know that myth,” Logan said. “Princess Ariadne gave Theseus a magical golden thread which he used as a talisman to locate the labyrinth and slay the beast.”

“And when he did, Poseidon rose up from the sea and used his trusty trident to crack the tower open.”

“Thereby causing a collapse of old forms to give way to the new,” Logan said. “It's clear the builders of the Pandora paradox thought that if they could take the ugly part of our selves, those false values we hide in our psyche, and rework them in some new, soul-defining way, we'd be … what? More godlike?”

“It's more likely you were right before. They reworked the memories for some selfish reason, something that benefited them, not the patient. But what kind of memories would accomplish that deed?” Sonny asked. “If we believe Foster that I was the first successful transference, why did they choose my memories to move along a spiritual path?”

“Perhaps, when they tried to reprogram your memories, your guardian angels added something to the mix—to protect you. Some sort of talisman. As you said earlier, the mind is an unfathomable world. God knows we haven't even begun to explore a quarter of what's lurking there.” He switched thoughts. “Is it possible for the mind to bring along some talisman for protection, in case things go horribly wrong after the transference?”

“You're thinking of my nosebleeds now,” Sonny said.

“Don't jump the gun,” Logan told her. He tapped the card. “Is the sea god Poseidon symbolic of Sykes' part in the paradox?”

“No. The god's eruption from the sea suggests a powerful, instinctual force emerging from the unconscious, stronger than the will's desire to repress it.”

“So the nosebleeds could be a warning to you, a message that Pandora has a time limit.”

Sonny's head reared back, and she quickly picked up the last two cards on the table and flashed them at him.

“You've hit the nail on the head,” she said, amazed. “These are the two cards we found in the computer. We agreed that the Hermit card represented Foster, but if we substitute this card for it, we see the god Cronos, whose name means ‘time.' In myth, Uranus and Gaea mated and produced the first race of Titans. Cronos was the youngest of them. Now, Uranus regarded his progeny with horror, for they were ugly and imperfect, and made of flesh, so he shut the Titans up in the depths of the underworld, so that they might not offend his eyes. As you can imagine, Gaea got pretty pissed, so she fashioned a scythe from her bosom and gave it to Cronos, who, with her aid, castrated his father and cast his bleeding genitals into the sea.”

“That's a lovely picture.” Logan smirked. “But how does that apply to the nosebleeds?”

“Everything has its season and time—which is true if we think universally. Everything is born: star clusters, new plants, new babies, and then everything dies and gets reborn again in some fashion. I think Foster was referring to that when he said, ‘There'll be nosebleeds first.'”

“First? Are we to assume other physical ailments will show up?”

“I hope not,” Sonny replied, shivering.

“I won't let things get that far,” Logan said. He pointed to the one card remaining in her hand. “And the last card?”

“The Ten of Swords. The mythic image here focuses on the wrath of the Furies. These lovely ladies believed women were far superior to men, so when they learned Orestes had committed matricide, they sought revenge in the best way they knew how.”

“They constantly tortured his mind,” Logan surmised.

“And then some. As you can see by the image, Orestes is nearly dead from the curse they put on him.”

“So who is this lovely creature with the sword?”

“The goddess Athena. She felt so sorry for Orestes that she became his champion and protector. See how she's holding back the Furies' rage against him with her sword of justice, like a bodyguard? Remind you of anyone?” She paused, giving him a measured glance. Logan caught her meaning at once.

“If you're about to say I represent a goddess, don't. I promise you I don't have a noble bone in my body.”

“But you do have a gun and a badge,” Sonny countered. “And you were assigned to work with me.”

“A situation that I'm starting to regret,” Logan muttered. Her expression fell at his words, and he held up his hand. “Now, don't go thinking I regret meeting
you
. What I meant is I like my cases where one plus one equals two. I like solving murders that are messy with emotions. Hatred, revenge, jealousy, passion—I can understand those reasons.”

“So can I, and it's clear that this
is
one of those cases.” She ticked off on her fingers, “First, someone hates me enough to kill me. Second, they took revenge on me by killing my father. And third … ” She paused. “Well, I don't know where the jealousy is yet.”

Logan eyed her warily. “It's not your aunt, and it certainly isn't your uncle. Your aunt is overprotective, yes, but she's not jealous of you. And as for your uncle, he's more interested in dating you.”

“What a rotten thing to say!” Sonny exclaimed. “And how would you even know he's interested in dating me?”

“Because I'm interested in dating you.”

Sonny sniffed at him. “Envy is a man's game. Pandora was probably started by a woman, but you can bet an envious man soon stole it from her so he could use it for his own twisted reasons … ” The sound of music had Sonny breaking off mid-sentence and glancing towards her purse on the foyer table by the front door. “It's Aunt Charlotte's ring tone,” she said.

“Answer it,” Logan said. “She's checking to see that you're not buried under a deluge of hail.”

Sonny sprang from the settee, grabbed her purse, and returned to the couch with it. “Hello, Aunt Charlotte. Are you safe and dry? No, we're at The Harbor, waiting out the storm ... ” She paused, listening, and Logan saw her expression sour dramatically. “No, I haven't heard from him, why should I? Uncle Brad knows how I abhor his checking up on me every five minutes.” Her gaze found Logan's. “Do me a favor, Aunt Charlotte. Stay at Rosita until the storm is over. You and Ned can come here when the roads can be traveled again safely.”

Logan heard a high-pitched, angry tirade through the receiver. Sonny hung up the phone a moment later, her expression pained, as though she had been wounded.

“What now?” Logan queried, his brows knitted in a frown.

“Ned and Aunt Charlotte are coming, but not until the rain stops,” Sonny replied. She turned and left Logan, her walk slow and swaying. Logan followed her quickly.

“What's really going on?” he asked.

“It's me. I'm so tired of being inundated with feelings. It's like I'm mourning my own death.”

Logan draped his hands on her shoulders and spun her about. He cupped her face with his hands.

“Look at me,” he said. She met his flinty gaze head-on. “You are the most amazing person I have ever met. You live life with an unshakeable faith in the goodness of Spirit, and you carry a burden that would take Hercules down.” A flash of lightning lit the room, highlighting Sonny's cool green eyes. He studied her face silently, and she studied him back. He lifted her chin and caressed her bottom lip. “Now, the rain is hammering on the roof, the roads are flooding, and we've some time on our hands. So, pull back your energy, and let me kiss you. No visions. No images. No flying monkeys.”

“There might be a white rabbit,” she said breathlessly.

“I can handle that,” he replied. He lowered his head and planted taunting kisses along her cheek, and then he settled his mouth on hers. It was a light kiss, but a tender, lingering one, and it produced a mutual shudder between them.

Spellbound, the pair stood close, their bodies pressing against one another. And then Sonny slid her arms around his neck, parted her lips, and let him possess her mouth. His heart reacted immediately, and with a lazy, sensuous movement, his tongue entered her mouth. Another shudder shook their frames, and he felt her pull back, as if tugging on an invisible thread, and even though he wanted to unleash his hunger and satisfy it, he didn't. Instead, he lifted his lips, and liking the textures, juices, and spices of her, he gave her a heartfelt hug, which ended with a firm pat on her fanny. She jumped at the tap, a lazy laughter sweeping her eyes.

“Ouch,” she declared, a blush of pleasure staining her cheeks.

Logan winced. “Ouch? Don't you mean: ‘Wouldn't you like to come to my bedroom and see my sound system?”

Sonny patted his shirt absently. “Will you wear your Flash Gordon outfit?”

“Is the Pope Catholic?”

She laughed again, shrugging out of his arms. He brought her back quickly, dipped is head, and planted a soft kiss on her lips. When they were eye to eye again, she gave him a dazzling smile.

“Are we attempting one of our rare excursions into humor?” she asked.

Logan grinned. “It's nice to hear you laugh again.”

She spun out of his arms, raised her hands over her head, and stretched lazily. “Um, when I feel this delicious, I laugh at practically anything; sometimes nothing at all.”

A crack of thunder shook the rafters. Both their grins faded.

“As much as I'd like to glory in the feel of your silken skin,” Logan said, glancing out the window, “These bawling winds sound like engines rising, passing through a cry and into a scream. Are they always this hyped up?”

A splatter of hail on the roof was his answer. Seeing him wince, Sonny laughed again.

“There is a strange, dreamlike lunacy to it,” Sonny answered, leaving his arms. “As if you've entered the twilight world of the half-alive.”

Logan arched his back to relieve a kink. “I see now why you're so fond of siestas,” he said. “No one could sleep through this racket.”

“But you can recharge your batteries with a quick lie-down,” Sonny teased.

Logan twisted his back to relieve another kink. “Well, I'm not the Energizer Bunny, but I'll give it a try.” He reached out and snatched Sonny back into his arms. In seconds, he had fallen back onto the couch and brought her with him. “If I can't make love to you all night, at least we can fool around until the clock strikes midnight and you disappear into the night, leaving only a glass slipper behind.” His hand swept to the back of her neck, and her chest melded to his. Their lips met in a drugging kiss, and before he could stop himself, his hands were fumbling for the buttons on her blouse. She moved against him, and he thought she meant to halt his fingers, but when she slanted her lips across his instead, he slid his fingers inside her bra and searched for a nipple. The kiss deepened, and his palm followed the curve of her breast, finding a taut nipple puckered with desire. He stroked it, and then, as if hit by a cold bucket of water, Sonny tore her lips from his and sprang from the sofa with a troubled gasp. With a watchful hesitation, she presented her back to him and buttoned her blouse again. Neither of them spoke for a moment. And then she did.