I think of Paula, who caught a cab from the hospital. Running out into the night with twenty thousanddollars in cash and a beautiful baby boy wrapped in a hospital receiving blanket. All because a new friend told her she was in danger. Then again, she had her dreams to warn her. Odd how the old man she described in her dream looked like the guy who was guarding the ice-cream truck.
"You look very nice tonight. But I know you're in a hurry."
Who was that guy?
It is a mystery that will have to be solved another time.
I make no effort to hide my approach. I know it would be useless to do so. Nevertheless I move as a human moves. My steps are tentative, my breathing tight. The muscles of my face are pinched with anxiety and my shoulders are slumped forward in defeat. Yet my performance goes unheeded as Kalika continues to feed the birds and doesn't glance up until I am practically on top of them. I pause twenty feet short of the end of the pier. By this time Seymour is looking at me with a mixture of hope and terror. He cannot help but notice I don't have the child with me. The sight of Eric's spurting arteries must have dug deep into his brain. He has little of his usual confidence, although he struggles to make up for it. He forces a smile.
"I'm glad you're not late," he says, and gestures to the moon, which was full the previous night, when Paula's child was born. "Lovely evening, isn't it?"
"I am here," I say to Kalika. "Let him go."
She stares at me now, a handful of pigeons still pecking at the crumbs beside her sandaled feet. Her long white dressI have never seen it beforeis beautiful on her flawless figure, the silky material moving in the moonlit breeze, hugging her mature curves. The birds scatter as she brushes her hands and slowly rises.
"I did not think you would bring the child," she says calmly.
"But I came myself. Release Seymour."
"Why should I?"
"Because I am your mother and I'm requesting this. That should be reason enough."
"It's not."
"He's young. He should not be brought into our affairs."
At that Kalika smiles faintly. "I am young as well, Mother. I should be forgiven any indiscretions I might have committed during my short life."
"Do you need my forgiveness?"
"I suppose not." There is one bird that continues to eat at her feet. Kalika bends back down, plucks it into her hands, and straightens. She strokes the pigeon's feathers and whispers something in its ear. Then she speaks to me. "You should know by now that it's not a good idea to lie to me."
"You force me to lie to you," I say. "Your complaint is absurd."
"Still, it's your habit. You have lied through the ages. You see nothing wrong in it."
"I would have told a million lies to have saved that boy's life." I add, "But you must know I hate to lie to those I love."
Kalika continues to stroke the bird. "Do you love me, Mother?"
"Yes."
She nods in approval. "The truth. Do you love Seymour?"
"Yes."
"Would you be upset if I ripped off his head?"
"I hope this is not a trick question," Seymour mutters.
"You must not hurt him," I say. "He's my friend, and he's done nothing to you. Let him go now and we can talk about the child."
Kalika is once again the master manipulator. She holds up the pigeon. "What about this bird? Should I let it go? Just let it fly away and complete this particular birth? You should know, Old One, that it doesn't matter if I do or if I don't. Whenever the bird dies, the bird will simply be reborn. It is the same with humans. If you kill one, it will in time be reincarnated in another body. Perhaps Eric and Billy will both be reborn in better conditions. Eric was not in the best shape when he died." She pauses and coos in the bird's ear again. "What do you think, Mother?"
There is something disturbing in her question, in her examples, besides the obvious. Maybe she is honestly trying to tell me something about her inner state, who she is, what she really is. It is said many times in the Vedas that whenever a demon dies in Krishna's hands, that demon gains instant liberation. But there are fewer books written about Kali's incarnation, her many exploits; and I am not yet ready to accept that my daughter is in fact the real Kali. Of course, I could ask her directly but the mere thought of doing so fills me with apprehension. Many things do: the way she holds the bird close to her mouth; her quick glances at Seymour; the steadiness of her gaze as she studies me, missing nothing. It is impossible to gauge what she will do next, and when she will do it. I try as best I can to answer her, trying to think what Krishna would say to her. Really, I am no saint; I cannot preach morality without sounding like a hypocrite.
"There is a meaning behind each life," I say. "A purpose. It doesn't matter if humans or birds live thousands of lives before they return to God. Each life is valued. Each time you take one, you incur bad karma."
"That is not so." She brushes the bird against the side of her face. "Karma does not touch me. Karma is for humans, and vampires."
She reproaches me, I realize, for being exactly what I tried not to be. "These last few centuries I have seldom killed without strong reason," I say.
"Eric and Billy died for a reason," she says.
"For what reason did Eric die?"
"To inspire you."
I am disgusted. "Do I look inspired?"
"Yes," she says. "But you did not answer my earlier question, about Seymour's head." She takes a dangerous step toward him. Seymour jumps and I don't blame him. But I catch his eye; I don't want him to make any more sudden moves. Kalika continues, "Would you be upset if I ripped it off?"
I have a choice to make and I must make it quickly. Before she can move any closer to Seymour, I can attack. If I leap forward, I can kick her in the nose and send her nasal cartilage into her brain and kill her. Seymour wouldn't even see my blow. Kalika would simply be dead. But I am still twenty feet from my daughter, not an ideal distance. She could react in time and deflect my blow. Then, before I could recover, Seymour would die.
I decided to wait. To be patient.
I wonder if my patience is grounded in my attachment to Kalika.
She is my daughter. How can I kill her?