Chasing Death

Chapter 9

"Death isn't a solution to any problems. It creates more problems somehow."

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"So, let's go over the details once more," Mrithun insisted. "You need to know exactly what you'll do at every step and improvise your techniques when needed."

I wasn't even listening to him. My eyes were still transfixed on my skin. It was now soft azure and glowing with an unearthly light. It glistened and glimmered as I turned and admired each angle in the large mirror that Mrithun had whisked in from somewhere. My jet black hair was styled into a messy bun atop my head with ringlets of hair hanging down the sides and soft strands framing my face.

"So you enter the compound confidently and walk straight. If anyone confronts you regarding your purpose, show them this business card," he continued, unmindful of whether I was listening.

He clicked his fingers and a little flame danced between his fingers before it formed a little white card and settled on his open palm. He extended it to me.

I turned around and my dress swished with me, the fabric flapping like wings. The tiny sapphires set on the hem of the dress glittered in the dim light of the office.

I took the card from him and turned it over.

"Is this from the House of Kuber?" I raised an eyebrow, tracing the gold holographic logo at the top of the thick paper.

"His business card. He gave it to me when he came to brag about his stuff," he shrugged.

"Thankfully, you didn't burn it then," I giggled.

"I had thought of it, trust me. But it had somehow stayed. Maybe it was meant to stay for such a day," he winked. There was a certain boyish charm to his smile, though his appearance was the farthest thing from a boy.

"So, you show this card and tell them..."

"That Madame Fates wanted some dresses altered," I recited like a parrot.

The dress sitting on me was one of the deepest shades of midnight blue with a V-neck bodice and a knee-length skirt. Mrithun had woven an ankle-length dress at first, but I had tripped over so much that he was forced to change it to a frock style one. Little specks of gold were scattered over the bodice. I had objected, but Mrithun was determined that Kuber would not do any compromise on the show of extravagance, even for his assistants.

"Yes, good. And what if they tell you that they'd confirm with their maids?"

"I'd tell them it's a wardrobe emergency and that they preferred to keep the matters within her most trusted people," I answered, touching the beautiful ruffles on the cap sleeves. The dress shimmered with gold undertones whenever the light hit it at angles. Gold — the colour of Kuber and the fates. I'd rather be draped in silver than in gold.

"And then you go straight into their chambers and..." He got up from his chair and took a step forward.

"Butter them with my sweet words," I rolled my eyes. "I know, Mrithun. I'm not a kid. You don't need to spoon-feed me."

"I thought you didn't even listen," he whispered almost at my neck.

He had crept up behind me and our reflections were now in the mirror together. His deep back shirt almost made him a part of the surroundings, but I couldn't help notice how beautifully my dress was complementing his shirt. We could as well be going out on a date.

"I did." I made a little pout of disapproval.

"Ever since I transformed you, you were too busy admiring your dress," he laughed. "Typical womanly traits."

His hands rose in the air. For a moment I wondered if he would hold my shoulders. Something flashed in his eyes and he lowered his hands abruptly.

Ugh! Why did Death have such strong self-restraint?

"Because the dress is beautiful and so sophisticated," I whispered, still gazing into the eyes of his reflection in the mirror.

"Sophistication is in the way one carries a dress," he remarked.

"But you gave me a real dress, made with material threads," I said, whipping around suddenly. "I want to wear one of those dresses like the Fates, something that clings to their body and looks so effortless."

"Look who's interested in playing dress-up all of a sudden," he chortled. "Someone once told me she hates dresses?" Mischief shone clear in his eyes.

"Would you rather I go there wearing my old T-shirt?"

"No please." He folded his hands in a comical gesture. "No more innovations in this plan. As it is, the plan is perilous."

"I'll do it well, don't worry. Only if I could get one of those dresses..."

His face fell.

"I was joking. Chill out, man." I mock punched his chest. He laughed again.

"They make those dresses from celestial threads. It'll burn a mortal if she tries to wear it," he admitted.

"But then, how do I pretend to be a seamstress or whatever, without touching any of the dresses?" I asked.

"Practical problem," he mused, running his fingers over his fuzzy beard.

"Don't pull out your beards thinking for a solution," I joked. "Just give me a pair of gloves or something, which will be infused with a protection charm from the corrosive power of celestial threads."

He waved his hands in the air. A little silvery streak erupted midair and darted at my hand. I raised my left arm in surprise and the little twisting wisp encircled my wrist and formed a thin bracelet. It was like a whisper of silver.

"That's like more like a fashion statement. Gloves are outdated." His eyebrows danced.

"Wow!" I clasped it gently, admiring the sleekness. "What can it do?"

"It has a minor protection charm. The charm of Death," he mused. "It's not strong enough to mark you with the shadows, but it's enough to protect you from any minor spells someone might cast stealthily."

"Wait, people can be marked with Death?"

Trust me to pick one little irrelevant thing out of a bunch of relevant things.

"Yeah, I mark the people working under me or with me, with the mark of Death . It's kind of staking a claim on them."

"Can you mark me?" I asked suddenly.

"Why would I do that?" he laughed. "Marking you is almost like a binding contract between me and you. You can't leave this realm then."

"Maybe I don't want to," I whispered to myself, turning away.

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A/N What do you think will Tora find in the office of the Fates? Will their little disguise work against the eternal magic of the Fates?

Mythology References

Kuber - Kuber is  the God of wealth and the God-king of the semi-divine Yakshas in Hindu culture. He is regarded as the regent of the North (Dik-pala), and a protector of the world (Lokapala). His many epithets extol him as the overlord of numerous semi-divine species and the owner of the treasures of the world. Kubera is often depicted with a plump body, adorned with jewels, and carrying a money-pot and a club.