by SGD Singh
The Infernal Guard
Book One
Emergence
SGD Singh
Glory Press
2016
Copyright ©2016 by S.G.D. Singh
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.
Glory Press
For more information about this and other books by the author, visit www.sgdsingh.com.
Print ISBN 978-1523359882
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events herein are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or deceased, is wholly coincidental.
For Amrit
The best brother-in-law in Fourteen Worlds
Chapter 1
Asha stood watching the storm. She tried to ignore the vague sense of unease she'd felt all afternoon. Tried to tell herself that today was like any other day. But as light continued to fade from the violent Miami sky, Asha's anxiety only increased, and she wished again that her grandfather would come home.
The wind tore a struggling rose from its stem and tossed it into the pool, its crimson petals drifting apart like blood on glowing blue topaz, and even after two years, Asha had to remind herself she was looking at a twentieth-floor roof garden.
Rain slammed onto the glass, and she flinched, turning back to the bright familiarity of the penthouse's martial arts training floor.
Crossing the room, Asha yanked a bamboo lathi from the wall.
Worried for no reason or not, BapuJi expects nothing less than three hours of training a day.
As Asha swung the lathi through the air she could almost hear her grandfather's voice filling the apartment like thousands of times before; Focus your mind, Asha! You can get the best from this life through discipline, or you can learn to make excuses. One, two, three—again!
Resolving to concentrate on her form, Asha spun across the floor and attacked one of the mostly destroyed dummies that stood in the corner, pins and needles spreading up her arms with each impact. But without her grandfather's severe presence, Asha's thoughts soon drifted to Lexi, her best, and, if Asha was really honest with herself—her only friend. Training was fun with Lexi. There was nothing in the world Lexi loved more than martial arts training. Asha knew Lexi had demanded her mostly-traveling-on-business father remodel and move them all into the penthouse suite to have BapuJi train her on a daily basis.
The suite had been built to Lexi's specifications; Four bedrooms, a state-of-the-art gourmet kitchen, two luxurious living rooms—and a martial arts training floor large enough for three people to swing long sticks and spears, twirl swords at dangerous speeds, and practice throwing knives and hatchets. A floor-to-ceiling custom rack held multiple Asian blade-weapons, as well as sticks and clubs of various lengths and widths. A glass wall framed the roof garden, the pool, and the outdoor study areas, all ‘ultra modern with Asian influences’.
It beat the small apartment near the hotel kitchen where Asha and her grandfather had lived for five years. More space was nice. So was not having to train on the roof, especially during hurricane season. But alone at night, Asha found herself glancing over her shoulder, feeling watched by phantoms just beyond her sight, their cold breath whispering along the back of her neck.
Asha swung the lathi faster. The sound of bamboo hitting leather filled the empty apartment like fireworks, and she tried not to think about Lexi in Paris on her forced annual shopping spree.
Focus, her grandfather's voice commanded. Those who have no discipline are guaranteed to fail…
Then—Lexi's perfect Yoda imitation; Train many hours you must, if first place in a homeschool for two you are to achieve.
This is going to be a long month…
Replacing the lathi, Asha selected her favorite katar. The pearl inlay running along the sides of the dagger's H-shaped handle shimmered in the light. A ruby on the hilt of a lonely khanda winked at her from the wall, and Asha smiled. Lexi had tried to take the sword to Paris with her, until Asha convinced her that a six-foot blonde with a massive, antique, double-edged blade and a bad attitude would probably raise eyebrows at customs, even if she was flying by private jet.
Following the patterns in the floor, Asha swung the blade in graceful arcs. Rain continued to pelt against the glass like bony knuckles, drawing her eyes outside just as the garden disappeared into darkness.
If BapuJi's not back in half an hour, I'm calling him.
If Lexi were there, Asha knew her friend would have distracted her by now, insisting they order food from one of the resort's many restaurants and bakeries, or making her laugh with dramatic sparring challenges. Moving her mouth as if she'd been badly dubbed, Lexi would make vulgar remarks about Asha's “creepy” eyes glowing against “exotic complexions”. Asha would be forced to answer with nasty comments about billionaire heiresses and, if she was in the mood for a real sparring challenge, Lexi's least favorite subject—shopping.
Asha sighed as the silence of the present closed in around her.
One. Two. Three. Focus!
† † †
Finally!
The sound of someone entering the combination on the front door echoed through the silent apartment. Asha ran to it, filled with irrational relief.
And nearly bumped into the scariest-looking man she had ever seen.
He was huge. Dwarfing the doorway, he towered over Asha as she stumbled backward. A deep, jagged scar ran halfway down one side of his face, making the skin around his left eye look like a melting wax sculpture. His neck and arms were covered in tattoos. He looked as if he'd come straight out of Central Casting for a “scary Latino prison psycho”. The man seemed to barely notice Asha as he pushed his way inside with an arm that looked like melons had been stuffed under his skin.
Thunder cracked dramatically as Asha realized with sickening dread that he was holding BapuJi.
“Relax, Asha! And put the katar down,” BapuJi said, then coughed. “This is Duardo. Duardo, Asha.”
Asha looked at her hand, realizing that she'd raised the weapon, and lowered it.
“BapuJi!” She rushed to him. “You look—gray! I'll call the hotel doctor—”
“No!” both men shouted at once.
Asha froze. “Okay, what is going on?” She pointed the katar threateningly at Duardo. “Who are you?”
Duardo looked down at her and what looked like amusement sparkled in his eyes.
“I said calm down!” BapuJi demanded, using what Asha and Lexi called his strict teacher voice. “Duardo is here to help. I got… an infection. Nothing to—”
He staggered, and Duardo held him up.
Asha felt a stab of panic twist her insides.
Duardo put a massive hand on her shoulder, his touch surprisingly gentle. In a soft voice at odds with his appearance, he said, “Don't worry, mija, he'll be fine. You'll see.”
A comforting sense of wellbeing washed over her, filling Asha with warmth, and she looked up at Duardo in surprise. How the…?
“Your grandfather was bitten.”
Asha stepped out of his reach. “Bitten? Shouldn't we get him to a hospital? The storm's not—”
“Duardo here is a venom specialist,” BapuJi said, not meeting her eyes.
Asha stared back and forth between them. Venom specialist? Is that even a thing?
Duardo began guiding BapuJi to the nearest couch, saying, “Try to relax and save your
energy, Abhijay.”
Abhijay?
Asha placed the katar on the wall, surprised into silence. With the exception of herself and Lexi calling him ‘BapuJi’ no one she knew called her grandfather anything other than ‘Sir’ Ever.
Looking at him lying helpless and pale, Asha saw for the first time that he seemed old. She felt herself begin to tremble and fought down swiftly returning panic.
Duardo tore BapuJi's shirt open and only now did Asha notice they were both soaking wet.
And then she saw BapuJi's wounds.
Red, puss-oozing holes covered the entire right side of his chest and shoulder. Clamping her hands over her mouth, Asha watched his injuries spread down his arm and torso with horrible, inevitable progress.
She didn't recognize her own voice when she said, “Oh my God… what the hell kind of snake venom does that?”
Without looking at her, Duardo said, “Collect a pot of rain water.” His voice was as calm as a spring morning as he reached into one of his multiple pockets and pulled out a bag filled with red powder.
He ripped it open and shook it onto BapuJi's wounds.
Her grandfather screamed through gritted teeth, his back arching, and Asha staggered back, paling, as tears spilled down her face.
Duardo held BapuJi down with one massive hand as foul-smelling smoke rose from the seeping wounds, clinging to Asha's throat.
She ran to the kitchen, then slipping around the counter and grabbing the first pot her hand touched, Asha sprinted to the garden. The rain was still pouring down hard and the pot was overflowing within seconds.
“Now make a turmeric paste with that,” Duardo called as soon as she came back inside.
Asha hurried back to the kitchen, splashing water over the floor. Taking a large jar of turmeric and a bowl from the cupboard, she mixed the two into a paste with shaking hands and carried it back to them.
“Is this enough?”
Duardo took the bowl and began spreading it like orange plaster onto BapuJi's wounds. “Now, one onion and two cloves of garlic.”
What?
Trying and failing to put the hospital out of her mind, Asha fetched the onion and garlic and put them into Duardo's outstretched hand. Placing the garlic aside, he crushed the onion with his bare hand and pulled it apart. Asha stared wide-eyed, as Duardo squeezed onion juice into BapuJi's ears, quickly plugging them with garlic he pinched into a sticky pulp.
BapuJi's color slowly began to return to normal, and Asha watched in amazement. She realized she had been holding her breath.
Duardo disappeared, down the hallway to the bedrooms, returning with dry clothes. He put them on BapuJi with practiced speed, and covered him with a blanket. “He'll sleep now.” He patted Asha's shoulder, and smiled cheerfully. “I'll make tea.”
Asha nodded absently and watched her grandfather, his screams still echoing in her head.
His breathing grew uneven and when he started to shiver she jumped to cover him with more blankets. Only when he eventually fell into a deep sleep did Asha finally feel her heartbeat begin to slow.
The smell of ginger and something spicy she couldn't place filled the room and Asha was surprised to hear Duardo humming as she joined him in the kitchen. She peered into the pot.
“So are you some kind of witch-doctor-medicine-man?” In the warm light, she noticed his tattoos were of birds of prey in flight.
Duardo smiled. “Something like that.”
“And are you gonna tell me what really happened tonight?”
“Nope.” He handed her a mug. “Drink this.”
“Those weren't snake bites, were they?”
Silence.
“Some kind of poisonous 'gator?”
Duardo laughed, shaking his head, and began humming and stirring again.
Asha sipped the tea and grimaced, still unsure what was in it.
“What was that red stuff?”
“Cayenne powder,” Duardo said brightly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to pour cayenne powder directly onto a person's open wounds.
“Ouch. And it was smoking because… ?” Asha didn't expect to get any real answers, but couldn't help asking anyway.
Duardo filled another mug with tea and strode into the living room. He slapped BapuJi on the arm as if he'd nodded off in class. “Abhijay! Drink this.”
BapuJi blinked his eyes open and slowly sat up. Drinking his tea, he looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time. When his mug was empty, he nodded to himself and turned to Asha.
“You can't stay here and learn what you need to learn anymore.”
Duardo gave BapuJi a warning look and, taking the mugs, returned to the kitchen.
“What do you mean? Like… a summer break?” Asha said. “I did three hours of training today. Well, two and a half. I finished the paper on organic chemistry. And I practiced my music, the new piece that…”
BapuJi was shaking his head and waving a hand.
“No. You must go to Punjab. To India.”
“India? Why? No!”
“It is not safe here anymore, Asha! You must—”
“BapuJi you're not well. I'll get you another blanket—”
“Asha! Listen to me.” His hand flashed out and held Asha's arm in an iron grasp, keeping her on the couch. “You will be seventeen at the end of next month! Do you have any idea what that means? No. Of course you don't.”
BapuJi shook his head in frustration.
“It is very important that you finish your training before you are eighteen, and we cannot do that here. Not anymore.” He was using his teacher voice again.
Duardo cleared his throat in the kitchen and BapuJi hesitated.
Asha's mind was spinning and her chest felt as if something heavy had been dropped on it. “But why India? You can't just—”
“After what happened tonight, we can no longer complete your education in Miami.”
And the only other option is India? What the hell?
Letting go of her arm, BapuJi stood, crossed the room, and gazed out the window. He ran a hand through his greying hair. “We have no choice, Asha. You must go to Punjab, to my brother's house in Patiala. From there—”
“Wait. You have a brother?”
“Had a brother. My brother and I… we… after your father and I moved to Colombia, I… I never spoke to my brother again.”
Asha studied his reflection against the window, and she saw her grandfather's eyes filled with unspeakable grief.
Asha shuddered. And for a sickening instant, she wondered if she knew him at all.
“His home is your home,” he was saying. “You are to go there and stay with your relatives.” He turned to face Asha, crossing his arms. “And you must leave tonight.”
“Tonight? No!” Asha jumped up. “Hey, uh, scary guy in the kitchen— Duardo! I don't think you fixed my grandfather. Can you please help? He's not making sense. He's…” In spite of all her efforts at self control, Asha felt herself begin to cry.
Duardo was at her side in three strides, putting a hand on her shoulder and giving Asha another cup of tea, “There, mija, sit down and drink this.”
Asha's legs collapsed under her and she accepted the tea mechanically.
Duardo's voice was strangely soothing. “Everything is going to be all right, okay? But your grandfather is right. After tonight, Miami is no longer a safe place for you.”
Asha looked back and forth between the two men in bewilderment. “Not safe from what, exactly? I don't understand. We can take time off school while he recovers, we can—why India?”
Duardo took her hands in his, and Asha felt that same sense of wellbeing radiate through her. “You have to trust your grandfather, Asha. Trust that he knows what's best for you.”
Duardo had the kindest smile Asha had ever seen, and she was surprised she'd ever thought he looked scary.
She turned to her grandfather. “BapuJi? You're coming too, right?”
His eyes met hers, pity fla
shing across his features before he looked away. “No, Asha. This is something you must do on your own.”
She couldn't reconcile the BapuJi who raised her with what he was saying. Between homeschool, martial arts training exercises, and music classes, Asha had barely left the resort in eight years. She had never done anything on her own. Over-protective was a gross understatement when it came to her grandfather.
Asha felt as if she'd been thrown into the middle of a cold ocean with no land in sight.
“But why BapuJi?” You're pleading now—like some annoying, whining kid, Asha. That's great. Very mature. “Can't you at least think about it for a few days? Please?”
Asha stared into her cup, her heart pounding. She heard BapuJi sigh as he crossed the room. Joining her on the couch, he wrapped Asha in a tight hug. “It was your parents'—your mother's—express wishes that you be raised in—a… protected environment. I've been trying to prepare you. I thought that here in Miami you could… but now… now that you are almost seventeen, it's impossible to wait.”
The rain continued to beat against the glass in time with her racing pulse.
“You can do this, Asha,” BapuJi said. “Trust in your wisdom and courage. You truly are your parents' daughter. Remember that. Always.”
Letting her go, he stood and looked out at the storm again. The pool had begun to overflow into the soggy grass, and one of the lounge chairs had fallen over. BapuJi shook his head and mumbled as if to himself. “Out of the sharpness of the edge of the sword, fearlessness and deathlessness are born.”
Glancing at his reflection against the glass, Asha felt her heart come to a screeching stop in her chest.
Is BapuJi crying?
Time slowed and the walls seemed to close in around her. That BapuJi would even think of sending her away was mind-numbing. But BapuJi crying, it was… unthinkable.
After what felt like hours, he turned and smiled, saying, “Now you must go and pack, Asha. Just a few things. Only what is essential.”
“But… what about Lexi? She—”