Soul Coin

by Laura Rich

  Lakshmi rubbed her hands together. “A spell, perhaps? To give you greater strength? But that would wear off… A talisman, maybe? Those are longer-lasting, but you have to keep it next to skin.” Her eyes trailed to Indira’s coin lying at the base of her throat on a gold chain. “But I sense you need something now, and talismans take time.”

  Indira reflexively put a hand over the coin. She would be trading it for a chance at a glimpse into her past. Hadn’t she gotten enough from her uncle and the police file? Her heart skipped a beat. No, there was more to it than that file could ever tell her. This was a chance at more information about her family and why they had to die along with her father. Certainly they weren’t part of the deal with the white demon? She needed answers more than this coin. Indira cleared her throat and unclasped her necklace, then she slid the coin off the chain and held it between two fingers. “I need something powerful now.”

  Lakshmi reached for the coin, but Indira held it away. “You first.”

  “As you wish.” She smiled and mumbled some words in a country-sounding accent.

  Indira didn’t understand the words, but felt their effect when a hot, dizzy spell came over her. She reached out to steady herself, and Lakshmi took her hand.

  “You will have great strength for one day, give or take,” Lakshmi said. “Use it well.”

  Indira broke out into a sweat, which cooled her hot skin. Then, just as quickly as it came on, the episode ended. Her muscles sang like after a hard workout, and she felt…more. She looked at Lakshmi.

  “Go ahead, try it out,” she gestured at the brick wall in front of them.

  Indira did a double take, then realized Lakshmi meant she should punch the wall. Indira cringed at the thought of knuckles breaking, then gritted her teeth and slammed it into the wall as hard as she could.

  The bricks rippled out as if water, then settled again. The point of contact crumbled. Indira’s eyes grew wide. With this kind of punching power, she could be very persuasive to a demon. She held out the coin, and this time, Lakshmi pocketed it.

  “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Indira Valaithan.” Lakshmi turned towards her box. “Or should I say Indira Patel?” The paper rustling noise stopped, and the alley was silent but for the street sounds beyond.

  Indira walked out of the alley with purpose, but only paused to shudder when she remembered she’d never told the witch her name, or her true heritage.

  7

  The walk back down to the river took a few minutes less as the nighttime traffic eased, and most people were home in bed. The streets became less crowded, but Indira, by virtue of her age and sex, became more noticeable. Even so, she strutted with the kind of rare overconfidence warranted only by her newfound strength. “Just let someone try to touch me,” she growled. She felt invincible, with boundless energy and strength.

  Of course, the white demon was nowhere to be found by the river. She asked a few of the least-creepy people that were left lingering on the street if they had seen him, but no one remembered a tall white man in a suit. It was as if he could move about invisibly. She cast around for other clues and spotted the chain of grand hotels on the opposite bank of the river. Would the demon named LL stay at one of them when he was in town, making his cursed deals? It felt right. She hurried towards the nearest bridge and crossed it, all the while her pulse racing.

  Indira paced up and down the street-front entrances, as if he would magically appear. He did not. Her phone rang in her pocket, and she silenced it. It was probably her father. The call went to voicemail, and the corresponding beep told her she had a message. She was so close to finding the demon—she could feel it. Her father could wait.

  She reached the end of the street and spied a sidewalk that wound around to the rear of the last hotel. She glanced around for witnesses and found none, then ducked onto the path. Soon she found herself facing the hotel veranda, littered with tiny cafe tables. Torchlight flickered and revealed a single patron. A large white man wearing a suit.

  Indira’s heart skipped a beat, and she froze. Could she really have found him? She took a small step forward and watched him from behind the stone railing. The demon sipped a cup of tea and took a bite of sandwich, then dabbed his mouth with a white napkin. He leaned back, and his gaze swept over her hiding spot, then stopped. Indira met his stare and stood up. She rounded the railing to the stairs and took them two at a time.

  The demon watched her with interest as she approached.

  “I know who you are,” Indira said, as she curled her hands into fists. “And I want answers.”

  “Well, hello to you too.” The demon had a deep voice and smiling eyes. “And they say the younger generation has no manners.”

  Anger roiled in her gut. Indira hated feeling small, and this man made her feel small. “I reserve my manners for those deserving of respect.” She tried to push down the shame, but it bubbled up into her throat like acid. “You’re not even human, are you?”

  The demon took another sip of tea. His eyes watched her over the rim of the cup, then he set it down gently on the table.

  The tinkle of fine china mixed with the lapping of the water should have been soothing, but it just raked at Indira’s nerves as she waited for him to answer her question.

  “I know you, don’t I?” he said. “Not from earlier today, but from long ago.” The demon tapped his chin. “We’ve never made a deal—I don’t deal with children—so you’re obviously related to one of my business partners. I get that from time to time. Go ahead, you probably have a lot to say to me.”

  “P-partners?” Indira said. “That’s what you call them? The people you kill?”

  “Tsk. I don’t kill them. I take their souls.” The demon’s mouth lifted in a dreamy smile.

  “And then they die!” she said and stomped her foot.

  “Well, yes. Humans have that tendency, yes.”

  “Why?” she yelled at him. “Why make those deals at all? Why not just leave us alone?”

  The demon sighed. “You’ve heard of the food chain, right?”

  Indira’s heart leapt somewhere in the region of her throat as she realized he was a predator and she, prey. She gulped.

  “Right, so that’s why,” he said. “But don’t worry. Like I said, I’m not interested in children, because their souls aren’t all that fulfilling. It’s the ones who are in mid-life that provide the greatest yield. Sometimes I’ll do a deal with someone older, but only if the soul is truly good. The better the soul, the more sustenance for me. Like now, for instance, I have a deal to do with an older man–”

  “Like my father,” Indira said. “Paresh Patel, twelve years ago. He died in a fire, along with my mother, brother and sister.”

  The demon tapped his chin, then a spark came to his eyes. “Ah, yes! Patel. He was middle-aged. The fire! That means you must be…”

  She drew herself up to her full height. “I am Indira.” It would have felt weird to say Patel was her last name when Rehan raised her.

  “The small girl child,” he nodded. “I heard she got away. Good on you. I suppose you want to know what happened.”

  Indira stared at him. “I didn’t think you would…”

  “Tell you?” He glanced over her shoulder. A server arrived with a fresh pot of tea, and the demon motioned for him to set it down. The server did so and returned to the hotel. When he was out of earshot, the demon said, “I’m not jerk. Of course I’ll tell you, if that’s what you wish to know.”

  Indira narrowed her eyes. “What’s the catch?”

  “No catch,” he said. “It’s kind of part of the deal. If any survivors actually find me, I’ll answer any questions they have. No skin off my nose, so to speak.” He pushed the chair opposite him with the tip of his shoe. “Here, sit down.”

  8

  She perched cautiously at the end of the chair, ready to bolt if he made a move. “So, what happened?”

  The demon tugged at his chin. “Paresh Patel asked for an unusu
al arrangement. He wished to die in a house fire, so that he could leave even more money to his wife and progeny—that’s you—when it came time to deliver on his end of the bargain. Insurance money, and such.”

  Indira couldn’t believe she sat there, having a conversation with a demon about how her family died, but she pushed on. “But they all died, except me.”

  “That was unfortunate.” He shook his head. “I don’t usually cause collateral damage, but Patel didn’t plan well. He sent his wife and children off to visit her parents for the weekend while he went on his last ‘business trip.’ The plan was to seal the bargain then and set the house on fire. I didn’t realize—and Patel never knew—that his wife had returned through the kitchen door, until I heard about it later from another demon. Sloppy work, it was. To this day, I don’t make special deals like that anymore.”

  “So, it was a mistake?” Indira asked. The knot of anger returned, and tugged. The daayani’s spell thrummed in her veins. She stood up and clenched her fists. “You ‘accidentally’ killed my entire family?”

  “Yes!” the demon nodded his head emphatically. “I knew you would understand.”

  Indira launched herself over the table at the demon and felt her enhanced strength engage.

  The demon tipped backward out of his chair, and they wrestled to the ground. “Isn’t that better than– Oof! Killing them on purpose?” he said, as he ducked her magically-enhanced blows. “Hey, you’re strong! You got help, didn’t you?”

  “Yes!” Indira said as she attacked again and again, and failed. Nothing she did was working. Her fists weren't even making contact! “Why can’t I hit you?” she said after another failed punch threw her off balance.

  “Enough!” the demon roared. He threw her off with such force that Indira sprawled into the wall with a heavy thud.

  Something in her shoulder cracked, and a such fierce pain blossomed that it brought tears to her eyes.

  “Now, stay!” the demon said and brushed himself off. He flicked his hand at her.

  Indira immediately felt a force plaster her against the wall. She struggled, but her muscles would not obey.

  He cleared his throat. “The only thing I owe you is answers, which I have provided. We are done here.” The demon turned to leave.

  “No! Wait! I want to make a deal.”

  He sighed, but did not turn around. “I said I don’t deal with kids. Not interested.”

  “I’ll find you!” Indira screamed. “I’ll get stronger and beat you! I-I’ll kill you someday!”

  At this, the demon turned. “You won’t find me again, so don’t bother trying.”

  “How can you be so sure?” she said. “I’m resourceful.”

  “I have no doubt of that, but you don’t have my coin. Only those who find my coin can contact me.”

  Indira’s eyes darted down, then back up at the demon.

  He noticed her movement. “You had my coin, didn’t you? The one from your father?”

  Her face grew pale as she thought of the daayani.

  The demon noticed her gesture. “You didn’t trade it to some two-bit witch for that pitiful burst of strength, did you?” He chuckled. “Oh, that’s rich! He shook his head and walked away. “I love it!”

  Indira paced her breathing until it grew slow and even. Several minutes of struggle against the demon’s binding finally freed her. She fell onto her injured shoulder and howled, but she heaved herself up to a sitting position and stood. She cradled her arm and ran back to the road and across the bridge to the daayani’s box.

  9

  Indira’s phone rang, and she ignored it as her shoes slapped the drying pavement. Dawn was near, and she had to get her coin back. She rounded the corner of the daayani’s alley, skidded to a stop in front of the box, and kicked it. “Daayni!”

  The box swayed, then collapsed. Rats scurried out from underneath the flattened cardboard, and Indira jumped as they ran over her feet. She backed into the wall and shook her head. “No,” she whispered.

  Her phone rang again. Her hand felt her back pocket, and she pulled out the phone. It was her uncle. The gig was up, apparently. She answered the call. “Hello.” It was all lost. No answers, and now, she winced, no Kalaripayattu competition with this injured shoulder.

  “Indira?” came her uncle’s worried voice. “Where are you? I’ll come get you.”

  Indira gave him the location of the nearby tea shop. “Uncle? C-could you bring the coins from the investigation? The ones like mine? I want to… compare them to mine.”

  “I can’t. The evidence locker was raided last night, and they were stolen.” His terse voice barely contained his frustration. “Stay where you are. I’ll come get you. Oh, and I didn’t tell your father you lied. That will be your job.”

  “Okay, Uncle. Thank you.” She had a lot of explaining to do. “See you soon.”

  As she walked to the tea shop, she checked the message from her father.

  “Indira, I know you’re working with your Uncle right now, but could you call me back? I just need some input on this decision with the investor. It’s a big deal, so if you think you might want to go back to school, we can find the money for that, but keeping the kalari open long term will need a larger investment, with our debt. I just want to do what’s best for you, dear daughter. Let me know soon, since my meeting with the investor is first thing in the morning, and I might not be able to get this opportunity again.”

  Indira frowned and looked at the time; it wasn’t even seven in the morning yet. Surely she hadn’t missed the meeting. She could still talk to her father and try to understand his concerns. She was trying to find a comfortable position outside the tea shop when her uncle arrived and helped her into his car.

  The ride to her house was silent and tense, and she shot quick looks at her uncle and his grim expression. He was so disappointed. Indira’s shoulders slumped, and she stared out the window as the street signs flew by. The monsoon rains returned in force for the morning downpour, and the windshield wipers beat a steady rhythm. Finally, they turned onto her street, and her uncle pulled up to let her out on the side street nearest the back door. A black sedan with dark windows was parked in front of her house.

  “Expecting company?” her uncle asked.

  “Maybe. Father said he had an early morning meeting, but I didn’t realize he meant this early.” She thanked her uncle for the ride and apologized for including him in her lie. Her uncle gave her a grim smile and nodded.

  A worried knot formed in her gut as she thought about facing her father. She flipped up her hood and stepped out into the rain just as her front door opened and the tall white demon walked out of the house towards the black sedan and got in.

  She felt rooted to her spot as she watched the sedan roll away, realizing there was only one reason for the demon to visit her house. Finally, breaking free from her trance, she ran towards the house. “No,” she whispered. The rain turned sideways to beat her face and mingle with her tears. “Father, no!”

  Afterword

  All stories have a story. This is Soul Coin’s.

  Indira began her life as a character in my novelette, The Binding Witch and the Fortune Taker, when I realized my main character needed a sidekick. As I like stories about strong women, I knew this sidekick needed to be female, and should not be the same age as my main character because, in my experience, interactions between generations of women are more interesting.

  In my search for strong female names, I came across Indira, so the sidekick became Indian. I am also a sometimes-Tai Chi practitioner, so I wanted her to be a martial artist, which led me to the history of martial arts in India and to the practice of Kalaripayattu, which was a fascinating rabbit hole of research.

  All of this culminated into a sidekick who needed a good backstory at the same time my friend, author and editor Melissa Maygrove, mentioned she was publishing a benefit anthology under the theme, What happens in the dark will come to light, with the proceeds going to the Gary
Sinise Foundation which supports defenders, veterans, first responders, their families, and those in need.

  Soul Coin was born shortly after and accepted into the anthology, Full Dark, which was released on October 30, 2017.

  Indira’s story is not over and you’ll definitely see more of her in the Kate Roark Magic Series.

  Thanks for reading!

  Acknowledgments

  My family gave me the courage to put my words on paper, and without them I would have much less material: Glen Rich, Aubrey Rich, Beau Rich, Joanne Pauley, Lew Pauley, Sara Pauley, Velva Pauley, Roy Pauley, Teresa Dragga, Sam Dragga Sr., Tom Dragga, Sam Dragga Jr., Linda Dragga and Craig Montgomery. Linda and Craig get extra credit (bordering on sainthood) for their hours of reading and feedback on my early drafts as I struggled to improve my craft.

  These kind people took me in and continue to read my writing and give me wonderful advice. Thank you, Gargoyles, from the bottom of my witchy heart: Wayne Basta, Ian Everett, Chris Lewis, Hilary Ritz, and Shannon Winton.

  About the Author

  Laura Rich likes stories about women and magic and lives in the Piney Woods of Texas with a dedicated Crossfitter, twin boys, two mutts, and a stray cat. She is a full-time project manager and after that, when not doing wifey or mothery things, she writes in the corner of her bedroom on her grandmother's old secretary.

  Get more magic:

  www.laurarichwrites.com

  laura@laurarichwrites.com

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