The Immortal Bind

by Traci Harding

  ‘I would expect so,’ replied the driver, making both Sara and Willie breathe a little easier. ‘The grounds are still open so that pilgrims can pay their respects to the Sadhu.’

  ‘Maybe he can help us?’ Sara posed to Willie, who smiled and nodded.

  ‘Seems something of a coincidence to me.’

  Uncertain of whether to be panicked or thankful for these events, Sara hoped with all her being that Willie was right. If this trip proved to be a dead end then she faced a life on the run or death, and god knows how many more lives being hunted by this demon’s vendetta. Still, she was thankful that the man she had dragged into this karmic cycle with her would not perish trying to spare her from her curse this time. She dreamed of maybe finding him one day, beyond this nightmare, but until then Sara refused to seek him out and prayed to the Gods that he would not seek her either. She would tackle Thorkell and Vasudahara this time around, and if she perished, she would not think of the man that she longed to spend her next life with — if she accomplished nothing else, she might at least release him from this endless farce of tragic life cycles. Was it ironic, or did it show promise that this was a complete reversal of her mindset as the Devi Chanda? Sara might not have been a Hindu in this life, but the overarching beliefs of their religion still ran strong in her, and although she no longer had any strong adherence to religious ritual or the worship of the gods, she did believe there were spiritual beings guiding mankind. Hence, with the return of her stone to its sacred place, she had faith that the deity she had wronged one thousand years ago would finally forgive her.

  It had been easy to despise her nemesis for how he’d hounded her and treated her, before she’d been given insight into her life as an Akashvani; it was much harder to accept that she was the villain who had unwittingly damned every soul involved.

  * * *

  The view from the fourth floor balcony of the hotel run by the Somnath Trust was absolutely spectacular — the foreground of the hotel, the sea and the temple formed a panorama that was comparable to viewing the Sydney Opera House from a harbourside hotel in The Rocks.

  ‘Pretty damn impressive,’ Willie commented from the balcony of the room next door. There was a concrete dividing wall between all of the balconies, but if they leaned forward at the railing they could chat.

  ‘It certainly is . . .’ Sara yawned, weary from her travels. The heat and humidity weren’t helping.

  ‘I’m with you . . .’ Willie yawned in response. ‘I say we get some shut-eye and go explore later, the temple is open until nine o’clock.’

  ‘Sounds like a plan.’ She gave the idea the thumbs-up. ‘See you in a few hours.’

  SAMSARI

  It seemed like she had only just put her head down, but when Sara woke the sun was setting over the sea in a spectacular blaze of pink. The phone was ringing, and figuring it was Willie awake and ready to eat — she was rather starving herself — she reached over and grabbed the receiver.

  ‘Hello.’ She yawned, still half asleep.

  ‘Hello Sara.’

  The shock of hearing Robert’s familiar voice sent waves of chills through her.

  ‘Fancy seeing you here.’

  In fear of being programmed into doing something terrible, she hung up the phone and jumped out of bed in a panic. That’s impossible. But clearly nothing was impossible if you had supernatural powers of persuasion. How had he found her so quickly? How had he got out of the country? Did it matter? He was close, very close.

  When the phone began ringing again, Sara gasped and backed away from it, pulling on her trousers and shirt. A knock on the door startled her out of her wits; she couldn’t move, or speak.

  ‘Sara, it’s me, Willie, let me—’ Before he’d even finished the sentence Sara had opened the door and dragged him inside.

  ‘. . . in.’

  She ensured the door was locked closed behind him.

  ‘What is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’ Willie answered his own question, ‘Not Robert?’

  ‘He’s here.’ She pointed to the phone, and the ringing ceased.

  ‘Lord help us, I have to get to the temple now.’

  ‘We—’

  ‘No, Willie, I mean it, I’m doing this alone.’ She wasn’t being brave, she just couldn’t see the point of getting them both killed.

  ‘I’m sure that’s just what he wants.’

  ‘He’ll have no qualms dispatching you again if you get in his path to me, so don’t.’

  ‘At least let me get you as far as the temple.’

  Sara shook her head as she pulled the stone from her luggage and placed it in the travel wallet that strapped around her hips beneath her shirt. ‘That’s going to be the most perilous part of this journey.’

  ‘You got that right, and as you are not the boss of me, you’re not going alone — end of argument.’

  His devotion to her brought tears to her eyes, but she couldn’t bear for that to be his undoing.

  ‘I’m trying to break some of these awful karmic cycles I’ve created. Can you not see that by making the same choice you did before you are only repeating the pattern?’

  ‘And I’ll do it again and again if I have to, until we beat this.’ Willie was obviously feeling a little sentimental himself. ‘You were there for me when I was nothing, and no one but a freak of fabulousness that nobody got.’

  ‘I was just as unconventional, Willie—’ Their friendship was every bit as precious and integral to her as a person and a designer.

  ‘That’s what I mean! We get each other, like no one else does. I’m not prepared to live without you, any more than you are prepared to live with me. So just accept this is our fate, so we can get on with sending this motherfucker back to wherever the fuck it is he belongs.’

  Sara brushed off her tears and reluctantly nodded. She was overemotional, scared, jetlagged and probably the least qualified person on earth to be handling this disaster; thankfully the gods had seen fit to send her a level-headed and very stubborn aid.

  ‘So, are you ready for this?’ Willie obviously felt she was a little lachrymose for the task at hand.

  But Sara’s will to see the past buried filled her belly with fire and her resolve hardened. ‘More ready than I’ve ever been.’

  Thanks to Rosalind and her chairs, that was the honest truth; knowledge was power and fingers crossed, this time around that would make all the difference to the outcome.

  ‘But he’s going to be watching us. How are we going to get out of the hotel?’

  Willie wasn’t fazed. ‘It’s a good thing I brought my saris.’

  Here in northern India, especially in the smaller towns, it was still quite common for the women of the lower castes to veil their heads and faces completely. It seemed a long shot, but now that it was dark out, they just might get away with the disguise.

  ‘We don’t have time for dress-ups . . . he could be on his way up here right now!’

  ‘Then why call first and tip you off to his presence?’ Willie posed.

  ‘You’re right,’ she realised. ‘He’s never been in a hurry to kill me.’

  ‘He’s just trying to psych you out! So let’s not go running headlong into his plan.’

  Sara nodded to agree.

  ‘My room, let’s go.’ He turned her around, and stuck his head out into the corridor to check it was all clear, then they relocated next door.

  As Willie had his hair shaved short at present, he wore one of his many wigs. Unfortunately, most of his wigs were fairly outrageous colours and short; he only had the one long, dark one, so he gave Sara his black, gold-trimmed sari that hid the colour of her hair.

  ‘Am I going to look like I’m in mourning?’ She knew the colour of saris had a particular significance.

  ‘Not at all,’ Willie assured her as he demonstrated how to put on the huge length of fabric. ‘Black represents power, of course!’ Willie batted his eyelashes, taking pride in his skin colour. ‘Also elegance and versatility.’
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  The sari Willie had on was red.

  ‘Let me guess,’ Sara pointed to his attire. ‘Passion and sensuality.’

  ‘And dominance.’ He winked, wrapping the end of the sari right over his face — which was such a shame as he looked prettier than she did.

  Sara copied him. ‘How the hell do they see?’ Sara’s veil was worse, being black.

  ‘Here.’ Willie pinned hers so that her eyes were showing. ‘Just keep your eyes to the ground as those baby blues will be a dead giveaway.’

  Sara nodded to confirm and having, no bag, she hid the diamond in her cleavage, hoping that would not be considered sacrilegious — though it had certainly been worse places.

  Willie dipped his finger in some deep red rouge and made a perfect red dot between her brows. When she turned to face the mirror, she saw Devi Chanda staring back at her! The eyes and skin may have been a different colour, but the Akashvani was still in there, which was as disturbing as it was empowering.

  The wait for the lift was excruciating, Sara kept expecting Robert to appear from one of the rooms and corner them. When the doors parted they stepped inside.

  ‘Hold the lift!’ The call surprised them both, and they looked up from the control panel to see a man holding up some sort of badge. ‘Indian authorities.’

  Now what? Sara’s heart was pounding in her chest again — the man had a firearm!

  Willie obliged and pressed the door open button.

  The official entered the lift and stood in the door as another official escorted a tall Westerner from his room, and Sara suppressed a gasp. This was the man from her chair, and she immediately lowered her gaze and moved with Willie to the back of the lift.

  ‘After you.’ The second official, also armed, motioned her man into the lift, and he came to stand right in front of her, before his second escort joined them.

  Was he in trouble? Had he managed to return his stone and been arrested for it?

  ‘This is completely unnecessary,’ he told his captors, and the sound of his voice took Sara to a very happy place for a moment — he had a very refined English accent. ‘I can make my way to the airport by myself.’

  Phew. She was relieved to hear he was not headed for prison.

  ‘We just want to save you any more expense,’ the first official replied.

  All she need do was reach out and their search for each other would be over — and then? She’d lead him straight into Robert’s kill zone. She clutched her right hand to her chest to still her beating heart and refrain from making the same fatal mistake. She wanted him to live, not die with her — this was love, she could feel the energy in her chest swelling and burning as the elevator doors parted and she watched him walk away.

  ‘I stand corrected,’ Willie uttered in an aside to her, as they stepped out into the foyer. ‘It seems Alexander Skarsgård is not the hottest man alive after all.’

  The comment would have been amusing, were it not so heartbreaking, and Sara was grateful for the veil that hid her tears, as she stole one last glance at the love of her lives. If she lived through the night then maybe their paths would cross again, but in a world full of people, what were the chances? When he unexpectedly looked her way, Sara diverted her attention, and sucked in a deep breath to recover her nerve and walk on.

  ‘You okay?’ Willie sensed her mood as they exited the hotel onto the street.

  This was, to her mind, one of the most likely stake-out points for Robert. What if their disguises worked and he didn’t spot them, but did spot her man instead? He could use her love as leverage against her.

  ‘I’m fine.’ She pushed Willie away from her and, ripping the veil from her head, she ran for the temple entrance only minutes away.

  * * *

  It wasn’t difficult to elude the police or flee the country when they could convince anyone they were someone else.

  Once they’d discovered Sara’s destination, they’d knocked off the first male passenger going to Mumbai that they could lay their hands on and took his flight and visa. Inner conflict, and being pursued by the police, had brought all their repressed anger bubbling up to the surface — they were both on a mission, albeit with different agendas.

  Inside the cool guise of Robert Baxter, Thorkell was quietly fuming about Sara’s claim that Dasa — or rather Vasudahara — had been lying to him all these years, for this validated his own suspicions. He’d forgotten the name the demon had instructed him to use during the summons that had joined them in one form; at the time, the name had seemed foreign and difficult to pronounce. That was, until Sara had jogged his memory on the phone the other day. Thorkell been calling the demon Dasa all these years, including those times when he’d been fed up and attempted to reverse his curse. The night Sara had threatened them on the phone was the first time Thorkell had ever felt this inner demon really squirm, and he was rather enjoying agitating his perverted spectral leech. For Dasa had never detached from him. The demon claimed it was perfectly willing, if Thorkell wished to return to his true age. That threat was seeming a more attractive proposition with each passing year. During their flight from the police in Australia, Thorkell had ordered the demon out of his body, more than ready to embrace death, but the parasite had refused to go. He was quietly confident that the demon’s real name might prove to be more powerful ammunition in his battle to achieve eternal freedom. But, just in case he was entirely wrong, he was more than a little curious to learn more about Sara’s threat. Fortunately, Thorkell maintained control of his physical form and so had final say over where they went and what they did.

  The demon was agitated because he’d lost his control of his victim and she had fled. If Sara thought her Lord Shiva was going to protect her, she was deluded. There were no merciful gods. But Vasudahara would be happy to tear her apart and leave her on the altar just as the Arabs had done. His host was also becoming increasingly obstinate. If Thorkell believed he held the upper hand in this partnership, he would find he was sorely mistaken.

  Customs officers were as easy to brainwash as everybody else. They found themselves another poor chatty sap in Mumbai, headed to Diu, and left his dead body in the airport dumpster.

  After that, it was just a matter of staking out Diu airport until Sara and her black arrived. They persuaded Sara’s room number out of the receptionist, and his inner demon had wanted to head straight up to her room and make a start on her torturous demise.

  Thorkell, on the other hand, painfully aware of being manipulated by Vasudahara, was now seizing every opportunity to defy him before they finally parted ways. He was fed up with this same repeating pattern! Thorkell knew now why people died between lives — because they got weary of going through the same shit over and over again. That was true of even one lifetime! He was at the point where he honestly couldn’t care less whether the girl lived or died. Actually, he rather wanted her to live, just to spite Vasudahara.

  So here they were, leaning in the shadows of an alley across from Sara’s hotel foyer. After his surprise phone call up to her room, Thorkell was interested to see what Sara would do next.

  Just go up there, urged Dasa. She is not coming down.

  ‘Well, she’s here for a reason, let’s find out what that is.’ Thorkell smiled at his own inner agitation.

  Just torture it out of her! We should never have left her alone in the first place, we were so close to having her legally bound to us—

  ‘We also have to eat.’ Thorkell shrugged. ‘You chose our profession for this round. I was just capitalising on it. You can’t be a celebrity without promotion.’

  He observed a couple of Indian women exiting the building, when suddenly one woman shoved the other aside. As the aggressive female made a run for it in the direction of the temple, he saw her blonde hair.

  ‘Silly girl, you would have got away with that.’ Thorkell had to wonder why she had betrayed herself, but she was moving so quickly he didn’t have time to stop and ask questions.

  Don’t just blin
dly run after her you fool! Dasa objected. She could be leading us into a trap!

  ‘What could we possibly have to fear?’ Thorkell was dying to find out. He closed in on her as she reached the beginning of the shop fronts of the plaza, gripped hold of her arm and pulled her to a stop.

  ‘Sara, tell me about that threat?’

  She screamed in his face. ‘You’re a possessed, insane, perverted bastard!’ ‘

  ‘If you want me dead, you’re going to have to tell me how we do it,’ he requested as calmly as he was able.

  ‘Let me go!’ She took a swing at him, but he easily blocked the strike.

  ‘I want to be rid of this demon and his curse far more than you do — Argh!’ His head was seized by a pain, something he’d not felt in a long time, and he struggled to keep hold of his captive.

  If you no longer wish to be an active member of this partnership, that can be arranged. Dasa launched an internal attack and Thorkell was paralysed.

  ‘Ouch!’ Sara protested as his grip on her tightened.

  A chilling shock swept through Thorkell, the likes of which he’d not felt since he’d first invited the demon to join him in his form. I want Vasudahara out of my body! Thorkell attempted to say, but no words were forthcoming. He wanted to let the girl go, but his body was no longer responding to his command — Dasa had control.

  Dasa turned their blackening eyes towards Sara, and she gasped and averted her gaze. ‘Now that you have uncovered our little secret, you must know that the fire that left you all alone and vulnerable was no accident?’

  His victim stopped squirming, and there were daggers in her eyes as she dared to glare at him. ‘You murdered my parents?’

  Vasudahara didn’t have to force a smile in this instance, it came naturally. ‘And not just in this life.’

  Sarah gasped, realising that she had consistently been orphaned before her coming of age in every lifetime she’d revisited through her chair.

  ‘Don’t look in his eyes!’

  A blow to the back of the head caused Vasudahara to lose his hold on the girl and his host. As Thorkell regained control of his body, he turned to see Sara’s best friend, Willie, grasping a metal serviette holder he’d retrieved from one of the cafe tables. ‘You.’