The Haunted Fortress of Bhangarh: Book 1

61. No match

Shweta was still crouched on the ground with her eyes snapped shut because of the fear ruling her heart and also because she tripped and fell down. The events transpiring moments ago were still fresh in her brain, but the screeching of the tables and chairs were no longer audible. Neither could she hear the rattling of the doors and windows. Pages of books and notebooks were no longer shuffling and rustling either, but her breathing was most certainly shallow and her heart was pumping blood at a furious pace. Gasping and wheezing, she patted her cheeks, wiped the perspiration developing, and slowly opened her eyes.

Her gaze went around the empty hall, and she gulped when she saw the individual pages from the books strewn across the floor while the furniture was assembled in a haphazard manner. Most of the chairs were upturned and sprawled. Blinking her eyes, she stood up and glimpsed around herself, unsure if she had seen it right. The lady in red was nowhere perceptible under the bright LED lights of the room—the lights that she surely hadn't switched on, but she could swear that someone dressed in a bridal attire had swooped down on her only moments ago.

Her trembling palms went to wipe the tears spilling out of her orbs, and she looked around to see if she could clamber out of the mess. But the manner in which every piece of furniture and book was splattered across the floor, she probably needed to crawl over the chaos if she were to find an escape. She moistened her lips, swallowed hard, and pushed the leg of an overturned chair out of her path, the screeching echoing inside the empty hall.

That was when she heard it. The low, guttural growl seemed to come from behind her. Terrified she was to peek back, but she was left with no other option as the chairs and the table began moving on their own yet again. Slow at first. Picking up the pace eventually. Until the raucous cacophony pierced her eardrums and her heartbeat intensified once again.

Her lips quivering in fear, she carefully turned around to locate the source of the growl, and as soon as she did swerve, her eyes fell on the scene in front of her, and she was on her knees once again. The malicious grin imprinted on the ghastly features of the woman was visible despite the veil coming down to her chipped nose. The pallor on the skin, the scabby hands, the hollow of the eyes—so damned ghoulish. And if that were not enough, the lady in red did not have her feet on the ground. In fact, she seemed to be crawling upward on the wall with her back leaned against the plastered surface while the creepy smile never left her face.

Shweta's fearful gaze followed every action the lady in red took, and she was unable to utter a single squeak when the spirit chuckled—baleful, sinister, dark. The lights began flickering all over again, and this time it was accompanied by the shattering of the glass windows. The lady in red floated at the height of the ceiling fans, her arms outstretched as she gaped at the petrified woman on the floor.

The glass splinters flew in all directions, and Shweta shrieked out of anguish and agony as they stabbed her skin when they rained from all sides. She tried to shield herself with her arms raised above her head, but the wounds were a bit too deep, and she was steadily losing a lot of blood along with her consciousness.

The bulbs fused, immersing the room in complete darkness, and the lady in red let out an evil cackle when she saw the pool of blood in which Shweta Sharma lay feet below the ceiling she was hovering beneath.

***

Tapping his feet on the ground, Rudra continued waiting for Ishita outside the canteen where she had asked him to meet. She was on her way from the central library, and he was getting impatient since Shweta was still in her department's building, awaiting the duo so that the trio could head home together. However, Ishita was nowhere in sight.

He raked his eyes along the length and breadth of the crossroads he was at. A circular fountain spurted water to add to the aesthetics while four brick-lined walkways crisscrossed each other at right angles, the waterbody being the center point. Four square-shaped gardens with lush green grass on the floor and a few choice shrubberies were swaying on either side of the pathways. Four different buildings stood in all directions leading from the fountain. A strip of gravel and stones decorated the separating line between the grass and the bricks. The sun had already set, and hence the streetlamps were brought into action. The mellow illumination falling directly on the surface of the rippling water cast a pleasant aura all around, and the cool zephyrs of the approaching winter had him bring his leather jacket closer to his body. A few students were roaming around the spot, and their indecipherable chitter-chatter fell on his ears.