The Expected One by Kathleen McGowan

sacred to be diminished by words.
    The skull completed the full cycle of worshipers, ending at the leader. He raised the platter high in the air before returning it to the table with a flourish and the words, “The first. The only.”
    The leader paused for a moment, then picked up the wooden crucifix. Turning it around so that the crucified image was facing him, he raised the cross to eye level — and spat viciously in the face of Jesus Christ.

…Sarah-Tamar comes often and reads my memories while I write. She has reminded me that I have not yet explained about Peter and what is known as his denial.
There are some who judged him harshly and would call him Peter in Gallicantu — Peter in Denial — but that is unfair. What those who pass judgment cannot know is that Peter did nothing but fulfill Easa’s wishes. I am told that some of the followers now say that Peter fulfilled a prophecy made by Easa, that Easa said to Peter, “You will deny me,” and Peter said, “No, I will not.”
This is the truth. Easa instructed Peter to deny him. It was not a prophecy. It was a command. Easa knew that if the worst happened, he would need Peter, of all his trusted disciples, to remain safe. Through Peter’s determination, the teachings would continue to spread across the world as Easa had always dreamed. And so Easa told him, “You will deny me,” but Peter in his torment said, “No, I cannot.”
But Easa continued, “You must deny me so that you will be safe and the teachings of The Way will continue.”
This is the truth of Peter’s “denial.” It was never a denial since he followed the orders of his teacher. Of this I am certain, for I was there and I witnessed.
T HE A RQUES G OSPEL OF M ARY M AGDALENE,
T HE B OOK OF D ISCIPLES

Chapter Four
     
    McLean, Virginia

March 2005
    M aureen’s pulse beat abnormally fast as she drove the main highway through McLean. She had been totally unprepared for Rachel Martel’s odd invitation, but at the same time she was very excited by it. It had always been like this; hers was a life, connected by odd and often intense events, extraordinary coincidences that would influence her forever after. Would this be another one of those supernatural occurrences? She was particularly curious about any revelation that might pertain to Mary. Curious? Not nearly a strong enough word. Obsessed? More accurate.
    Her connection to the Mary Magdalene legend had been a dominant force in her life since the early days of research for
HerStory.
Ever since that first vision in Jerusalem, Maureen had a solid sense of Mary Magdalene as a flesh-and-blood woman, almost as a friend. When she was working on the final draft of her book, she felt as though she were defending a friend who had been maligned by the press. Her relationship to Mary was very real. Or, perhaps more accurately, it was surreal.
    The Sacred Light bookstore was small, although it was fronted by a large bay window that displayed angels of every description and in virtually every medium. There were books on angels, angel figurines, and lots of glittering crystals surrounded by artwork depicting the trendy cherubim. Maureen thought that Rachel herself was angelic in appearance: slightly plump with very blond curls surrounding a sweet face. She had even been wearing a two-piece outfit of flowing white gauze at the book signing earlier in the day.
    The melodic tinkle of chimes announced Maureen’s arrival as she pushed open the door and stepped into an expanded version of the window display. Rachel Martel was bent down behind the counter, fishing through the attached display case to locate a specific piece of jewelry for a customer. “This one?” she was asking the young woman, who was perhaps eighteen or nineteen.
    “Yeah — that’s the one.” The girl was reaching out to examine the crystal point, a lavender stone set in silver. “It’s amethyst, right?”
    “Actually it’s ametrine,” Rachel corrected. She had just noticed