Tiger's Dream (Tiger's Curse Book 5)

by Colleen Houck

  The air had become tense and tight. I understood how difficult it was to sit and do nothing. I chafed at the notion as well but I knew that revenge rarely soothed a troubled mind.

  We sat together speaking softly for many hours. It was as if we were trapped inside a bubble filled with poisonous air. The more the men spoke of the blood they wanted to spill, the more the poison seeped into us, stiffening our limbs and blinding our eyes. It was interesting to me that the one man who didn’t have an aura was the most silent regarding Anamika’s capture.

  The sun rose and I took my leave of the men, asking if I could walk in the garden. Anamika’s father joined me. He seemed lost in thought and I was content to be quiet. When he turned down a path, I followed him and was surprised when he stopped at a small monument.

  “What is this?” I asked.

  “A cenotaph for Anamika,” he said. The man laughed briefly. “Her mother was so upset when I had it made.” He turned to me. His eyes were bloodshot and watery. “I gave up on her, you see, but Mika’s mother never did. She’s much stronger than I am. Full of faith.” Raising a hand, he added, “Don’t tell her I said so, though. I’d never hear the end of it.” Crouching down, he picked off a few spent blossoms near the base of the memorial and tossed them aside.

  “It’s a lovely gesture,” I said lamely, not knowing how to respond.

  “Is it?” he asked. “Or is it just a monument to my own weaknesses?”

  “You think it a weakness not to defend her honor,” I guessed.

  “Yes. Would you not feel the same?”

  “I do feel the same,” I answered sympathetically. “He deserved to die and I believe he did.”

  “But you aren’t certain.”

  “No. It was more important to save the children than to assure myself of his demise.”

  “We are lucky to have a man such as you come into our lives.”

  I was going to say it was I who was the fortunate one. To have known Ana in all the ways I now knew her was a gift. She was special. Instead of telling him that, which would have been strange coming from a person they barely knew, I just thanked him and headed back into the house.

  As I did, he asked the question I’d been waiting for. “Why?” he mumbled quietly. “Why did you risk so much for us? For her?”

  I’d known that question was coming, and as much as I racked my brain, I never came up with something that sounded reasonable. I felt his eyes on my back, willing me to answer. Almost without thinking, I said, “A girl I loved once was destroyed by such a man. I was unable to prevent her death. The grief nearly killed me. I could not let such a thing happen again. Not when I had the ability to save her.”

  He said nothing in response so I left him in his ruminations.

  ***

  Days passed and I was no closer to figuring out how to pull my Ana from her younger version. I made a sacrifice every evening—lighting candles and making offerings to the goddess. Ana’s mother had given me a little bell, and she made sure all the household left me alone when I wandered the garden paths.

  When she’d first asked what I was doing, I told her I was praying for Ana. She was the one who’d suggested using the garden. In fact, her faith in me was so certain she began asking me what things I needed after evening meal every night. She didn’t balk when I asked for candles, feathers, bits of fabric, or mangos. Once, she came with me. I murmured my words silently that night and she must have sensed my discomfort because she left me alone after that.

  During the days, I sat by Ana’s side. I read to her, and when we were left alone, I talked to her as she slept on, telling her everything I missed about being with her. She seemed to be healthy enough. Despite not eating and not really drinking, her body was healing. I didn’t know if that was the magic of the goddess or of the snakebite, but either way, I was grateful.

  Taking the pieces of the truth stone, I attempted to put them together again, thinking to refashion the phoenix egg, but the pieces didn’t seem to fit. I hefted one of the larger pieces and thought I might be able to nick off the sharp point, so, one afternoon, I pulled out my knife and touched it to the stone. It took some effort at first, but I found that when I positioned the knife at the right angle, the stone peeled away like wood. When that edge was smooth, I started working on another side, thinking I could fashion a pretty gem that could hang around Ana’s neck.

  After a month, there was still no change in Ana. I had become a fixture in the household and often went out hunting or helping Anamika’s father, but I made a point to sit by Ana’s bedside every day and carve. Ana’s mother wondered at this but her father told her to let me be, that I would heal my own hurts by being near her. He didn’t know how true his words were.

  I finished a small piece of the stone and had turned it into a tiger. It sat in a small box in my room next to the snake. The serpent was slowly growing but she managed to hide herself well enough when anyone entered my room. I brought her water and little mice I found in the barn but she ignored the mice, letting them scurry away. I wasn’t sure what magical snakes ate. In fact, I’d never seen Fanindra eat before so maybe they didn’t need to.

  The man who had no aura was soon caught leaving the grounds with a precious collection of knives. He was followed, and after some intense questioning, he confessed to conspiring with the trader to capture Anamika. Apparently, he’d been paid a generous fee for his assistance. In exchange for leading a team of men to the trader, who was quickly dispatched, he was allowed to live.

  To thank the slave woman for her help, Anamika’s father sought out her owner. He bought her freedom and sent her to the couple caring for all the rescued children along with three camels loaded with supplies and enough money to provide for all of them. A letter came saying that three of children had been returned to their families but the others had yet to be located.

  I was well into month two, carving my broken gemstone egg, when the knife slipped and a piece of the stone broke off. I nicked my finger and quickly put it into my mouth as I considered the flaw I’d made in my work. Something about it was familiar. I peered at it, trying to see the thing it was going to be beneath the surface. My breath caught and my heart started beating quickly. A silly sort of giggle erupted from my mouth, and I twisted the object, making sure I was seeing what I thought I was seeing.

  “Is it possible?” I mumbled. The only one in the room was Anamika and she couldn’t hear me as far as I knew. The colors were right. The size would work, but my mind couldn’t truly grasp that it was happening. Testing out my idea, I began carving again, this time with the new image in my mind. The outer layers of the gemstone peeled away like soft butter as my knife drew down one edge, almost like it was helping me shape it into what it was destined to be. I ran my finger across the fresh cut. There was no mistaking it now.

  The thing I held in my hand wasn’t yet but would someday be the Rajaram family seal.

  It was clear to me that something very plain and precious had been in my hands all that time and I just couldn’t see it. I had resigned myself to my fate, believing that I had failed my quest, and had decided that I could have a happy life in the past, serving Anamika’s family and watching over her until I died. But seeing the seal of my family coming to life in my hands was a miracle. It symbolized the future.

  Renewed with hope, I set aside the knife and knelt at Ana’s side, placing the truth stone on the bed beside her. Picking up her hand, I pressed it to my lips and tried to see in her the precious thing that was hiding from me, much as the seal had been.

  “I know I’m not worthy of you,” I said, rubbing my thumb across her knuckles. “I didn’t save you when you needed me. I wasn’t the companion you deserved.” The truth stone glowed where it lay. A dam inside me burst open, and all the thoughts and words I’d kept inside spilled out. “When Phet said a tiger needed to stay behind, I didn’t want it to be me. I’d been secretly hoping that Ren would take the noble road as he often did and I’d get to go back to Kelsey’s
time with her. I didn’t see you for what you were.”

  Reaching toward her, I smoothed her dark hair away from her face. “I know you now, Ana. I know the girl you were, the woman I fell for when I was thirteen, the warrior who drove me crazy, and the goddess you have become. Give me a chance. Come back to me. This time I’m choosing this life without reservation. I promise to serve alongside you for the rest of our days.”

  I pressed my lips on her brow and gave her a chaste kiss. It took a moment for me to realize my hair, longer than I usually kept it, was fluttering on my neck. I lifted my head and saw the room had become bright, and a brisk wind stirred the curtains at the window. The dark sky outside lit up as lightning struck, and all the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stood on end.

  A voice echoed in the room. It was melodious, like the tinkling of bells, and yet it was so powerful it penetrated my mind and heart like thunder.

  Anamika opened her eyes and turned to me. She gave me a sweet smile and said, “Sohan, your offering has been accepted.”

  Chapter 23

  Teacher

  Anamika’s young body lifted in the air and a whirlwind encompassed her. I stood quickly, thinking to catch her, but otherwise not knowing what to do. I knew it was the magic of the goddess at work, and I hoped that it meant I’d finally done enough to be able to bring her back.

  The young girl closed her eyes, and fingers of light, wind, and water tore into her at the same time they ripped into me. Heat rushed through me and my limbs trembled. The amulet I wore gleamed with white light that shot toward the girl and pulled out something shimmering. Ana screamed, and all at once, the glowing entity floating above her shot away like a star and disappeared into the darkness outside the window. Breathing heavily, I caught her body as she fell.

  As I was setting her back in her bed and adjusting the blanket, her eyes blinked open. “Ana?” I said softly. “Anamika, can you hear me?”

  There was no reply. I soon heard a stomping outside her room and her parents entered.

  “What happened?” her mother demanded with alarm and a glint of hope. There was no censure in their eyes. They knew I often spent my time watching over her, even late into the night. Her mother almost seemed to have a sixth sense about me and believed that I possessed a touch of magic that could help Ana. I’d once overheard her telling her husband that I was a lucky charm and that the only reason Ana hadn’t wasted away these past few months was because I was sharing my life energy with her.

  In a way, she was right. Anamika and I did have a bond. At least, in the future, we did. As to the sharing of energy, I couldn’t say, but I could understand where she got the idea. Bags had formed beneath my eyes, and though I was often exhausted, I rarely slept through the night. When I did occasionally fall asleep in the chair in her room, I’d wake to find Anamika’s mother had checked on me and tucked a blanket around me in the night.

  “Maa? Baabaa?” Anamika sat up, rubbing her eyes with her palms.

  “Here we are, pyaari beti.”

  Ana’s mother pulled her daughter into her arms as I stepped back.

  “Mika!” her father said with a choked gasp. “What did you do?” he asked me as he stepped closer and stroked his daughter’s hair.

  “Nothing,” I answered. “She woke when the lightning struck.”

  “I didn’t hear any thunder,” her mother said as she rocked her daughter back and forth. “Thank you,” she added with tears in her eyes. “You are a gift from the gods.”

  Anamika grumbled, “I’m hungry, baabaa.”

  As her mother shouted downstairs for a servant to warm up the tureen of soup and some naan bread, lightning struck the ground again. Ana’s parents seemed not to notice. I glanced out the window and saw a figure standing in the dark beneath a tree. When the lightning brightened the sky again, I sucked in a breath, recognition shooting electricity through my veins. It hit a third time and I saw that the person had disappeared.

  “Will you excuse me?” I asked. “I’ll leave the three of you to talk.”

  They didn’t remark upon my exit. I made my way out to the lone tree and looked all around but saw no one. A pair of footprints were visible in the soft ground, but there were no tracks leading away. “Are you still here?” I asked softly.

  “I’m here, son.”

  Kadam placed his hand on my shoulder and I turned. My pulse leapt, beating thickly at my throat as I swallowed. Overwhelming emotion coursed through me. I never thought I’d see him again. In fact, I never thought I’d see anyone I loved after my failure to save Anamika. I choked back a sob.

  Almost as if he knew the turmoil in my heart, he took hold of my arm and pulled me close. I hugged him to me, desperate to cling to the little bit of my life that was left. His shoulders trembled. He smelled of tea and spices, books and home. I’d missed him so much.

  “I failed her,” I lamented in response. The empty feeling I’d been nursing for months had grown in the center of my chest, slowly leeching all my hope and draining me of purpose. Even though Ana had finally woken up and Kadam was even now standing in front of me, darkness yawned, opening its mouth to swallow the small fragments I grasped at. He had come to say good-bye. Whatever my fate, I deserved it. Kadam was here to tell me it was over.

  “No.” He stepped back; his hands shook my arms as he looked into my eyes. “No. You didn’t fail her. You saved her. This was how it was supposed to happen.”

  Realizing I gaped at him dumbfounded, I shook my head and sputtered, “Supposed to have happened?” I remembered his hasty, cryptic words spoken so long ago. He’d warned me that something harmful was going to happen to Ana and I needed to accept it, allow it to occur.

  I jerked away from his grip, but my effort was halfhearted and one of his hands clung to my arm. “I was supposed to let her be abused?” I accused incredulously. “Supposed to let her die? You knew this would happen and you didn’t do a thing to stop it. You’re not the man I thought you were.”

  “Perhaps I am not,” he said softly. “I told you that traveling the paths of time has affected me. Certainly, we have all changed. The universe will decide if it is for the better or not.”

  He winced as I moved back unsteadily; the righteous indignation that burned like acid in my veins slowly cooled to black misery. I felt sorry for myself but sorrier for Anamika. The sweet, young girl I knew didn’t deserve what had happened to her.

  “I know you’re upset,” he said. “I don’t blame you, son. But this is her past, Kishan. You remember the stories. The goddess Durga was born out of the river. When the rains came, the Anamika you knew had to perish so the goddess could be born. What she went through as a captive is the dark memory she hides from you. It was there. It was always there, Kishan.”

  Scoffing and feeling disgusted with both myself and him, I said, “There must have been another way.”

  “No,” he answered. “You gave her the fifth gift, the truth stone. And the fifth sacrifice is now fully realized. Without the terrible events of her past, Ana would never have been on that lonely road, never would have had you by her side, and never would have become the goddess.”

  “Maybe that would have been better.”

  “Better for whom?” Kadam asked.

  “Better for her,” I spat.

  Kadam clamped his lips in a tight line. He turned his back to me. “She’s waiting for you, you know.”

  My gaze darted up to Ana’s window.

  “No, not that one,” he clarified. “The one you drew out.”

  I glanced around the dark landscape. “She’s here?” I asked, suddenly feeling desperate to see her.

  He shook his head. “Not here,” he said. “Back at home. In the time you share. She calls to you even now. She wants you to come home. Can you not hear her?”

  Frowning, I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes. A soft thrum of power pulsed beneath my skin, and I felt renewed and alive in a way I hadn’t felt in far too long. Twisting my neck, I flared my nostrils and sc
ents of all kinds registered in my mind. My lids shot open with surprise and I summoned the energy to transform. In the space of a few seconds, my perspective changed.

  Whiskers sprung from my upper lip and my teeth elongated. I shifted down to the ground and felt the familiar sensation of my claws tearing into the grass. Swishing my tail, I arched my back and stretched in a way that felt exactly right. My tiger was back. It was interesting to me how much I missed him.

  I growled softly and snorted at Kadam’s feet, fogging his shiny, polished shoes with my breath. A faraway singsong melody tickled the sensitive hairs in my ears. I cocked my head. It was Durga’s hatchling singing along with her goddess as she called for her tiger. Almost reluctantly, I changed back to my human form.

  “I’m sorry for what you’ve lost, son.”

  “You mean for what Ana’s lost.”

  “No, that’s not what I’m referring to, though I am sorry for that too.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “It’s what you gave up this time to save her, to bring her back.”

  “You mean committing myself to a life spent in the service of the goddess?”

  “There is that. But in pulling Ana back from the brink, you gave up something.”

  My heart froze. I remembered that long ago day when I saved Ren. Kadam, or Phet, had told me I gave up my humanity to bring him back. It hadn’t felt like much at the time, and truthfully, I didn’t want to live forever anyway. Not really. But my immortality had already been taken. What was left.

  “Tell me,” I said stiffly.

  “You can no longer be separated from the tiger. If you choose this course and decide to go through with everything on the list, then the tiger will be a part of you until the day you die. Your life is forever entwined with his.”