Mystical Love

by Rachel James

  “The afternoon financials are already in. Tokyo took a whopper of a hit today. No cause yet.”

  Sonny intended to peruse the data but halted mid-stride when she realized Logan hadn’t followed her into the room. Whirling, she saw his eagle eye was at work again—raking in the enormity of the room and all its marvelous gadgets.

  “You could’ve told me you own half the stock exchange and all of Wall Street,” he drawled.

  “I thought you did your homework on me before coming,” Sonny said, unfazed by his sarcasm. She waved at the mammoth ticker-tape machine flashing numbers and percentages across its banner on the far wall. “Surely Meta Corps knows how rich the Blake family is. We have spiritual retreats all around the world, and we’ve spent millions building a financial network that rivals CNBC.”

  “It turns out the Meta Corps files are seriously lacking,” Logan said, lounging against the doorframe. “I intend to rectify that when I get back to the home office.”

  Smiling, Sonny returned her attention to the console. “A little hiccup like Tokyo will fix itself overnight,” she said, stretching her arms above her head. “It always does.”

  “Again, your talents are impressive,” Logan said, closing the French doors.

  Pleased by the compliment, Sonny slipped the Tarot cards from her pocket. “As I said in the car, I think if we arrange the Tarot cards in a specific order, we’ll have the first part of the puzzle solved.” She headed for a burgundy sofa and placed the five cards on the table in random order. “Once I skim the cards, we’ll know why everyone is telling lies.”

  “Who is lying, besides us?” Logan asked, taking a seat beside her.

  “Aunt Charlotte. She has had several arguments with Daddy in the last month. She didn’t confess that to Dick when he asked. And what’s worse, the rest of us didn’t tell. We all let it slide by. Dick is going to find out.”

  “Not if we decipher these cards,” Logan declared, studying the images before them. “I’ll need a crash course in Tarot, though.” He touched her knee. “And remember, I can’t go where you go.”

  “But you did. When you accidentally touched my hand your energy piggybacked on mine. That’s why, once inside, we saw different things … Remember earlier, I said when I tap in, the images pull back, allowing the relevant one to take center stage?” She saw his nod. “It took me a long, long time to understand that, like the images, I could pull back my energy, skim the outskirts of the vision, and still come away with the truth. I intend to do that now.”

  Sonny tapped the plastic sheets one by one. “The Fool. Judgment. The High Priestess. Death. And The Tower. I’m going to disregard their spiritual meaning for the moment and focus on what they might mean in your world of logic and facts.” She tapped the first card. “If we say what we see, this image depicts a jester carrying a backpack, unaware he’s about to walk off a cliff. If we equate that to a victim, we could assume the victim was backpacking in the mountains and went over a cliff.”

  “Or was pushed over,” Logan said. He caught Sonny’s eye. “And the second?”

  Sonny tapped the baggie. “Judgment is about a wake-up call. I haven’t read the report, but I sense through the plastic that the victim was killed and then buried in a churchyard. Looking at the card, it’s Judgment Day and the Angel Gabriel is blowing his horn. As you can see, the card has a whole spiritual, religious feel to it. Figures rising from their coffins.”

  “I’d say finding the victim’s body was a fluke, but in truth, an anonymous call came into the police station regarding the grave. Does Gabriel’s horn represent the phone call? Or is the horn the killer’s way of thumbing his nose at the police? Either way, finding the body wasn’t such a fluke, after all.”

  “Now you’re getting the hang of everything connected to everything.” Sonny smiled. “Nothing is random.” She tapped the third card.

  “The High Priestess is about secrets—known and unknown, seen and unseen.”

  “That’s rather vague.”

  “Purposely vague. As you can see, our High Priestess is seated between two columns, with a diaphanous veil stretched between them. What lies behind the veil, only she knows, and she’s not willing to give up the secrets yet. In some decks, she’s seated before a doorway—considered to be the doorway of all knowledge.” Sonny turned to Logan. “With the card being so secretive, I bet the report says the police are baffled by this death. In fact, they probably don’t consider it part of the other murders.”

  “Is it?” Logan asked.

  “I won’t know until I skim the card.”

  “And the fourth card?” Logan asked, tapping it.

  “The Death card is pretty obvious—a brutal killing with a beheading. Mr. Death is astride his steed, mowing down everything in his path with a giant scythe. And as you can see, he plays no favorites. Priests, slaves, and regular middle-class folks—no one is immune from his visit.”

  “And the fifth?”

  “The Tower hints at the total destruction of a way of life—or thinking. Every Tarot deck portrays that destruction differently, however. Sometimes, lightning strikes The Tower, hurling the figures out the window and crashing into the sea. Some decks show The Tower dissolving out from under the figures’ feet. No matter the image, the meaning is the same: something is about to rock your world.”

  “The police have determined the victim died from a fall over a balcony.”

  “So why are you frowning?” Sonny asked.

  “Because I deal in facts—not fiction. I’ve read the victims’ files; I know the circumstances of the deaths. Knowing that, isn’t it possible you’re picking up my thoughts and making the images fit the facts? If your mind is such a vast wasteland, manipulating the cards to match the reports would be easy for you.”

  Sonny frowned. “I don’t need to cheat.” She tapped the cards. “Remember when I said I sensed the cards, the sniper, and Daddy’s death were all related?”

  “I remember.”

  “Well, then, take a look at this.” She reached beneath the table and pulled two Tarot cards from a purple bag. She then pulled the Lovers card from her pocket and placed the three cards side by side. “These are all Lovers cards, but they all have very different images.” She lifted the first card and flashed it at Logan. “This one shows a man having to choose from three beautiful women. One is young and fair, the other two older, but each with their own unique charms.” She picked up the card her father left for her. “This card hints at Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, naked and making love.” She picked up the third card. “This card shows a naked couple holding hands, with an angel watching them from above.

  But how do we interpret these cards? Does the first represent the killer having to make a choice of what empath to kill? Or do we use the second image to surmise that the killer may have had sex with each of the victims before killing them? Or is the third card the relevant one? The killer spies on his victims, worms his way into their lives, and then, when they least expect it, he kills them. Three completely different scenarios. Is one right, and the other two wrong?” She shook her head. “Not if they are all happening at the same time. Our killer scopes out who he’s going to kill, then worms his way into her life, has sex with her, and then kills her, and never kills in the same way. The cards now show the different levels of a killer’s journey, and all the pieces are connected.” She lifted the center card. “If we match the victims’ cards to Daddy’s Lovers card, we see an alternate reality. Did Daddy risk his life to warn me that something was about to rock my world—a secret that could get me killed? Or is he hinting that I am going to have to risk my life—face death to reveal a secret that will rock the world? Or—”

  “How many interpretations can be deduced from these five cards?”

  “An awful lot.”

  “Well, we’re not going to sift through that many, so let’s go with the first thing that came out of your mouth. Because my gut tells me doubting your instincts at this stage would be suicide on my
part.”

  “And you say you don’t believe in the supernatural?” Sonny smiled. “Going with your gut is the same thing as listening to a spirit guide.” She tapped the third card again. “The High Priestess is about seeking the answers from inside your own mind rather than in the outside world. If that isn’t going with your gut, I don’t know what is.”

  “Don’t be smug. It makes me want to kiss you again. Now, let’s assume your father was taking a risk in leaving you information that could get you killed. It seems to me that The Tower exploding alludes to the entire Blake Empire crashing down around your ears.”

  “But generally the destruction has a more positive meaning,” Sonny responded. “It hints that once destroyed, the person becomes enlightened.” She shoved the packets to Logan. “Take the cards out and place them side by side. It’s time for me to skim the energy and see how far off the mark I am.”

  Logan took the plastic, withdrew the cards, and then arranged them as Sonny indicated. When they were in place, Sonny removed her right glove, quickly prayed for guidance, and then let her fingers hover over the top of each card. “The arrangement is wrong. Judgment should be first, The Fool second, The High Priestess third, The Tower fourth, and lastly, the Death card.”

  Logan rearranged the pattern. “So your father sends a wake-up call, taking a risk by revealing a secret that personally rocks your world, and then what? You kill yourself?”

  “No. Remember, The Tower enlightens a person, so that a transformation can occur.” She skimmed the Death card. “People see this card and think automatically, ‘Oh, I’m going to die,’ but that isn’t its meaning at all. It’s about letting go of the old, to make way for the new. The Death card signals that we must stop hanging on to ideas that are outdated, as well as people who are no longer essential to our spiritual growth. Figuratively, we must kill our old life, so that we can be reborn again to a new and better one.”

  “Is that what the killer has done? Changed his identity and reinvented his life?”

  “I sense my father thought so,” Sonny said. “I know him. He’d never use this card to refer to a spiritual death; he means the card to represent a total physical transformation.” She waved her hand. “Put the Lovers card above the group … No, in the center, above The High Priestess.” He shifted the card a few inches.

  “This one’s easy to decipher, thanks to your runaway visions,” Logan stated. “We’re The Lovers; though, I must say, my anatomy doesn’t resemble this guy’s in any way.” He tapped on the image. “I’m not built that well.”

  Sonny laughed at where his fingers were resting. “What a pity. I had high hopes for a night of unbelievable sex from you. Now you’ve dashed my hopes thoroughly.”

  He ignored her sarcasm. “You said earlier the card stands for a choice. Is it an amicable one between the lovers, or painful?”

  “Hold on.” She ran her fingers above the card. “The energy’s blocked. With The High Priestess below it, it’s clear she’s not ready to reveal the answer. The only thing for certain is that the choice is going to come.”

  “From your father, I’ll wager.”

  Sonny’s gaze shot to the TV screen. “I don’t know why, but, after skimming the cards, I feel compelled to prove that Ned and Brad aren’t capable of murder,” she stated. She donned her glove again. “Thank God I had the brains to listen to my father when it came to computers. He was a full-fledged hacker, and he taught me to be just as proficient.”

  “Taught you to evade cyber mousetraps, eh?”

  “Exactly,” Sonny responded.

  Logan snatched her hand and sprang off the sofa, bringing her to the console with him. When they reached the computer chair, his knuckles rapped the edge of the desk.

  “Hop to, Miss Blake. Make the connections.”

  “And if they’re more spiritual than logical?”

  “I’ll take you to Paris on our honeymoon.”

  The statement sounded so sincere, Sonny almost believed it. She didn’t voice the thought aloud, though, knowing it would sever his current overture of friendship towards her. And his friendship was something she wasn’t quite willing to lose yet—even though she was nothing more than an irritating mouse to him.

  Noting his thoughtful countenance, she asked, “What if I’m wrong and we find the connections are unrelated? I’m not my effervescent self at the moment.”

  His forehead crinkled. “Stop being a doubting Thomas. If the clues don’t match, we’ll deal with it.” His gaze scanned her face. “You do understand that there will be no going back once we go into the computer. Whatever we find may rock your world in ways you can’t begin to imagine.”

  “My life has already been rocked, so that point is moot. We need to find out what Pandora is and, more importantly, how safe I really am, if murder is the goal of this insane game.”

  “Where do we start?”

  Sonny reached under the desk and slid a keyboard out. Locking it in place, she pressed a button. A row of synchronized lights flashed on, and the TV-screen wall shifted to a blue haze. Across the console, Logan’s eyes met hers. His lips twitched with a brief smile.

  “Care for a snack, Miss Blake? Say, a piece of cheese?”

  Sonny gave a brief shiver. “Ugh, don’t even go there.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Biting her lower lip, Sonny pulled off her gloves and set them aside. She needed to feel the keys with her fingers. It was the only way she could discern if Pandora was real or imagined. Obviously alarmed by the gesture, the man beside her bent down and touched her shoulder.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing? I need you to stay in the real world, not in some damn vision.”

  Sonny laughed at the concern in his voice. “Relax. These keys are Sonny-proofed.”

  He straightened. “They better be.”

  The computer hummed with the sound of booting discs, and Sonny returned her attention to the keyboard. She only hoped that the next few minutes would prove she and Logan were on the right track. The console hummed with another strange whir, and it settled into its familiar password process. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement and waved Logan back.

  “You’ll be better off watching the big screen,” she advised.

  He nodded, falling back to his original position. Seconds later, he hauled a red-cushioned bar stool under his butt and settled atop it. Sonny waited for him to notice her again. When he didn’t, she drawled, “Whenever you’re ready, Detective ... And no smoking!” Her sharp command had his right eyebrow jerking up, and his hand halting in its path to his shirt pocket. He dropped his fingers and leaned back, assuming a bored expression.

  Sonny swung back to the computer, tapping two keys. “It’s a cinch Daddy used his subroutines in the least obvious place. Hopefully, I can trigger the main program with a password and slip in behind it.”

  “I’m all eyes,” Logan teased. He hooked his feet around the stool legs, finally giving both her and the TV screen his full attention.

  The steady clicking of Sonny’s fingers became the only audible sound in the room for the next two minutes, and it took all of Sonny’s concentration to keep her mind from floating into a dreamless mind fugue. Soon, however, a crackling thump echoed from inside the machine, and the huge screen flashed seven letters.

  PANDORA

  “Good girl,” Logan said. “We’re in the front door.”

  “We’re in the front door,” Sonny agreed, an idiotic euphoria sweeping over her at his praise. Come on, brain, she nudged, find the trap door. To her surprise, it complied, sending her fingers into a steady conversation with the keyboard and supplying a new sequence of numbers. The disc drive thrummed, erasing the word “Pandora” from the screen; however, it substituted no new word in its place. It just remained a bright blue background with a white, blinking cursor.

  Shifting thoughts again, Sonny added a new sequence of numbers, but to no avail. She tried again with the same result. She tried a third tack, using her
social security number as the trigger.

  PANDORA cropped up again.

  “Damn!”

  Hearing her annoyed hiss, Logan shifted on the stool. “It doesn’t refer to a piece of jewelry, does it?” he asked sarcastically.

  Sonny swiveled on her chair, giving him an amused smirk. “Daddy abhors jewelry—used to, I mean.” She felt her throat start to constrict and forced her mind back to the computer screen. She let her fingers hover inches from the monitor, casting off any smudged energy. “I sense Daddy does mean for us to look at the mythical Pandora and her chest of ills; although, if we use Tarot-speak, Pandora would come from the mythic Tarot deck. The Star card, in fact.”

  “And its meaning?” Logan asked.

  “Hope. You see, after Pandora opened the chest, the Spites, who had somehow gotten trapped in the box, flew out and infected all of humankind, except for Hope. When the chest was opened, he didn’t fly away. It was a sign that if one never loses hope, salvation is possible.”

  “Well, we won’t lose hope. Your father obviously didn’t.”

  “But I don’t feel the word resonating with my skills, outside of the thought that whatever it is, it should be left in the box, unleashed.” She added a new set of numbers, hoping for an immediate response. The screen shimmered and then illuminated a new sentence:

  YOUR PASSWORD IS?

  Sonny smiled, tapping the keys. Keep it simple, Daddy. A plus B equals C. She typed in the word “Sonny.” The screen darkened momentarily and then radiated light again.

  INACCESSIBLE CODE. TRY AGAIN?

  Sonny plucked at a strand of her hair. “Using that word would have been too easy,” she declared. She erased the sentence and fed in a new set of numbers. The screen produced PANDORA again. She erased it and tried twice more. No success.

  Annoyed, Sonny lifted her fingers from the keys. You couldn’t sift through sawdust without a shovel, could you?

  Free-float, her inner voice advised. Think about the character, Pandora. She opened something she shouldn’t have, like Eve taking the apple from the snake in the Garden of Eden. Could it be that simple?