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And as the angel Michael, she told me not to confess what we did together, for it was no sin in God’s eyes. And when we were corrupted together, she would make the sign of the cross over my naked body and tell me to give myself to her with my whole heart and soul and then let her do as she wished. “If you do this,” she said, speaking in a man’s voice, “I will give you as much pleasure as you would ever want.”

DIARY OF SISTER ANGELA MELLINI

April 4, 1622: Veronica Borromeo was purified at age eighteen. She was brought before the Grand Inquisitor and High Priest and her sins were read out to her, and then she was burned, as was the young sister, Maria Sinistrari, until dead. Once dead, the Abbess Veronica Borromeo and Sister Maria Sinistrari were brought into the chapel as is the custom of our sisters. The bodies were then buried beyond the convent walls, in a secret place, and at night, so that the laity might not defame the remains and take the bodies of the dead women and cast them out to the wolves of the forest.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

JOAN WAS NOT AT her desk when Jennifer arrived at the foundation. She wanted to give her secretary work to do before she went to see Phoebe Fisher. Jennifer took a stack of telephone messages off Joan’s desk and walked into her office, closing the door behind her. She flipped through the pink memo slips. There were a half-dozen calls concerning foundation matters, and the others were personal. Janet Chan had phoned to cancel their lunch on Thursday. Her dentist, Dr. Weiss, had called to remind her about her appointment. David Engle had called. He wanted her to phone him at home as soon as possible. And there was a long-distance call from Kathy Dart in Minnesota.

Jennifer stared at the slips, her hands trembling. She was too frightened to call David. She didn’t know what to say to him, not now. On impulse, she dialed Kathy Dart in Minnesota.

“Hello, Tenayistilligan,” a man’s voice answered.

“Hello?” Jennifer said.

“Tenayistilligan,” the man said again, “this is the Habasha Commune. Simon speaking.”

“Oh, hello.” Jennifer remembered now. Eileen had explained that Kathy Dart’s believers used Amharic expressions and gave themselves Ethiopian names in honor of Habasha. “My name is Jennifer Winters. Kathy Dart telephoned me earlier. I’m returning her call.”

“Just a moment.”

Jennifer waited for a moment. Soon she heard Kathy Dart’s clear and crisp midwestern voice. “Oh, Jennifer, I am so pleased that you’ve called. I telephoned Eileen Gorman earlier to get your phone number. Are you all right?”

“Why, yes, I think so,” Jennifer answered.

“Well, I spoke to Eileen a few days ago and she told me you have been experiencing some difficult feelings

“Yes?” Jennifer tensed up.

“This morning when I woke, Habasha was waiting for me, waiting for me to awaken, and he mentioned your name. He said you were in trouble.”

Jennifer took a deep breath.

“Yes. Well, I’m in trouble, that’s for sure.” She laughed, but now she was frightened. How could Kathy Dart know?

“This happens,” Kathy Dart said softly, anticipating Jennifer’s anxiety. “The spirit knows. We have all had premonitions. Habasha, of course, is attuned not only to my life, but to others as well. It is obvious now to me that you and I are somehow related in the same group.”

“I’m not sure what you mean, what sort of group. A spiritual grouping?”

“Spiritual is the right term. You and I—and Habasha, of course—and others are all part of what is called the oversoul. I thought so when I first saw you sitting with Eileen at my introductory seminar in Washington. We have shared some previous life experience, which, naturally, isn’t that unusual, as we are all part of the Mind of God.”

“What did Habasha say? I mean, what’s going to happen to me?”

“You have had some terrifying experiences.”

“Did Habasha tell you?”

“No, but I have experienced several troubled nights, and when I spoke with Eileen, she told me that you were troubled and were also inquiring about New Age beliefs.”

“Yes, I did ask her.” Jennifer grew cold suddenly, and she glanced up to see if her office door had opened. She didn’t want anyone to hear what she was saying to Kathy Dart. “I do have a lot of questions now about all this

stuff. I am trying to understand

you know, channeling and everything.” She was talking very rapidly, realized she was perspiring.

“The channeling experience is normally a cooperative experience,” Kathy Dart went on calmly. “I have accepted Habasha. I had no questions or qualms about acting as his channel, his connection with this life.”

“I remember your talk. I remember how he came to you out of a California morning. But I think something else is happening to me. I have had—” She caught herself then. She could not tell this stranger about the killings. Instead, she said quickly, “I was at the Museum of Natural History the other day, and I had this weird sensation.”

She told Kathy Dart about the Ice Age exhibition and her reactions to the model, how she knew she had been there once herself, had walked down the path, had slept under the bones and tusks and dried skins of the Ice Age mammoth. She knew it all, but of course it was not possible for her to have such knowledge.

“But it does make sense, Jennifer,” Kathy insisted. “This place, these people were once part of your life—in another time, of course, in this prehistoric period.”

“Kathy, excuse me, but I have to say something.” Jennifer walked to the windows and stood there, staring out at the cold day as she went on. “I am having a difficult time, you know, accepting all of this. I have a friend, and he’s—”

“That’s Tom, isn’t it?”

“Yes, you know

?”

“Well, no, but Eileen mentioned you were seeing someone. I have asked Habasha about Tom. I have asked him to see if Tom is the right person for you.”

“And what has Habasha said?”

“Oh, he takes his own sweet time about such requests. Basically he finds them annoyances. He’ll tell me one of these times when I am channeling. But please go on. I’ve interrupted you.”

“Well, none of this makes sense to him, either. Rational sense, do you understand?”

“Of course I understand,” Kathy Dart replied calmly. “I had many of the same questions and apprehensions I know you are experiencing. For all of us it is an uncharted journey, a leap of faith, but also, and this was true for me, we realize that there is something missing—something out of whack, let’s say—with our lives. For me, Habasha has been able to put this life into perspective.”

“Look, Jennifer, this isn’t terribly new or strange or weird, all this reincarnation talk. We were raised on a belief in an afterlife, in heaven and hell, but at the same time we are caught in a cultural reality that says there can’t be any such thing as reincarnation, or premonitions, or ghosts! But nevertheless, man has throughout history known about our connection with the other side, with the voices from beyond.”

“But that still doesn’t explain why I—”

“Why you were selected? Chosen?”

“Yes! Why me?”

“Because, Jennifer, you are ready. It is as simple as that. I wasn’t ready when I was a seventeen-year-old in college, but when I had children of my own, after many life experiences, I was finally prepared to handle the responsibility of channeling Habasha. Someone, some person, is preparing you to channel his or her entity. Why else would you have such sudden strength to run that far in Washington? Jennifer, I know you are being prepared for channeling some spirit.”