The Memory Painter

Huike frowned. “I do not understand, Master.”

“One day you will remember this life, your earnestness, your goodness, and you will meet the malevolence that binds your spirit. On that day, let go of your shame at having fallen, and allow it to let in the light.”

Huike nodded, his eyes bright with emotion.

“You hear these words now, but remember them when the time comes.” Bodhidharma clasped Huike’s hand. “We both have a long path ahead of us, my friend. Shine bright again one day.”

*

Bryan’s consciousness returned to the hospital room with crystal clarity. He was not sure how long he had been under the drug, but he felt every cell in his body react as it tried to force it out of his system.

Bodhidharma’s knowledge flooded his mind. Bryan stood up, and in one fluid movement pushed his right arm toward his left shoulder, brought it up over his head, unbuckled the sleeve with his teeth, and undid the five remaining buckles on the straitjacket with his hands. He stepped on one sleeve and tugged it away from his body—all in about fifteen seconds.

Once he was free, he folded the straitjacket and studied the door with a newfound serenity. The rage and fear that Bryan had felt toward Conrad had dissipated.

For the next hour, Bryan performed Qigong stretches to recharge his energy. His thoughts returned to the woman who had appeared before Bodhidharma during his long meditation. Bodhidharma had called her the Ancient One, but she was the Egyptian goddess.

Bryan pictured the symbol she had drawn for him on the ground at the Great Pyramid. He knew memories were waiting for him there.… She was trying to show him a life in Egypt. And he had only a few hours to remember it before Conrad came back to inject him with Renovo.

Bryan felt his initial panic start to return. He lay on the cot and forced his mind to quiet. As his breathing slowed and his body began to relax, he was filled with a new resolve: if he did not find the answers before Conrad returned to begin his experiment, he would use Bodhidharma’s power to leave his body and never come back.



THIRTY-SEVEN

CAESAREA, ROMAN EMPIRE

AD 250

They threw Juliana into a damp cell blanketed in the stench of rot. A small barred window faced the square below, where the executions were being staged. The screams from outside rang out with chilling clarity over the jeers of the crowd. Juliana found herself drawn to the spectacle in disbelief. Tomorrow her voice would join the cacophony.

“Why do they hate us so?”

Juliana turned toward the shadows, squinting as she tried to see. A young woman was huddled in the corner, clutching a three-year-old girl. They looked filthy and starved.

Instinctively Juliana took a step forward to offer some kind of comfort, but realized she had nothing to give.

The young woman gaped at her. “I know you. You’re Origenes Adamantius’ lady.”

“Pupil,” Juliana corrected, quite accustomed to strangers assuming they were lovers. He would not have been the first priest to fall from grace, but Juliana knew that Origenes would never transgress—he couldn’t. As a young man, he had castrated himself in an act of deep piety and sacrifice, to ensure that he would never be swayed by bodily desire. His life would be for God and God alone.