The Memory Painter: A Novel Page 29

  Ptah stared at the box with a sad smile. “So it has come to this.”

  Hermese looked to Ma’at and asked, “How long?”

  “Hours, at most.”

  Everyone sat in somber silence. Hermese frowned. “Where is Thutmose?”

  Ammon answered, “He gave up his life to help us escape.”

  Hermese drew a sharp breath, fighting to control her emotions. She turned to Ptah. “There is not much time. You must hold services every day. The people will need a spiritual leader now more than ever. Bast, rally the Council to stand against the Apophis. Ammon and Ma’at will flood the tunnels from above. I will remain here to seal the Hall.”

  Everyone nodded. They all seemed to know their missions. Thoth could not keep his frustration in check any longer. “And what of me?”

  Hermese looked at him and his anger died. “Thoth, as our newest Guardian,” she said, “you have the most vital task.” She set the box in front of him and explained, “This is a summary of the knowledge in this room, the wisdom we protect. It contains many Sacred Symbols and their keys, how to harness the energy of the Earth, control the elements, and much more. It is a great risk to take it aboveground, but we must—which is why I am entrusting it to you. Look far and wide, follow your heart to find the safest place on this Earth to hide it … for one day it will need to be found.”

  Thoth stared at the box, afraid to touch it. “What is it?”

  “The Book of Thoth,” she answered. Thoth looked at her in confusion. She gave him a faint smile. “Every book has a name. This one has yours.”

  Thoth studied the box again. “I hide it, but then who will find it?”

  “You will,” Ma’at said.

  Thoth was impatient with their riddles. “I don’t understand.”

  The seer tried to explain. “Time is a circle. There will be a way to come back to this moment and set the path right. We will live again and again, gaining new wisdom with time, helping mankind become ready to receive its legacy once more as we find our way back to this moment. We have only to remember our past in our future—when we do and the two become one, then Horus will return to help heal the world.”

  Thoth listened to her words, his thumb absently tracing an infinity sign along his index finger. Horus would walk among us? The time of the Gods would come again? How could man ever return to such a divine state when all seemed lost? It would take thousands of years if not more to reach such enlightenment, and now that task rested on the brotherhood’s shoulders? He was speechless. He could see why his father had loved Ma’at. She was just as mad as he was.

  “We have studied the ancient texts,” she insisted. “It can be done.”

  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.

  After she had dressed, she left the bathroom and located her purse. Next to it was an almost empty vodka bottle and halfhearted sketches of the Sphinx. As she was looking for a pen and paper, she saw the poem Bryan had written. Diana’s memories of Natalia’s lifetime had made her fluent in Russian, so she picked it up and read it. It was a poem full of longing about a woman whose child had died tragically before it could be born.

  The words hit her hard, and Linz let out a deep breath. Bryan was close to remembering. With a steady hand, she wrote her note beneath the poem, struggling to keep her words in English—her mind was not yet fully grounded. There was so much she wanted to tell him, but in the end she kept it brief. She placed the note on the pillow.

  She took all the cash in her wallet from her purse and set it on her laptop, which she left behind as well in case he needed it.

  She watched him sleep and her heart filled with emotions she could not even begin to describe. Renovo had opened a window, and Linz had climbed through it first. Now it was her turn to wait for Bryan so they could embrace their destiny together.

  * * *

  Linz stood at the elevator bank with perfect stillness. The doors opened and she locked eyes with the person exiting. Linz instantly recognized her.

  The housekeeper stepped out and smiled at her with surprise. “I’m so happy to see you are feeling better. Your boyfriend was very worried about you. You were so sick.”

  Linz took in the woman’s hotel uniform, connecting the dots. “I’m much better, thank you. What is your name?”

  “Layla. Layla Mubarak.”

  Linz nodded. She opened her purse and pulled out a business card. “I have to take an unexpected trip back to Boston,” she said, offering it to Layla. “Could you please call me if there’s any kind of emerge
ncy? My … boyfriend is under a lot of stress right now. I’m worried about leaving him alone.”

  Layla’s smile faded and she took the card. “Yes, of course.” She misunderstood Linz’s scrutiny and tried to reassure her. “Do not worry. I will watch over him for you.”

  Linz nodded and stepped onto the elevator. She had no doubt that Layla would.

  * * *

  The afternoon light woke Bryan. He sat up with a start and then wished he hadn’t—his head was throbbing from a hangover. It took a few seconds for him to realize Linz was gone and had taken her bag.

  He noticed her laptop and the cash and began to panic, thinking that she’d abandoned him. Then he saw the note on her pillow. He read it several times, trying to make of sense what it meant.

  Stay in Cairo. You will find answers here. You once told me that, in the future, we would build a bridge to our past. I’ve remembered Egypt. Now I will help you as you helped me, by letting you face it alone.

  I’m flying to Boston to deal with my father.

  Go visit the pyramid. It has been waiting for you for a long time.

  Bryan could feel the tears on his face. She had found the life he had been searching for—but she had found it without him.

  He looked again at the signature and didn’t know what startled him more, the fact that the name was a man’s or that it was a name that had been passed down through legends.

  She’d signed it Thoth.

  FORTY-FIVE

  DAY 31, CONT.

  Tonight I dreamed I was a young man painting on a hotel balcony in Cairo. It took two days for the canvas to dry before I could fly home. In the dream I knew I was giving it to Diana, and that when she saw it, she’d know I had remembered.

  This dream is telling me to go to Egypt.

  * * *

  Linz was surprised when the plane touched down. The past eleven hours had sped by. She had bought a journal at the airport and had spent the entire flight writing in it. Now she understood why Michael had kept so many diaries—she needed to make sense of her thoughts.

  When she turned on her cell phone, she saw that Bryan had tried to call her twelve times and had left three voice mails. She ignored them and got off the plane to clear customs. They peppered her with a few questions about the reason for her quick turnaround.

  “I got a call that my father is very ill.… I had to cancel a romantic getaway.”

  The female customs agent studied her passport, noting how many pages had been filled. “And where’s the boyfriend?”

  “He stayed. At least one of us should enjoy the vacation, right?”

  The customs agent stamped the book. “Now that doesn’t sound like till-death-do-us-part behavior.”

  Linz took the passport with a conspiratorial grin. “You have no idea.”

  * * *

  Linz rented a car and left the airport, already knowing her destination. It was pointless to put off the inevitable.

  She got out her cell phone and made a call, feeling guilty that she hadn’t spoken with Finn since she borrowed his car. He answered on the first ring. “Finn, it’s Linz. Sorry I haven’t been in touch.”

  He sounded flustered, which made her feel even worse. “Where’s Bryan? Is he with you?”

  “He’s fine. I’ll explain in person. I’m on my way to see Conrad.”

  Finn insisted that he wanted to be there. She was relieved to have his support and gave him directions to the house. He said he could get there in twenty minutes.

  He hung up, and Linz tried to focus on the road. It was eight o’clock at night, and she was tired, jetlagged, and exhausted from the past week. When she finally pulled up into the drive, she stayed in the car and allowed herself a moment to think.

  Her childhood still resided in this house, along with the man who had nurtured and loved her. The scientist who had killed his partners also lived inside it, as did the Japanese lord she had beheaded, the man who had dueled and shot her husband, and the official who had sentenced her to burn at the stake. She had read other stories in Michael’s journals—stories of lives she had fortunately not remembered. Had her father also been Tarr, the barbarian who had murdered her son and kidnapped her? And was he the same brother who had killed Hermese’s unborn child?

  What could she possibly say to a man like this? A part of her didn’t even know if she would survive the confrontation. She had written her will on the plane, as well as a letter explaining her actions.

  She got out of the car and went to the front door, using her key to enter. Conrad’s car was in the driveway, and she saw that the light was on in his study. Her father was home and likely to be alone. The housekeeper left every day at six.

  Linz walked through the foyer, past the living room, and entered the antique gallery. She stood there for a moment and took in the room—so many of Conrad’s mementos were now her own.

  She toured the showroom like a stranger in a museum, noting the samurai swords, the Persian armor, the ancient manuscripts, a coronation ring, and countless other priceless artifacts.

  “History isn’t so grand when you’ve lived it.” Conrad’s voice came from the next room. Linz reached up and took down a samurai sword she recognized and moved toward his office.

  She stood in the doorway. Conrad sat in his favorite leather chair. A sword lay on his desk, along with Michael’s journals.

  “You re-created the formula,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

  “I had to know the truth.”

  He stared at her for a long time. “Where’s Bryan?”

  “Safe. Far away from you.”

  “I was trying to protect him.”

  “By kidnapping him and putting him in an asylum?”

  Conrad leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “It was the safest place.”

  “From who?”

  “From the people who would do anything to know what’s in his mind. They were about to make a move. I was trying to protect you both,” he said.

  “How convenient. Who are these people?” she demanded.

  “Put down the sword and I’ll tell you everything. I should have done so sooner and that was my mistake. Please,” he added.

  Linz hesitated. Her father was the master of manipulation and she refused to be swayed. She studied the weapon in her hands.

  “This was the most treasured sword in Lord Asano’s collection. There’s an engraving inside the handle.” She took the sword from its sheath and examined the blade. It had rusted and grown brittle with age, but it was so expertly crafted that she thought it could still withstand a fight.

  She gestured toward the door with it. “Origenes wrote the Commentary on St. John while he taught with Theoctistus. You signed the order for his death, and yet his book sits outside your door like a prize.”

  Conrad banged his hand on the table. “I was not Septimus!”

  “Just like you weren’t Lord Kira? You caused Lord Asano’s death and the fall of his entire clan.”

  Conrad’s lips formed a thin line of anger.

  “You don’t deny it, then?” Linz challenged. “You even bought the painting at the gallery. Penelope told me.”

  He spoke in Japanese. “Yes, I was in that painting. But I wasn’t Kira. I was the Shogun! Tsunayoshi!”

  Linz shook her head in disbelief. “That’s not possible. You were Kira.”

  “Why? Because Finn told you?”

  Linz couldn’t answer.

  “Look at me! See for yourself!” Conrad stood up, pinning her with his gaze. “I will show you.”

  Linz locked eyes with him and gasped when she saw what he was trying to show her so clearly—he was the Shogun. She struggled to come to terms with what that meant.

  “You sentenced Lord Asano to death,” she retaliated.

  “He broke the law. I had no choice. But I let him die with honor. Who were you?” Conrad demanded with the tone of a ruler.

  Linz bowed in spite of herself. “Oishi Kuranosuke Yoshio, his kerai.” She stood
up straight again and looked him in the eye without flinching. Here was the Shogun, whom she had defied, and who had sentenced them all to death. But it was true his mercy had allowed them an immortal place in history. She spoke once more in Japanese. “Thank you for allowing my men to die with honor.”

  Conrad gave a gruff nod of acceptance. “That lifetime was a chain of unfortunate events best forgotten.”

  Linz looked away, beginning to feel confused. Her rage toward Lord Kira could no longer be directed at him. Her eyes focused on the journals and they strengthened her resolve. “You found those at Bryan’s after you destroyed all of his paintings.”

  Conrad shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. These were delivered to me today.”

  Linz’s voice seethed with Diana’s rage. “You’ll say anything to convince me otherwise. But nothing changes the fact that you locked the door and let us burn.”

  Conrad slammed his fist on the table again. “I didn’t know anything about the explosion! I was trying to get Michael to remember a life! If he had just remembered then everything would have fallen into place. I didn’t know what else to do. You were all going mad.”

  “You were taking more Renovo than any of us,” she accused him.

  “Because in the beginning I couldn’t have a recall!” he shouted. “You all thought I was a monster!” He waved one of Michael’s journals around and threw it back down in disgust, as if he couldn’t bear to touch the pages. “I had to know what was causing everyone to turn against me, to look at me in fear. I began to up the dosage. I didn’t care about the consequences.”

  Linz thought back to her actions after she had re-created Renovo. She hadn’t cared either. She would have kept dosing until she either remembered Diana’s life or died trying.

  “Then, one night, the memories started to come,” he continued. “And then they wouldn’t stop.” Conrad’s eyes had grown distant. But when he looked back at Linz, his gaze was searing and honest. “I swear. I was never any of the bastards they believed me to be. But I couldn’t talk to anyone. Anyone! Egypt was a turning point. I knew what I was meant to do—who Michael was, our true course—and I thought getting him to remember was the only way. I never intended for you to get hurt.” His voice broke. “Never. When I came back it was too late.”