Priestess of Paracas

by K Patrick Donoghue

  The first of her senses to revive was her hearing. The first sound her ears registered was the chirping of birds. Among them was a familiar warble, more of a whistle than a chirp. Next came the aroma of burning incense. She breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly, letting the comforting scent linger as long as possible. Black turned to gray, lighter and lighter gray beginning to take on colors.

  She became aware of someone touching her forehead. She heard whispering voices, tried to open her eyes wider but her lids would not cooperate. She tried to move but her limbs would not respond. The finger touching her head was wet. It swirled in a pattern and then was gone. A second later, she felt another swirl, this one on her cheek. By the time the finger began a third design on her chest, she knew where she was and what was happening.

  “It is over?”

  The whispering ceased. Only the birds could be heard. The finger lifted from her chest.

  “Did she find them?”

  A man’s voice, gentle and deep, replied. “No, Keeper. They are safe where they were hidden.”

  The finger designs resumed. Wet streaked her abdomen and then her forearms.

  “She has my necklace. She will find them.”

  “Rest your mind. She took many arrows. She will not live to find them.”

  More streaks painted her thighs. Through labored breaths, she asked, “How can you be sure?”

  “We will keep them safe. Have no fear.”

  As the last of the swirls coated her feet, she felt tears leak from her eyes. “I am scared.”

  A hand tenderly wrapped around hers. “Be at peace. They will be safe in our care.”

  “Promise me…give them to no one unless they speak the words, unless they bear the emblems.”

  The hand squeezed. She felt a kiss on her forehead. “It shall be as you instruct...as your father instructed before you…as his father before him and so on...all the way back to the day of darkness.”

  “You comfort my ears.”

  The man lowered his voice to a whisper, his mouth touching her ear. “May the stars light your way.”

  Tears ran down Citali’s cheek as she replied, “Until we meet under the same sky.”

  She squeezed his hand and exhaled her last breath.

  CHAPTER 15: LIFE AFTER DEATH?

  Banque Caledonienne

  Noumea, New Caledonia

  September 23

  Pebbles awoke to find herself once again lying on a floor with her friends kneeling beside her and Anlon holding her hand. He smiled. “Hey there.”

  “Hey.” She smiled back.

  “You all right?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  As she started to raise up, a cold pack slipped from her forehead. Jennifer caught it and helped Anlon prop Pebbles into a sitting position. Mereau rolled a chair over while Cesar handed her a bottle of water. Sanjay moved in close and examined her eyes. When he was finished, Pebbles looked around at her friends and said, “We really have to stop meeting like this.”

  There were smiles and light laughter from the others as they helped her into a chair. She noticed Garnier was absent and so was the security guard. Pebbles reached for her neck and discovered the necklace was gone.

  “Mereau took it off,” Anlon said. “Garnier took it back to the vault.”

  Pebbles rubbed her forehead. “Gotcha. Kinda glad. It was pretty intense, gave me a splitting headache. Seems mostly gone now.”

  “Are you up to talking about what happened?” Anlon asked.

  “Yeah, sure. Guess we should while it’s all fresh in my mind.” Pebbles glanced over at Jennifer taking her pen and pad out of her tote bag. “I know you want me to start at the beginning, but I want to start with the stuff that confused me.”

  “Like what?” Jennifer asked.

  “Muran didn’t transfer Citali’s mind to a memory stone. She stabbed her real bad, took the necklace and left her to die.”

  “Are you sure?” Anlon asked.

  “I’m positive. No one transferred her mind. She died. I experienced her passing.” Pebbles paused and looked around at each of her friends. “So how did her memories, her consciousness, get inside me?”

  “Maybe someone revived her after she died,” said Jennifer.

  “I don’t think so. When she was dying, she was saying goodbye to the person with her and it wasn’t Muran. I couldn’t see him, but the voice I heard definitely belonged to a man. And there was no mention of the stones, just a ceremony that struck me as being like last rites. He made no effort to treat her medically. And all Citali seemed to care about was making sure Muran didn’t get her hands on whatever she had been trying to keep away from her.”

  “Is it possible to transfer a mind to one of your memory stones after death?” Sanjay asked Mereau.

  “I recall of no instance in our history of a mind transfer involving the deceased,” Mereau said, “but that does not mean it has never been tried.”

  “Sanjay, isn’t it pretty well documented that the brain survives for a period of time after the heart stops?” Anlon asked.

  “That is true, but only for ten, maybe fifteen minutes.”

  “Then maybe the man tending to Citali tried it right after she died. Maybe that’s what the ceremony was about. Prepping her for the transfer.”

  Pebbles frowned. “I don’t know, Anlon. It didn’t seem that way to me.”

  “Well, if you think about it, an after-death transfer might explain why you only have snippets of Citali’s memories,” Anlon said. “And why those memories are all related to events near the end of her life. Events that are all pretty much intertwined. Maybe that’s because that’s all that made it through onto the stone before her brain shut down...the last of her memories.”

  “That is an excellent point you raise, Anlon,” said Sanjay. “About Citali’s memories being linked to events near the end of her life, nothing earlier. But I wonder if that might suggest a different explanation than an after-death transfer.”

  “Such as?” Pebbles asked.

  “It is an idea I have been pondering since our conversation about amnesia. It should not be possible, there are no credible, documented cases among adults…but in children? Specifically, children under the age of six, there have been some remarkable case studies.”

  “Case studies of what?”

  “Past life recall.”

  “You mean like your Pearl Harbor visions you told us about earlier?” Jennifer asked.

  Sanjay shook his head. “No. Past life recall is very different. It is a phenomenon where children recall being a specific person. They can share specific memories of places, people and events connected to the person. Names, dates, jobs, friends. Cars they drove. Houses they lived in. They seem to know it all. And I have to tell you, their descriptions are sometimes so accurate, it defies explanation. What is most stunning about these children, however, is that the people they remember being in a past life all met violent deaths. And the children can recount the deaths in excruciating detail.”

  Sanjay described one case chronicled by a reputable university researcher who was asked by the parents of a child to meet with their son. According to the parents, the father had given the four-year-old a toy airplane. Within a short time of playing with it, the child smashed it on a coffee table. In the following days, the boy repeated the act, smashing other toys that he had pretended were airplanes. When questioned by his parents as to why he was destroying his toys, the boy told them, “This is how I died.”

  He told his parents what his name had been. He told them the name of the ship he had served on and the name of the pilot in the plane next to his when he crashed. When the researcher met with the child, the boy related other details of his past life. The names of his parents and siblings, the street address where he had grown up and other biographical information. He also described what had happened in his crash, how his plane had been shot up during a battle in the Pacific, that he’d tried to make it back but lost control and nosedived into the oc
ean within eyesight of his ship.

  “The researcher took all that information and sought out corroboration. There was indeed a pilot with the name given by the child who did serve on the ship he named and who did crash returning to his aircraft carrier. There was a wingman who was on the same mission who safely returned. His name was just as the boy said. The most amazing thing? The researcher found a living relative of the pilot who crashed. The man’s sister. He arranged a meeting between the boy and the now-elderly woman. Trust me, the researcher’s report of the details shared back and forth between brother and sister during that meeting would make you shiver.”

  Pebbles didn’t need to read the report. She had goose bumps all over just from listening to Sanjay. As she rubbed her forearms to make them go away, Sanjay finished up.

  “No one knows what sparks the recall. It seems to be spontaneous, with onset occurring between the ages of four and six. And by the time they’re eight, they begin to lose the memories. By the time they reach adulthood, the memories are gone altogether. That is one of several reasons why I did not raise the possibility before.”

  “But you’ve changed your mind? You think it’s a possibility now?” Anlon asked.

  “On the spectrum of possible supernatural explanations, it seems no less improbable than an after-death mind transfer,” Sanjay said. “Though, there are problems with it. There is no connection between past-life recall and PTSD or brain damage, in children or adults. Plus, every study of adults who claim to have had similar experiences has concluded their experiences are bogus. And even in credible case studies of children, the lives they recall occurred within one or two prior generations, not eighteen hundred years ago.”

  “Sounds like you’re talking yourself out of the possibility just as quickly as you raised it, Sanjay,” said Jennifer.

  As Pebbles watched him shrug his shoulders, seemingly agreeing with Jennifer’s comment, she could not help but find herself drawn to Sanjay’s alternative. “Before we throw the idea in the trash, let me ask you this — if I am recalling a past life, what would have caused the recall to start a few months ago? I mean, if you’re saying it has nothing to do with PTSD or the fact my brain was damaged, what could have triggered it to start?”

  “I have no idea. I’d be totally speculating if I tried to come up with an explanation.”

  “Speculate anyway.”

  “Very well. I would have to say, in your case, your recall of Citali’s memories is somehow related to the rewiring of connections in your temporal lobe that were damaged last fall. As we have discussed, your savant artistry began around the same time as Citali’s memories started to appear in your dreams. So, the two seem to go hand-in-hand.”

  Jennifer raised her hand to interrupt. “So, are you saying Citali’s memories have always been embedded in Pebbles’ brain, and she just didn’t know it until her brain found the memories when it was rewiring itself?”

  “No. What you describe falls into the category of reincarnation, and I do not think that is what has happened here.”

  “Then you’ve lost me. How did the memories get into her brain?” Jennifer prodded.

  “If you seek a rational explanation, I have none to offer. If you are willing to consider a supernatural explanation, there is a theory about what causes past-life recall in children that may be relevant.” Sanjay directed his gaze at Pebbles. “The theory goes like this: when a person dies, they leave behind psychic energy — a combination of the person’s memories and consciousness. Under unknown conditions, the developing brains of certain children come in contact with the psychic energy and absorb it.”

  “When you say, come in contact, you mean physically?” Pebbles asked.

  “It sounds like a ghost story,” Anlon said. “A restless spirit wandering around runs into a child and suddenly the child thinks he is a World War Two fighter pilot.”

  “As I said, it is a supernatural theory.”

  “But, supposing it’s not BS,” Jennifer said, “how would that work? The fighter pilot died in the Pacific. The kid wasn’t in the Pacific, was he? He was in his house somewhere in America, when he started up with the recall. Right?”

  “That is right,” Sanjay said. “Perhaps psychic energy travels. Who knows? It is just a theory.”

  Pebbles observed the skeptical looks on Anlon’s and Jennifer’s faces. They were not buying Sanjay’s explanation, but as she recalled the vision of Citali’s fight with Muran, Pebbles found herself tilting toward his theory. “Question. Is it possible for psychic energy to reside in physical objects?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” Sanjay said.

  “Where are you headed with that, Pebbles?” asked Anlon.

  “Well, there’s obviously a common connection between Citali and me — Muran. It would be a pretty amazing coincidence for me to run into the free-floating psychic energy of a person who also had a run-in with Muran, don’t you think? I mean, we’re separated by almost two thousand years but, somehow, Citali found her way into my head. I could maybe understand it if we’d been in the same place somewhere along the line. But I’ve never been to Peru. The closest I’ve been is probably Ecuador on one of our trips to the Galapagos. I doubt Citali was ever in America or other places I’ve traveled. But there are two objects I know we both came in direct physical contact with, possibly three.”

  “Oh, my God…the necklace,” Jennifer said. “But wait, that was here in New Caledonia when you were with Muran in Mexico. That couldn’t be it.”

  “Good point.”

  “The Sinethal,” said Anlon. “Of course. Muran may not have successfully loaded Citali’s mind on it, but it doesn’t mean she didn’t try. Citali’s psychic energy may have latched onto the same stone Muran used to transfer your mind.”

  “Maybe,” Pebbles said, “but like I said earlier, I’ve seen no vision of a memory stone, and as far as the visions show, no one tried to store Citali’s mind.”

  “Muran, herself, then,” Cesar said.

  “Now you’re getting warm,” Pebbles said.

  “Wait a minute. Hold on,” Anlon said. “You said it yourself, you and Citali were separated by close to two thousand years. And Muran switched bodies multiple times over that span. Hell, she spent half of those years trapped in her own memory stone. You expect me to believe Citali’s psychic energy stuck to Muran through all of that? No way. I don’t buy it. It’s gotta be the Sinethal.”

  Pebbles smiled…a big, I know something you don’t kind of smile.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Anlon demanded to know.

  “Because I love it when I figure things out before you do. Though it’s kinda unfair. I noticed something in Citali’s fight with Muran I haven’t told you about yet.”

  “The mask,” Mereau said.

  Mouth agape, Pebbles turned to him. “How did you know?”

  “You said ‘the mask’ when you briefly came out of your trance.”

  “I did?”

  Mereau nodded.

  “What about the mask?” Anlon asked.

  Pebbles explained. Muran had been wearing a mask when she attacked Citali. In fact, all of her soldiers wore masks too. During the struggle, Citali knocked it off Muran’s face and used it to defend herself.

  Pebbles watched Anlon’s eyes dart back and forth as he studied her face. Then his face twitched.

  “Ah. I see. When you told us about the strangling on Sol Seaker, you said Muran covered your face with a mask.”

  “Pebbles, are you saying it was the same mask Citali used to defend herself?” Jennifer asked.

  “I don’t know. I never saw the mask she put on my face. I just remember the wall of masks in the room. They all depicted animals…and the one Muran was wearing during the attack was an animal. A leopard, jaguar or something like that.”

  Jennifer rummaged through her tote bag and withdrew her cell phone.

  “Who are you calling?” Pebbles asked.

  “Helen Li at the FBI,” Jennifer sa
id. “The Mexican police seized the compound where Muran held you hostage. They would have collected evidence from the cabin where you were strangled. They may have the masks or pictures of them.”

  As Pebbles watched Jennifer leave the room, Cesar asked, “Pebbles, you said Muran’s soldiers also wore masks. Were they the same as the mask Muran wore?”

  She turned to see Cesar scanning his cell phone.

  “Uh…not sure. Why?”

  “There was a culture in northwestern South America that flourished around the same time as the Paracas culture. They are known today as La Tolita. We do not know what they called themselves. They are renowned for the jewelry and masks they created. Many of the latter were of animals, including jungle cats…such as this one.”

  He stood and handed his phone across the table to Pebbles.

  “Oh, my God…that’s it.”

  Journal of Dr. Sanjay Varma

  September 24

  In flight once again, this time headed for Lima, Peru, after stopovers in Auckland and Santiago. Though I am physically tired, my mind is energized. The developments of the last twenty-four hours have taken this case in an entirely different direction than I first imagined. Could it be I am witnessing a bona fide instance of past-life recall in an adult? The evidence so far is compelling.

  There are Pebbles’ dream journals, her drawings, her oral recitations of visions. Their contents are supported by discoveries of connections with the necklace in Muran’s art collection, Cesar’s picture of the puma mask kept in Ecuador’s Museo del Banco, which happens to bear a striking resemblance to a picture the FBI forwarded to Jennifer of one of the masks recovered from Muran’s compound in Laguna Milagros. There are also the Paracas mummies and the Candelabra monument, both of which we are on our way to see in person.

  Although Muran’s manifesto would not hold up to scrutiny by serious scholars, according to Cesar, it contains further evidence pointing to a link between Muran’s reign as the leader of an unnamed culture (presumably La Tolita) and the disappearance of the Paracas culture.