Chapter 11: Shadows of London

The plane landed at Heathrow under a heavy gray sky, and John felt the London air — cold, laced with rain and the scent of asphalt — hit his chest sharply, wrenching him from the warmth of Varanasi. His bag, filled with notes and a notebook brimming with lines about Shri Devi, the rituals, and his grandfather’s secrets, felt like an anchor grounding him to reality. The image of Nalini — her bronze skin, ravenous moans, and obedience bordering on worship — still burned in his mind, but London was already laying its cold fingers over those memories. The Order of Shadow, the letters, his grandfather’s country house — all of it lay ahead, and John felt a new confidence, forged in the temple, pulsing through his veins. He stepped into the arrivals hall, and amidst the crowd, he saw Kate. Her hair gleamed under the airport’s dim lights, and her smile, warm but tinged with uncertainty, made his heart stir slightly. She stood with her hands in her coat pockets, her posture slightly stiff, as if afraid to make an extra move.

“John!” Her voice was soft, tinged with joy, but a flicker of awkwardness passed through her green eyes as she approached. “You… you’re back. You look… different somehow.”

John smiled, his gaze calm but carrying a new strength that made Kate subtly avert her eyes. “Maybe a little,” he replied, his voice warm but with a hint of distance that betrayed his change. “And you’re the same as ever, Kate. Glad to see me?”

She laughed, but it was nervous, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her coat. “Of course I’m glad. Just… I don’t know, you seem… more serious.” She stepped closer, and John caught the faint scent of her perfume — something with notes of lavender and vanilla. She hugged him, her arms lingering on his back a bit longer than usual, and he felt her body tremble slightly, as if she were trying to hide her excitement.

“I missed you,” she said quietly, stepping back, her cheeks faintly pink. “We’re meeting tonight, right? As planned? At the restaurant at eight?”

“Of course,” John replied, his tone friendly but lacking the fervor it might have had before. “I’ll call, Kate. Don’t worry.”

She nodded, her smile genuine but shadowed by a hint of uncertainty, as if she sensed his distance. They climbed into a taxi, and London enveloped John — rain drummed on the windows, streetlights blurred in puddles, and the city’s clamor felt alien after Varanasi. In his small apartment on the outskirts of Camden, he dropped his bag on the floor and collapsed onto the bed. The scent of sandalwood and musk clinging to his clothes reminded him of Nalini — her hot skin, her ravenous lips, her moans echoing in the temple. He closed his eyes, letting exhaustion take over, but his thoughts buzzed: the Order of Shadow, the letters, the country house where his grandfather’s notes might be. The date with Kate loomed ahead, but it felt like a mere pause in his quest. And then there was Lucy… He understood her less with each passing day, and with that understanding, her importance to him was slowly fading.

A few months ago, he couldn’t have imagined Lucy no longer occupying his thoughts all day. Yet with a single force of will, he could push her image beyond the horizon.
Weighed down by these thoughts, John dozed off, the journey having drained him.

He woke a few hours later, the sun setting, bathing the apartment in soft orange light. John showered, the hot water washing away fatigue but not memories. He dressed in a simple shirt and jeans, his movements unhurried but confident. A glance in the mirror revealed a change — his eyes were sharper, as if Varanasi had etched something new into them. He grabbed his phone, sent Kate a brief message — “See you at 8” — and stepped into the London evening, where the rain had softened to a light drizzle.

The Ivy restaurant was cozy, with wooden walls, the soft glow of candles, and the scent of roasted meat and rosemary. Kate was already waiting at a table by the window, her green dress hugging her slender figure, accentuating the curves of her waist and shoulders. Her hair was gathered in a loose updo, a few strands falling over her face, giving her a vulnerable look. She held a glass of white wine, her fingers nervously twisting the stem, and when John entered, she looked up sharply, her smile warm but trembling.
Over their years working together at the publishing house, John had never seen Kate like this… As if behind stacks of books and folders of documents, he hadn’t noticed the woman whose image blended such tender vulnerability with a predatory passion, inviting his body and mind into a fiery dance.

“You came,” she said, her voice light but tinged with relief. “I… I was worried you’d be late or something.”

“I don’t do late, Kate,” John replied, sitting across from her. His tone was friendly, but it carried a confidence that made Kate subtly press her lips together. “You look great. That dress suits you.”

She blushed, her fingers tightening around the glass. “Thanks,” she mumbled, looking away. “You too… you look different somehow. Was it Varanasi that changed you, or…”

“Maybe,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “And you? What’s new in London?”

“Nothing at the publishing house… You know how it is. I went through all the records and archives again to find something you might need, but I didn’t find anything new. Just some old, tattered notebook, but it’s full of nonsense I couldn’t make sense of.”

“Nonsense?” John wondered if it could be his grandfather’s old travel notes, perhaps encoded somehow.

“I left it on your desk. You can check it out when you have time. But… I didn’t want to talk about work.” Kate looked away, flustered. She knew how important recent events and any information about his grandfather were to John. But they weren’t here for that.

“Of course! We’re not here to discuss work…” Kate was surprised by John’s response. She hadn’t expected such attention and focus on her.

“Thanks… About that time in the office…”

“Kate.” John’s gaze turned deadly serious, startling her. One could only imagine the whirlwind of emotions she was feeling. “I don’t know about your feelings, but I can’t say that moment was a mistake on my part.”

“Or on mine… John!” Kate seized the moment before he could continue. “I don’t know what you think of me. Maybe it seemed reckless on my part, or like I’m some improper or impure woman. But… I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. All this time we’ve worked together… I…” Kate’s breath hitched.

John placed his hand over hers.

“It’s okay.” His face broke into a wide smile. “Don’t pressure yourself. I understand… And I want to say I’m so grateful to you. All this time, you’ve been by my side, helping with everything, never judging or criticizing.
You were there when I needed you, doing what was right — sincerely, without ulterior motives.”

“How could I not… Seeing you work every day, giving your all to the cause… And you’ve always been so kind to me and everyone else. Never scolding for mistakes, always so thoughtful and attentive… I couldn’t help but…”

“Shh…” John knew what Kate wanted to say. It was a heavy moment. The old John might have let himself be swept away by the moment and acted on impulse, but the experience in India stayed with him, and he could no longer let things run their course unchecked.

“But…” Kate was scared.

John squeezed her hand tighter.

“I’m not sure, but I know what you’re trying to say… And your feelings… they’re not one-sided. But right now, you understand, I have to…”

“Yes…” Hearing that her feelings weren’t one-sided eased Kate’s tension, but the air above their small table still hung heavy, like a Damocles’ sword.

“I’m glad I’m here with you. And you know… I’m starting to realize I’ve been missing something important right under my nose all this time. It would be wrong of me to just ignore it. So how about we do this evening again, after I finish my grandfather’s work, but with a different ending?”

“Okay, John…” I’ll wait… And of course, I’ll help you however I can…”

She nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, but she smiled, her posture lightening as if a weight had lifted. “Okay, John,” she whispered again. “I’ll wait. As long as it takes.”

They finished dinner, chatting about trivial things — London weather, old school memories, her holiday plans. The tension between them melted, leaving room for quiet closeness, but John sensed Kate still held onto a hope that made her vulnerable. He walked her to a taxi, her hand lingering in his as they said goodbye, her fingers gently squeezing his palm, as if trying to hold onto the moment.

The next morning, London woke under a thick fog that cloaked the streets like a gray veil. John entered his office — a small room in an old Soho building, cluttered with books, papers, and the lingering scent of coffee. His desk was a mess, but his attention was drawn to an envelope in the center. Plain, unmarked, made of rough paper, it seemed almost alive, like a breathing secret. His heart raced — another letter, like the ones that led him to Varanasi, to the temple, to Nalini. He reached for it, his fingers trembling with anticipation, when the office door creaked open. Lucy stood in the doorway, her long black coat swaying from her sudden movement. Her eyes, dark and burning with desperation and desire, locked onto him. Without a word, she slowly unbuttoned her coat, letting it slide to the floor. Beneath it was nothing — her naked body, pale and alluring, with the curves of her hips and breasts, gleamed in the dim office light, and time seemed to stop.