M. Rose - The Reincarnationist

THE

Reincarnationist

“M.J. Rose delivers a tale that goes beyond chills and thrills.

It’s a delight of intrigue with a clever twist. Not a disappointing page.”

— Steve Berry, The Templar Legacy

“THE REINCARNATIONIST is a riveting thriller – smart, original, and so well written. Rose hooks you on the first pages of the book, where current-day murders pull the reader into ancient secrets and shocking revelations, and keeps you turning till the stunning denouement.”

— Linda Fairstein, Bad Blood

“A breakneck chase across the centuries.

Fascinating and fabulous.”

— David Morrell, Creepers

“Both unnerving and mesmerising, THE

REINCARNATIONIST by M.J. Rose will excite anyone who’s ever had the slightest curiosity about past lives.

The story is packed with unforgettable characters, breath-taking drama, and fascinating research, cementing M.J. Rose’s reputation as a master storyteller.”

— Gayle Lynds, The Last Assassin

“A triumph! A breathtaking, smart and inventive novel that dazzles while it thrills. THE REINCARNATIONIST

is one of the year’s best reads.”

— David J. Montgomery, Chicago Sun-Times & Philadelphia Inquirer

“I simply believe that some part of the human self or soul is not subject to the laws of space or time.”

—Carl Jung

While The Reincarnationist is a work of fiction, whenever possible I relied on the facts of history and preexisting theories about the subject of reincarnation to construct the backbone of this tale.

Life in ancient Rome, paganism, early Christianity and ancient beliefs in reincarnation, as well as the Vestal Virgins, are as history recorded them. So are the descriptions of Vestals’ duties, domicile and temple, as well as the rules they lived by. Their vows of chastity were sacrosanct, and they were buried alive for breaking them.

I have taken liberties when discussing their involvement with the Memory Stones—which are wholly my own invention, as are the Memory Tools.

Many of the locations in this novel exist. The Riftstone Arch is in Central Park; the Church of the Capuchins is where I describe it in Rome. Several tombs of Vestals have been discovered in various locations around Rome, but Sabina’s was not found, as there is no record of a Vestal by that name.

The Phoenix Foundation does not, unfortunately, exist. And while Malachai and Dr. Talmage are entirely fictitious, I was inspired by the amazing Dr. Ian Stevenson, who has done past life regressions with over 2,500 children.

Josh, Natalie and Rachel experience past life regressions in ways that are similar to those of people I’ve met and read about, but their stories are entirely my invention.

My own reading and research into reincarnation theory has been an ongoing process, and what I described in these pages was culled from the tenets and writings of those who have studied and believed over thousands of years. Included at the end of this novel is a list of books for those of my readers who wish to delve further into this fascinating concept.

Please visit Reincarnationist.org for more information.

Also available by M.J. Rose

THE HALO EFFECT

THE DELILAH COMPLEX

THE VENUS FIX

The

Reincarnationist

M. J. Rose

www.mirabooks.co.uk

This book is dedicated to my remarkable editor,

Margaret O’Neil Marbury, who convinced me

I could climb this mountain.

&

To Lisa Tucker and Douglas Clegg, wonderful writers

and friends, who threw me a lifeline every

step of the way.

This is my ninth published novel and the one I have been writing the longest, since before I even knew I wanted to be a writer, when my mother first introduced me to the idea of reincarnation. I missed her a little less while I was working on this book and I’m certain she would love it best of all.

There are so many people I’d like to thank, starting with Loretta Barrett, Nick Mullendore and Gabriel Davis of Loretta Barrett Books for all their hard work and excellent advice. Thanks to the whole team at MIRA Books—especially Donna Hayes, Dianne Moggy, Alex Osusek, Laura Morris, Craig Swinwood, Heather Foy, Loriana Sacilotto, Katherine Orr, Marleah Stout, Stacy Widdrington, Pete McMahon, Gordy Goihl, Ken Foy, Fritz Servatius and Cheryl Stewart, Rebecca Soukis and Sarah Rundle. I am indeed blessed to have all of these amazing people in my corner and behind this book. It’s been a wonderful experience—thank you.

Thanks to Mayapryia Long, who gave me the right information at the right moment. For support, advice, information or just great conversation, thanks to Mara Nathan, Jenn Risko, Carol Fitzgerald, Judith Curr, Mark Dressler, Barry Eisler, Diane Vogt, Amanda’s father, Suzanne Beecher, David Hewson, Shelly King, Emily Kischell, Stan Pottinger, Elizabeth’s fiancé, Simon Lipskar, Katherine Neville, the Rome-Arch Listserv, Meryl Moss and all the International Thriller Writers.

My gratitude to each bookseller, librarian and every reader.

As always to my loving family: Gigi, Jay, Jordan, my father and Ellie.

And to Doug Scofield, for the calm in the storm, the eternal optimism and the music.

They will come back, come back again,

As long as the red earth rolls.

He never wasted a leaf or a tree.

Do you think he would squander souls?

—Rudyard Kipling

Rome, Italy—sixteen months ago

Josh Ryder looked through the camera’s viewfinder, focusing on the security guard arguing with a young mother whose hair was dyed so red it looked like she was on fire. The search of the woman’s baby carriage was quickly becoming anything but routine, and Josh moved in closer for his next shot.

He’d just been keeping himself busy while awaiting the arrival of a delegation of peacekeepers from several superpowers who would be meeting with the pope that morning, but like several other members of the press and tourists who’d been ignoring the altercation or losing patience with it, he was becoming concerned. Although searches went on every hour, every day, around the world, the potential for danger hung over everyone’s lives, lingering like the smell of fire.

In the distance the sonorous sound of a bell ringing called the religious to prayer, its echo out of sync with the woman’s shrill voice as she continued to protest. Then, with a huge shove, she pushed the carriage against the guard’s legs, and just as Josh brought the image into that clarity he called “perfect vision,” the kind of image that the newspaper would want, the kind of conflict they loved captured on film, he heard the blast.

Then a flash of bluish white light.

The next moment, the world exploded.

In the protective shadows of the altar, Julius and his brother whispered, reviewing their plans for the last part of the rescue and recovery. Each of them kept a hand on his dagger, prepared in case one of the emperor’s soldiers sprang out of the darkness. In Rome, in the Year of their Lord 391, temples were no longer sanctuaries for pagan priests. Converting to Christianity was not a choice, but an official mandate. Resisting was a crime punishable by death. Blood spilled in the name of the Church was not a sin, it was the price of victory.