We Shall Be Monsters, page 17
Stop, stop, stop, she mentally cried. Make it stop!
At her pathetic pleading, the pain gradually leached away. She lay panting on the floor as tear tracks dried on her face and her heart settled into its regular rhythm. She pushed herself up, but Lasya was gone.
“Kajal?” came Jassi’s voice from her bedroom when she finally managed to stumble through the front door. “Where have you been? You’re out past curfew.”
“I’m sorry,” Kajal croaked. “Won’t happen again.”
Jassi walked out into the central room. “Dalbir said you two— Are you all right?”
Kajal swayed on her feet. “I…”
“Here, you should lie down.”
Clammy and shaking, she allowed Jassi to lead her to bed. The hum still filled her ears like a promise.
She dozed in and out while Jassi came in to check on her. Kajal tried more than once to tell her about Tav, about Lasya, but the words were too heavy in her mouth. The echo of pain lingered in her bones. Asleep or awake, she was mired in the nagi’s laughter, Lasya’s hum, the word dakini shaped on Riddhi’s lips.
A scream tore through the dormitories.
Kajal started awake. She staggered out the door and into the hallway, Jassi on her heels wearing oversized pajamas.
“I think it came from below.” Jassi rushed for the stairs. Kajal lingered at the top, using the wall to help her stand.
After an eerie silence, a horrible wail echoed upward. Voices were raised in confusion and fear, students calling for the professors and guards.
The wailing dissolved into furious sobs. “Riddhi! Riddhi!”
“How did it happen?”
“What’s that foam around her mouth?”
“I saw it, she suddenly spasmed and fell over!”
Kajal slid down the wall. Siddhi continued to cry out her sister’s name, ignoring the students trying to soothe her. Vritika’s voice was among them, thick with tears.
“What happened to her?” Jagvir was demanding. “I was just— Someone wake the soldiers!”
Kajal turned and vomited.
She coughed and shuddered on her knees, Siddhi’s cries burrowing into her like nails. A sister, gone. Because of her. And now the Vadhia would be shaken like a kicked wasp’s nest.
Kajal slapped a hand over her whimpering mouth.
Lasya had punished her and claimed a life anyway—a life connected to a demon hunter and a Vadhia soldier. Kajal was no longer strong enough to stop the bhuta from killing those around her, from pulling them both toward ruin.
No. No, she was so close.
She just had to get Tav to the rebels. She had to…
Find me, the bhuta whispered in her ear. Find me.
Kill me.
Chapter Sixteen
The dormitories were crawling with activity, the students too alarmed to return to bed. Had Riddhi’s body been carried away? Were the Vadhia stalking the university grounds in search of answers?
Kajal’s mind whirled with possible consequences. She fell into a tactile memory of glass at her lips, the whiff of sickly-sweet poison, the eyes of a furious town upon her.
The crack of a whip splitting skin.
After stumbling back to Jassi’s flat, Kajal sat, dazed, at the table until Jassi came back in the early hours of morning. By then the dormitories had fallen silent, but the kind of silence that falls after the end of a booming sound: anticipatory and uneasy, preparing for the next. Disquiet was written in the line of the professor’s mouth.
“A messenger’s been sent to inform the family,” Jassi said. “The Vadhia are on alert. Especially Jagvir. Vritika said it looked like a bhuta attack.”
Kajal’s flinch was damning. Jassi inhaled sharp enough to mimic a dagger between Kajal’s ribs.
“Your sister’s bhuta?”
“I didn’t mean for it to happen!” Kajal stood, knocking the chair back. “Riddhi was out past curfew, and she was…she was so mad, and…I didn’t want…”
The professor grasped her shoulders and shook her. “Breathe. Take a moment.” Once Kajal had managed a few deep breaths, Jassi asked, “But why were you out past curfew? Where have you been?”
Kajal’s face heated. Staring at the floor, she said slowly, like they were the last words she’d ever speak: “I revived the prince.”
For a long while, Jassi said nothing. Eventually, the professor lifted Kajal’s chin and met her eyes. Kajal forced herself to not look away, to stand her ground no matter how much of it had already crumbled beneath her.
“You’re not lying,” Jassi whispered. “Did it work?”
Kajal nodded.
“I…Kajal, I was supposed to assist you! Where is he? Why did you do it on your own?”
Kajal thought back to the hollow, aching fear of seeing the bhuta, the resonance of Lasya’s lullaby mocking and cold.
“Time,” Kajal said simply.
Jassi’s fingers briefly dug into her shoulder. “Show me.”
* * *
Tav was pacing the gardens while Kutaa sat and watched him. Jassi’s gasp upon seeing him made Tav’s hand dart to the hip where he’d once worn his sword. The two of them stared at each other, Tav with suspicion and Jassi with incredulity.
Then Jassi fell to one knee. Tav’s alarm tripled, and Kajal would have laughed had she not been in the middle of a lengthy yet discreet panic attack.
“Your Highness,” Jassi whispered. “Your Majesty. Welcome back.”
Tav’s lips parted, but no words left them.
Kajal cleared her throat pointedly.
“Right,” he said. “Um. Thank you. Who are you?”
Advaith must have received the bulk of their deportment training. Kajal imagined the crown prince sitting with perfect posture on a cushion, being lectured on grace and conduct, while Tav was left to swing his sword at training dummies as a means of mediation.
“I’m a professor here at the university,” Jassi answered, unaffected by his clumsiness, or else hiding her surprise fairly well. “Jasmeet Singh, but please feel free to call me Jassi. I’m a member of the Insurrectionists who have been working to bring down the tyrant Anu Bakshi and restore the true heir.”
At those last words, Tav turned wan. White fluttered in the corner of Kajal’s eye, and she nearly bolted, but it was only his butterflies hiding among the dead branches of the trees and bushes.
“He can eat,” Kajal blurted before Jassi noticed them. “We tested it. All of his chakras were opened, and his bodily functions seem to be…functioning.”
Tav silently mouthed bodily functions to himself.
Jassi gave Kajal a tired, shaky smile. “Well done.”
Despite what had happened last night, Kajal’s chest filled with bright, bubbling delight.
“Your Majesty,” Jassi said, “I’m sure you’re tired. If you follow us, we can tend to your needs; we could draw you a bath.”
Tav shifted, no doubt feeling a keen need for that bath. “And in return, you want me to meet with these Insurrectionists.”
“Just so.”
Tav looked to Kajal. Not for counsel, but as one conspirator seeks out another. Any thoughts Kajal had briefly entertained about telling the rebels the truth had dissolved at the sound of screams echoing through the dormitories, the horror on Jassi’s face.
If they knew this boy was not Advaith, had not received the same training and did not have the same destiny, they wouldn’t rest until they found the real crown prince. But the bhuta had evolved into something Kajal could not control. They had to keep up the lie, at least until the rebels got Lasya’s body.
Whatever showed on Kajal’s face made Tav square his shoulders.
“Very well,” he said, his tone changing to something more commanding. Perhaps he had shared Advaith’s training after all. “Lead on.”
* * *
“You know, when you asked for a change of clothes, you could have told me it was for a prince,” Dalbir admonished Kajal. They had brought up more outfits while Tav took his bath. “I would have chosen something with more embroidery.”
“He needs to avoid attention,” Jassi reminded them. “Especially if we’re entering Suraj.”
Kajal greeted this news with a healthy blend of unease and anticipation. Unease at the prospect of explaining all this to Vivaan and Sezal, anticipation at getting on with her plans.
“Dalbir,” Jassi said, “you’ll be coming with us.”
Kajal frowned. “Why?”
“My family is funding this entire operation,” Dalbir reminded her. “Which means I have to report everything back to them. But honestly, this’ll make for a great story. I’ll throw in some embellishments if you like. Make you out to be a brilliant yet misunderstood eccentric.” They gave a crooked grin. “Then again, that’s not much of an exaggeration.”
Kajal’s scoff came out choked. She wondered if that meant reporting Riddhi’s death too.
“Were you here?” she asked quietly. “When it happened?”
Dalbir glanced at the floor as if they could peer through stone to the spot where Riddhi must have collapsed. “I was already asleep, but the chaos woke me up. I didn’t go out to check.” They leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “The screams were enough to tell me what had happened.”
Dalbir seemed unusually aloof until Kajal noticed the tension in their jaw. She understood; sometimes the best way to accept something was to distance yourself from it, almost to the point of indifference.
“I heard it might have been a stroke or heart failure, but that can’t be right. Not in an otherwise healthy sixteen-year-old girl. Vritika’s convinced it was a bhuta attack, and since she’s a Meghani, I’m inclined to believe her. The Vadhia are too—they’ll be searching for bodies the bhuta might belong to. Who knows, maybe the professors they hanged are finally seeking vengeance.” Dalbir shook their head, hair swaying. “Good thing you got a head start on His Highness, huh?”
Kajal exchanged a nervous look with Jassi. She could tell the professor wanted to reveal the truth about the bhuta, but Kajal was sick of exposing her biggest mistake to others she barely knew.
Thankfully, that was when Tav emerged. Freshly clean, his hair fell in damp waves to his shoulders, and there was a faint shadow of stubble at his jaw that made Kajal long for her notebook. Follicles unaffected; blood flow must have improved if it’s able to feed the follicle root and promote new growth.
Jassi and Dalbir stared at him. While Kutaa had an aura that wasn’t wrong, exactly, but wasn’t quite right either—even the townspeople in Kinara had picked up on that—Tav was indistinguishable from any other living boy his age. Whole. Human.
Well, mostly human. Kajal kept a lookout for those yaksha butterflies, worried they’d sneak into the flat and make Jassi even more paranoid than she seemed to be.
Tav was introduced to Dalbir and politely listened to what they had to say about the Sodhis’ plans, but he kept sending Kajal glances that varied from wary to considering to beseeching. The latter was whenever Jassi would ask him a question he didn’t want to answer.
“Let’s save it for when everyone’s together,” Kajal interjected. “That way he doesn’t have to repeat himself.”
“Good point,” Jassi said. “We’ve been up all night. We should all get some sleep before heading into the city this evening. You can take my bed, Your Majesty.”
“There’s no need. I’m fine out here.”
“You don’t feel tired?” Kajal asked, yearning to poke and prod at him again.
“I mean—yes, I think so. But I don’t want to steal anyone’s bed.”
Kajal sighed through Jassi’s silent bafflement. “Take my bed. Jassi and I can share. Hers is bigger.”
Tav opened his mouth to argue, then thought better of it. “All right.”
Once they were alone in Jassi’s bedroom, Kajal didn’t have to wait long before Jassi spoke the words she’d been dreading.
“Tell me exactly what happened with Riddhi.”
Kajal swallowed, her throat dry. “I ran into her and Jagvir while coming back from the old palace. She said some things that made me angry, and that’s when I felt her. Lasya.”
Jassi’s face tightened.
“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” Kajal whispered. “I resurrected the prince because the bhuta’s getting stronger. I’ve been able to stop it before, but even though it lashed out at me when I tried to stop it this time, it made the kill anyway.”
Although she was surrounded by death, she’d never wanted to be the cause of it. Yet it seemed that, in her presence, death was not merely a threat but something inevitable.
Such darkness on you, the nagi had whispered to her by the lake. It smells like death.
Jassi turned her gaze toward the bed as if questioning whether she felt safe sharing it with Kajal. “So that’s why you did it. You’re scared of your sister’s bhuta.”
Loath as Kajal was to agree, she was even more reluctant to admit that resurrecting Tav was largely to prove she could. “The longer I wait, the more powerful she’ll become. As we’ve just seen.”
The muscles of Jassi’s jaw flexed. Then all her aggravation seemed to leave at once, loosening her shoulders and expression.
Kajal stiffened as a pair of arms came around her.
“You should have come to me,” Jassi scolded, though her voice was gentle. “But I understand. I’m so sorry you’re in this position, Kajal.”
Kajal remained rigid and bewildered, locked within an embrace she’d done nothing to earn. For a moment, she remembered the way Lasya had held her, familiar and warm, her clothes smelling of the spices she loved. Remembered tucking her face against her sister’s shoulder and letting Lasya rub her back with large, soothing circles.
Her eyes stung. With a shaky gasp, she broke out of Jassi’s hold.
“It’s fine,” Kajal muttered. “Let’s…Let’s just sleep. We’ll deal with it later.”
But as Kajal lay there, with her back to Jassi and Kutaa on the floor below, her mind and her heart refused to settle. Her rest was uneasy and fragmented, conjuring images of a gnarled tree, a beaming trident, and a river blooming with wild lotus.
* * *
Suraj was brilliant at dusk.
Lanterns had been strung across the broad streets, and windows were filled with a warm glow. The beaten metal of temple roofs that gleamed under the sun now reflected the lamplight, as if hungry for radiance. Behind the buildings loomed the last of the day’s light, throwing everything into a dance of shadow and flame. It truly was the City of Sunset.
Kajal hadn’t been around this many people in a while, not even at the university. Kinara had been sparse compared to the pack and crush of Suraj. There were farmhands coming home after a long day in the fields, hawkers shouting about their goods, musicians with sitars and drums hoping to earn coin, urchins darting in and out to ply their swift trade with nimble fingers. There was a hazy smell to the air—smoke and steam and a hint of refuse—though from what she could see, the city was surprisingly clean.
Some Vadhia were supposedly stationed here. Every flash of yellow and blue made Kajal twitch as Jassi led the way through congested streets to where the rebels were staying. Dalbir, meanwhile, was having an excellent time taking in the sights, apart from the glances they spared for Tav.
The prince was wrapped and hooded in a long cloak. He walked with his head down, chewing on his lower lip. He’d barely said anything after they’d woken from their naps, maintaining a worrying distance.
Kajal could hardly remember the days after the accident in Siphar. There were only fragments of stumbling down dusty roads, empty and raw, an animal that had been gutted and bled dry.
After some debate, Kajal shifted to his side until their shoulders brushed. “I doubt anyone will recognize you here. You can look around if you want to.”
He roused from his stupor. “I’ve been here often,” Tav murmured back.
“Oh. Right.” Kajal scratched her cheek. She wished Kutaa had come with them, but a dog of that size and demeanor would earn too many stares. “And it hasn’t changed at all since you were here last?”
“There are more buildings, I think. And more people.” His eyes snagged on a vendor, and he frowned.
It was the first real expression he’d made in hours, and Kajal had no idea what had caused it. There were always a number of street vendors in the larger cities, some of them so aggressive they would walk right up to you and try to shove their merchandise into your hands. One time, Lasya had been reduced to tears by a persistent vendor who wanted her to pay for the sesame candy he’d made her touch. Kajal still remembered the crunch his kneecap had made when she’d kicked it.
She was pulled from the memory when Dalbir clutched her sleeve.
“What’s he doing?” they demanded.
Tav was marching purposefully to a wooden stall erected at the mouth of an alley. It appeared humble enough to Kajal, but as she rushed forward, she noticed it was covered in charms and papers. The charms were standard fare: bits of metal and wood in shapes of benevolent hands with eyes in the center to ward off rakshasas, innocuous enough the Vadhia wouldn’t care. The papers were crowded with inked mantras for wellness and protection, as well as depictions of the three yaksha deities.
But one pile was full of drawings of a strange pair. One face was drawn with elegant lines and beautiful features, while the other bore exaggerated ugliness, a tongue poking out between sharp teeth and beady eyes under bushy brows.
“Hello, young sir, good evening,” the vendor said. “Have you a need for warding amulets or charms?”
“What is this?” Tav pointed at the drawings.
