The Memory Painter

Thoth scowled. “I haven’t studied them.”


Ammon tapped the box with one finger and winked. “Then read your book before you bury it.”

Thoth looked at the box, terrified at the thought of being entrusted with such responsibility.

Ptah seemed to know what he was thinking and put his hand on his shoulder. “You will not fail us, son of Ramses. Your father watches you from the Duat.”

Thoth wanted to believe it and wished his father could be with him now. He had been thrust into a world he did not understand, a world counting on him for its survival.

Hermese spoke. “We must go. Time is running out.”

They all joined hands. Ma’at and Ammon looked at Thoth as they waited to close the circle. He took their hands and his eyes met Hermese’s.

Ptah offered a quiet prayer. “Horus, this is our last meeting in this lifetime. We ask you to watch over us and protect us. Help us find our way through the unknown future and back to this circle once more. Let our light never be diminished.”

Everyone embraced one another in farewell. Ptah came to Thoth. “I will hide you in the Temple of Re until it is safe to leave the city. You must travel far and never return.”

Thoth looked to Hermese and remembered her mission—to seal the Hall of Records. His resolve to hide the box collapsed. “No!” he shouted. “Hermese, let me seal the Hall. You take the box.”

She shook her head. “My place is here.”

Thoth crossed his arms. “Then I stay too.”

“You cannot,” she said. “I was not jesting when I told you the name of the book. It has been called The Book of Thoth since its creation. It is for you to take.” The finality in her voice crushed all of his hope.

Thoth was unwilling to accept her words, when all he could hear was what she refused say. He began to plead with her. “You will die down here alone.”

Hermese did not try to stifle her tears. She took his hands in hers. “Our fates are intertwined. I will find you again and again until we build a bridge back to this life. Nothing is ever lost.”



FORTY-FOUR

Linz opened her eyes. She was in a dark room, and for a moment, she had no idea where she was. Her body was heavy; her mouth was dry. She heard someone breathing softly and turned to see Bryan asleep beside her.

Then everything came flooding back: the plane ride, and the horrible feeling that overcame her on the flight. By the time they had touched down, she thought she was dying. The headache and nausea were like nothing she had ever experienced. She barely recalled the airport, the cab ride was hazy at best, and she definitely did not remember ending up in this hotel room.

She lay in the dark for a long time, assimilating the memories. This time, she did not experience the same anguish or turmoil she had felt after previous recalls because, ten thousand years ago, she had prepared for this awakening.

Sliding off the bed so as not to wake Bryan, she crept to the bathroom and turned on the light. The person in the mirror startled her. Her hair was matted in an oily tangle, her face swollen from sleep, her complexion pale and sickly.

She took a long shower, and the water on her skin revived her. It made her wonder how long she had been asleep. When she got out, she wrapped herself in a towel and tiptoed into the bedroom, letting the light spill from the bathroom so she could see. Her overnight bag was on the table. She took it back into the bathroom.

She didn’t think twice about leaving. As soon as she had woken up, she knew she had to fly back to Boston.