Karthik's father paced the temple's outer corridor, the phone call with Harry replaying in his mind. He had to tell Karthik. But how? The thought of his son's empty, hollow-eyed state after the "test" made him cautious. He ran through different scenarios, each one feeling wrong. Should he tell him over dinner, letting the news sour their meal? Write a letter and leave it on his bed, a coward's approach? Telling his son anything had never been this hard, but the fear that this news could break him for good made every word feel impossibly heavy.
...
Meanwhile, in his office, Harry sat staring at a wall, drumming his fingers on his desk. His concentration was broken. A woman entered the room without knocking, her presence announced by the soft jangling of beads and charms. She wore a simple, orangish-brown saree, and her arms were adorned with talismans and blessed strings.
She stood in front of his desk. Harry didn't look up. "Did his father contact us?" he asked, his voice sharp. "What did he say? When will the boy join?"
He didn't show it, but he was on edge. The woman, his lead attendant, hesitated. "No, Harry. There has been no contact from them."
"Oh. Really," Harry replied, his fingers stopping their drumming.
The woman shifted, clearly uneasy. "Sir... is it really necessary to let that kid join? He's just a child. You know how... unpredictable... these things can be."
Harry's eyebrows twitched, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. But he didn't shout. He leaned back, his expression turning cold and analytical. "Yes, it's dangerous. For him, and for us. If he fails in a critical moment, we're all done for. But it will be fine, as long as we keep him away from the real dangers."
He steepled his fingers, looking at her for the first time. "He's an opportunity. He has a lot of... conviction. And as you well know, in this business, true power comes from belief."
After a few more minutes of silence, Harry's impatience won. He grabbed his phone and dialed. On the third ring, Karthik's father picked up.
"Hello, sir. This is Harry. I'm calling about Karthik. Will he be joining us?" he asked, all business.
On the other end of the line, Karthik's father took a few seconds to steel himself. He closed his eyes, saw his son's haunted face, and made his choice. "Yes," he said, his voice heavy. "He will."
"We look forward to working with your son," Harry replied smoothly, then hung up the call.
...
Karthik's father stood frozen, the phone still in his hand, a sense of helplessness washing over him. He was sending his son into danger.
"What are you doing, just standing there and staring at the wall?"
He turned. It was his wife, her hands on her hips, a confused look on her face. He couldn't tell her the truth. She couldn't handle the reality of ghosts and exorcists.
"It's about Karthik," he said, forcing his voice to sound steady. "I've decided to send him to a special school in the city, to help him be more productive."
His wife's face turned furious. "A school in the city?" she shrieked, grabbing a nearby steel tumbler and throwing it. It clanged harmlessly against the wall. "Who told you that you could make that decision alone? Karthik is my son, too!"
With a heavy heart, her husband faced her. "It's for our son's success, dear. Will you really stand in the way of that?"
His wife, who had almost always deferred to his decisions, stood her ground. "I will! He's just a boy. I won't have you sending him away!"
The argument grew, their voices rising, until they finally came to a tense, uneasy conclusion: Karthik himself would decide. His mother was confident he would say no. He had always loved his home and hated leaving, even for a vacation.
...
Soon, Karthik came home from his walk. His father was waiting for him at the entrance. "Karthik," he said, pulling his son gently to the side. "About 'Light in the Shadow'... Harry called. He said you can join them."
Karthik looked shocked, his eyes wide. "But... but I failed, Appa. How can I go back?"
His father put a hand on his shoulder, his gaze firm. "Karthik, I have seen you staring at that graveyard. I see you walk that road every day. Don't hold back for us." He leaned in. "I will convince your mother. But she cannot know the real reason. Don't tell her about the ghosts. She can't handle it."
Karthik looked at his father, a new, profound understanding and gratitude in his eyes. He nodded.
Later, his mother approached him, her eyes soft. "Your father told me about this school. Do you really want to go to the city?"
Karthik looked at his mother's loving, worried face. He had to lie. "Yes, Amma," he pleaded, forcing conviction into his voice. "Please let me go. I want to do this."
Seeing her son, who she thought was simply ambitious, so determined, her resistance broke. She hugged him tightly. "You can go," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "But you remember to message your mother, alright?"
"I will, Amma," he promised.
The next few days were a blur. Karthik and his father coordinated with the new school, got the transfer forms, and Karthik said goodbye to his friends, who were shocked and sad to see him go.
Soon, the day of departure arrived. Karthik re-checked his bags, making sure he hadn't missed anything. His father and mother walked with him to the bus stand as a family. When the large bus hissed to a stop, his mother pulled him into a tight hug, her eyes wet with tears, and gave him a kiss on his cheek. "Goodbye, son."
"Goodbye, Amma."
Karthik and his father boarded the bus. After a few hours of traveling in silence, they reached the bustling city. A man was waiting for them at the bus stop, standing apart from the crowd. He was tall, about six feet, wearing a white shirt, black jeans, and the same familiar black jacket. He smiled as they approached.
"Welcome, Karthik," he said, holding out his hand. "Let me re-introduce myself. I am Harry. And I am an exorcist."