The Deadly Conch (17 page)

“WHAT?” said Tara. The howling wind swooped between them and Tara remembered. She took a step closer to Zarku, every nerve in her body tingling with the horror of being a hairbreadth away from the person who had tried to kill her not once, but twice. Any moment she expected him to choke the life out of her with his thin, bony hands.

“Please don't joke about this, Zarku. I need to speak to her. Now!”

“I'm not joking. My mother had a pure soul. She was here for a very short while before she went away.”

Tara stared into his face, inches away from hers, and knew that he telling the truth. The last vestiges of hope fled. Zara was gone; Kali was intent only on revenge. Zarku had always hated her; she would be mad to expect any help from
him
. Whom could she turn to?

She stared at the pale, sad faces surrounding her. The bitter cold had frozen all laughter, all goodness within them, leaving nothing but a shell. And she had agreed to spend the rest of her life here. This trip had been an utter waste. She wanted to sob, but even her tears seemed to have turned to ice.

“Why are you looking for Zara?” asked Zarku.

“Because of Layla,” said Tara, too tired to think straight. Her plan had unravelled completely and she was close to falling apart, too. “She's wreaking havoc in the village and she's targeting me. I have to stop her. Your mother helped me once and I thought …” Tara stopped and clapped her hand to her mouth. How could she tell Zarku he was dead because his mother had helped her? In his rage he was sure to harm her in some way. She looked around for an escape route.

“It's all right, Tara” said Zarku. “I know everything. Mother told me she helped you defeat me. She was doing it out of love.”

Tara stared at him, aghast. “And you're not angry?”

“We spent some time together before she left. We talked and cleared up a lot of things. For that, I am in your debt.”

It was so odd to hear Zarku say that. “So where is she now?” asked Tara.

“A more comfortable place where there are no sinners.”

Sinners
. Tara repeated the word softly to herself. She had never considered herself a sinner, and yet she had killed two people in one body. Did that count as one or two? All she'd been trying to do was save herself and her family from death. Did that count as a sin?

The crowd that had kept away was moving closer now, sniffing deeply, reaching out to touch her. She stepped back, nauseated by the smell emanating from their bodies; the odours of decay, despair, and death mingled together.

Zarku was still calm, showing no signs of attacking her. It had to be a trap. He would probably strike when she least expected it. She had to be vigilant. “So what do I do about Layla?” she asked. “How do I stop her?”

“Kill her,” said Zarku. “It's the only way. Use the dagger I would have used to carve out
your
heart. It has tremendous power; the power of darkness.”

“How — how did you know that we …”

“Oh come on, Tara. I'm dead, not dumb. Suraj took the knife when you were chasing Kali and me. He's got it now and you know about it, don't you?”

Tara nodded. “But I still don't know why he took it?”

“My mother,” said Zarku. “She's sure to have told him.”

Now that he mentioned it, it made sense. It could only have been Zara. Maybe she knew this would happen or maybe she had guessed it. Tara thanked her silently; once more, Zarku's mother had looked out for her and she yearned to hear that soft voice one last time.

“Keep the dagger with you and use it the first opportunity you get,” said Zarku. “It's the only way, unless Layla dies a natural death, and we both know that's not going to happen.”

“You mean kill her? Kill a child?”

“Don't act like the thought never crossed your mind. You're not that innocent.”

Tara looked at her hands, smeared with her own blood. And when she returned to Morni, and did as Zarku had said, she would have Layla's blood on her hands, too. Could she live with that for eternity? Zarku was observing her shrewdly. “You have thought about it, no?”

Tara gave a small nod.

“So go ahead. Do it! What's stopping you?”

“I don't think killing is the answer to everything. There has to be another way. Maybe if you visited Layla somehow and made her stop this madness …”

Zarku laughed, but all she heard of it was a faint echo. Once again it was the scorn on his face that told her how much of a joke her suggestion was to him.

“Tara, Tara, Tara. How can I ever explain the fun of leading an evil life? The power is exhilarating, intoxicating, and now that Layla has had a taste of it, nothing will stop her. Nothing but death. I am living — no, DEAD — proof of it.” Once again, he cackled with laughter and vanished.

“Zarku! Where are you? Don't go yet!” said Tara. She whirled round. The crowd behind her was gone, too.

With a deep sigh, Tara looked at her hand. Streaks of dried blood caked her palm. She tried to massage it, curl it into a fist, squeeze more blood out of it. Barely a drop or two appeared. Her vision blurred and she felt lightheaded. She sank to her knees and retched. Nothing came out; there was no food in her and very soon there wouldn't be any blood, either. The shard of mirror, stained bright red, lay at her feet.

Tara picked it up. Could she do it yet again? Let some more of her blood seep away? The cold gripped her heart tightly, as if it would never let go. She could barely feel her arms and legs. Had she ever been warm? What was warmth?

Don't do it
, the voice inside her whispered.
You
already have the information you need. If you lose any
more blood you'll die here.
Tara's hand shook so hard that the shard slipped out of her cold fingers. The only information she had was that killing Layla was the only solution. That was not what she wanted to hear. There had to be another way. She picked up the mirror again.

Ignoring the small voice screaming inside her, she slashed the other palm. A rivulet of red appeared, and trickled to the ground.

Immediately the whispers returned. Tara raised her head slowly. Her heart skipped a beat.

Zarku had reappeared, but this time he had someone with him. Someone she had dreaded meeting.

— fifteen —
The Wrath of Kali

“Y
ou touch a single hair on my daughter's head and you'll have me to contend with,” Kali said by way of a greeting. She stood before Tara, wearing the same grimy saree in which she had plunged to her death. Her eyes glinted with madness.

“Then stop her,” said Tara. Her heart thumped erratically, as if it weren't sure whether to keep beating or just give up. She wanted to stay alert, but the deep cold and her lifeblood draining away was making it impossible. She curled her hands into fists. The pain revived her. “I don't want to kill her, but if she goes on like this, I'll have no choice.”

“What I was unable to finish, my daughter will. I'm very proud of her.”

Tara glared at Kali wordlessly; it was hopeless, utterly hopeless. If the very person who could stop Layla was goading her on, there was no point in talking to her. Tara's eyes shifted to Zarku, who stood there quietly, listening to them.

“There is one other way,” said Kali. “And really, it's so simple you'd be surprised.”

“What's that?”

“She's only trying to avenge my death,” said Kali, her eyes boring into Tara's.

Tara knew then what she was going to say.

“Stay back here and she'll stop,” said Kali. She smiled, reminding Tara of Zarku's hyenas.

“Never,” said Tara. “What is the guarantee that if I stay back here she'll stop harming others? She's tried to kill me and my family once already.”

“You'll just have to take my word for it,” said Kali. “But she'll stop.”

Zarku burst out laughing. “Now I know why I used to like you, Kali. You're such a liar, you put
me
to shame.”

“You both think this is a joke?” said Tara. She tried hard not to scream. “There are lives at stake and you're standing here complimenting each other? I should never have come. I should have asked Ananth to help me. We would have come up with a much better plan to stop Layla.”

Kali and Zarku exchanged a look and burst out laughing. The sound barely reached her and for once she was glad. Their cackles would have driven her mad. Tara wanted to smack their laughing faces, but she restrained herself. It was wiser to conserve her energy.

“What's so funny?” she asked, looking from one to the other.

“Ananth, would have helped,” said Zarku, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “
Ananth
?”

His third eye fluttered. Tara's stomach dropped. Would his terrible eye have the same powers here, too? If it opened wide would she burn to death? At least she'd be warm for a few brief seconds and then it would be over. She wouldn't have to deal with Layla or anyone else. But the eye remained closed.

“Would one of you like to share the joke?” said Tara icily.

“We're dead, but we still know what's going on in the world, Tara, especially Morni. After all, it was the place of my defeat. I'm not likely to forget about it in a hurry.”

“Good for you,” said Tara. “As long as you never come back, you can spy on us to your heart's content.”

“Layla did not set fire to your hut,” said Zarku. He watched her carefully. “She's guilty of a lot of things, but not that.”

Tara stared at him. Was he lying? But why would he? He had nothing to gain by defending Layla. “You're lying to me.”

Zarku shrugged. “I'm not, but you don't have to believe me. I don't care one way or the other.”

“Then who did it?” asked Tara.

“Should we tell her?” Zarku asked Kali.

Kali smiled. “And spoil the surprise? No, we couldn't. That would be too cruel of us.”

“Your trip here was a waste, Tara,” said Zarku. “The incident that prompted you to come here was not Layla's doing.”

White-hot anger replaced the cold within her. “The fire!” she whispered. “You mean it's someone back at the village? Someone else wants us dead?”

“You were always a smart girl,” said Zarku. “That's what I admired the most about you.”

“No!” said Tara. “That can't be.”

“You have more enemies than you think. Especially with all that's happened in the last few days. Am I right, Kali?” said Zarku.

The flesh on Kali's face jiggled as she nodded vigorously, flashing a yellow-toothed smile.

“You're lying!” said Tara. “You both are. No one in the village hates us enough to set fire to our hut. They think I did all those things Layla framed me for, and they're angry, but not enough to kill …
not enough to kill
me and my family
.”

“Believe what you must,” said Zarku. He folded his arms across his chest and watched her.

Tara sat down with a thump, her legs unable to hold her up anymore.
Who
could have done this? Was Zarku lying to her? She looked up at them. They were becoming lighter, fading away once more. She examined the cuts on her palms; the blood had almost congealed. The mirror lay at her feet, reflecting the unchanging slab of sky. Tara closed her eyes, unable to cut herself yet again. She couldn't bear to listen to anyone right now, especially Zarku and Kali.

“You're on your own, Tara! And you alone must decide what's right.”

Tara's eyes flew open. Zarku's face was a hairbreadth away from hers. His white-less eyes glittered in his pale face, reminding her of a cobra eyeing its meal.

“Trust no one. As for Layla; just wrap your hands around her neck and squeeze hard. It will only take a few seconds and then it'll be over. Or if you can find the dagger in the ruins of your home, use that. It will be much more effective.” He whispered in her ear, yet she was sure Kali had heard every word.

“Listen to him, Tara, and you'll regret it,” said Kali, leaning closer, too. Tara's nose filled with the unholy stench of death and she could barely breathe. “And when you return, you'll have to deal with me. I can assure you, the time I was your stepmother will seem like a holiday compared to what I'll put you through. And guess who'll also be here to help me?”

Tara squeezed her eyes shut, unable to meet Kali's or Zarku's venomous looks. Part of her still reeled with the shock of hearing that she had more enemies back home. But who could it be she asked herself over and over again. Was it one person or a few? Tara held her aching head in her hands.

A face flashed through her mind momentarily and she shook her head to rid herself of the image. It had been of Ananth.
Don't be silly
, she told herself. She was exhausted and her mind was playing tricks on her. There was no way he could be involved. But then who?

“You better hurry home, Tara. Thanks to my brilliant daughter, things are starting to get very interesting back there,” whispered Kali.

Tara's eyes snapped open again. “What do you mean by that? What's happened now?”

But they were gone. Every last one of them. The landscape was desolate.

Tara was all alone with her thoughts.

— sixteen —
Twenty-Four Hours to Live

“Y
ou have twenty-four hours, Tara,” said Lord Yama. “Just remember, whatever you do, you'll have to live with the decision forever, no matter where you are. So think before you act.”

Tara was back at the edge of the forest. For a moment, she revelled in the warmth of the summer night and the sweat that formed a slick sheen on her skin. Never again would she complain about the heat. It had seeped all the way into her bones, thawing the agonizing chill. She felt alive again and able to think.

Standing at the edge of the forest, she could see that most of Morni was awake. Instead of the shadows and silence that normally cloaked the village at this hour of night, lights shone in windows. The forest seemed subdued; the stillness broken by an occasional chirp of a cricket or the mournful hoot of an owl.