Fear the mage of love.

****

The cold bed was like a pyre made out of ice. Over it lay Maya, her eyes open since midnight, lost in thoughts of blood and gore. She wasn't able to sleep even for a minute. Her eyelids grew heavier since dawn, but every time she tried to doze off a sudden push woke her up. She got up with a jerk. Her hair was a messy bundle and her lips as dry as a parched desert.

She chugged down a glass of water. It made her feel better. She splashed some on her face and took a deep breath. It was 7 o'clock in the morning.

She knew the two murders– that of Abhinoy Das and Kamala– were connected. There was a peculiar similarity in their style– blood being drained from the body, and the mark of fangs on the neck. The murderer must have had pity on Kamala before killing her. They didn't turn so cruel, as they were with Abhinoy.

"Was the murderer accompanied by an animal? Was that what attacked both victims on the neck?"

Perhaps a hound. But who pets a hound in this local village?

Unless under supernatural circumstances, a woman would rarely have such physical power, and the murder most probably pointed at the doings of a man. And maybe a hound or a fox.

She had to wait for more clues to come out. Till now, the odd things she saw were the smudged portrait of a woman, the gruesome style of murder and the fact that the Das family didn't want Maya to focus on the death of the girls. The smudged portrait could be a family matter, but the other two were having a common ground.

And oh! The queer marks on Ram's arms and neck... They are very familiar to the ones found on the body of Kamala. He said his previous Master had inflicted the injuries upon him...

Maya's suspicions intensified. Ram knew something and was clearly keeping it a secret.

She changed into a decent attire and went down to the kitchen. It was a random thought she had- often, she would eat raw garlic in the morning. It helped in easy digestion and also supported the immune system. Given that the food in the Das family wasn't quite tasty, and maybe someday would also not be edible, Maya jokingly thought of strengthening her guts.

She found Ram there making chai. A simmering curry was also being cooked. The whole kitchen was kind of plunged into smoke and the fragrance of spices.

Ram turned and saw Maya. He got up and walked to her. "Does memsaheb need anything?"

"Yes. Can I get some raw garlic?"

Ram stiffened. His eyes roved over Maya like she wasn't a human but a hair-raising phantom. His hoarse voice turned cranky. "Why would memsaheb need raw garlic?"

Maya raised a brow. Ram here was a servant; the very fact that he dared to snap at Maya for some garlic told something was indeed not in place. Something was very uncanny about this family.

Ram understood his mistake. He cleared his throat and hung his head. "Apologies, memsaheb, but we don't bring garlic in our house."

"You... you don't cook with garlic?" Her casual action had turned out to be fortuitous!

"No, memsaheb, it's not allowed inside the house."

The corners of her eyes crinkled, her gaze reflecting a mirage of victory. She had stumbled upon something interesting by chance. Maya nodded her head. "This is so bad. I often have garlic in the morning. It keeps people healthy. I think your Boro Babu suffers from digestive problems?"

Ram's eyes widened. "Ye-yes, he-he does."

"Then he should have garlic in the morning. On empty stomach. Though if it's a rule here to not bring garlic, what can I say... "

Ram turned scarlet. "Actually it's because of some niramish and aamish rules. Boro Babu's father introduced this rule in the house."

Maya went and smelled the curry that was cooking. She saw bits of onion in there. If it was really about not touching food which were deemed to be aamish, they would have also not allowed onions in the house. So yes, it's something else.

These little clues held value to her. But she knew questioning Ram further would have no advantage, so she diverted the topic. "This smells delicious."

Ram smiled. "I promise it will taste better. I have been cooking since a really young age. I have mastered this art."

"I bet Khirodh doesn't know how to cook. Of course no one makes pudding without sugar. It tasted so bland, so I had to force the food down my throat."

Ram pursed his lips. Maya saw beads of sweat forming on his wide forehead. He rubbed his bald head. "She is learning. She will cook good food soon."

"Are you going to cook breakfast today?"

"Unfortunately, Khirodh will. I-I suggest that you eat outside. I am really sorry, memsaheb."

"Thanks for informing me. I shall skip breakfast today. Let me roam the village. I will surely get some snacks."

"You can visit Chinku's tea stall. He makes really good toast."

"Alright. Thanks for the recommendation."

Maya stopped near the kitchen entrance. "Ram, how old are you, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Forty, memsaheb."

I see... "Where did you work when you were younger than twenty or so?"

Ram scratched his head. "Nowhere else, memsaheb. My father grew up as a servant in this house. And since I was thirteen I have also worked here. After his death I took over all responsibilities."

"That is a long time. Anyways, cook some good food for me. I will probably come back by the evening."

Little did Ram know what mistake he made.

****

After inquiring from some villagers, she found out where this Chinku's tea stall was. A man, quite friendly and fair, accompanied her till the tea stall. They talked about the beauty of Khatra on the way and about the famous tourist spots. Maya intentionally avoided the topic of the murder. Going around with an impression of an overly enthusiastic detective wouldn't have been propitious.

Maya saw that Raktim was also present there. He was having chai and biscuits. "Hello there, Raktim Babu."

His eyes rose up from the cup of hot chai to see her. Maya had expected him to be upset upon seeing her, but he looked fresh like the first snow. He smiled at her. "If you want some hearty breakfast, you are at the right place!"

"Yes, I was wondering if I can get egg toast here."

The man behind the tea stall, named Chinku, was pouring chai in earthen cups. "Surely. I am getting one for you."

"How much will an egg toast and chai cost?"

"No!" Raktim exclaimed. "You are our guest. No need to pay. I will do it for you. Take it as a treat."

"Oh, so sweet of you!" Maya sat on a bench and waited for her food to arrive.

The man who had brought Maya to the stall sat beside Raktim and elbowed him. He wiggled his brows. "Who is she?" he whispered.

Raktim blushed. "She is the detective." His voice was gruff. "Don't piss her off."

The man heaved a sigh. "So you are treating her because you want to remain out of suspicions?"

"I have no such plan."

"Then you like her?"

Raktim wheezed. "Be quiet!" he hissed. "She will hear."

"I see... " The man grinned.

"Don't dare speak anything odd. She is our guest, so please be respectful. She is here for our own good."

Maya was served the chai and egg toast. Raktim paid for the food and also convinced Chinku to give her some biscuits for free.

Maya enjoyed the egg toast. It was soft and the black pepper and chillies gave it a spicy kick. "Mhm, this one is good."

"You should come here more often. Chinku will give you free biscuits."

"No Raktim Babu, you are going to make his business go downhill."

"Oh you can just call me Raktim."

The other customers stared at Raktim. He shifted uncomfortably in his position. The man sitting beside him cleared his throat. "He is a very good doctor. He sometimes even checks patients for free."

Maya squinted at Raktim. "I know. I have seen myself."

Raktim looked down at his feet and continued to sip the chai. After some time, a strangely cute event occurred, which grabbed the attention of Maya.

A crow came. It hopped and walked towards Raktim's feet and pulled at his pants. Raktim's face brightened instantly. "Oh, here is my puchu bird."

Maya's ears perked up.

Raktim wet his biscuit in the chai and gave it to the crow. It happily ate the snack and flew away.

"Puchu, eh?" Maya asked.

Raktim's cheeks flushed. "They come to me. They are my friends. I have seen them so many times that I know who is who, and have given them names."

"That's... adorable."

Maya finished her food. "How about you show me around a bit?" she asked Raktim.

The doctor beamed. "Why not! Here, let me quickly finish this last biscuit." He gobbled in two at once, eating like a child running late to school. He dusted his hands and then gestured to Maya to follow him. "How about we go to my house? Of course, if you don't have a problem. I will cook some lunch for you. I promise you will be left wanting for more."

"I like the idea."

"Anyways the Das family has only one decent cook, Ram. The rest just fail in the kitchen."

"You know that?"

Raktim mockingly laughed. "I ate at their house once. I regret it."

"I was thinking if you have that special affection towards the Das for which you didn't take money from Kalikacharan Babu. Now I hear you do that to many more."

"I don't charge from people who are unable to provide me anything."

His voice was grave, as if filled with pebbles at the bottom of the dark pit, made heavier with each passing second, maybe even a bit melancholic. Maya instantly knew it wasn't just about money. She would remember Raktim's words and analyse them later.

Finally, they reached his home. His house was made of bricks and cement, and not a hut, unlike those of many villagers. It had only a ground floor and a terrace. It was not painted outside and the solidified grey colour of the cement made it appear very boring. The windows were brown in colour, making it even more dull. The small garden in front of his house indicated the meagre amount of fine taste that the doctor owned. Raktim opened the door and welcomed Maya in.

The house was a little too big to contain just one human. On stepping her foot inside, Maya's eyes fell on the shelves of medicines and stack of papers on the table, along with a half eaten banana. There were pots of water in one corner. Following Raktim she entered the second room, which had a bed and some trunks, and a little place of worship. Attached to this was a kitchen, and far beyond she saw another door which was locked.

"Please take a seat."

Maya sat on the bed while Raktim went to the kitchen. Maya craned her neck and saw his house was full of vegetables. Bowls of food were kept in order with lids covering them. Does he always have so much food in his house?

Raktim came with a glass of water. "Here."

Maya drank it. "You must eat a lot," she said, her eyes pointing to the kitchen.

Raktim's cheeks reddened. "I do have an appetite."

"You are so tall and huge. You surely need a lot. And look at me, I am an ant when compared to you."

"An ant with brains."

They laughed over the joke. Raktim took a chair and sat on it. "So, how do you find Khatra?"

"Very murderous to be honest."

Raktim flinched. "I know... Kamala died. She was going to become a devadasi. But she got killed."

"This is the fifth murder."

Raktim's brows wrinkled. "And still no one seems to be caring. They are not scared, they are actually cowards. They don't want to know why this is happening."

"As if you do?"

Raktim clenched his fist. "I wish I knew. But I don't know everything."

"So you do want to confront it."

Raktim glared at nothing in particular. "I will."

"The Das family don't want me to focus here, but instead on the death of their youngest son. My mind says otherwise, that I need to look after both."

"It's best if you avoid this case of Abhinoy. It's a gross and terrible family issue. I don't care about who dies there and who doesn't. What matters to me is that innocent girls should not die!"

"You mean to say Abhinoy wasn't innocent?"

"No one in that house is sane. They are weird people with weird habits." Raktim gulped. His eyes flickered to and back from Maya and his lap. He rubbed his beard. "It's best that you don't indulge in the affairs of the Das. Better, find who is killing the kumaris."

"I am wondering if it's the same killer." Because you think they are different?

"That you will have to find out. I really don't understand what's going on!"

"And all the girls killed are kumaris?"

"Yes. Unmarried virgin girls."

Silence brewed an awkwardness in the air. Maya's stomach churned. "I think that's all I need to know for now."

"Please save the girls. They are dying. Khatra is dying." Raktim got up and went to the kitchen to prepare Maya's lunch.

Maya was left confused. Raktim thought the two killers were different, while the style of murder had eerie similarities. She had to rely on not the judgement of someone else but on her own. She could extract information from him; he seemed helpful, even though wary of the Das family.

Well, who wasn't wary of them? Even Maya felt her intestines twist at the very thought of that house. Something was petrifying about that family.

Something Maya couldn't point out yet, but would be able to soon.