KATHA

32 KALKI - DEAD NIGHT

Now when Sharma kept ignoring me, I left the pillar I was leaning against to look for her myself. Maybe she went in search of restroom and lost her way ? But why wasn't Sharma doing anything about it and why was he avoiding me like I was a lethal plague ? I looked around the room, checked the nearest restrooms and every other on the way just in case she needed some time alone because my Little gazelle never liked crowds. No. No sign of her.

I started to panic, a thousand scenarios unfolding in my head- none of which had the outcome where she was back safe in my arms- as I took the stairs two at a time and proceeded to check the rooms on the first level. I was breathless by the time I reached Sameer's, Bulbul's eldest son's, room and stopped. There. Loud music came from the closed door. I frowned. His mother was hosting a Ball and he decided to have his own little party ?

I moved to push the door open but it was locked so I retrieved my lockpicks and worked until I heard the satisfying click of the lock giving away.

I stepped in and... Froze.

In that fateful moment, I found myself standing at the precipice of a truth I had never expected to uncover, the truth I was chasing after through the dark of the night. The room was shrouded in darkness, the air thick with the coppery stench of blood as Inhin Logon Ne by Lata Mangeshkar blared from the radio, and my heart pounded in my chest as I beheld the scene before me.

There, on the bed, lay the lifeless form of a man, a man who had met a gruesome end if his bloody, mutilated corpse was any indication. Sameer Samrat was tied to the bed with his eyes sewn open, mouth sewn shut, the skin of his torso flayed and his dick chopped off.

Our lovely little serial killer, who was now hiding in the closet, had did him good.

"I must say I'm impressed. Magnificent work of art. Now, I would feel really bad if I couldn't see the artist herself. Come on now, I know you're hiding in here."

Silence.

"See here's a thing. If you don't come out, I'll have to come get you and I assure you it won't be pretty."

Silence.

I could hear my own heartbeat through the loud music at this point. My anticipation and adrenaline getting the best of me.

"I won't report you. If that's what you're worried about. I just want to see your face. That's it. But if you don't come out in next ten seconds, I'll call in the guards."

The white closet door which was now stained in blood opened way too slowly and she stepped out.

My heart stopped.

The entire world ceased to exist around me when my eyes met hers and my blood turned ice in my veins.

The woman I had been relentlessly chasing through the woods, the elusive serial killer who had haunted the alleys of Bombay, was none other than the enigmatic woman that owned my entire being. She stood there dressed in a bloodied schoolgirl uniform. Her short hair was in pigtails and heeled boots made her appear taller. My surprise was a tangle of emotions, a dance between astonishment and an odd sense of admiration. I couldn't help but marvel at the duality of her existence, the stark contrast between the gentle soul that was now merged with mine and the darkness that had driven her to this path.

Her eyes, once sharp and defiant, now held a vulnerable edge, a flicker of fear mingling with her uncertainty. Her carefully constructed defenses lay shattered before me and my woman was standing there, trembling with vulnerability and panic.

"Kathavali..." My voice was a hoarse whisper, the word hanging in the air like a fragile thread.

Her lips parted as if to speak, but no words came forth. The tension around her was palpable, a swirling vortex of our connection and conflicted emotions. She stood frozen, panic in her eyes, her hands trembling as they clutched the weapon that had ended the man's life.