Forest of Demons (11 page)

Her eyes traveled over the enraptured audience to the shadows beyond the fire sconces. She faltered, almost losing her thread, almost dropping the melody.

The shadows were moving.

She glanced in Ravi’s direction. His face was tight, body already in motion.

He slipped onto the stage and whispered, “Keep singing until I tell you to stop.”

She looked into the moving shadows, and caught a flash of blue ringed with white. The song died.

A rakshasa leaped into the circle of fire, straight onto a young woman clutching a baby. A bloodcurdling scream filled the air. The villagers turned to watch almost curiously as the woman was devoured.

The world was still except for the tearing of flesh, and then the rakshasa raised its head and howled.

The dazed crowd erupted into action, scattering in the same moment as the rest of the beasts attacked.

Ravi cursed, grabbed her hand, and swung her round, lifting her up and over his shoulder. Her face banged against his silk-clad back as he ran through the frenzied crowd. The air was filled with screams and snarls.

Something smacked into the back of her head with a wet thud. She looked up to see a disembodied arm roll away.

Her mind shut down. She tucked herself against Ravi and closed her eyes.

Ravi didn’t set her back on her feet until they were safely within the confines of the smithy. He ran around slamming the shutters closed and bolting them.

“This is one of the strongest buildings in the village. We should be safe here,” he said.

Priya stood shivering in the center of the room. How was this happening? How were the Rakshasa here, in the village? They never came into the village.

“I don’t understand . . . what’s happening?”

Ravi finished reinforcing the door and moved toward her. He cupped her shoulders with his large hands. “It doesn’t matter how they’re here, what matters is that they are, and we need to survive until dawn.” His lip curled in disgust. “The filth will retreat at dawn.”

“How can you be so sure? They’ve attacked in daylight before.”

“Daylight has little to do with anything aside from weakening them slightly. They’ll retreat because they’ll be weary. They’ll be sated. They will sleep.”

“How can you know so much?”

Ravi released her, turning away. “The world is much larger than the constricted beliefs of this tiny village. I’m sure your visit to the capital will broaden your horizons considerably.”

The mention of her impending trip sent a stab of horror through her. “My parents! I have to go!” She ran to the door, but he snagged her by the waist pulling her back.

“Are you insane? You’ll be ripped to shreds.”

Priya sagged. He was right, but she couldn’t just sit here and wait. “There must be something we can do.”

Ravi’s arm around her waist tensed.

“There is something. You know something. Tell me!” She twisted in his arms wanting to see his face, wanting to know if he lied to her.

Ravi averted his gaze cursing softly under his breath. “I think . . . I think you should sing.”

“What?”

“I don’t know how or why, but I think you’re singing is what brought them here.”

She stared at him in horror. “You’re saying
I
did this?”

“I don’t know! I could be wrong. We’ll know soon enough once we step out those doors.”

“Sing? I sing and they what? Stop attacking, is that it?” He was crazy. The whole thing was insane!

Ravi shrugged. “Or we stay here and wait till dawn.”

While Ma and Papa could possibly be ripped to shreds, the rakshasas battering down their flimsy door to get to their flesh. Ravi’s idea was insane, but it was all they had. She had to believe it would work.

“We go.”

She stood behind Ravi, a length of metal clutched in her right hand, just in case, as Ravi had put it. He brandished his shaping hammer, one hand on the door handle.

“What should I sing?” Her voice trembled.

“I don’t think it matters.”

Priya nodded. He opened the door and they stepped out.

The noise that had been muted by the thick smithy walls hit them in a sickening wave.

Three sleek shadows lifted their heads from their meal, swivelling to pin them with their glistening pale blue eyes. They surged toward them.

“Sing!”

Priya began to sing.

The notes hit the air and the rakshasas paused.

Ravi clasped her hand. “Whatever you do, don’t stop singing.”

They began to walk through the market.

One by one, the rakshasas raised their heads from their meals. One by one, they paused in their attack.

Shutting out the bloody horror of the carnage before her, Priya concentrated on the song, the melody.

They walked, and the rakshasas followed as if entranced.

Priya’s legs trembled, and her heart pounded so loud she struggled to hear her own voice. But Ravi’s reassuring grip on her hand kept her from stumbling.

They moved passed the lanterns still burning in the village square and the rakshasha followed. Through the narrow village streets where the moon was the only illumination, down the dirt tracks that led to the edge of the village, they walked at a sedate pace, always aware of the danger that tread in their footsteps.

They finally reached her home, and it was only then that their predicament struck her. She had unwittingly lured every rakshasa to her own doorstep.

Her eyes relayed panic at her revelation, Ravi’s jaw flexed in indecision. The hut door opened and Papa raised his lantern, smiling when he saw Priya and Ravi, then gasping in shock when he saw what they had brought with them. Ravi leaned in speaking urgently to Papa while Priya focused on her song. Her throat ached, and she was afraid she would lose her voice at any moment. It was the longest she’d ever sung.

Ravi looked up at the moonlit sky. Dawn was hours away.

Tears pricked at her eyes as she battled to keep the terror trapped in her chest.

Papa stepped out of the hut and gently extricated the bar from her hand. Ravi’s fingers slipped through hers, and Papa took her other hand. Together they channelled their strength into her.

Flanked by the two men she sang until the sun’s rays tinged the sky with pinks and reds. She sang while the rakshasas turned and began to retreat. She sang until Ravi cupped her face and pressed his forehead to hers whispering to her to stop, that she could stop now, that it was over, and then the notes turned to sobs and she allowed him to hold her while the terror finally overwhelmed her.

“No one saw, no one knows.” Ma wrung her hands. “It’ll be all right.”

“We should leave today, now!” Papa argued.

“What? And give them reason to suspect?”

“Why should they suspect anything? No one saw her leading them. Ravi assured me,” Papa said.

“And what if someone realizes it was her voice that brought them here?”

“It’s too much of a stretch; they won’t.”

“Ravi did.”

Papa was silent.

Priya pulled the shawl tighter about her shoulders. They were acting as if she weren’t even in the room. From Papa’s chair by the stove, she watched them both pace in a strange, almost synchronized dance.

“You’re right, we can’t just leave.” Papa sighed. “There are too many dead to bury.”

“A few families are already packing to leave. They’re afraid that the rakshasas will attack again; no one will blink an eye if we leave too.” Ma had certainly changed her tune.

“The capital is expensive, but we could stay for a week or two, then return,” Papa said.

“I’ll pack.” Ma headed into their bedroom.

Priya stared at the floor. This was her fault. All those dead people, they were her fault. She would never forgive herself. If only she’d turned the munsiff down, if only she hadn’t let pride sway her decision.

She couldn’t walk across all the innocent dead to realize her capital dream. She had to stay, now more than ever. She had to put things right.

“We’re not leaving,” she said.

“Priya?” Papa took the seat opposite her.

“We can’t leave now. I have to stay. They might come back, and if they do I have to be here to lead them away.”

She waited for the objections, but heard only silence. She looked up, surprised by his easy acceptance.

“I always knew there was something special about you, beti, but the villagers, they won’t understand. You may save them, but they won’t thank you. They’ll persecute you and call you a witch. They’ll shun you.”

“I know. But if I don’t stay, I won’t be able to live with myself.”

Papa dropped his chin. “Let us make a deal. We’ll wait until after the frost. Once the winter has passed, we’ll leave no matter what.”

“What’s this?” Ma asked entering the room with an armful of clothing.

Papa looked up at her. “We’re staying, Kunti, for now.”

Defiance sparked in Ma’s eyes but died in the face of whatever she saw in Papa’s. “I’ll make some chai.”

In the wake of the tragedy, the village seemed to have shrunk into itself. The loss of loved ones hung heavy in the air. Some homes nearest the market square had to be rebuilt, and guards had been posted around the forest trail during the day. The
panchayat
had met and agreed on a curfew. It cut market hours short but ensured that everyone was safely tucked up in their homes before the sun went down. No one would dare go against the village councils ruling.

Two weeks after the event, no sign of further attack had reassured some of the villagers, but for the families of the dead, there was no comfort.

Papa was no longer permitted into the forest. The villagers were afraid that any interaction with the forest would lure the rakshasas back into the village. The merchant carts were forced to take a longer route to the capital, adding days to their journey and the risk that they might not make it back before the frost.

Priya managed the stall, kept her head down, and waited for the winter. She caught sight of Ravi from time to time, the soot back on his face where it belonged, and recalled the sensation of his calloused hand in hers.

She yearned, but was unsure what it was she yearned for, and wished for numbness to take its place.

It was late and the doors had been bolted. The stove had been stoked until the flame was high, and the room was unbearably warm.

“It will come with the dawn,” Papa said. “The house must remain warm or we’ll suffer damp.”

Priya didn’t question his conviction. Papa was always right when it came to these things. The frost was a sly thing and would descend on them suddenly and completely, in the wake of the hottest day of the year.

Ma sat in her shift with just a thin shawl to preserve her modesty. “Well, I look forward to dawn.” She fanned herself.

Priya watched the moon from her window seat.

There was a knock at the door.

Papa sat up straight, exchanging shocked glances with Priya and Ma. Who would have been so stupid as to break curfew?

Priya made to get up, but Papa beat her to it, moving cautiously toward the door.

“Goodness Hariji, be quick about it, I hardly think a rakshasa would be so polite as to knock,” Ma said.

Priya’s lips twitched.

Papa reached the door. “Who’s there?”

“Ravi.”

Priya leaned forward in anticipation as Papa opened the door.

Ravi glanced behind him before entering quickly. A large sack covered in soot was slung over his shoulder.

Papa stared at him enquiringly.

“Fuel, for the fire. Where can I put it?”

Papa indicated the stove and Ravi carefully lowered the sack to the ground.

“Thank you.” Papa said.

Ravi inclined his head and then turned and strode back out the door.

Priya watched him leave. He hadn’t even looked at her. Something dark and ugly rose in her chest. She was on her feet and out the door in an instant, her mother’s warning cry muffled by the slamming of the door.

“Ravi, wait!”

He stopped, and she ran to catch up with him, but once she was there she didn’t know what to say. He looked down on her patiently, and she exhaled in frustration.

“What do you want, Priya?”

She shook her head, her eyes stinging.

He grabbed her chin and tilted her face up to the moonlight. The hot tears escaped and slipped down the sides of her face.

“Oh, Priya.” His voice cracked with emotion. He closed his eyes, inhaling. When he opened them again, his expression was closed. “Go home. Be safe.” He released her, stepping back to put distance between them. “Go now.”

There were too many words, too many feelings twisted and tangled inside her. There was no time. She turned and ran back down the street to her home. At the door she paused to look over her shoulder.

He stood silhouetted in silver, head bowed.

Throat uncomfortably tight she slipped through the door.

As Priya made her way toward her room, Papa tripped her with his words.

“I was wrong about that boy.”

Priya stomped the snow off her boots before entering the cozy warmth of the hut. Closing the door firmly behind her, she retrieved the thick, stuffed snake Ma had made and shoved it against the bottom of the door to keep out the draft.

“How was market?” Papa asked from his perch by the stove. His leg was propped on a small footstool; swollen and discoloured, it looked painful.

Priya removed her winter coat and unwound her thick scarf. “Not good. I think we should reduce stock. Maybe only sell eggs and milk and whatever clay creations we have. We have enough grain to last the winter. I can take on more mending work, and maybe washing. No one wants to go to the river to wash clothes in these temperatures.”

“Or maybe we should forget the market altogether. Many stall owners close business for the winter,” Ma said.

Papa nodded. “Yes, we have enough to see us through.”

Priya tried to hide her disappointment with a smile. Her fingers and toes ached with cold and stung terribly now that they were thawing, but the market was the only place she could go to catch a glimpse of Ravi.

“Come sit. I have made some delicious dhal, it will warm you.” Ma ushered her toward her window seat before bringing her a bowl of the lentil soup.