THE FIRST THING I DID was retrieve my sword from the car.
Tomorrow I was going sheath shopping.
I envisioned black leather with a few silver bells, like the ones the Kathak dancers wore, added to the strap.
It was all about accessorizing.
Then I called the Goddess Within for like the 223rd time that day—although I did love doing it outside. Just so I could see my trademark lightning flash across the sky.
Shazam! There it went.
By the time I returned to the lobby, it was empty. Intermission had ended.
Seeing me, the guard smiled.
Then his eyes fell on the sword.
He reached for the gun in his holster. “Hold on right there!”
The guy was packing a bit much for an Indian dance concert.
Even though it had proved less than reliable, I hit him with the Goddess Gaze. “Let me through…just be cool, man…relax.”
Confucius could not have said it better.
A drowsy smile spread over his face. “Relax.” He slumped back against the wall, slowly slid to the floor, and fell asleep.
Huh.
Time to wonder why it happened later. Maybe I’d curl up with a copy of Metaphysics for Dummies or something.
Yanking open the door, I stepped through.
The scariest thing backstage was the way the fluorescent lighting mixed with the brown shag carpeting.
I had a nose for wickedness and followed it down the hall. The sounds of pounding feet and music accompanied my footsteps.
The Green Room was empty. So were the dressing rooms. That left only one more place to look.
Would malevolence be waiting in the wings?
Pushing the door open quietly, I stepped into the darkened interior.
Two female dancers slipped offstage, shot me a curious look, and began whispering in a corner. I recognized them as playing two of Krishna’s gopis.
Wrongness wrapped around me.
It wasn’t coming from the women. I went to the curtain and peered through at the remaining performers on stage.
Nothing.
This was Stanley Kubrick confusing.
“What the hell’s going on?” I murmured.
“Shh!” One of the dancers put her finger to her lips.
“Sorry.”
“Shh!” the other said.
With the “Shh Sisters” shooting me dirty looks, I inspected every inch of the area, trying to determine the source of malevolence. My search was penetrated by periodic and sharp shh-ing.
Finally, I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and centered myself.
“Shh!”
Oh come on!
Ignoring everything around me, I tried to focus. A lifelong fan of sugar and high-action Hollywood block-busters, I was the Queen of Distraction, but I forced myself to concentrate.
The image came to me with Kodak clarity.
Right above my head was a system of pipes…
And one of them was leaking.
Gas had accumulated in the ceiling. And just to make things extra exciting, an electrical short circuit was on the way.
I had to get everyone out.
Thanks to the efficient Universe, there was still time.
I opened my eyes.
Malevolence. But not a person. I didn’t know I could sense stuff like that. I guess I could now function as a sort of disaster early-warning system for things like gas leaks, earthquakes, the release of a Tom Arnold movie…
The two dancers were watching me suspiciously.
“We need to stop the show!” I ran back to the curtain and peered out. How was I going to warn everyone without causing a panic?
One of the dancers grabbed my arm. “Who sent you? Which troupe?”
“What?” She may as well have been speaking HuTu for all I understood. I pulled away and stepped back from the curtain. “Listen, we need to get everyone out. There’s a—”
Her foot shot out faster than you could say “impending explosion” and connected with my abdomen. I fell back, still managing to hold on to my sword.
Taking up a graceful stance, the two dancers faced me and waited.
Dancers.
Hence the incredible leg muscles.
With considerably less grace, I stood and decided not to waste time with the Goddess Gaze. It hadn’t worked on gun-wielding Gwennie, and I highly doubted it would work on them.
Don’t ask me why.
Maybe I’d skip Metaphysics for Dummies and go straight to Metaphysics for Morons.
Anyway, I didn’t want to risk another Kathak kick to my solar plexus.
Time to use my outside voice, as well as my sword.
Grasping the ruby handle, I swung in a warning arc. “Don’t mess with me, girls, you won’t like the results.”
“Our troupe has waited years for an American tour,” one of the Shh Sisters said. “We won’t let you spoil it.”
I stared at them in shock. “There’s a gas leak, you dumb shits!”
“Big deal.” She sniffed. “Half the concert halls in India have gas leaks.”
Okay, enough time wasted. I lunged. Both dancers kicked out together. I stepped aside, protecting my stomach, but it was my right hand they were after. Together their feet came in contact, forcing my hand back, nearly causing me to brain myself with my own weapon. I let go, and the sword went skidding across the floor.
Nice.
So an hour of swordplay on the beach and I wasn’t Olympic fencing material. Surprise, surprise.
Weaponless, I contemplated my options.
I’d have to rely on my wits.
I was seriously screwed.
The gopis came at me with another flurry of kicks, which I managed to avoid by running backward like a total dork until I had my back to the wall.
What I needed was pizzazz.
Pure shock and awe.
I centered myself, connected with the warmth, and visualized a familiar fierce wind.
It began with a tickle on the back of my neck.
The breath of a baby breeze.
And then came the roar of its full-grown mother.
Tempest-force gales had chairs, props, and bottles of water flying. The two dancers watched wide-eyed and struggled to gain hold of something. Too late. They fell and were blown onto the stage.
That took care of them.
Feet spread for support; I threw out my arms. “Stop!”
The wind continued to blow.
“Stop! I command—” I lost my balance, fell, and was blown out with the others.
The wind died down and disappeared.
Really nice.
All the dancers were staring at me. The audience was silent.
A voice erupted from the darkness. “Maya! What Are You Doing?”
Mom.
And she was speaking in capital letters.
In the front row a little boy began to cry.
What chain of events, starting from my birth, had led me to be in this position? Facedown on the stage in front of a bewildered audience.
Especially when everyone knew I hated Kathak.
Though now—
I hated destiny more.