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291 pages, Kindle Edition
Published March 28, 2012
And before Jesus even said the next words, she already knew what he was going to say: "My daughter."
Jesus was her father.
It was too much to take in at once. Jesus, her father. Mary Magdelene, her mother. She hardly knew what to say, what to think.
"I like your hatred. It rejuvenates me."
Being a scholar, a rare book expert, she also analyzed and scrutinized the book itself, with an expert’s eye. She could tell, scientifically, objectively, that it was real. An ancient book. Thousands of years old. Older than any book she’d ever held. That in itself would have been enough to stump her. It didn’t make any sense. How was it possible? In her own attic?
“As you know, history is part fact, part myth. It is our job to determine what is truth and what is fiction. Yet it is not as much of a science as we’d like to pretend. There are no absolute facts in history. History is written by the victors, by the biographers, by those with a cause and purpose and agenda to document it. History will always be biased. And it will always be selective.”
And then, suddenly, she realized what he’d meant: kill her. He was telling her to kill her own daughter. The realization struck her like a knife in the gut. She was so horrified, so physically sick from it, that she couldn’t bear to be near Aiden for another second.