by T. G. Ayer
Not to mention kidnapper, and probably murderer too.
The room was far too reminiscent of the abandoned temple from Maya's dream.
Babaji waved off Maya's captors and they scurried away. Maya didn't see where they went because her gaze was solely focused on the priest.
She wondered if she should blast him into oblivion first, then ask questions later. Then she figured that wouldn't go down too well. And besides, she much preferred him alive in order for him to pay for his crimes.
So she lifted her chin and glared at him.
"Welcome, Maya Rao. Your presence is indeed humbling."
Maya remained silent and simply stared at him. Let him think she was in shock.
"What? Nothing to say?" His tone was snide, speaking volumes of his dislike.
At least he wasn't hiding it, though it wasn't a surprise he'd waited for privacy before he revealed his true nature.
"Why are you doing this?" Maya injected just the right amount of breathy fear and shock into her voice.
He surged to his feet, his stomach wobbling as he ambled to the stairs. He took each one, sending the fat in his belly bouncing.
He came to stand in front of her, to stare straight at her. Then a grin spread on his face, as if suddenly delighted. Maybe by the fact she wasn't making a run for it.
Babaji Mohandas began to walk around Maya, his hands on his stomach as he said, "I've waited a long time to meet someone with the kind of power you have."
Maya hesitated. "My power?" Fear paralyzed Maya.
How did he know? What did he know?
"Don't play dumb with me, beti."
Maya gritted her teeth. She was no daughter of his.
"I don't know what you mean," she whispered, her words echoing around the cave, taunting her. "What did you do to my dad?"
The old man laughed. "Don't worry about him. He's back home, probably reporting your disappearance to the police." He laughed, a great guffaw that made Maya cringe. "He'll get nowhere. I have you hidden so well nobody will ever find you unless I allow it."
Maya widened her eyes, hoping he'd interpret her expression as fear. "Why are you doing this? Please just let me go. I promise I won't say anything to anyone."
But the old man was shaking his head, twin blotches of red glowing on his cheeks. "You can't pull the wool over my eyes, beti. I know about you. I know what you can do."
Maya lifted her chin, her heart beginning to race. Did he know about her Kali powers?
“How did you find out?" she calmed herself as she asked the question. No sense in getting hysterical about it.
She waited for him to answer. "I can read the energy in your body." He spoke triumphantly but Maya was hard put not to respond with a surprised 'Huh?'. She’d expected him to say he knew she was the Hand of Kali. Instead he’s talking about her energy.
"You can read the energy?" she echoed, belatedly hoping he'd assume she was surprised rather than confused. She'd almost asked 'What Energy?' but had caught herself just in time. She was beginning to put it all together.
"Don't play dumb, beti. It makes you look stupid."
He smirked as he stared at her, taking in her jeans and long-sleeved tee. She'd taken her leather jacket with her but had left it in the car because of the cloying heat. Probably a good thing because who knew what Babaji Mohandas would think of her for wearing leather.
Probably a good thing too that she'd wore her sneakers instead of her knee-high boots. For all the Bollywood rage, some people were still so critical of women's clothing choices.
Maya forced her gaze to remain on the old priest, glad she'd failed to satisfy him by being self-conscious.
"Anyway. Now that I have your attention, I'd like to tell you that you are failing completely."
"I'm failing at a lot of things. You need to be more specific." Maya found herself snapping, and had to school her features to appear more contrite. "Babaji," she said, finishing off her response with a softer more demure tone. It made sense to toe his line. She had to find out what he was really up to.
He merely smiled wider, giving her a clearer view of his stained teeth.
"Hiding your power."
Chapter 41
"Oh," Maya replied, twisting her lips with regret. "I thought I was doing so well."
His lip curled, nostril flared as he stepped closer. "Not well enough, little one. You have much to learn but it doesn't matter. Not anymore."
"Why doesn't it matter?" Maya asked softly. Until now she'd remained unbound, and taking him out would be so damned easy.
"Because now I have you, I won't be letting you go anytime soon. You're too valuable to have roaming around the streets. Even with your imbecile of a father traipsing around town, taking you everywhere with him. What does he think he's doing? The streets are no place for a powerful female like you. And investigating crimes? For Interpol? What is he trying to do? He's just exploiting you."
"And you don't want to exploit me?"
"Of course I don't want to exploit you, beti."
Yeah right.
"All I want is to ensure your power is put to good use. Power like that doesn't exist just to exist. It needs to be harnessed, to be used and used well."
"And you can do that?" Maya asked, scrunching her forehead, curious.
He stopped and turned to face her, his chest puffing up proudly. "Of course, I can. Don't worry your pretty little head about it. It's just inconvenient that you are the one with the power."
"Inconvenient?"
He waved a hand at Maya, then began to walk back to his hideous throne. "Yes. It would have been more suited to my plans had your energy come in a different . . . shape." While he studied Maya's body, Babaji Mohandas said the word as if he was using some sort of awful profanity. "The female form is much more fragile. It was never in our plans to use a woman."
"Your plans?" Maya’s eyes widened. Let him think she was in awe of him. She had to try and milk him for as much information as possible.
He shook his head, impatient with her now as he spun on his heel and closed in on her. "We had plans for a better future for us. But it's merely the packaging that's the problem. The energy is the same. We'll get around it."
A long silence drew out between them as the priest headed back to the dais and took a seat. His sigh was filled with frustration and regret. And Maya began to worry.
What was it that he had planned for her?
She took a step toward him and his head lifted his eyes piercing her like those little spears that had pierced the Moksha devotee's skin. She stopped as his eyes narrowed.
"You get to live, Maya Rao. But don't make the mistake of thinking I need to keep you alive."
Maya stared at him, stunned for real this time. Surely he needed her for whatever his energy extraction procedure he was planning. She'd need to be living to create this energy, but he knew more about it than Maya did.
Which meant she was at his mercy.
Or so he thought.
She suppressed a shiver and took a step backward. She had to get away from here, get back and check on her dad, tell the police that Babaji Mohandas is up to no good.
But what was she going to say? He wanted her energy like he did his trance devotees? He took her against her will, but left her unharmed. There weren't any injuries to her body, no rope-bruises at her wrists. Nothing to indicate she'd been taken or held against her will.
Uncertain, she took another step backward, but the old priest's voice stopped her in her tracks. "You don't want to do that." He kept his voice low. Didn't even look at her.
Yeah, she heard the threat all the same.
She stopped and waited. "Do what?"
"Run," he said, giving a wave at the corner behind her. She looked over her shoulder and watched a man hurry to her with a manila folder. He held it out to her, but didn't meet her eyes.
Maya took the folder and flipped it open.
And her world came to a standstill.
Her head hurt as
she struggled to take a breath. In the first photo her Mom was talking to a police officer outside a police station. The road was busy and Leela's hand was raised, as if the cop with giving her directions that were too vague and was clarifying. Her sunglasses sat on the top of her dark head and if Maya didn't know her personally she would have pegged her as a Bollywood star on the loose.
The camera had captured her beauty with perfection. And now the sight of her face terrified Maya.
She didn't look up, just flipped to the next picture. The second was of Joss, crouched, holding a shiny piece of glass to her eye with a tweezer. They'd been taught not to touch the evidence. In the photograph, Joss was squinting at the sparkling shard, her western features plain to see despite the dark headscarf.
Maya closed the file and looked up at Babaji Mohandas, wanting to reach out and send a ball of fire straight to his heart. But that would be showing her hand. He thought she had a power, an energy he wished to harness. But Maya was beginning to suspect he had no idea she was the Hand of Kali.
And yet, he was still a ruthless man.
What kind of person makes such preparations in advance? Following Maya's mom and Joss to Rarotonga was going too far. And yet he'd succeeded. He'd managed to force Maya to bow to his will. And that was smart. He'd broken her swiftly, simply.
Cutting her off at the knees using her family.
She'd do anything for them. Even give up her powers. But capitulating to him may not be enough. Maya would have to do something more than just roll over and comply.
The photographs were imprinted in her mind. She'd have them in her brain forever because they were accompanied by an all-encompassing terror Maya suspected would never leave her soul.
But right now she had to force herself to retain calm. As hard as that was, she had to keep it together. The GPS would be working now, sending her location to her dad.
The rest she would take care of when she got herself out of Babaji Mohandas's clutches.
Maya stared at him, cooling her hatred, quelling her rage.
"What do you want?" She didn't care that her voice and tone held no respect. He didn't expect it of her anyway. He probably saw her as ABCD - American Born Confused Desi- trash. Indians who weren't true Indian.
Or was that her own feelings of inadequacy speaking?
Maya pulled her thoughts away and concentrated on the old man as he got to his feet and came to stand at the edge of the dais.
"I ask only one thing, beti." He paused for effect, raising his eyes to meet hers. "Compliance."
Chapter 42
MAYA STIFFENED AS he stepped off the dais and walked toward her.
"You do everything I tell you, exactly as I tell you, and your family will be safe. If you step out of line, if you disobey me, if you try to escape, I will let my people know to . . . How do you Americans say?" He licked his lips and smiled. "Take them out."
He was deadly serious.
Maya nodded. "Okay. I'll do whatever you ask. Just don't hurt them." She didn't show fear though. As much as she knew her strength would work against her, she didn't care. She refused to cower in front of this creep.
Now, more than ever, she wished she'd called out to Mother Kali or even to the goddess Chayya before she'd come here. But she hadn't and she couldn’t perform the summoning ritual that would bring them to her faster.
But maybe Kali would hear her, maybe she'd come. But Maya couldn't just sit around waiting until the goddess appeared. She had to do something for herself in the meantime.
And the something was to comply.
Babaji Mohandas stepped closer to Maya, a hint of anger in his eyes. He lifted a finger, crooked it at one of the men behind him. The man hurried closer and grabbed her by the arm.
"She needs to be dressed appropriately. Have Preeti get her ready."
He snapped two fingers and left the room. The scrawny man beside Maya tilted his head, urging her to move. Maya allowed him to guide her out the doors and back the way they came for a few dozen yards. The darkness was still dense.
What did these people have against lights anyway?
The guard led her to a cell, the door hung straight onto the rock wall of the tunnel. Inside, the space was carpeted, the walls covered in tapestries and rich drapes Maya guessed didn’t cover actual windows.
The guard let go of her arm and stepped out of the room, shutting the heavy metal door with a resounding clang. Maya exhaled the breath she'd been holding and spun around to study the room.
She let out a soft shriek as something moved in the far corner, placing a hand over her heart as a slim woman walked to her from behind a tall screen.
The woman's age was hard to define. She too was thin, almost emaciated, bangles on wrists almost too thin for the jewelry. She'd best not let her hands drop to her sides because Maya was sure they'd simply slip off her arms.
The woman's saree was a pale green, and unadorned by any sparkle. Her hair was tied at the back of her head in a low bun, thin lanky hair matted with oil. She stared at Maya with eyes unlined by either kohl or age.
She didn't smile. Just lifted a hand and pointed at the screen. Her expression wasn't neutral either. There was a hardness in her eyes as she scanned Maya's garments, a cold assessment given and completed in one sweep of her gaze.
Maya did as she was instructed, heading to the screen to find a giant copper tub filled with steaming water. Rose petals floated on the surface and she smelled rose essence.
Maya frowned, annoyed at this pretence of luxury, as if this small gesture would soothe her in any way. Did the old priest think women were this gullible, this bendable. Throw a few petals and a nice-smelling perfume at a woman and she'll ask how high she needs to jump?
Gritting her teeth Maya undressed and folded her clothes, leaving them in a pile beside the tub. She removed the cellphone from her pants pocket, and stuck it beneath a stack of clothing sitting on a low stool beside the tub. She tied her hair into a ragged bun on the top of her head and suppressed a sigh.
It was inevitable. She knew the woman would take her clothing but she wasn't about to part with her phone. She planned to keep it with her for as long as she was able.
She slipped into the tub, and not surprisingly, as soon as she was submerged the woman returned and took her clothing away, giving her a cool smile as she left.
The door clanged shut behind her and Maya got straight out of the tub. She was tired, stressed and afraid and the warmth of the water was too relaxing. She had to remain alert.
She dried off as fast as she could, then rifled through the garments. A deceptively simple white Anarkali suit with a pair of matching white pants. Maya dressed quickly, glad to find the pants had a little pocket sewn into the inside of the waistband. She'd never gone commando before and disliked the feeling of vulnerability that accompanied it, but she forced it out of her mind as she drew the ankle-length silk shift over her head, then pulled on the coat.
Had she not been a captive, Maya may have paused to appreciate the beauty of the garment. Ice white, it was shot with silver thread which formed a swirling, twisting pattern along the entire garment. The fabric glinted, decorated by hundreds of tiny glass beads. The shimmering made her wonder if they were something more expensive than paste glass but she didn't really care.
For all she cared the suit was the same as a straightjacket and shackles.
Throwing the gauzy scarf over her shoulder, she let down her hair and ran her fingers roughly through it. She found a pair of flat sandals where she'd left her boots beside the tub. Slipping them on, she inspected the room, looking for possible weapons, but was unable to find so much as a pen.
She had her fire, but she didn't want to alert them to it as yet.
The door opened so abruptly that Maya almost jumped. The woman, Preeti, entered holding a large silver platter.
Maya's heart tightened in her chest.
Bells. Bangles. Jewels for her hair. Henna for her hands.
He was going to ma
ke her dance.
Maya wanted to laugh. Boy was he in for a surprise when it dawned on him that Maya had two left feet. Sure, she'd managed to dance while in the dream, but she wasn't likely to magically acquire the ability to dance just because he demanded it.
The fear gripping Maya was like a noose, tightening around her throat as every second ticked by. Preeti put the jewelry in place, fixing her hair around the large round medallion in the middle of her forehead.
She finished off with the bells and as she knelt before her Maya could see the boney, fleshless back, the ribs and shoulder blades sticking out. The woman was just as much a prisoner of Babaji Mohandas as Maya was.
Maya remained still as Preeti pulled her toward the bed, pointing at her to sit. Maya obeyed and watched as the woman began to paint the tips of her fingers with the henna. She finished it off with a large red dot in the middle of each of her palms.
She remained sitting with her palms up while the henna dried and the woman tied a cluster of tiny flowers at the back of her head. Servants came and went, taking the copper tub with them while Preeti bustled about neatening up and pushing the screen further against the back wall of the room.
At last she straightened and motioned to Maya to come toward a low table holding a large stainless steel bowl of warm water. After rinsing off the dried henna, Maya dried her hands on a luxuriously thick towel.
Frowning, she handed the towel to the woman wondering why they'd bothered providing such luxury to their captives. Was it to calm them before they lopped off their heads?
Maya suppressed a smile. She was confusing the Queen of Hearts with the evil Babaji Mohandas.
And there was nothing fairytale about the man.
Chapter 43
MAYA STOOD BEFORE the dais, trying not to make any unnecessary movements as the bells jingled with every action.
Babaji Mohandas sat sprawled on his gigantic throne and Maya felt bile rise in her throat. Who the hell did he think he was?
He waved a hand and torchlights flared around the room, bringing the walls and the statues around the room in to view.