by John Coyne
“To reach the light, you must endure the burning,” Phoebe summed up.
“I’ve had the burning,” Jennifer replied soberly. “And there is going to be more.”
“Yes, you must face your enemy.”
Jennifer nodded, then asked, “Will you help me?”
“I’ll try,” she whispered, her eyes not leaving Jennifer’s face. Then she said, “You could be killed, Jennifer.”
“Or I could kill again.”
Phoebe nodded. “You have no choice.” Then she stood up, saying, “I’ll get your coat.” The channeler stepped around the coffee table and limped into her bedroom, to where she had left Jennifer’s fur coat and luggage.
Jennifer pulled a tissue from the pocket of her jeans and wiped her nose. She was staring down at the Ouija board that Phoebe had left on the coffee table. It looked so innocent, she thought, nothing more than a silly children’s game.
She reached out and touched the smooth heart-shaped planchette, let her fingertips rest lightly for a moment on the plastic surface. Her hands trembled, and she felt a sudden bolt of energy rush into her fingers, up her arms. It took her breath away. She jerked her hand away from the planchette and sat back.
What are you? she thought, staring at the Ouija board.
The heart-shaped planchette moved then without the touch of her fingers. It traced across the smooth surface of the board spelling out an answer. But this time it was not “Pharaoh” who replied to Jennifer:
I AM YOUR SOUL
Jennifer sat very still as she watched the planchette spell out the answer. She was frightened again, holding her breath, but she was also thrilled, as if she were lifting up the edge of a forbidden universe.
Who am I? Jennifer thought next, concentrating on the board. Her eyes did not waver from the plastic planchette. Again it moved, responding to her silent thought, spelling out the words:
YOU ARE THE FIRST
Jennifer sat staring at the Ouija board, puzzled by the replies and not sure what to say. She heard Phoebe in the next room, heard her say something about the weather, the terrible winter New York was having, and Jennifer quickly directed her concentration to the board and asked: I am the first what?
The smooth marker slid across the flat board, spelling out one word:
HUMAN
Then Phoebe reached the living room, carrying Jennifer’s heavy fur coat, and saw that the heart-shaped planchette was moving effortlessly under the power of Jennifer’s spirit.
“What are you doing?” the channeler shouted, dropping the coat and stumbling forward, tripping on her deformed leg.
“Nothing! I’m not doing anything!” Jennifer exclaimed, jumping up and tipping over the Ouija board, terrified by the violence of Phoebe’s reaction. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do anything.”
“What did it tell you? Didn’t I tell you the board was dangerous?” The small woman had regained her balance and had pulled herself onto the arm of the sofa. She kept glaring at Jennifer, her eyes white with fright.
“I’m sorry, Phoebe. I didn’t mean—”
“What did it tell you?”
“Nothing. I mean
” Jennifer kept shaking her head, still terrified and upset by the channeler’s violent reaction. “I’m terribly sorry, but I didn’t understand. I mean—” Jennifer took a deep breath and, recovering her composure, said forcefully, “Phoebe, I’m sorry I upset you, but you shouldn’t have shouted at me! I’m a case of nerves as it is.” Jennifer glanced down and was surprised to see her hands were not trembling.
“What did you learn?” Phoebe demanded.
“Nothing! I was just asking a question.”
“You’re not trained to use a talking board,” Phoebe said again, watching Jennifer. Her face had lost all of its soft, smooth glow.
“I’m sorry,” Jennifer said slowly, not looking at Phoebe. She was afraid to trade glances with the channeler.
Phoebe stood again, fully recovered. The softness returned to her voice and she said, “I’m sorry, Jennifer. I just don’t want you to be misled. Ouija boards, as I mentioned, are often controlled by spirits of a lower order.” She bent then to pick up Jennifer’s coat, and Jennifer glanced at the board, directing her thoughts at the heart-shaped planchette, asking one last question of her hidden spirit: Who wants to kill me?
The plastic planchette began to move on the smooth surface when Phoebe jumped forward and swept the instrument off the board, knocking it across the room, where it skipped off the stone hearth of the fireplace and flew into the fire, sizzling at once in the heat of the flame.
“You must never—!” The channeler regained her stance and focused on Jennifer.
Phoebe was trembling, Jennifer realized. The channeler was the one who was truly frightened.
“I am trying to save your life, don’t you see?” Phoebe shouted at her.
Jennifer nodded, reaching for her coat. “I’m sorry,” she said again.
Phoebe reached out and touched Jennifer’s hands.
“Jennifer, I’m sorry I shouted at you. It’s just that you must be careful when you involve yourself in the spirit world.” She had both her hands on Jennifer’s arms and was looking up lovingly at her. “You will be careful, won’t you?”
“Yes, I’ll try.”
“Good!” And she reached up and quickly kissed Jennifer good-bye. “Remember, I love you. I’ll see that you are protected from your ancient lives,” she said, speaking softly to Jennifer, but the channeler’s lips were cold on her cheek.
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
JENNIFER GRABBED A TAXI on Columbus Avenue and told the driver she wanted to go to LaGuardia. Kirk’s flight was not due until after seven, and though she had time to go home to her place first and unpack, she was now afraid to go there by herself, especially after witnessing what the Ouija board had done, how the planchette had moved, spelling out her fate. What would it have told her if Phoebe hadn’t knocked the instrument off the board? Jennifer shuddered, recalling Phoebe’s act of violence, her sudden strange reaction to what the Ouija board was telling her. Phoebe’s behavior had upset her, Jennifer realized, as much as what had happened to her on the farm.
The taxi crossed Central Park at Eighty-sixth and paused at the stoplight on Fifth Avenue. Jennifer glanced out the window at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The lights were on in the Sackler Wing, and she could see part of the Temple of Dendur. The ancient Egyptian temple glowed in the soft yellow light, casting shadows the length of the immense wing.
Jennifer remembered how she had gone once to the museum when she was a teenager. It had been a junior-high class trip and she had got upset, wanted only to get out of the museum. Jennifer tried to remember what it was about, why she had been so upset by the Egyptian wing. It had been new then, built to house the Temple of Dendur, the small temple that had been saved in Egypt when the Aswan Dam was built. The temple had been removed from lower Nubia in Egypt, stone by stone, and rebuilt in the Metropolitan Museum. There was a pool of water in front of the temple, and a wall of windows overlooking Central Park.
It was a beautiful setting, Jennifer recalled, but when she had first come into the wing it had frightened her, upsetting her for some unknown reason.
Of course, Jennifer thought. Of course!
She leaned forward at once and tapped the glass partition of the taxi, telling the driver that she had changed her mind. She wasn’t going to the airport. She was stopping first at the Metropolitan Museum. She was going back into the Temple of Dendur to learn what secret of her past was locked away in her memory. She was going to let the ancient stone tell her what had happened to her on the banks of the Nile.
The new wing was at the rear of the huge Metropolitan, behind long galleries of Egyptian art and artifacts. Jennifer didn’t rush herself through the exhibition. She moved slowly, waiting for her memory to be triggered by the objects, waiting for some connection to her life in Egypt, to the earliest time of her existence. The Ouija bo
ard had told her she was the first human. Was this what it meant? Did all of her troubles begin here, in one of the great dynasties?
Jennifer kept moving slowly through the rooms, from the time of the New Kingdoms, back into the Middle Kingdoms and the Archaic Period. She glanced from object to object, scanned the artifacts that the Metropolitan had in its vast collection. She waited for some memory. It had happened to her at the Museum of Natural History. When she had seen the primitive hut, she knew that she had once lived in that prehistoric hut, slept under those mammoth bones and animal skins.
Jennifer pushed the door and went into a room of glass cases and burial objects. There were mummies sealed behind the cases, shelves of ancient linens and small Canopic jars.
She reached out and pressed her fingers against the cases holding the mummies. No sensation touched her. She felt only the cool glass. There were no memories of her past life here, she understood.
She kept moving through the deserted rooms. It was late, she realized. The museum would be closing soon. She glanced at her watch to see how much time she had left, then opened another door and stepped into the vast Sackler Wing with the reconstructed Temple of Dendur.
Now she felt something. Her attention was alerted. It was as if some memory was trying to reach her from her early lifetime on earth. She was suddenly not frightened. The recollection was comforting, as if she had finally solved her problem, found the missing piece in the puzzle of her life.
She moved forward, closer to the temple itself, keeping her eyes now on the huge stone structure.
There were few other people in the wing. A tour guide was speaking to a group of women sitting on a stone bench. She was aware, too, of two guides standing together by the windows, but she concentrated on the temple, focusing her attention and waiting for more memories to flood her mind.
She stepped up onto the level of the temple, walked around the small pool of water, and approached the front of the reconstructed temple. In the foreground was an archway, and behind that, the temple walls. The spirit called Pharaoh had told Phoebe that Kathy Dart, as Tamil, had killed her when she was Roudidit and married to Amenhotep. It was the days of Ramses, and Kirk had been Amenhotep, her husband.
Jennifer paused on her approach to the temple. If this was the first incarnation and she had been murdered, she thought, then why now, after all the other lives she had lived, would Kathy Dart still be seeking revenge? It was her spirit, not Kathy Dart’s, that had been violated!
It couldn’t be her first life on earth, Jennifer thought next. She remembered the images she had seen of herself when Kathy Dart had pierced her third eye. She had been a wild creature then, living in a jungle world. But what had the Ouija board planchette spelled out? That she was the first human.
Jennifer shook her head. No, Phoebe was wrong. Phoebe was hiding information. She had swept the planchette off the board. She hadn’t wanted Jennifer to know. But to know what?
Jennifer stepped closer to the interior of the temple and closed her eyes, concentrating on the temple, on her stone surroundings. When she opened her eyes again, she saw the temple women who sang and shook the sistra and crotals during services. They lived in the innermost sanctuaries of the temple and were called God’s handmaids. All of these virgins were daughters of the wealthy families, of kings and queens, and she was among the selected few.
Jennifer stood perfectly still watching herself, the other young women of the temple. They wore shifts under transparent white pleated robes that were gathered over their left breasts. Their right shoulder was uncovered. She watched herself as she moved in procession. She was wearing rings of solid gold and strings of gold beads. A black curled wig fell over her back and onto her shoulders. She had a tiara of turquoise and gold tied at the back with two tassel cords, and her head was crowned with a scented pomade.
She was a beautiful young woman in this lifetime, Jennifer saw, and she wondered how she knew it was even her. Yet she knew. And she saw, too, as she searched the faces of the other virgins that Phoebe Fisher was with her, another of the young women. She scanned the corps of singers. Kathy Dart’s spirit was not part of this divine harem.
The scene faded from her sight. She reached out, as if to pull back the ancient memory, but saw only her hand reaching into the vast wing of the museum. Behind her she heard the museum guard make a point to the tourists, heard a child’s happy voice echo off the high ceiling. She glanced around and saw that she was being watched by a museum guard. To mask her confusion and hide her bewilderment at what she had seen, she walked to the edge of the wall and sat down.
Her legs were weak and she was out of breath. She leaned over and dropped her head between her legs. She would faint, Jennifer realized, if she wasn’t careful.
“Are you okay, lady?” the guard asked, stepping over to her.
Jennifer sat up and tossed her hair back off her shoulder. She forced a smile. “Yes, thank you. I just felt a little funny.” The man’s face was swimming in her eyesight.
The man nodded and moved away, saying as he did, “Well, you looked a little odd there.”
“I’m fine now, thank you.” Jennifer took a tissue from her purse and wiped her eyes. She waited until the man had gone back to his post before she looked again at the temple. The gray stones of the small building looked the same. There were no young virgins, no divine harem. She had imagined it all, she thought. It was nothing more than a psychic episode.
She kept staring at the Temple of Dendur, the silent gray building, nothing more than a few ancient walls dug from the muddy banks of the Nile River.
She calmed down, pulled herself under control. She was all right, she realized. She didn’t have a psychic episode, she realized. She had seen herself as she had been as a young woman in Egypt. She had married Amenhotep—Kirk, in this reincarnation. She had seen Phoebe Fisher but not Kathy Dart. Why was Phoebe in her Egyptian days and not Kathy? The spirit of the Pharaoh said Tamit had killed her when she was Roudidit and married to the warrior Amenhotep.
The guard moved toward her again and signaled that the museum was closing. Jennifer nodded and stood up, collected her bag. She glanced over at the temple, half expecting to see more shadowy shades from her reincarnated life drifting through the vaulted arch, appearing like a whiff of memory. Nothing now surprised her. But there was no image, nothing but the empty gallery, the silent walls of the temple. Jennifer stood and followed the last of the tourists from the Sackler Wing, taking the exit doors and going through more long, low-ceilinged hallways and galleries filled with the artifacts from the Old Kingdom of Egypt, at the time of the First Dynasty, over twenty-five hundred years before Christ.
In the last gallery, Jennifer stopped momentarily to look at a huge map of Egypt. She wanted to see where the Temple of Dendur had been located on the Nile River, but what caught her attention immediately was the vast expanse of Lower Egypt and the names Kush and Ethiopia.
There had been great civilizations on the Nile River before the ancient Egyptians, and before those, man had traveled north out of the primitive jungles of Africa. She remembered what Kathy Dart had said in Washington, how her connection with Habasha had come from a piece of crystal found in Ethiopia. Habasha had been alive then, 4 million years ago, and his spirit was on earth even before that, over 23 million years ago.
Jennifer kept staring at the old map of Lower Egypt, at the vast expanse of the Sudan desert and the high plateaus of Ethiopia. It was here, deep in the the gorges of southern Ethiopia, where Habasha had lived, that man first stood upright and changed from a beast of the jungle to a creature possessing a spirit, having a soul, a reincarnated soul that he carried with him throughout time and filled with all the memories of all his lifetimes.
Phoebe Fisher had not told her the truth, Jennifer realized. The spirit of the Pharaoh was not her first moment in time. Her spirit, her oversoul, which had moved the heart-shaped planchette, had existed before the great civilizations of Egypt. It had said she was the first hum
an!
She was like Habasha—that was the connection! She, too, like Kathy Dart, went back to the dawn of mankind, to the first moments of the human spirits, millions of years before the Temple of Dendur. She had been reincarnated as a member of the divine harem in the temple, had married Amenhotep, and died in Egypt. Her body, she was sure, had been mummified and ferried across the Nile to be entombed. But she now knew she had lived even before this great civilization of pharaonic Egypt. She had lived with Habasha. She had lived at the same time as Kathy Dart’s first incarnation. And now, she realized, Phoebe Fisher had been there, too. That was why the channeler had kept her from learning more from the Ouija board. They had all been alive together in their first incarnations on earth. And something had happened to them, there at the dawn of time.
Jennifer glanced around, suddenly afraid, fearing that Phoebe had followed her to the museum. But the Egyptian gallery was empty. The Metropolitan was closing.
The answer, she realized, would not be found here in the great dynasties of Egypt and in the days of Ramses the Great. Yes, she had suffered and died, murdered by Tamit, but this was not her first life nor her first death. She had to return to the prehistoric exhibition at the Museum of Natural History, where she first realized she had lived in the primitive hut from the Ice Age.
She walked out through the front doors of the museum and stood at the top of the stone steps, looking down at Fifth Avenue, crowded now with rush hour traffic. The city skyline was already aglow with lights and bright flashing signs. She needed to hurry. Kirk’s flight was due from Chicago, and she needed to be with him. But first she had to telephone Kathy Dart and Phoebe Fisher. She wanted both channels to meet her at the Museum of Natural History. She wanted them to walk with her through the Ice Age exhibition. It would be there, Jennifer knew now, in that prehistoric graveyard, that she’d remember what had happened to her spirit when they had evolved as humans and come down out of the trees to walk upright as man.
Jennifer smiled. For the first time in weeks, she knew exactly what to do. She knew how to solve the mystery of her past, of all her reincarnated lives, and she hurried down the stone steps, rushing to meet her lover, her great love, she realized, of all her lifetimes, and she smiled with anticipation, her face suddenly bright and shiny with hope.
