by T. G. Ayer
But she simply smiled and tilted her head to study him. “Your heart is good, child of Death. Perhaps there is hope for you yet, despite your progenitor.”
Nik wanted to laugh. She seemed to have a thing against his father, which was something he wanted to know more about. Still, despite his curiosity, he said nothing.
She chuckled. “And in answer to your question, perhaps you could go into the village and help them to restore order, to bring the people together at least to a point that they can see there is hope for a future.” As she spoke, she began to walk off, entering the main street of the town, hands spread wide as though begging the heavens for its tears.
And as she walked, her skirts traced the ground, red and black fabric swishing along gravel and stone as she passed body after body.
And as she walked, the stones shifted, and little stalks began to rise, leaves unfurling at the tips, buds opening in a burst of color which surrounded the bodies that littered the streets.
And as she walked, the survivors watched in awe as a riot of color filled the streets, providing a bed of natural beauty for their loved ones.
Nik watched and felt his heart blossom too, filling with hope. He’d just witnessed a goddess who had always been known for her connection to blood and death, who’d often been painted as evil or cruel because mortals could not wrap their minds around the rawness and purity of pure nature.
Nik watched as the goddess kept walking, she left a field of blossoms in her wake, as she disappeared into the mist at the border of the village, as the darkness and shadows of the night swallowed her whole. Nik was left with only one prayer—that she would find some semblance of peace. And that the people of the town would someday understand the true nature of their patron.
The Earth Goddess, Baba Yaga.
Chapter 4
Nik entered the little village in Baba Yaga’s wake, heading to the main hall where Yuri and his followers had taken on the elders. Inside he’d found the remaining survivors huddled in groups all around the large room, whispering together, faces colored in sadness and regret.
People had turned to him when he’d entered, but his glamor would have hidden him well enough as he crossed the hall and approached a young woman.
Mila, wife to Yuri. He drew to her side where she was ladling soup into a small bowl held out by a little girl with a streak of blood across her forehead and two bandages wrapped around the upper arm of one hand, the forearm of the other. A third thicker bandage was wrapped around her shin, and she limped away, taking care to avoid dropping any of the hot liquid on the floor.
“Why did you not tell him to stop?” Nik asked softly as he came to stand beside Mila.
Her golden hair was flattened beneath a dark blue scarf, bright blue eyes faded in grief. The question made her hand shake, and she set the ladle on a plate beside the large soup pot. She wiped her hands on her apron, then ran her fingers along her fringe to tuck her escaping strands behind her ears.
She looked up at Nik and gave a hesitant smile. “Yuri wasn’t the easiest person to talk down when he got all passionate about something. He lost his sister and his two nephews after the cloud passed over the town. He was the one who found them. Went up to check on them, thinking he’d take them some food and fresh water. He didn’t expect to find they’d been killed by the toxic smoke.”
Nik nodded sagely. “So their deaths fuelled his passion to avenge the villagers?”
Mila let out a sad breath. “Not sure why he got it into his head that he needed to punish Baba Yaga. She cannot raise the dead. And even if she could, we wouldn’t have asked her to do such a thing. He was so deep in his grief he couldn’t see straight.” The young woman sighed, and a soft sob escaped. “I only wish he would have listened. Look at what he did to us. He killed more people in his attempt at vengeance than were killed on the hillside settlement in the first place.”
Nik was struck by the young woman’s maturity and had to wonder how she’d ended up married to the headstrong Yuri. Perhaps she wanted a man who would take charge. Sadly the ramifications of his actions would remain with his wife for the rest of her life.
Nik studied her face for a long while, satisfied to know that she’d survived and would remain alive in order to fulfill the destiny that had been written for her.
“And you remained in the village on cleanup duty at Baba Yaga’s request?” asked Lord Yama, his furrowed brow implying great displeasure at his son’s decision.
Nik had returned to Patala in the wake of his time in the village where he’d helped with the cleanup of the streets and where he’d seen the softest of smiles at the sight of Baba Yaga’s field of flowers.
Many had taken comfort from the patches of color in which their loved ones had lain, reinforcing their belief in their goddess. Still, not all the villagers were impressed by the show of sad beauty. Many of Yuri’s young supporters remained angry though Mila’s voice had risen above them all.
Now, standing in Yama’s throne room to debrief the god on the mission, Nik nodded slowly. “I did what I could to help out. She appeared to be greatly affected by the whole episode.” Nik stopped speaking, swallowed then hesitated.
“Speak, boy. There is no time to waste.” Yama sat forward on his great throne, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes glittering like obsidian orbs as he awaited his son’s response. The epitome of intimidation.
Nik took a slow breath. “I admit I veered from the original plan in order to help the goddess. I could see how deeply she cared for the villagers.”
“Did you get to explain to her the importance of that village to us?” Yama asked softly.
Nik had been despatched with the express instruction to make sure Baba Yaga was informed as to the importance of the young woman Mila. And, to ensure that no matter what she did, she was to protect Mila’s life at all costs.
“No. Baba Yaga didn’t seem to care why I was there. I would have told her, but things took a different turn when she showed me what had happened to bring the demonic goblins to the town.”
“I take it the villagers summoned them,” Yama said.
“Yes. A small group of young, very angry villagers had decided they were no longer going to submit to Baba Yaga and were looking for a way to punish her.”
Yama nodded, though he still appeared worried. “Do you believe the village and the current inhabitants are now safe?”
Nik nodded. “I checked on her, the woman you wanted to protect. She was well. Sustained minor injuries, a few bites that the goddess healed when she passed through the town.”
“She healed them?” Yama’s eyebrows waggled.
“She did. She wanted to help them. I’m concerned...she’s been distraught. So I didn’t tell her about the woman. The timing….”
Yama snorted. “Sometimes, Nikhil, I think you are too empathetic in situations of emotion.” The god let out an impatient sigh, but it seemed pertinent to Nik that his father didn’t admonish him. He’d simply made a statement, and for once it didn’t sound like a criticism.
Nik wasn’t sure how to reply. Whatever he said, would undoubtedly be aligned with his mortal genetics and he preferred to avoid bringing up the topic, especially to his father. Yama didn’t enjoy discussing his mortal wife who’d refused to come to live in Patala alongside him.
Yama seemed to be on the same wavelength as Nik as he said, “Will you visit her soon? I want to propose something to her.”
Nik’s eyes narrowed as he studied his father. “Propose what?” he asked, a little concerned about what his father was trying to rope him into.
Yama chuckled. “Don’t worry, son. It’s just our longevity discussion.”
Nik smiled sadly. “I’ll talk to her.”
Yama had finally agreed to have Nik talk to her, for which he was glad. It would mean he’d need to visit her in Florida where she’d been living these past few years. Which wasn’t at all a bad deal. Nik got to spend time with his mother, and also got the opportunity to surf. It was h
is secret passion, something he’d attempted to keep to himself as much as he could.
Then Nik studied his father’s face. “How does this longevity option work? I hope it’s nothing ridiculous. Mom’s not about to agree to something weird.”
Yama ran a hand across his chin and nodded, though his expression was dour. “That much I have extensive experience with.”
Nik fell silent, understanding all too well the pain his father experienced. Having a mortal mother, and a father who will never die, isn’t the easiest life to balance. Every so often, Nik would pause and think about his life with a sense of wonder, recalling a time long ago when he’d first discovered who and what he was.
Chapter 5
Nik wiped the counter with a rag, making sure to get all the tiny bits of dried chocolate that had been spilled by a cute little kid with pigtails and bright green eyes. He was still smiling at the end of his late-night shift at the Rock ’n Roll Diner when he was throwing out the trash in the back alley that stank to high heaven.
He wrinkled his nose, though to be fair it wasn’t as though he couldn’t deal with odors. It was simply the fact that certain smells put him on edge, and rotting meat was one of them. He let go of the lid of the dumpster and was already walking off down the dark alley before it clanged shut.
The noise filled the night, and Nik winced, almost hearing Rod’s voice yelling out “How many times have I told you not to let that blinkin’ lid shut so loud. You’re going to give me a headache.”
Smirking, Nik hitched the strap of his backpack a little higher, focusing on his next stop, the library where he planned to get his study on. The little town of Memphis, Florida was tiny enough to miss out on being on most maps but large enough to score a library funded by the state coffers.
And thanks to that library, Nik was able to complete much of his homework and studies before he got home every evening. Studying at home was a task near impossible what with the little piano player two floors down. He practiced every day for an hour in the morning and three in the afternoon, and sadly, he wasn’t getting any better.
The thing was, the old lady who lived in the house was a piano teacher so not only was her nephew in training but she also had a revolving door of students enough to keep a guy in a perpetual state of insanity.
Still, there was the odd kid who displayed some form of talent, and those were the ones Miss Rose focused on. Either way, Nik preferred the peace and quiet of the library. He was hurrying to the crosswalk, weaving between scores of couples out on the town—men in military uniforms and ladies in pillbox hats and puffy pastel skirts, waving around their white-gloved hands as they spoke.
Nik passed a movie theatre displaying a gigantic marquee announcing its last showing of Hello Dolly, and he made a mental note to take his mom to see it, fan of Streisand that she was. Nik’s mom, Archana, was working a late shift tonight at the local hospital, and Nik had made it a habit to be as undemanding as possible. She was often exhausted, as a surgeon, she spent many a late night at the hospital, and he was all too aware that she had a harder time of it proving herself in this day and age, what with being one of the few women in a man’s world.
He sighed as he scurried across the road, skipped aside to avoid being splashed as a purple Pontiac Firebird roared by. The new car was all the rage these days too, much like The Beatles, and the croonings of Elvis, of course. Nik was hurrying across a courtyard that led to the library when he sensed someone following him.
A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that he had picked up more than one tail. Four young men were following him, hands tucked in the pockets of their football jackets, shoulders rounded, chins tucked in to keep their faces hidden. The night was darkness with patches of golden light where the streetlamp lit a small circle at equal intervals along the pathway.
And as the four men walked beneath the light, Nik groaned. Eric Stedman, and his little posse. No surprises there. The furtive glances over their shoulders, checking the darkness for possible witnesses, the knuckles to their noses every few minutes—a good sign of speed use. Nik had had his own run-ins with this squad of bullies, and he’d chosen to stay out of their way as much as he could.
The only problem was some bullies don’t take no for an answer. Tends to make them feel powerless and the only way they know how to take back that power is to teach you a lesson you’ll never forget. The group had watched and waited until he’d finished his shift and then followed him to the library where it would be less populated on a Saturday.
Nik kept his strides long and even, reluctant to warn his stalkers that he was aware of their presence. They wanted to get the jump on him, thinking the surprise would be to their advantage. Well, they had another think coming, and Nik was going to enjoy this.
He’d always been careful to keep his strength and skill under wraps. Over the last few years, Nik had honed those skills, hand-to-hand combat and hand-held weapons-techniques being the strongest of his abilities. He’d gone over to the next town in order to train in secret, his mother having arranged for a son of a coworker to train him with over a dozen different weapons.
Nik was closing in on the steps that led up to the main entrance of the library. The building was a squat angry-looking stone monstrosity that didn’t appear in the least inspiring to potential learners. He took it as a positive that the front windows were dark stained-glass, allowing near-zero visibility from within the building.
Which meant no witnesses.
Probably why the thugs behind him had also chosen the library as the location of attack. Which would work to Nik’s advantage rather than Stedman and his crew’s.
Low thudding of sneakers on stone echoed to Nik as he took the first step, increasing in pace as the goons closed in on Nik.
A collection of shadows came into view, thanks to the help of a couple of well-placed lights, and Nik spun on his heel to face his attackers. As he moved, he caught sight of their surprised faces, and Nik wasn’t sure which had shocked them most, the fact that he wasn’t at all afraid or that he’d been aware of them and had turned in time.
Eric growled, “Get him, boys.” And his three attack dogs sprang forward, eyes wide, ready to wipe the floor with Nik. Only that wasn’t at all what happened.
A ham-fisted punch came flying at Nik, and he shifted sharply to the side, avoiding the blow by an inch before slamming the heel of his hand hard on the guy’s wrists. A loud crack echoed around him, followed by a gruff mewling as his attacker fell to the ground.
But Nik had little time to pay attention as a second attack was already underway. As he moved swiftly to the side, a sneakered foot sliced at his knee, but Nik simply angled his foot and kicked hard at the guy’s ankle, listening to a satisfying crunch as the guy’s bones shattered.
For a short moment, Nik had to wonder when it had been that injuring a fellow student had become something which wouldn’t have affected his conscience in the least.
Probably when they began to use you as a punching bag? whispered a bitter voice in his ear.
Nik blinked and almost missed the glint of metal in the darkness. At what seemed like the last second, he stiffened and spun away, avoiding the oncoming knuckle-buster with barely a hairsbreadth to spare. The guy grunted, whirling away in frustration before rounding on Nik again. He let out an angry whine-grunt when Nik landed a solid punch to his gut, then sank to the ground retching until the choking sounds of vomiting filled the air.
“What the hell is wrong with you three? You’re supposed to get him, not play games,” Eric called, his tone far more whiney than his injured friends.
None of the guys responded, each too busy dealing with their own agonies.
Eric, finally losing his cool and giving up all hope that his pals were going to succeed in getting Nik, gave a wild yell and raced at Nik. A simmering fury filled Nik as he glared at the kid racing at him. Eric’s face was red with anger, eyes wide and maniacal as he sprinted headlong at Nik.
Time seemed to slow
down, and Nik watched, head heating up, fingers curling into fists so tight that his nails cut deep into his palms. He lifted his hands, a haze of anger coloring his vision, a strange fiery sensation flowing over his skin and into his fists.
He raised his hand, ready to hurl a solid punch to Eric’s mouth, waiting to enjoy the pleasure of ripping open skin, drawing blood and relieving the asshole of a tooth or two. And just then, a woman’s voice whispered to him gently, “Nikhil, son of Justice. Are you ready for the consequences of being the one who takes a life before fate has decreed it be taken?”
Stunned, Nik understood two things in that moment. The voice was real.
And time had frozen.
Chapter 6
Nik stared around him, a little freaked out that the speaker—because he had most definitely not imagined that voice, or the words she’d spoken—was still invisible. His fist was still raised, and beyond his knuckles, just inches away was Eric’s face.
And suddenly the urge to injure the other boy faded away. He blinked again. What had she meant by calling him the son of Justice? He didn’t have a father. Well, not one who’d stuck around anyway.
“Who’s there?” he asked, voice quivering as he stared into the darkness, knowing he looked about as crazy as Eric did now with his features frozen so grotesquely on his wide-eyed, bare-toothed frenzied expression.
A gentle laugh followed, the sound floating on the air and twisting around Nik like a ghostly song. He wanted to yell out at the night, to demand the spirit—or whatever she was—show herself. But something told him that would be a very bad idea.
He wasn’t yet sure what he was dealing with but considering he was a descendant of an almost forgotten Dravidian tribe—through his mother—Nik was reasonably well-informed regarding the ancient myths and tales, his mom having taken great delight in scaring the living crap out of him with her horror stories featuring ghosts and ghouls, spirits and demons.
