by J. F. Penn
"Is there a woman here?" she stammered, her voice hoarse from the smoke. "Asha Kapoor. She follows one of your own."
The sadhu leaned towards her and the stink of shit and rotten flesh rose from his skin.
"Only you and the goddess are here tonight," he whispered and bared his teeth. "And she demands sacrifice."
He gripped her arm, his fingers strong and wiry.
Morgan tried to pull away but suddenly, there were naked sadhus all around, pressing their stinking bodies against her as they called to the gods.
There were too many of them and she spun around, pushing them, trying to get away. She was dizzy from the smoke, nausea rising as she tried to scream.
One of the sadhus pushed her and she fell forward onto her knees. The Aghori raised the squawking chicken above her head and held it by the neck.
Then he bent and bit into it, his teeth ripping the flesh away as its blood spurted out.
Chapter 27
Morgan felt warmth spatter her face. The copper stink of fresh blood and the sweet intensity of the smoke and the rising chant of the Aghori filled her mind.
In the shadows beyond, she thought she saw a woman with skin the color of a thundercloud and eyes of flame. In her outstretched hand was the bloody head of Sister Nataline, and around her body was a girdle of skulls.
"Kali," Morgan whispered, as the goddess stalked towards her, raising her kukri high above her head.
Then Morgan felt hands on her body and at the edge of unconsciousness, she heard a scream, her own voice in the darkness.
"No!"
Suddenly the Aghori scattered as a huge man loomed from the darkness, fists flying as he shoved the skinny sadhus away. Moments later, Morgan was in Jake's arms and he was half-carrying, half-dragging her away from the campfires.
Back in the light and bustle of the main camp, he lay her on the ground. They were soon surrounded by people clamoring for a look but Morgan didn't care. She focused on Jake's face and tried to banish the horror of what she had seen.
"I'm so sorry." He dabbed at her skin, wiping the chicken's blood off as he held her close with the other arm. "I lost you in the smoke, just for a minute. Then I heard you scream." Jake looked at her, his features creased with concern. "What did you see?"
"I … I thought I saw–"
"What happened?" Mahesh burst through the crowd, then turned and shouted in Hindi for the onlookers to move away. "Oh goodness, Morgan, are you hurt?"
Morgan shook her head. "No, just a little lightheaded. That's some powerful smoke they have there. It's not my blood. The Aghori sadhus had some kind of ritual sacrifice and I stumbled into it."
A look of disgust crossed Mahesh's face. "As Kali drank the blood of the demon Raktabija, so they drink the blood of sacrifice."
"We need to get you back to the tent," Jake said, his arms still wrapped around Morgan, shielding her from the crowd around. She wanted to close her eyes and rest in his warmth, let herself be protected. The attack had been shocking, but had she really seen the dark goddess in the smoke?
Mahesh looked at his watch. "We're almost out of time. They'll start organizing the march down to the river soon. The naga sadhus will go first at dawn and then everyone else will mass behind."
Morgan pushed Jake away, stood, and brushed the dirt from her clothes to hide the shaking in her hands. The stink of blood brought bile to her throat. "I'm fine, really. I just need to go and change quickly. I'll meet you back here."
"I'll come with you," Jake said.
"There's no time. I'll be quick."
Mahesh turned and indicated the causeway that crossed part of the river where the main bathing would happen.
"We'll be up there. It's the best vantage point."
Fingers of pink and orange crept into the sky above the camp as Morgan picked her way back through the crowd to Mahesh and Jake after changing. The brief time alone had given her breathing space and she pushed the experience to the back of her mind. Dwelling on it only reinforced the memory, but she still found herself clenching her fists as the dark images resurfaced. She hurried up to the causeway where they had a view over the massed millions, a crush of people stretching way back from the shore.
Dawn was only minutes away now.
And still, they had nothing.
Jake flew the drone above the heads of the crowds, while Mahesh and Morgan scanned the faces on screen for a glimpse of Asha or her Aghori.
"There!" Mahesh said.
Jake circled the drone back for another pass, focusing on the woman he had seen.
"No, damn it, that's not her." Mahesh's voice was desperate now.
A roar came up from the crowd as they parted for the first group of naga sadhus, naked but for their ashes and garlands of marigolds. Many carried the trident of Shiva as they marched down to the waters, shouting to the gods as they arrived to bathe at the most auspicious time.
The waters looked dark and forbidding and Morgan found her gaze drawn out to those pilgrims who avoided the crush to bathe from boats in the current. Then she caught a glimpse of white ash against the fading night.
"Out there," she said, pointing at a boat that stood out from the rest of the tourist vessels. It had a metal hull with an outboard engine, and it was elaborately decorated with flowers and paintings of Shiva in his resplendent dance of time. The Aghori stood tall at the prow, his dark skin now white with ash. He held his kapala human skull to the sky and his lips moved in a mantra. Next to him sat a woman, her head covered in a saffron-colored scarf.
Jake zoomed the drone towards them, focusing in on the woman's face as she turned to look at what buzzed above.
"Asha," Mahesh whispered, and in his bereft tone, Morgan knew he faced the reality of what his sister had become.
In the frame of the drone's camera, Asha's eyes widened.
"She knows we're here," Mahesh said. "It's only minutes before the alignment. We must get to them." He signaled at his bodyguards and ran towards them. "Get me a boat now!"
"See if you can use the drone to slow them down," Morgan said and then ran after Mahesh, down towards the shore.
Jake focused on the screen as he tried to shut out the noise of the mass of pilgrims around him. He zoomed the drone down over the Aghori's head, buzzing past Asha and the sadhu. But the holy man ignored the noise, standing unmoved as the seconds ticked past.
At the moment of confluence, when the most auspicious time arrived, the tone of the crowd changed to one of reverence. Some shouted with excitement, others cried out to the gods and still more fell to their knees in silence, crawling towards the water to wash away their sins.
In the tiny camera screen, Jake watched as Asha reached for the Shiva Nataraja sculpture, now fully complete.
They were out of time.
He panned the camera out. Mahesh and Morgan were in a powerboat now, fighting their way through the mass of craft on the water, but they were too far away to do anything.
Asha handed the sculpture to the Aghori and he began to read the ancient mantra on its side, calling the power of the gods down and channeling it through him.
Jake watched his lips move and for a moment, it seemed as if they had worried for nothing.
But then the air crackled and shifted.
A sudden hot wind surged, whipping the river into waves. The clouds above whirled into a vortex in hues of ash and pitch and a veil of gloom obscured the pink of dawn as it began to rain, great thick drops that pelted the crowd.
Pilgrims raised their hands to heaven, calling out their prayers as they turned their faces to the sky in expectation.
Then the screaming started.
Chapter 28
The river boiled, its temperature spiking as the Aghori spoke the ancient words. Steam rose as cold rain hit the waves and mist made it harder to see in the semi-darkness. Screams of agony rang through the air and those in deeper waters scrambled for the shore, pushing others under in their haste to get out. But there were so many people crushed i
nto every inch of water that they were trapped as the panic widened.
The faithful crumpled into the waves as their flesh boiled, the animal cries of the dying echoing above the pilgrim throng. In the confusion, those on the shore were pushed towards the boiling waters by those behind. The Aghori held the sculpture to his chest and his chant intensified. Then he cupped his hands as if to push the energy from him and shouted his mantra to the sky as he flung his hands towards the shore.
The air boomed as a wave of boiling water rushed away from him, steam rising into the air in billowing clouds and expanding circles. The wave crashed down onto the pilgrims on the shore, crushing them and roasting them as they died. He chanted on and Asha stood by his side, her face ecstatic at the sacrifice.
A miasma rose up, a fog of rolling death that crept over the waves towards the shore. As it touched the crowd massed by the edge of the water, they began to scream as they tore at their clothes. Their flesh melted at its touch and their bodies burned down to bone before they crumpled on the ground.
Morgan looked around in horror at the carnage on the shore, the bodies that bobbed in the boiling water, but this could only be the beginning.
There were millions more in the camp and the burning mist was heading for them all.
The Aghori took a breath as he prepared for another round and he raised the sculpture again.
"Ram them!" Morgan shouted. "We have to stop him chanting."
Mahesh looked back towards the shore to see the rolling mist intensify, its power growing with every repetition of the mantra.
"It's too late," he whispered, his voice desolate.
"It's never too late," Morgan said. She nudged him aside and took the wheel, angling the boat across the river as she accelerated.
Then she remembered the sketch from Fort Kochi.
"Try the Sanskrit on the back of the drawing," she shouted above the wind.
Mahesh moved to the port side of the boat, fighting to keep his balance as he pulled the slip of paper from his pocket, holding it with both hands as he began to read.
"Dalla hava mahey mum, yastra hala duvestra hum."
His voice was hesitant at first but Morgan felt a shiver at his words. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and even though she couldn't understand the phrase, she felt the air shift.
Mahesh recited the mantra again, this time with more confidence as the words rolled from his tongue in powerful syllables.
The Aghori faltered and his arms dropped as the counter-mantra touched him. The boiling mist before him softened and sank towards the water.
Asha turned and saw the approaching boat, her brother standing on the prow.
"No!" she screamed.
Morgan rammed into them.
The impact of metal against metal sounded like a gong above the noise of the screaming crowd. Morgan slammed into the deck and slid towards the stern as the boat crumpled at a steep angle but Mahesh scrambled up and over the bow with a roar, leaping onto the other boat as he shouted the Sanskrit phrase in triumph.
The Aghori cowered, covering his ears as Mahesh leapt upon him. They tussled, rolling together, both screaming their ancient words.
Mahesh lunged and they both fell together over the side. The two men sank down into the dark depths of the river, wrestling together even as they writhed in agony in the boiling water, their skin loosening from their flesh as they drowned.
The sound of wailing came from the shore as those still alive mourned their desperate loss. The river swirled with dead corpses and amongst them, Mahesh Kapoor and the Aghori, their bodies twisted together in death.
Asha rushed to the side, reaching down towards the men, her face stricken with loss. For the Aghori. For her brother. For the end of her dreams of sacrifice.
But the men were gone.
Asha turned back to the other boat, her eyes fixed on Morgan. "What have you done?" she screamed. Morgan saw the rage of the goddess in her eyes and realized that Asha still had the sculpture of Shiva Nataraja.
This wasn't over yet.
Morgan reached up, straining to pull herself towards the other boat. But Asha spun and started the engine, revving away so her boat pulled into the current. Her own craft was ruined and Morgan could only watch Asha speed away as the waters calmed. She would soon be out of sight and they would lose her.
Then the drone buzzed overhead.
Hope rose within her, providing renewed energy to continue the chase. Jake could track Asha from above. They could still get the sculpture back.
"Please help me!" Morgan called to the nearest boat. They pulled alongside and helped her in, making sure she didn't touch the steaming water, discolored with human flesh and blood.
The haunted faces of the men in the boat betrayed their shock at what had happened. They spoke to her in their language, and although she couldn't understand the words, she knew what they were saying. The words of grief were universal. She could only nod as they took her back to shore.
As soon as the boat touched bottom, Morgan jumped out and the men headed back out again to help others, or at least bring in more bodies. She ran back along the shore towards the causeway. Jake still stood there, concentrating on the screen, and she could see his hands moving as he directed the drone in pursuit.
She hurried to him, wanting to fall into his arms, needing his support after the horror of the waters below.
"Are you alright?" he said, his voice curt as he concentrated. As ever, there was too much to say and no time to say it.
Morgan looked over his shoulder at the tiny screen on his phone. The drone's camera was still focused on Asha's boat as she headed east.
"Mahesh is gone," she whispered.
"I saw," Jake said. "But he saved millions here today." He zoomed in on Asha's figure. She held the wheel of the powerboat but she slumped against it, her body drooping. "And she is almost finished. Look how broken she is."
"I don't know," Morgan said. "I saw her rage when the Aghori and Mahesh went over the side. She was not just a follower, she's strong. Legend says that the Brahmastra can only be used one time before it needs to recharge, but if we can't catch her, she may try again another time. But at least we're tracking her."
Jake shook his head. "We have a little problem there." He nodded at the screen and Morgan saw the battery indicator was at one bar. "We probably have about twenty minutes left and then the drone will be out of power. I'll stay on her as long as possible but once the drone drops out of the sky, we'll be blind."
Morgan pulled out her own smart phone, navigating to the maps and tracing the river's path.
"The Ganges weaves east to Varanasi," she said. "The holiest city for Hindus. There are cremation ghats, steps on the edge of the river, where they burn bodies day and night. Asha would find other Aghori there and also temples to Shiva and Kali."
"It's our best bet," Jake said. "And we have to try something. I'll stay on her with the drone while you go get a vehicle and we'll head there by road."
Morgan jogged back to the Kapoor tent. Mahesh's assistant stood at the open door, gazing out into the chaos of the crowd as he wrung his hands together in anxiety. The sound of wailing and chanting rose like a prayer to heaven and mist swirled above the heads of the pilgrims, dank with the stench of burned bodies.
"This is terrible, Miss Morgan," he said, shaking his head. "Have you seen Mr Kapoor?"
Morgan took a deep breath and put her hand on his arm.
"I'm so sorry. Mahesh is out there, amongst the people he served – you'll need to retrieve his body. He gave his life to save others."
The man fell to his knees, his face stricken, his hands clasped together and eyes to heaven. He began to pray, his lips moving in ritual prayers for the dead.
Morgan ducked inside the tent. There was no time to mourn while Asha still held the sculpture, and after seeing what the Aghori were capable of, the thought of the weapon falling into their hands was terrifying.
She grabbed the keys to one of the
four-wheel-drive vehicles they had left further out on the perimeter. It would be quicker to get out there on foot rather than try to drive out, especially as the camp was in convulsions.
The shouts of police could be heard above the sounds of mourning as they tried to gain control. But the camp was a collective body, mortally wounded, and its suffering seemed to flow across the millions gathered as word spread of death in the holy waters.
Morgan left the tent again, stopping next to Mahesh's assistant.
"I'm sorry but I have to go. Please radio the men at the vehicles further out that I'm coming to take one. We're tracking Asha Kapoor east. She's responsible for this terrible crime."
The man nodded. "Of course, and I know that Mr Kapoor would have wanted me to help you." Tears welled in his eyes. "I must speak to his widow."
Morgan jogged back to Jake. He stood in the same place, but now he gazed down at the bodies lying on the shore below. He clutched the railing, his knuckles white with tension.
He turned as she approached, his dark eyes full of sorrow. Morgan walked into his arms and they embraced. She felt the warmth of his body, heard the beating of his heart.
"I don't know how many more times I can see this," he whispered, his lips against her hair. "Every time I think we're close to some kind of victory, we leave so many dead behind."
"It could have been many more," Morgan said. She tightened her arms around him, pulling him closer. "And we have a chance to finish this now."
Jake stepped back and ran his hands through his hair as he pulled himself together. "OK, let's do this. The drone ran out of power and dropped into the river but she's definitely still on the boat, heading east. In the meantime, Martin's going to see if he can get a satellite lock on her position."
Morgan held out the keys. "We need to get back to the vehicles on the perimeter and then we can head after her. Even though we're behind, the road will be faster. We could still make it to Varanasi before Asha and intercept her on the ghats by the river."
