Nine: Vengeance of the Warrior (21 page)

‘You came alone?’ Zubin yelled, towering over him. He kicked the man, but the attacker was fast. Swift as an acrobat, he was up on his feet and rammed Zubin against the mirrors. Pain slicing through his shoulders, Zubin struggled. The attacker was agile; with both feet he stamped the wall, swirled and landed evenly, brandishing another weapon.

Zubin gritted his teeth, trying to block the pain out, and stood up, prepared. All senses alert, functioning purely on adrenalin, Zubin managed to pull off moves that dodged the attacker’s weapon. Each time the skilled attacker cut the air, Zubin thought he would be on the floor, his gut spilling out. Two seconds before the knife plunged into his neck, Zubin slammed his left palm on the man’s chin. With his right hand, Zubin grabbed the man’s other wrist and rammed it against the wall. Twice. Thrice, before the knife fell out of his grasp. Zubin picked up the weapon and pointed it at the Kala Yogi before throwing it in the dustbin.

‘Tell your master that we have powered up,’ Zubin said as he picked up his bag and left.

24

Akash

It was late afternoon. The stirrings of restlessness had not reduced. Even after a cup of freshly brewed Nespresso, Akash shifted edgily in his armchair. He had bought an ergonomically designed chair, comfortable and perfectly moulded to suit his anatomy. The temperature in his living room was steady at a cool 22 degrees Celsius, with the humidity at 60 per cent. This kind of perfection was necessary for him to think clearly. Akash got out of his comfy seat and headed to the bedroom. He checked for his passport and ticket in his bag. After the incident with Anita, and now with Zubin, he was disturbed. Raakin had warned Akash and was sending a protector.
Damn!
Akash thought. He was not a kid! He didn’t need a babysitter. He had been to India before and managed quite well on his own.

He returned to his seat, watched the images on the flat-screen TV on the far wall. A political discussion was on. The two candidates debated an issue heatedly. Typical politicians. They played the terrorist card to prove their worth. Lately, people had lost all faith because of terrorism.

A knock on the door. ‘I’m coming,’ Akash called out. He switched off the television and checked that all electrical units were turned off. There was a young woman at the door, dressed in a suit. She sported short hair and a stern expression. ‘Crap,’ he said by way of a greeting.

‘Kate. Keep up the attitude and we shall be fine,’ she said, surveying the surroundings. She directed him towards the lift. Akash missed his trusted bald-headed monk who had led him through the dusty and dangerous trek to the Barabar Hills in India. He shifted his bag to his left shoulder. There was one other person in the lift, an elderly woman who treated Akash like a son. ‘Hello, dear boy, so nice to see you,’ she said in a slow drawl.

‘Nice to see you too, Mrs McMillan. How’s the knee?’ he asked, trying to avoid all conversation about the lady with him.

The old-style lift inched downwards at a slow pace. Kate watched the woman with keen eyes. Akash shook his head. What would this weak old woman do, bash him with her walking stick?

Mrs McMillan apparently had the same idea. She turned to Akash and jabbed the stick just below his ribs. Letting out a yell, Akash doubled over, clutching his stomach. ‘What the fuck?’ he screamed and checked his midriff—there was no blood.

The old lady smiled, her red pupils glimmered. Before Akash could realize who she was, he was socked in the jaw by her wrinkled fist.

Kate grabbed the woman and pushed her hard against the doors of the lift. The old woman suddenly turned and slammed her fist into Kate’s face. She was momentarily stunned. ‘Bloody hell!’ Akash exclaimed.

He seized the woman’s cane and hit her on the head as hard as he could. It didn’t seem to work, except to make her angry. She gripped Akash by the neck in a stranglehold. With effort, Akash managed to pry her fingers apart. Finally, the lift reached the ground floor. Kate was up on her feet and showered blows on the woman’s back until she let go of Akash and fell to the floor. Akash was seeing stars by then, bent over, coughing violently. Kate pulled aside the metal gates and kicked the attacker out. And right before their eyes, the woman disappeared.

Akash staggered towards the exit. Kate gripped his wrist and pulled him into a run. ‘We have to get to the car before the others come,’ she said.

His throat was burning, but he didn’t stop. He kept running, speeding around the corner. A black car was waiting at the kerb. ‘Get in!’ Kate ordered, practically shoving him into it.

Akash slid inside. She was by his side in an instant. The driver hit the accelerator and the car squealed forward. They were headed to the airport.

‘What the fuck was that?’ Kate exclaimed.

‘That was one bloody magical dude,’ Akash rasped. ‘The Kala Yogis. They are on to us.’

Kate glared at him. ‘Yes, I kinda got that the first instant,’ she said sarcastically and handed him a bottle of water. Akash drank, sputtering and muttering obscenities. ‘This is crazy,’ he cried. The Kala Yogis were amazing! They were not only shape-shifters, but were also capable of disappearing. This was going to be one deadly game with the Kalingan.

25

Tara

Tara was having troubled dreams. After two consecutive nights of disturbing nightmares, she knew she should not even bother trying to sleep. She got out of bed and walked barefoot towards the kitchen. She practically swallowed a glass of water, before filling up another. Her throat felt parched. Lately, the heat had been oppressive and she felt like her body was melting away. She picked up a bottle of water and entered her study. She turned on the lamp and set her bottle on the table. She tuned in to Akash and Zubin—they had each just had a face-off with the Kala Yogis. They were worried, intimidated, and not keen on the responsibility of an additional power. She listened, but kept her emotions in check. She leaned back, fingertips joined together and, like a silent observer, let the feelings float around her. Tara didn’t connect with them, instead she focused on conserving her energies. She, too, didn’t look forward to the additional responsibility of advanced knowledge. It was true, the senior councillors were using them as scapegoats, trainees, and challenging them to an assignment that was beyond their years of experience. But she also knew that they didn’t have a choice, the same Kalingan spirit had risen again, and he knew who Tara, Akash and Zubin were. They would be the first to be attacked. She sighed, got up and made herself some green tea. New powers meant keeping one’s senses in control, she mused. Women were more intuitive, they didn’t work on the same wavelength as men, and she required that space when she was with the men.

She returned to her bedroom and placed the mug of tea on the side table. She checked her wardrobe, pulled out some T-shirts, and started to pack the clothes for her trip to the Hills. Still feeling restless, she returned to her work table and opened her case files. The appointments for the week would have to be postponed. There was one particular case that worried her. Tara would have to deal with this particular patient before she left on her trip. For the other patients, she prepared a schedule for her assistant. She leaned back, stretched and headed for her favourite lounge chair by the window. She sat down, feet tucked under and watched the sunrise.

In the morning she headed to work earlier than usual. Her assistant hadn’t arrived yet and she needed time to focus her thoughts. The exorcism case bothered her, maybe that’s why she was feeling the after-effects of insomnia—a heavy head and dreariness. She sat down at her desk and was about to open her file when she noticed a sheet of paper stuck on the wall. ‘
The warrior has returned. Be warned.
’

It was written in thick red ink. The words had bled. Tara removed her revolver from her cabinet drawer and stepped towards it slowly. And suddenly the words changed to ‘
You will die …
’ Immediately, she felt a tightening in her chest, her breathing became laboured. She fell to the floor, gagging.

She woke up with a jerk. Disoriented, breathing rapidly, she stared at her surroundings. She was at home, in her chair, facing the window. The sun had streamed in and the heat had caused her to break into a sweat. Her insides cramped out of fear. She stood up quickly and went into the bedroom. It was cool and comforting. Heading to the bathroom, she splashed some water on her face. The mirror reflected another face. She shrank back—it was horrific. It was the Kalingan’s bleeding face—his warrior avatar—his red, blazing gaze fixed on her. She ran out, grabbed the pyramid talisman and sat cross-legged on the floor. An attack of weakness was not going to help. Tara closed her eyes and zoned out. The nightmare was a warning. Then, suddenly, she realized. The exorcism case—the woman she had treated. Tara recalled the split-second red pupils. Tara had been so caught up in the ravelment of a sick patient that she hadn’t noticed the nuances of an evil Kala Yogi. Her ear suddenly felt like it was on fire, the microchip embedded in her earlobe felt warm to the touch. She sent a message to Raakin—
Received warning from Kalingan
.

The Senior Six

‘The Kalingan has risen. The Kala Yogis have been mobilized to warn the Three. Despite our powers, we must abide by the law of karma. If the Three must face the warrior, then so be it. Their souls need this experience. Destiny has chosen them to follow this path. Whether it is of the Buddha or not, they must learn from it. We will provide them with additional powers. We will guide them and project our thoughts on them for their safety. But ultimately, they must face their fears, their doubts and their powers alone.

‘The Navratnas have evolved over the centuries. And the knowledge has expanded to encompass volumes of data. This knowledge is sacred, it must remain protected and will return to the mystical One Mind. The wheel of Dhamma will move silently through the ages. No one is free from karma. No human can change the course of what is to be.’

26

Anita

Anita shifted uneasily in her seat. Grandma was performing a ritual to protect her from evil. ‘Grandma,’ Anita whispered. She was sitting cross-legged, encircled by a ring of rock salt. ‘You don’t need to worry about me.’ Frankincense exuded a musky odour in the apartment.

‘Quiet!’ Grandma held a string of crystal beads over Anita’s head. ‘You have experienced something sinister, haven’t you?’

‘I did, yes. But it was just my tired brain overreacting,’ Anita replied. ‘In the library.’

Grandma muttered a prayer and called out to the guardian angels to take care of Anita. She sprinkled water on her head. ‘You are dealing with the paranormal world. The protectors are able to create fear and confusion, they can colour your mind black, so you live with a sense of foreboding for the rest of your life.’

‘Grandma, you are overreacting.’

‘You may not believe what I say. But you have experienced the fear yourself.’

Anita reluctantly agreed. ‘Okay, Grandma, I believe you. I will not search for the Nine any more.’