Destruction won't touch the holy.

****

For some moments, Maya was of the belief that she had gone blind. Everything was dark and only blobs of light floated in her vision. Though before she could panic, the piece of fabric was removed from her eyes. Colours returned, although not happiness.

Maya was bound with ropes and a gag prevented her from speaking. She was sitting against a pillar of sort, and in front of her stood Ritabhari. The detective struggled with the bondages, curses piling up beneath her tongue. The dancer didn't smirk or show amusement at Maya's state. Her pretty eyes were laden with guilt and apparent genuine concern. However, her hands were not trying to be innocent. She tightened the knots that kept Maya in place.

"It's not my fault. I am helpless," Ritabhari said. "I will have to follow Mrinjay Babu's orders. I am his servant."

Maya groaned and rolled her eyes. If only her hands were free, she would have slapped the dancer. Maybe even strangle her.

"You must stay here and watch everything unfold. I am telling you from beforehand, so that you can be ready for the brutality. Mrinjay Babu excuses me and I don't need to stay here. But he won't let you run." Ritabhari wrapped her arms around her body to guard from the cold. "He is going to kill you."

Maya despised that pity in the dancer's eyes. Ritabhari claimed she was disturbed even after the death of Kamala, and yet allowed the child to be sacrificed for the sake of her own life. Now, the dancer was putting Maya at stake. Perhaps the false, made-up sense of pity allowed Ritabhari to feel human enough, rise above the clutches of the crime she was a participant in. The tears that brimmed in her eyes comforted her with the promise of humanity emerging from the debris of bloody murders. It gave Ritabhari the freedom to reduce herself from a criminal to a mere accomplice, and ultimately to a woman who was a victim.

She was, as if, acting in a play, the leniency and tears elevating the emotional depth of her performance. All this was a show put up to save her dignity and paint her in the shades of a helpless heroine caught by villainous men.

Ritabhari placed a hand upon her heart and sighed. She went and removed the gag from Maya's mouth. The latter coughed and panted. Ritabhari extended her hand to caress her cheek, but Maya snapped her neck to the side. It hurt badly, but the pain was soothing. "You didn't help me in any way by telling me I am going to die."

"I know I cannot help you, and I am sorry."

"You are living in an illusion, Ritabhari. You convince yourself of the ruth happenings, tell yourself you bleed for me. But in reality, Ritabhari, you never really cared for me and neither Kamala. You only weaved a so-called fragile notion of clemency to feel better about the crimes you were committing, which you could have very well helped in stopping. But you didn't. You chose to be bad, but you please your heart by narrating the tale of a defenseless dancer."

Maya stared daggers at the woman, breaking her every barrier with the sharp glance. Ritabhari's lips puckered when Maya was speaking. Now, she looked away to the towering trees and the abandoned mansion behind. The building was once the property of the Das only, but they gave up on it centuries before. Now, this was being put to use as a sacrificial ground, the decomposed remains a silent witness of gory deaths.

"Look at me, Ritabhari, face the truth–"

Ritabhari raised her hand to land a smack on Maya's cheek. The reaction caught both off-guard. Maya was seething with rage, while Ritabhari slowly retreated her hand and clenched her fist.

"You are a whore, Ritabhari. You really are."

"I know what I am doing, Maya. And let me ace this act. Whatever may happen in my life, I am always going to ensure that I remain a chaste and guileless woman."

"You nasty–" Maya was unable to spit out the venomous words as Ritabhari put the gag back. The detective sat helpless, watching the dancer take a torch and alight the yagna kund. An enormous fire birthed out of the union, desiring to kiss the night sky. The sparks flew to the nearby leaves, burning away the greens slowly. Flames wiped out every hope. Maya found the holy fire lacking any sacredness. It was just a reminder of what happened and would happen again.

She prayed to Shiva and Shakti, wishing her words would be conveyed to the gods through the fire that was first and foremost the friend of divinity. The heat warmed her skin. But the pleasure that could have otherwise been derived during a chilling night was locked away in a box of unreachable comforts. After much futile struggle, exhaustion washed over Maya and she sat still, merely observing what Ritabhari did.

The dancer placed a mat in front of the yagna kund and brought the things required for the ritual. There were incense sticks, urns filled with ashes, honey and clarified butter. Maya saw many vials of blood, and some empty ones too, which she suspected would be used to keep the blood of the next victim Mohini.

Her eyes widened. Well, where was Mohini then?

"I am going to leave now. May we never meet again." Ritabhari shot her a look of pure disgust and hurried out of the spot.

Alone, Maya studied the ancient ruins. Silent and weathered, the abandoned abode stood hand-in-hand with the echoes of a bygone era. Crumbling stone walls, adorned with intricate carvings were witness to the passage of centuries. Nature's reclaiming touch was evident, with vines weaving through the cracks and moss carpeting the once-grand structure. A haunting stillness pervaded the air, interrupted only by the occasional rustle of leaves or distant calls of wildlife.

The crunching sound of feet stepping over dried leaves alerted Maya. Out of the veil of darkness came Mrinjay, dressed like a priest in red. It brought back unpleasant memories for Maya. She tasted old fears and limitations, suddenly so aware of being a woman who perhaps could never match the physical strength of a man. And in this case, it was not just a man but also a bloodthirsty vampire. She was living in a nightmare from which she couldn't awake. Her mother wouldn't come and shake her, sprinkle on her face water and scold her to leave for work. No, her family wasn't around, and she wasn't asleep. She wished she was, but those were called wishes for a reason.

They would never be fulfilled.

Mrinjay knelt in front of her, his face dangerously close. Maya smelled wine in his breath. His eyes were red like a monster's.

"You were brought here by Ram, my loyal servant. He is a nice man. He respects me, the shelter and food I provide, unlike some."

The air thick with tension, Maya's hands frantically worked against the coarse resistance of tightly bound ropes. Fingers strained themselves in attempts to find freedom. Each subtle movement was met with the unforgiving pull of restraint.

Fortunately, Maya found one sharp edge, probably some uneven wood or other object protruding out of the pillar. Making sure that Mrinjay didn't notice, she slowly rubbed the knots against it, feeling the fibre tearing apart.

"You are a criminal Maya. You didn't save my brother Manihar. You let him die, and as a revenge, I will kill you tonight. Not just you, but Mohini too. In front of your eyes will I sacrifice her to the eternal Lord Raktabeej in return for supremacy of my legacy." Mrinjay stood up and dusted his shawl. "I will delight myself by bathing in the blood of that virgin, and then you. Don't worry, I am not going to extract bliss from between your legs. Maybe I would have, had you been better, but I don't want to waste my time on such a lowly being as you. You are a petty mortal."

You aren't doing me a favour, Maya thought bitterly. Mrinjay turned his back to her and sat for the yagna. He chanted and fed the fire, watching it rise higher and higher, above the tall trees and reach the void above.

"Ritabhari, bring Mohini to me."

He whispered it to the winds that carried the message to his woman. There was a connection between the two– Ritabhari could be summoned any moment he wanted. Her body and soul belonged to him, and when both were slaves of the lecherous vampire, the mind also became caged.

As if answering the call of her master, the sound of chiming anklets became louder and clearer. Mrinjay smiled, hoping to see the dancer bring Mohini, bedecked in jewels and anointed with mustard oil.

Ritabhari did come. She kept her promise to her master.

The last promise.

Staggering under the influence of a recent attack, a gaping wound opened in the chasm of her bosom. It bled profusely, maligning the ritual ground. Marks of fangs lined up the supple skin of her neck. When she the light of the fire made her glow, Mrinjay gaped upon seeing her pale face. It was twisted in the ugliest fashion, her lips stretched and moved to one side of the face, as if an anomaly of creation. Her limbs quivered and she fell to the ground as a seizure conquered her.

Soon, she stopped moving altogether. Life escaped. Her eyes were open wide, staring up at the smoke collecting above the fire. Forever.

Before Mrinjay could comprehend what was happening, Mohini came, dressed in a red benarasi like a bride and wearing heavy ornaments of gold. They covered her chest and hands, their sparkle rivaling the glory of the fire. In her hand was the bloodied dagger which had killed Ritabhari.

She breathed heavily. Curls on her head flew like snakes on the head of Medusa. She was the living image of rebellion and refusal to submission. Blood trickled down her hands and to the soil.

"I won't die," she declared. "I won't."

Mrinjay, at once, threw away his shawl and howled like a beast. He set off to catch Mohini. The girl was too horrified to move even an inch and ducked below. Favour was on her side, for Mrinjay's claws didn't reach her. When she opened her eyes, she saw the blackened skin of Mrinjay, now transformed. His fangs dripped with saliva and his eyes were filled with blood. Yet, he hung in the moment, unable to touch her.

Another being pulled him from behind.

"Not when I am still alive, Mrinjay."

The vampire turned his head. A guttural noise escaped his lungs. "Raktim..."

Raktim gestured Mohini to free Maya. The girl removed the ropes and gags. They stood at a safe distance from the two creatures of the night.

Raktim unbuttoned his tunic and threw it to the ground. "Let us settle this once and for all." He cracked his knuckles and tilted his head. "I am your villain. I am the killer. So face me and not the women. They are at no fault."

"You will regret this, Raktim," Mrinjay hissed. "I will give you the most agonising death."

"That is the fate of us vampires and dhampirs. We aren't blessed with a happy death. So let it be." Raktim's eyes scintillated in the shine of the fire. "I will die one day, but not today."

"You are the curse upon my family!" Mrinjay shouted like a lover shunned by the joys of life. "You ate away my peace. You destroyed what could have been my dream fulfilled."

"I know I am a curse, Mrinjay, and you shouldn't expect anything good out of me. I am a worthless, good-for-nothing, defiled being. I tarnish the lives of those around me. I befoul Khatra with my presence while you are its celebration."

Mrinjay didn't like the mocking smile pasted on the dhampir's face. "As the rightful owner of Khatra, I am going to kill you today and gift your soul to Raktabeej. May he do what he sees fit."

"And as the rightful villain of Khatra," Raktim's fangs became visible, "I am going to kill you today and gift your soul to Kalika. May she do what she sees fit."

"Let's see who survives– the heir to the Das or the sullied bastard."

Mrinjay's body turned a blackish purple, reminiscent of night skies before a stormy shower. His skin, cracked like a desert and hot as red coal, smelled of burnt wood. Raktim, contrasting his onyx appearance became as white and pale as snow. A pair of clarets replaced his eyes, so crimson and otherworldly. He looked more bloodless than the Das, resembling the tint of wraiths which guarded imaginary forests.

Hypnotised by the strange avatar, Maya was transfixed by the dhampir's real form. The veins that poked against Raktim's skin and adorned his muscles pulsated with anticipation of what was going to happen. He blinked at Maya and gave her a nod, a quiet assurance. Maya gulped; she had not visualised Raktim as a monster ever, even if it was knowledge that he was one. Tears welled up in her eyes. She bit on her lower lip to keep them at bay.

Then, thunder crashed into thunder, and the two beasts clashed in what was to be the most sinister fight of Khatra.

Their movements were a blur as they weaved through the darkness a symphony of supernatural speed and agility. Fangs bared, they confronted each other in a dance of lethal grace. The sound of hissing and the metallic clank of fangs made the earth quake. The men grappled with an intensity that reverberated through the air. Sinewy muscles were locked in a primal struggle for dominance. Sweat glistening on their determined faces mixed with blood. Grips tightened and released, fingers interlocking in a desperate contest of strength.

Each tried to dig their fangs into the neck of the other. They clawed at each other's skin. Raktim's muscles proved to be more powerful as he pushed Mrinjay to the ground and attacked his neck. The vampire screamed in pain and yanked himself away from the grip. He swayed from side to side under the effects of the almost fatal bite. Raktim paused and stood to take a breath. The girls were frozen on spot. Maya kept Mohini in place, who was stressing out to help the dhampir. Maya knew they were no equals and this wasn't their fight.

Heaving a sigh, Maya looked at Mrinjay, only to realise it was too late. In his hand was the silver dagger from Benoy's room. From where did he get it? Maya had no time to theorize. With lightning speed he raced towards Raktim, vowing to end the fight at once.

"Raktim!" Maya ran and stood in front of Raktim just in time, who now raised up his head to face utter shock. The dagger slashed across Maya's chest. She clutched the bleeding wound and fell to the ground.

Mrinjay cursed under his breath. "Damn it! I could use it only once a night. You ruined my plan, Maya!"

Raktim cradled Maya in his lap. "No, don't lose consciousness! Stay awake, please. Stay awake!"

Maya's bosom rose and drowned in an erratic rhythm. "End...it..."

"I will–" Before he could finish, Mrinjay dig his fangs into Raktim's neck and drew out blood. Raktim wriggled in his grip and tried to free himself, but to no avail. When Mrinjay was done, Raktim fainted.

"He will be like this for some time. I need to finish off you two by then." Mrinjay rubbed his hands and pulled the unconscious body of Raktim to the side.

Maya got up and tottered away. She slid down against the bark of the tree. "It's over," Maya said. Mohini shook her head in denial. "I am injured. I can't fight. Run away from here, Mohini. Don't worry about me."

"But Maya–"

"I am older to you. This is my command."

"No one is going anywhere," Mrinjay ordered. "Come Mohini, let me drink your blood and satiate my thirst."

Mohini grunted. "No." With wobbly knees, she walked back, moving farther away from Mrinjay. The black beast followed her, his gait relaxing and self-assured. Confidence oozed out of his smug smile. Mohini's beautiful saree got torn and tattered by the twigs and branches. At one point she found herself turning her back and running, yet the vampire was just few steps behind her. The relentless darkness engulfed her all around. She could see nothing and just ran wherever her legs took her.

Only to return back to the ritual ground. The fire of the yagna kund was still blazing.

"Poor girl." Mrinjay chuckled. "It is such an entertaining sight to see the prey beg for life."

"No no!" Mohini cried. "I won't beg you. I will jump in the fire." With one deep breath, she leant forward. Alas, she wasn't destined to choose how to die, not tonight at least. Mrinjay held her by the hair like a doll of rags.

He lifted her up in the air. "I will drain your blood, then steal your life, and dump your body in the temple of Kalika. Let her mourn over her devotee's death."

He brought his face closer to her neck. Opening his mouth, he gave her a glimpse of the abyss within. Mohini flailed in his arms and cried like a witch of the undead, of which she was to become a part.

But it wasn't her fate.

Like a tiger pouncing on its prey, the gigantic beast of Raktim growled a battle cry and rained over Mrinjay.  This time, he looked completely transformed. His eyes, no longer crimson, were dipped in the darkness that surrounded them. The sclera was swamped by an utter black hole sucking in every life around. Hollow gaze drenched in blood, ichor trickled down his eyes and fangs. He was crying blood and drinking the same. Parched skin and crooked claws made him equivalent to the horrifying monsters from legends.

Maya forgot to breathe. In front of her wasn't the gentlemanly doctor, or even the merciful dhampir who owned a heart, but a true pisach that haunted at night. Raktim's roaring laughter made Maya shiver. He put his claws under Mrinjay's skin, pulling apart the layers one by one, skinning him alive. Flesh covered in blood, sweet to the lips of Raktim, were scooped out and thrown like an offering to the fire. Mrinjay, cursed to be alive, now begged for mercy.

"Ah..." His voice disembodied like a demon's sounded hoarse and rough. "Kill me. Kill me."

But Raktim took time. With care he pulled out the skin from his face, pressed his eyeballs so hard that they would smash. And yet, Mrinjay would be cursed with life.

Maya couldn't help but cower at the devil that Raktim was. In all true sense she realised his core. Destruction– this was what it looked like, and Raktim was its harbinger. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She hated Mrinjay, but this was too much for her to handle. The wound didn't help either, and she began losing her mental and physical strength. Maya's vision became hazy. Unable to keep up anymore, she closed her eyes and fell into a slumber, not knowing if she would see the world's sunshine ever again.

Unlike Maya, Mohini was awestruck by this new Raktim. Like she worshipped Kalika, she fell to her knees and joined her hands in a namaskara, showing reverence to the ultimate protector of Khatra. Raktim took time with draining the blood of Mrinjay and filling the vials with it.

Finally, it was time to spare the vampire.

"Now, I have pity on you, Mrinjay Das, and no longer shall I hurt you." He took the same silver dagger that Mrinjay had used. "This is just another weapon to me now, devoid of magic and malice, but enough to kill you. Isn't it, Mrinjay?"

Pungent liquid crawled out of Mrinjay's mouth. He stared at the dagger, deep in a coma where only senses lived but no action.

His end had come.

"The bastard lives."

In one swift move, Raktim pierced the dagger in Mrinjay's heart and brought out the beating organ.

Ladies and gentlemen, here we have the, sort of, ending chapter. Not officially the end, but here justice has been served. Finishing touches still left.

My formal attitude just doesn't go with the brutality Raktim displayed. Maya is scared and I can't blame her.

Anyways, what do you guys think of this? What are you feeling like? Would you be able to see Raktim do all that? What is going to happen next, you think?

Is someone coming? 👀

This was a long, long, chapter. Around 3400 words. I didn't want to break it because of the flow. Hope you enjoyed reading!