Priestess of Paracas

by K Patrick Donoghue

  “I think so. She’s shaken up, but Sanjay seems to be helping her settle down.” He cocked his head toward the outdoor bar. “Why don’t we go outside and give them some space.”

  Outside, the wind was still whipping around the open-air bar, so they climbed the forward stairs to reach the upper deck cabin. On their way to the dining room, they passed by the bridge. First Officer “Popeye” Ellis stepped out and asked to speak with Anlon.

  “Captain Hansen just called from the dock. He’s mighty put out. Wants me to turn about and return to the marina. I don’t know why it’s such a fuss, taking the boat out without him, but he really gave me an earful about it.”

  “Okay, that’s fine. Let’s head back. I’ll sort it out with him later.”

  The first officer grumbled something unintelligible and then disappeared back onto the bridge. Anlon and the others continued on to the dining room. Once there, Anlon and Griffin took turns filling Jennifer in on what had happened to Pebbles and then Anlon asked Jennifer about the bird carving displayed on her smart tablet.

  “How did you make the connection between her drawing and Muran’s art collection?”

  “The snake tipped me off.”

  “Snake? What snake?”

  “The one on the mountain trail.”

  Jennifer explained that as she flipped through the pages of one of the sketchbooks, she came to a page with one of Pebbles’ bird drawings. Her eyes drifted down the page and she spied the drawing of the snake blocking the trail. She told them she had not examined the snake in detail before, concentrating more on the whole scene rather than the snake itself.

  “But the longer I looked at it, I realized she’d drawn the snake with feathers, not scales, or at least it seemed that way to me. It’s hard to tell unless you look real close. Anyway, the feathers reminded me of an artifact I’d seen somewhere. I just couldn’t remember where.”

  “La Venta,” Anlon said.

  “Yes, that’s what I thought at first.”

  “La what?” asked Griffin.

  Jennifer explained that two years prior, she had traveled to the La Venta Park Museum in Mexico in search of information about a statuette in the art collection of Anlon’s deceased uncle, Devlin Wilson. The museum, she told Griffin, housed ancient Olmec artworks, including a vast collection of stone sculptures.

  “There are definitely feathered serpents in their collection, but I went online and didn’t find any that looked like the one Pebbles drew, so I broadened my search phrase and, boom, there it was on the first screen of images. I clicked on it and up popped a news article about the battle over Aja Jones’ estate, including her art collection. And in the same article was a picture of the bird carving.”

  “Who is Aja Jones?” Griffin asked.

  “The last of the aliases used by Muran, the woman who strangled Pebbles into a coma,” said Anlon. “The one who transferred her mind onto the stone.”

  “Do you think I’m losing it?” Pebbles asked, wiping a tear from her cheek.

  “No, not at all,” Sanjay said.

  She studied his almond-colored eyes. They seemed to reflect the same sincerity evident in his voice. “Well, I sure feel like I’m losing it.”

  “I understand. You want the dreams to stop, but they keep occurring. It is frustrating.”

  “You can say that again. Especially because they’re getting worse, not better.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Happy’s head rise into view. The dog placed his front paws on the sofa next to her shoulder and stared at her, his eyes beseeching her to pet him. Pebbles lifted her head from the throw pillow and complied.

  “When you say they are getting worse, do you mean the events that happen in the dreams are becoming more upsetting?”

  “No. I mean they’re happening more frequently. Not so much at night when I’m asleep, more so when I’m awake, like the one I just had.”

  “It is interesting you mention that.”

  She paused petting Happy and looked up at Sanjay. “You think that means something.”

  “I do.”

  “Is it something bad?”

  “I will give you the politically correct answer first. I do not know enough to say.”

  Pebbles frowned. “That’s not much help.”

  “Well, I do have a theoretical answer, but it comes with disclaimers.”

  “All right, let’s hear ’em.”

  “Very well. You are not my patient and I am not your therapist. You and I have only just started to get to know one another. We have yet to talk about your dreams in any depth or discuss the events that seem to have precipitated them. I have only been through your journals and sketches once, and I would not say it was an exhaustive review. I know very little about your past traumas, only the small amount Anlon shared. And though he also mentioned you have had a full battery of brain scans, I have not reviewed them, nor have I talked to the doctors who analyzed the test results.”

  “You sound like a pharmaceutical ad on TV. Are you going to start listing the horrible side effects of my dreams now?”

  She was pleased when he smiled and said, “No.”

  “All right…so what’s the real scoop? I won’t hold you to it.”

  “Hold on, now that I think of it, I do have a few other disclaimers.”

  Pebbles laid back on the pillow and clenched her eyelids shut. “Oh, God, here they come.”

  “Relax. These are about me, not you.” As she squinted through one eye, Sanjay continued. “I have counseled many people who have experienced a wide range of traumatic events, but I have never counseled someone who has experienced the kind of event that led to your coma.

  “I do not doubt that it happened as Anlon described, but the idea of having your memories and consciousness extracted from your brain and then later replaced raises the possibility that something physiological occurred during one transfer or both. They might have literally changed how your brain works.

  “So, while I have a gut feeling for what may be going on, it is only that…a gut feeling. And since I am not your therapist, you should treat it as one man’s barely informed opinion, not a professional diagnosis.”

  Pebbles opened both eyes fully. “Got it. Buyer beware. So, what’s your barely informed opinion?”

  “Setting aside something physiological…”

  “Yeah, yeah…”

  “Your daytime subconscious mind is frustrated that your conscious mind is not paying close enough attention to what your nighttime unconscious dreams are trying to communicate.”

  Pebbles propped up on her elbows. “Come again?”

  “The daydreams are acts of your subconscious mind, and so are your drawing skills. Both are triggered by stimuli in your conscious environment. In the most recent instance, it appears your daydream was brought on by the photograph of the stone bird carving. It was probably brewing anyway given our discussion about flickers, and reviewing your drawings, but seeing the photograph seems to have been the catalyst for the dream to start.”

  “Okay, that makes sense. But, Sanjay, there was no bird in the dream. Why would seeing the carving of a bird make me dream about something completely unrelated?”

  She watched Sanjay remove his glasses and rest them atop his knee. He then reached into his back pocket, withdrew a handkerchief and used it to clean the glasses. “Just because the bird does not appear in the dream does not necessarily mean it is unrelated. Those who interpret dreams might say the bird symbolizes flight, and, in your dream, you are fleeing.”

  Pebbles sat all the way up so that she was eye to eye with Sanjay. “I’ve given that a lot of thought, the fleeing part. When I’m in the dreams, I always seem to run away at some point. I always feel panic, like I’m frightened of being caught. That whoever is chasing me is going to hurt me. In some of the dreams, they do catch me and do hurt me.”

  Sanjay finished cleaning his glasses and placed them back on. As he folded the handkerchief, he said, “Yes, I noticed that in you
r journal entries. I also noticed you are very protective of the bag in your dreams, the bag you seem to always be carrying.”

  Pebbles curled her legs up to move around Sanjay. He must have divined her purpose, for he scooted farther down the sofa so she could angle into a sitting position next to him. Careful not to clip the now sleeping Happy in the face, Pebbles lowered her feet to the living room carpet.

  “Yes, that’s right. In some of the dreams, I put my hand inside the bag to make sure nothing has fallen out. I can feel things inside, but I can’t see them. And I definitely feel protective about what’s inside. But in other dreams, I reach inside and pull out ordinary things I need at the moment, like a rock or a torch, but I don’t feel protective about them. In fact, I expect them to be in the bag, as if I know exactly what’s inside. It’s weird.”

  “I find it interesting that your first comment when you came out of the bonfire dream was about the bag. You said, ‘she forgot the bag.’”

  “Did I?”

  Sanjay nodded.

  Pebbles closed her eyes and massaged her temples as she tried to recall the dream. “I don’t remember the bag being in the dream.”

  “Yes, that is another interesting observation I took note of when you described the dream right after you woke up,” Sanjay said.

  “What do you think it means?”

  Sanjay shrugged. “Metaphorically? The bag and its contents might symbolize the thoughts or emotions your conscious mind is suppressing. You know, you keep them in the bag and protect them from other people. That may be why you cannot figure out what is inside. They may be amorphous physical objects that represent your emotions or thoughts.”

  “Hmm…but how does that square with other dreams where I’m pulling out random stuff I use in the dreams?”

  “Perhaps your subconscious is trying to tell you that what you are trying to protect is special, not an everyday kind of item. Then again, there could be a much simpler explanation. Maybe the bag is in the dream, but you just do not remember it. From all the edits in your journals, it is clear you remember new details of your dreams some period of time after you set down your initial memories of them. Maybe you will recall more about the bag later tonight or tomorrow…or the next time you have the same dream…assuming it is like the others and repeats.”

  Pebbles stared out the window. “Or maybe there’s a reason it wasn’t in the dream. Like, maybe I’m not worried about what’s inside anymore. But that doesn’t make any sense. I had a different dream this morning and the bag was definitely in it.”

  “Do you have a photocopy machine aboard the ship?” Sanjay asked.

  The odd request stirred Pebbles’ attention back on Sanjay. “Excuse me?”

  “A copier. I have an idea that might help us analyze your journal entries.”

  “Oh,” said Pebbles. “Um…let me think…Anlon has a printer in his office that copies. I’m pretty sure there’s another one on the bridge.”

  “Good. We should get started right away.”

  “Started doing what?”

  He pointed at the three open journals spread on the opposing sofa. “Your entries are chronological, which is to be expected since it is a diary, but I think the ordering may be hindering the ability to analyze the entries. I think we should photocopy every page and then reorganize the copies to group together the pages associated with each distinctive repeating dream.”

  “Okay. We can do that,” Pebbles said. “Let’s go.”

  On their way to Anlon’s office, Pebbles, Sanjay and Happy encountered Anlon, Jennifer and Griffin at the central staircase. During the hallway exchange, Jennifer told Pebbles about the source of the picture.

  “Who is Aja Jones?” asked Sanjay.

  “Long story,” Anlon said. “Come with me and I’ll fill you in.”

  “Hold up, A.C. You can give him a history lesson later,” said Pebbles. “We’re working on something else right now. Come on, Sanjay, let’s go.”

  As they started to walk away, Anlon said, “Pebbles, I haven’t provided Sanjay a full download on everything that happened. If he’s going to help us, he needs to know about Muran. Especially now, since we’ve got a connection between your dream and a piece in her collection.”

  “Okay, fine.” Pebbles turned and crooked a finger at Jennifer and Griffin. “Come on, you two, we have work to do.”

  CHAPTER 7: TOUCHY SUBJECTS

  Kona Kai Marina

  San Diego, California

  September 18

  Finding a quiet spot for the conversation about Muran proved harder than Anlon expected. He had intended to meet with Sanjay in his office but discovered Pebbles needed it for the photocopy project. No problem, Anlon thought. I’ll just use the living room. But Pebbles nixed that idea too. The living room, she informed him, would be her assembly area for grouping the photocopied pages.

  So, Anlon led Sanjay and Happy to the dining room, only to discover stewards setting up the room for dinner. He briefly considered using one of the ship’s four outdoor deck areas but was concerned about the possibility they might be overheard by the crew.

  Sanjay suggested they take Happy for a walk through the marina, accomplishing two objectives at once, a bio-break for the dog and privacy for their conversation. So, with Happy on a leash, the two men disembarked Sol Seaker and headed for a small park abutting the marina.

  When they were out of earshot of the ship, Anlon began the tutorial.

  “Aja Jones was an alias for Muran, the woman who orchestrated Pebbles’ kidnapping, the one who strangled her, the one who transferred Pebbles’ mind into a Sinethal. She was a Munuorian, like Malinyah.”

  “The ten-thousand-year-old woman Griffin mentioned,” said Sanjay.

  “Yes. It’s misleading to say she was that old in a physical sense, because she changed bodies many times during that span. Only her mind was ten thousand years old.”

  Anlon explained that Muran had used the Munuorians’ mind transfer technology for a different purpose than the Munuorians had intended. Instead of using the tech to permanently store her mind on a Sinethal, she used it to temporarily park her mind for the sole purpose of then transferring her parked mind into the body of another person. It was a forbidden practice among the Munuorians, he told Sanjay, because to accomplish the feat, one had to first erase the memories and consciousness of the person whose body would be occupied.

  “To do what Muran did was murder, plain and simple. But she didn’t really care about the lives she took. It was all about her.”

  “She did this to achieve eternal life?”

  “Not at first,” Anlon said. “The first time she killed, it was about revenge. After that, yeah, I think she used mind transfers as a way to extend her life and improve her circumstances. Well, escape her circumstances is probably a better way to put it. She had a knack for making enemies.”

  The conversation paused as they passed the docking berth of another yacht. Happy had stopped to sniff the mooring bollards and it took Sanjay a moment to tug him away. After they resumed walking, Sanjay said, “You realize this sounds like a fairy tale.”

  “Oh, yes I do. And, truthfully, I wish it had been. But it wasn’t.”

  “At the moment, I have no choice but to take you at your word,” Sanjay said. After stopping yet again to let Happy investigate the briny smells of the wood-planked dock, Sanjay posed a question. “So, tell me, what led this Muran to take an interest in Pebbles?”

  “That’s an even longer story. The short version — Muran thought I had some artifacts of hers, some artifacts that she believed my uncle Devlin stole from her. She sent a lackey to take them from me, but I wasn’t home when he broke into the house. Pebbles was. He shot her when she tried to escape and then beat the hell out of her when she told him the artifacts weren’t in the house. Thank God he didn’t kill her. But he did take Pebbles to Muran, who decided to ransom Pebbles in exchange for the artifacts.”

  “Wait a second. If Muran intended to exchange Pebbl
es for the artifacts, why did she transfer Pebbles’ mind into one of the memory stones?”

  “Muran said it was a precaution in case we didn’t produce the artifacts she wanted, though Pebbles says Muran made it clear to her before the mind transfer that she intended to take her body. Thankfully, she never got the chance to follow through on that part.”

  “What happened?”

  “Craziness on a scale you wouldn’t believe. Imagine a battle on the steps of an ancient Mayan temple in the middle of a Mexican jungle in the wee hours of the morning. If it hadn’t been for Mereau, Muran would have prevailed.”

  “Mereau? Who is Mereau?”

  “The ten-thousand-year-old ‘dude’ that Griffin mentioned in Sedona. The one who transferred Pebbles’ mind back into her body.”

  Anlon’s answer coincided with their arrival at the park. Sanjay led Happy a discreet distance from the park walkway and Happy wasted no time taking care of business. As Sanjay slid a bag from his pocket to clean up the mess, he said, “You confuse me, Anlon. You say to me this Muran violated the laws of her people by transferring her mind into other bodies, but then you tell me another of her contemporaries is the one who saved Pebbles. This would only be possible if Mereau, too, violated the Munuorian laws.”

  “I hate to keep saying it, but that’s another long story. The best way to put it is this — Mereau and Muran were as far apart on the evil scale as you could possibly imagine. Muran lived scores of wicked lives over ten thousand years, Mereau lived only one valiant life.”

  Sanjay deposited the poop bag in a park trash can and joined Anlon on a nearby bench and gazed at the cityscape of San Diego. As there was no one else in the fenced-in park, Sanjay let Happy off the leash and let him roam.

  “Are you saying Mereau’s body lasted for ten thousand years?” Sanjay asked.

  “No. His mind was stored on a Sinethal for nearly all that time. A man named Jacques Foucault discovered Mereau’s tomb and his Sinethal. Foucault figured out how to activate the Sinethal and he formed a long friendship with Mereau. Ultimately, Foucault willingly gave up his body, his life, so that Mereau could vanquish Muran.”