Nine: Vengeance of the Warrior (7 page)

Tara sensed the strong, angry presence within him. She placed a hand on his chest to calm him. ‘Who are you?’ Tara said in a strong voice. Her heart was on a roller-coaster ride, mirroring Jerry’s turmoil of emotions.

The voice that erupted from Jerry was gritty and harsh. ‘I am Singha Sevra.’ Abruptly, Jerry pushed Tara’s hand away. He was on his feet. His stance had clearly changed. Initially, he had been calm—head bowed, his tone soft and mannerisms gentle. Now, he glared at her, his fists clenched and lips twisted in anger. The colour in his face had darkened. ‘I don’t like you,’ he said with suppressed rage.

Tara stepped back slowly. ‘Then you are welcome to leave,’ she said calmly. His expression changed.

‘Not before I get a taste of a woman’s blood,’ he grinned. The man scanned the room.

He was looking for a weapon of some sort. The silence was deep and the air thick with his aura.

Tara took deep breaths. She focused on him, trying to push him out of Jerry’s head, willing him to leave. There were a few moments of silence as she contemplated the situation. Tara watched the man take deep rasping breaths. In her experience as a parapsychologist, she had come across some genuine cases of possession. Most were personality disorders due to stress. Lately, she had received a number of cases revolving around spirits. Violent spirits. She had never been in a situation like this, though.

‘A woman’s blood is not going to set you free,’ Tara said, buying time.

‘All women are bloody double-crossing whores!’ he shouted. The small circular table by the sofa was made of glass: he turned towards it. Tara moved simultaneously, quickly grasping his arm in a firm grip.

He looked at her in surprise, his voice gritty and eyes bloodshot. ‘You are no ordinary woman.’

There was a brief pause. Tara held her ground. She still held on to his arm, while her heart raced. Her ears buzzed, the one with the implant was starting to feel unusually hot. The implants were a new introduction to the Three. After they had successfully retrieved the Chintamani, Tara, Akash and Zubin were treated with much respect. As expected, the Three wanted to return to their ordinary lives, away from the unearthly phenomena they had experienced. They had been allowed to go but first they had to have implants inserted in their bodies. These were tiny electronic devices, smaller than a grain of rice, embedded in their earlobes. The implants were linked to the Senior Six and to Raakin.

Tara laughed. ‘All women are different. If one woman hurt you, it doesn’t mean all women are the same.’

The man shoved her away, pushed her down and was on top of her, hands around her throat, tightening his grip.

Tara struggled, but he was too strong. She rasped, saw stars. Then as a last resort, she focused on her ability. Connected with the powers of the others. With all her might she intensified her thoughts and pushed the emotion into his frontal cortex. Hard and fast she bombarded him with thought rays of white light. He didn’t ease up. She was losing control, her throat was locked, breathing ragged. She targeted his mind with all her might and pushed the strong force from her whole being. That did it. Jerry released his grip and grasped his own head.

Tara leaned against the sofa, coughing violently, taking in a lungful of fresh air. She closed her eyes to regain her strength. ‘I have done you no harm. Why did you attack me?’

‘The warrior will return.’

Tara was alert. ‘Who?’

‘You know who.’

‘Did he communicate with you?’

Singha didn’t reply. Then he turned to her, looking meek. ‘I cannot find my way back. This man must go to Bhangarh and I will leave him.’

Tara moved away, maintaining a clear distance. A spirit existing in limbo and unable to go to the other side was unusual. From an ordinary individual’s perspective, the whole process was irrational, unscientific, borderline insane. Tara should call the police and get the guy committed to an asylum before he hurt others. But she believed him. Communicating with a ghost was not one of the most bizarre experiences in life. What she had been through in the past had raised her threshold of what was considered strange. It was the norm as far as she was concerned.

She turned to the window. Looking out, she spoke, ‘I want to know about that warrior spirit.’

The tension in the air was palpable. Singha spoke in a mellowed tone, ‘Madam, in my lifetime, I was a magician. I was well known and feared. You know better than anyone else that the world is full of oddities. Strange occurrences are not visible or audible, they cannot be defined in mere words. It’s a feeling, an energy that rattles our nerves, exists in between spaces, in the cracks of human weaknesses. They manifest from the source of anger and hatred. People don’t know that their addictions are the work of these spirits, egging them on, pushing them, testing their resilience and finally breaking them down. These spirits will one day harness all that is defective, all that is weak in mankind and destroy everything. Not even your kind can protect mankind.’

‘My kind?’

The laughter was hoarse and loud. ‘I know what you are. I know who you are. You all are the Mauryan’s people with special powers and possess the ancient knowledge. The ones who are destined to protect humanity! You have the powerful Kalingan returning in this era. It is very easy to latch on to a human. The warrior spirit will return again and it scares me to think what he is capable of.’

‘How do you know all this?’

‘Because he told me. The Kalingan spirit whom you thought you had destroyed spoke to me and sent me to issue a warning to you.’

Tara was alarmed. So that was the reason she had been getting so many patients who had been trapped by the spirits! They were warnings to her of his arrival. ‘What did he say?’ she asked.

‘Beware, he said. That even though his spirit is trapped, he is still powerful enough to mobilize his Kala Yogis. He knows where you are.’

‘Shit!’ Tara murmured.

‘You will be tested again. I can see great darkness approaching. The great Mauryan king’s men have no rest. You will be tested again …’ he went on repeating, then lay down on the settee and immediately fell asleep.

Tara eased Jerry out of his hypnotic state. She explained to him that all he needed to do was return to Bhangarh. He appeared perplexed and recalled nothing, not even the attack. ‘That’s all I need to do?’

Tara smiled. ‘Yes, you don’t need to offer any sacrifices. It’s a simple solution. Just go back to Bhangarh, stay till after dark and this entity will leave you.’

Jerry gave her a curious look. ‘You are the first doctor I have met who believes in ghosts.’

Tara gave a thin smile. ‘Let’s keep that a secret, shall we, Jerry?’

He thanked her profusely before he left.

Tara leaned back in her swivel chair, picked up her phone and sent a message to Raakin. Maybe this time she, Akash and Zubin would not have to deal with the Kalingan if they went into hiding. The Kalingan was not just out to attack the Nine but wanted to hurt the three of them in particular. This much was clear that after their tryst the last time, the Kalingan perceived them as the enemy. They had trapped him in Angkor Wat, where he had gathered his strength and become strong once again, so that if a human host was willing, he would come attacking at the first chance. He was already sending warning signals through other spirits. The power of anger was penetrating the spirit world.

She felt the strain of exhaustion at the nape of her neck and moved her head from side to side. The tendons felt taut. She walked over to the window and gazed at the hurrying world outside. While she massaged the stiffness, she felt a slight heat where the microchip implant was embedded in her ear. It tended to heat up when she used her powers or when danger was imminent. The Ashoka symbol was more than just an indicator of her membership of the Council of Nine. It also carried information about her experiences and her communication powers. Telepathy was just the basis of her abilities. There was so much more she was capable of doing and learning. Slowly, with time, she had acquired the skill to control her powers. And with her degree in psychiatry, she was able to harness her skill and put it to good use. Learning more about how the mind and brain work was not only necessary, but also helped her become a recognized and well-respected psychiatrist in the country.

Her knowledge and every new experience were stored in that implant for the next person who would inherit her position as one of the Nine.

Her BlackBerry buzzed. She glanced at the message. It was from Akash.
Hey, what’s up with you? Heard you had a message from the warrior spirit?

Tara replied.
Raakin told you, eh? Yeah, was practically strangled to death while helping a possessed man, who very kindly delivered the message
. She smiled, expecting a cryptic remark.

Keep safe, darling. By the way, our nanny Raakin is a real tight-ass about my heroic nature. What to do? I gotta use my powers to save suicidal crazies. If only I could show the girls I could fly … hmmm … gotta go.

Tara replied with a smiley face.

She was still not comfortable in her own skin. Being the only female member of the Nine she was intimidated by the energies of the others. There was the pressure to prove oneself. Tara glanced out of the window. She knew she had to stop overanalysing.

‘Your next patient is here!’ Tara’s assistant informed her through the intercom.

‘Send her in,’ Tara responded. She took a sip of water and adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose. She sat in one of the armchairs, the other vacant chair was for her patient. She liked to make them feel comfortable and not have a desk to divide them. Trust was key in any initial meeting. If the patient trusted her, he or she would be willing to accept her advice.

The woman entered. She was short and wore red, which included red shoes. She had applied a dark eye shadow and harsh streaks of liner added a sharp edge to her unsmiling face. At first glance, she looked hideous; an attention-seeker.

‘Ms Swati? Please come in. Have a seat,’ Tara said, indicating the comfortable armchair.

‘No,’ she responded.

‘No?’ Tara asked.

‘I prefer to stand.’

‘Why?’

‘There is no particular reason.’

‘Please tell me, how can I help you?’ Tara asked politely. She appeared relaxed, but was tense. There was an unusual air about the woman, a kind of repressed energy. Standing still and gazing with those eyes, it was almost as if any minute she would lunge at her. Tara probed her mind in those few seconds that she stood silently. Empty. It was more chilling than ever. No one could have no thoughts at all. But there was fear and great pressure. She had turned her mind blank to stop the memories. She had experienced something extremely traumatic.

‘I … I’m not sure if you can help me,’ Swati said stiffly. Then she took a step back, holding her emotions tight to her chest. Tara sensed she was ready to spill, but emotions were a scary part of the human mind, they could manifest violently and cause further distress.

‘Please don’t be afraid. Come, sit down, let’s just chat informally.’

‘Have you ever had a dissatisfied patient, Dr Tara?’

The way she pronounced her name sent a chill down Tara’s spine. But Tara smiled at her. ‘Of course, Ms Swati.’ Tara glanced at the form her patient had filled out at the reception. ‘I’ve had many patients who eventually gave up on me.’ Tara stood up, came closer. ‘But I never gave up on them.’

Swati slowly approached her and sat down.

5

Akash

London

Akash hurried out of the chilly wind, pushed open the glass door and entered his office as the door chimes rattled noisily behind him. ‘Shit!’ he muttered. He hated those tinkling, dangling clusters hanging above the door to his pub. But his personal assistant, Cathy, insisted it was a good-luck charm. The woman was a Chinese feng shui expert—in her own opinion, of course—and she made certain decisions which Akash felt suited her, not the gods of architecture. Cathy was in her fifties, with silver hair cut short and an efficient set of pearls to enhance the plain blouses that she wore over grey or black trousers.

Akash slammed his briefcase down on the long oak bar-table and headed towards the back. His workplace was located in one of his pubs—The Chisel. Cathy was already looking at him with her critical eye, one eyebrow lifted sardonically, as she spoke sweetly over the phone. All this while her manicured fingertips glided efficiently over the keyboard. Akash waved, ignoring her expression, and blew her a flying kiss. She raised both eyebrows. He headed straight to the coffee machine in the corner cubicle. The Nespresso machine was all set to deliver. He savoured the perfect brew from this compact, sleek appliance like he enjoyed the company of women—strong, vibrant and smokin’ hot. He waited as the frothy brew filled his mug. Picking up the mug, he sat down in his leather armchair, leaned back, put his feet up on the table, and took a sip. His phone beeped. He ignored it, savouring the aromatic beverage before he got his brain in gear. Running pubs and working as a DJ in an exclusive club was no mean feat. It taxed him mentally and physically. If he could, he would take the first flight out to India. He missed the exotic, vibrant, crowded uniqueness of the land. But most of all, he missed his friends.