The Apsara Chronicles Boxed Set

by T. G. Ayer

  Vee looked up at her mother, held her gaze for a moment then looked away to concentrate on writing. “Did you test it?”

  Devi nodded. “The lab confirmed what Syama said. Oil, tar, silver, mercury, blood. And turmeric, of all things.”

  “Great. An Ayurvedic golem.”

  Devi snorted and so did Syama. “Can you tell me what happened?” Devi asked softly.

  The hint of tenderness in her tone threatened to topple Vee’s well-contained emotional wall. Then she swallowed hard and began tapping, detailing what had transpired. She’d reached the point of revealing the appearance of the mysterious portal, and was about to mention the appearance of the equally mysterious man, when Syama shifted, bumping into Vee’s thigh. A quick glance up at the hellhound and Vee saw her shake her head ever so slightly.

  Devi’s attention remained on the phone and Vee frowned at Syama who in turn gave her a sharper, more insistent, nod.

  Vee decided to go with her gut and wait to hear the hellhound out before revealing that truth to her mother. With a small nod, Vee returned her attention to the notepad and proceeded to erase the words mysterious man before her mother noticed.

  Then she wrote, “You need to come home. We have to talk,” and tapped the screen with the stylus. Vee glanced up and met her mother’s reluctant gaze.

  After a long moment her mother gave a short nod. “You are likely to go home today . . . so I’ll come by the house in the morning.”

  “They will send her home so soon?” asked Syama, a worried note in her voice.

  Devi nodded. “The doctors confirmed once the healers have been through, Vee should be well enough to get home. She’d need a good night’s sleep at the very least.”

  Her mother sounded so calm and collected, and for a moment Vee bristled.

  Typical of Mom to brush off my pain as something not so serious.

  But then her stomach tightened. Of course her mother would think it wasn’t all that serious. Vee always put on a brave face, was always the strong one, pushing aside Devi’s affection.

  Vee shifted in her half-inclined position and was very glad when the curtain twitched and two healers walked in. Both were dressed alike, white salwar kameez and white ash dots on their foreheads

  The two women smiled serenely and came to stand on either side of Vee, neatly displacing both Syama and Devi.

  Mother and hellhound retreated, leaving Vee to the ministrations of the two reiki masters.

  The woman on the left drew closer, her round face filled with cheer. “I’m Tilly and this is Sandra. We’re going to work on your injuries. Try to breathe and remain calm as we work.” She nodded encouragingly, and then smiled at her partner. “Shall we begin?”

  Vee glanced back to find that Tilly had aimed the question at Vee herself and was waiting for her response.

  She forced herself to smile and then nod, pain and fatigue weighing her down like a blanket of concrete.

  The women worked in concert with each other and Vee lay back, watching their auras as the colored clouds intermingled with each other. The beauty of it was entrancing, two auras dancing in perfect harmony with each other. Usually, auras bumped up against each other, an instinctive dislike of occupying the same space as the other.

  Auras were trails of energy that skimmed around the body, energy uniquely coded to its owner. It was in their own nature to clash with the auras of others, a natural response to having one’s personal space invaded. And yet the two reiki healers worked in perfect harmony, drawing each other’s energies around Vee’s own.

  She lay back and let them do their thing, glad that her mother had talented reiki masters in her service. Both women worked Vee over, head to toe and back again, their gentle no-touch massage relieving Vee’s pain and tension in an almost magical way.

  Vee barely registered it when Tilly and Sandra had left. She must have fallen asleep because, after what seemed like mere moments later, she opened her eyes, registering a distinctive change in environment.

  The spike of hospital chemicals, the hollow echo of rubber heels on soft floor tiles, the scratchy sound of plastic mattresses crunching beneath bodies as patients turned.

  All were missing.

  Chapter 16

  Vee opened her eyes with a start, recognizing her bedroom instantly, the space sparsely lit by sunlight struggling to enter at the edges of the blackout drapes.

  She’d been brought home.

  And it was morning.

  She forced herself to take a deep breath, filling her lungs with calming air, and then releasing it slowly.

  She blinked a few times then sat up on the mattress, registering aches, pains, and thirst. She also needed to use the toilet and nobody was going to tell her otherwise. Besides, she didn’t feel like her body required the rest as much now.

  Perhaps the sleep had done her body some good.

  Vee swung her legs over the side of the bed and got to her feet, tentatively testing her weight.

  She walked slowly to her adjoining bathroom and used the facilities, washing up quickly to avoid the rumble of the pipes in the old house. It was early, probably around seven or eight, but waking times in her house was never a regimented thing what with the strange hours everyone kept.

  The house was so silent that Vee knew everyone was likely still fast asleep.

  She stood in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection. She’d probably looked way worse before the healers had worked their magic. For that she was most grateful, because even now her reflection was no pretty sight.

  Her eye was still swollen and only slightly less blackened. A giant purple bruise covered her left cheekbone, now a little more lilac and a little less indigo. Both her lips were busted, but healing well with the swelling having abated. Her throat was still bruised purple and blue, but both hues had also faded considerably.

  The bandage on her left hand was still in place, although Vee could feel her range of movement had increased exponentially since she’d left the hospital.

  Vee paused, and stared at the bandage, wriggled her fingers again. Not a twinge.

  Determined now, she tugged open the top drawer under the sink and found a pair of first-aid scissors. She cut the bandage tape off and unwound the gauze, revealing reddened, blotchy fingers.

  Flexing them slowly, she was impressed to find no twinges of pain in any of them, including the broken finger. Right beside it was another finger that had been broken many years ago. One that still managed to give her intermittent pain.

  Memories surfaced, the sounds of a crying child, the surging of a great wind, the begging of a desperate father, the crack of a breaking finger.

  Vee took a shaky breath and focused, thrusting the memories out of her mind. After running a hand—the good one—through her hair, she left the bathroom and walked gingerly through the bedroom. She needed the exercise, having felt confined these past few hours.

  Vee headed downstairs, using the back stairs to the kitchen entrance. The house was on the older side, harking back to the early nineteenth century, and possessed one of the marks of nobility—servants’ stairs.

  In the kitchen, Vee was about to make herself a cup of tea when her phone rang, announcing an incoming call from Max.

  She answered, hoping to hear he had news, and desperate to stop the loud musical, certain to disturb the sleeping household.

  “The DNA results just came back on those claw fragments,” Max’s gravely tone filled her ear. “We have human DNA.”

  “I suspected that would be the case,” murmured Vee. “Your deduction?”

  Max made a rude sound in his throat. “You know I don’t approve of conjecture, my dear.”

  Vee rolled her eyes. “Give it a whirl, Doc.”

  He sniffed, “Ok, if I must, I’d say the killer wore the claws on his own hands, accounting for cross-contamination of his DNA, or we have a human-feline hybrid murdering people on our streets.” He spoke the second option with a chuckle, but Vee knew better than to be amu
sed.

  “Thanks, Doc,” Vee said, forcing herself to laugh in response, partially aware that her throat still hurt. “I’ll take the human-wearing-claws, thanks.”

  “I thought you’d like that better.”

  The coroner rang off and Vee stuck her phone into her pocket. She sighed as she grabbed the kettle, and was about to fill it from the faucet when an odd, muffled sound caught her ear.

  A thudding noise that sent Vee’s heart racing with trepidation. Thuds like that tended to be connected mainly to falling bodies when they hit the ground.

  Her hand went straight to her hip and she winced as her fingers grazed her ribs. No weapon, of course.

  And, oddly enough, no pain either.

  She’d expected some form of agony considering her beating, but perhaps the reiki masters had done an even better healing job than she’d thought. She’d known they were more than just reiki healers, especially with the strength of their auras.

  Definitely magical.

  Vee considered going up to her room first for her gun, then decided against it. If someone needed help, she’d be wasting precious time running upstairs for a weapon.

  She headed out of the kitchen in the direction from which the sound had emanated, and ended up searching the entire ground floor to no avail.

  Her heart thudded frantically, like a trapped bird. She was wasting time downstairs. Gritting her teeth, Vee bounded up the stairs on tiptoes, treading as lightly as she could on the squeaky floorboards.

  A soft thud echoed down the hall and she ran faster now, in the direction of Ma’s room. Her grandmother was known to wander around the house at all hours—clearly a family trait—so when Vee paused to listen at her door, she expected to hear the old woman pacing. Or at least moving around in a determined fashion.

  Because Ma never dawdled.

  But the room was dead silent, prompting Vee to try the handle and slide the door ajar a few inches.

  Through the narrow crack Vee scanned the room and studied the empty bed, the bedding strewn across the mattress. One more strange thing to add to the list because Ma was fastidious about bed-making.

  When Vee saw the bottle of water lying on the floor beside the bed, she shoved the door open and hurried inside, expecting to see her grandmother passed out on the floor.

  But the room was empty and the only thing out of place was the fallen bottle.

  Maybe Ma had gone downstairs for something?

  But Vee had just checked and hadn’t found her. What about the basement? The artifact room down there would be a possible destination, although Vee was reluctant to consider the option as Ma possessed a healthy dislike for ancient artifacts. She’d often expounded her theory that ancient objects—whether they be weapons, jewelry, or even furniture—possessed a convoluted history, crossing through time, traversing paths with others while collecting emotions along the way.

  The old woman had made a lot of sense and had managed to convince Vee, who at the tender age of ten had discovered an unfettered passion for archeology.

  After that conversation Vee had maintained a healthy respect for the past. Contrary to Ma’s intention to divert Vee’s passion, Vee’s fascination had only increased as she began to look for artifacts on the basis of the energies they collected through time.

  Vee left Ma’s room and headed down the hall. Had she also heard the sound and leaped from her bed to check it out? Possible, if not probable. Vee came to her grandmother’s living room one door down. Mac had converted a spare double bedroom into a second lounge, with a tiny kitchenette for Ma to use when her arthritis acted up.

  Vee paused on the threshold, the breath in her lungs escaping in a harsh gasp. A sofa lay on its side with the television next to it, the flat screen shattered. A wide ragged bloodstain streaked across the creme carpet, the bright red a stark contrast to the calm neutral off-white.

  Her eyes tracked the stain back to its origin-point, on the seat of the only sofa that still remained upright. A rounder, denser pattern indicated Ma may have been injured while on the sofa, or at least beside it, if she’d fallen onto it before being dragged away.

  Vee could barely breathe, her ears thundering with a sound that was a hollow echo of the horror in her heart.

  “Mac!” Vee screamed, her voice shrill and harsh, a desperate clarion call.

  She remained standing there, struggling to breathe, listening to the sounds of Mac and Syama as they scrambled from their beds, stumbling as they rushed to their doors, feet stamping hard, racing to answer her call.

  Both skidded to a stop behind her and peered over her shoulders at the scene of destruction inside Ma’s living room.

  “What the hell?” whispered Mac.

  Syama said nothing, but Vee could feel the tension flowing from her.

  A desperate fear filled Vee’s heart. She’d never survive losing her grandmother. Neither would her mother.

  We’ll find you. Ma. I promise we’ll find you. Just hang on.

  Chapter 17

  “The blood . . .” Mac trailed off, his voice catching.

  Vee shook her head. “It’s not enough to imply a mortal wound, so it’s likely she was injured when she fought back.”

  “Sure looks like the old woman fought back.” Syama sounded impressed.

  Vee grunted. “Call Mom.” She spoke the words, unsure, and uncaring which of the two performed the task.

  Mac shifted behind her and headed off down the hall. Vee took a deep breath and concentrated on the energies around her. Closing her eyes, she centered her thoughts and inhaled slowly, accessing the auras.

  Opening her eyes, she studied the living area, now a version of the room where furniture, walls, and floor had faded in color. The only images that stood out were auras left behind by everyone who’d entered and left the room in the past few days.

  There weren’t many.

  Mac had visited with Ma three times yesterday, his aura combination of magenta and crimson, crisscrossing over itself as he came and went. He’d popped in twice for a brief chat—probably to check if she needed anything, and once to bring her dinner. He’d always been that way—kind, attentive, caring, and Ma had often said she’d been blessed to have two wonderful sons-in-law.

  Syama had come in twice, and judging from the intensity of both their auras, probably to update Ma on Vee’s incident at the lab.

  The hellhound-girl’s feedback was an odd blend of black, gray, and red, and Vee had learned slowly that the different supernatural creatures possessed varying types of auras which required a separate understanding to be able to read them correctly.

  Other than Syama and Mac, there were two other aura imprints in the room. One belonging to her grandmother and another that sent a chill deep into her heart.

  She’d seen the auras of evil before, deep dense darkness that seemed to eat into the soul even though all you did was look upon it.

  Right now, Vee stared at the mysterious human-shaped darkness that hovered in the air, leaving behind a pattern of movement that gave Vee a clear idea of what had transpired within the room.

  Ma had opened a book she’d been reading, The History of The Mother Goddess: from Early Asia to Modern Times, and had been reaching for her glasses on the table beside her.

  A dark form had entered but Ma had been oblivious as she’d flipped through the pages looking for her bookmark. She’d just settled down to read when something must have caught her attention and she’d looked up. The expression of horror on her face struck Vee deep in her gut, like the plunging blade of a hot knife.

  Ma stumbled to her feet, and though she opened her mouth to say something, she’d never been given the chance. The darkness reached out and hit her hard. She fell, the blow dropping her to the floor so close to the corner of the low glass coffee table that her forehead bounced off it like a ball.

  She fell to the ground, blood seeping from a deep gash in her hairline. This Vee could make out because blood had its very own strength of aura depending on its ow
ner. Ma’s essence was a deep purple and her blood was an even more potent shade, something close to aubergine.

  Ma struggled to her feet, her body tilting as she blinked from the pain. She yelled something to the intruder and received a second blow to the face, this time sending her backward. She toppled onto the sofa, her head bouncing onto the fabric, leaving a large stain from the broken skin on her forehead.

  The shadow closed in, standing over her, and whatever he said made the old woman angry. She lifted her head, her expression furious, and Vee knew her response wouldn’t have been meek or mild.

  The shadow lifted his hand, wielding some sort of magic that lifted Ma’s body into the air, allowing her to hover three feet off the ground.

  Then, both the black shadow and Vee’s injured grandmother disappeared into thin air, taking their aural imprints with them.

  Vee swallowed hard despite the pain the action caused her.

  “What happened?” asked Syama who’d remained preternaturally quiet as Vee had scanned the room.

  Vee let out a sigh and gave her bodyguard an irritated glance. “Someone took her.”

  “I have eyes,” Syama said, rolling those eyes. “Who took her?”

  Vee looked back at the disaster within the room. “Something very big, very black, and very bad.”

  Vee and Syama left the room and headed downstairs where Mac was busying himself making coffee. Vee knew he fussed and fiddled because he couldn’t keep his hands still. A sure sign that he was upset.

  Vee opened her mouth, instinctively wanting to offer him some verbal support because she knew he’d grown close to her grandmother.

  Before she could say a word, the doorbell rang. Vee looked at Syama who turned on her heel with a low growl that sounded all too much like her hellhound self.

  Even though she still had her own key, Devi never entered the house without ringing the bell. Vee wasn’t sure if it was pride, inadequacy, or guilt, but her mother made herself unwelcome with her own actions. Considering Ma lived with Vee instead of with her own daughter, Vee wondered if there’d been added friction between them that could have exacerbated the current family tensions.