Once in a blue moon, it turns red. Red, like the stain of old water on cold iron. Red, as if that dust, rusted corrosion, like blood let loose, stains whatever shroud surrounds the wound. Red, like a bad metaphor of the end of the world, comes not on a cry, but a whisper. There is a season for red, as there is for blue, and all of it, after all, is stained like glass; the stain of God.
What is the shroud? Does the answer really matter if there is no faith in miracles? And if there is, does it matter that it was left behind when new life was risen? Its history is clouded in fact and myth. Some of it is known and inspiring; some information is entirely mythical in proportions to amze and dismay. For Dr. Vladimir Jones, world renowned blood chemist, the mystery will become life-threatening when asked by the Vatican to open a new investigation into the linen cloth revered as the burial shroud of Jesus. He has been warned: the next time someone comes out of the mountain, offering a journey, and he tells a tale that he is seeking God, he may be wearing the devil's own clothes and claim they are the shroud of holy Jesus, crucified, but it is just linen cloth...
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