We Shall Be Monsters, page 26
She handed him her cup, which contained the last couple sips. He took it, confused, but under her watchful gaze he obediently drank it down. His lips touched the place where hers had been.
Eventually, she whispered, “I’ll be fine.”
Maybe it was true. Maybe it wasn’t. Like with so many things, it was something she would have to find out in time—time that was slipping faster and faster between her fingers, like grave soil.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The box put everyone on edge. Tav insisted on riding with it, his hand a protective weight on its lid. Vritika kept casting it wary glances; Dalbir must have filled her in on the purpose of their journey. A potentially dangerous decision, Kajal thought, but considering it was Dalbir’s family at the heart of this, the choice was theirs to make.
Tav had been silent when he and Kajal returned from the forest, leaving Kajal to answer Jassi’s questions: if they were all right, what had happened, if they needed anything. Not to mention Dalbir had pressed her for descriptions and “sensory details.” Kajal’s answers had been short and flat; she didn’t want to relive it so soon.
“We have what we need,” Kajal had said. “That’s all that matters.”
The ride to the Sodhi estate, where the rebels had told them to meet, took two days. When they stopped the first night, Kajal watched firelight play across the dark grass while idly rubbing her forehead. Tav sat by himself, and Jassi and Dalbir were quietly arguing about some Ayurvedic theory. Vritika stood apart from them, staring up at the stars. Her posture was more slouched than the confident way she typically held herself.
It’s true that our mistakes often harm others, Ruhi had told Kajal. Sometimes they cause a grief too great to bear.
Kajal’s mistakes had cost not only her, but those around her. Because of her—because of the bhuta—a mother, a son, and a friend were gone. A daughter. A sister.
Kutaa lifted his head when she stood, but she told him to stay put and approached Vritika. Perhaps thinking Kajal was Jassi, Vritika turned her head with a surprisingly open expression. It hardened at the sight of her.
“What do you want?” the girl bit out.
A good start. Kajal stood beside her, mostly so that she didn’t have to look at Vritika’s face while she did this.
“I wanted to apologize,” Kajal said. “For Riddhi.”
She sensed the tension in Vritika like a taut bowstring, ready to launch its accusing arrow. Before she could, Kajal lifted her hand. “Hear me out before you throw incense in my face.”
When Vritika remained silent, Kajal said, “The bhuta is my sister.”
Vritika’s eyes widened. “I was wondering why it was able to cling to you.” She frowned with a scholar’s bemusement, like she was the kind who savored the contemplation as much as the breakthrough. “Is it because you’re related, then? But no, there have been plenty of bhutas who couldn’t travel with their loved ones…”
“I’m not entirely certain. She…” Kajal waited to ensure that her voice wouldn’t break. “Her name is Lasya.”
Crickets sang in the long grass, and for a few moments all Kajal heard was their chorus amid the rustle of the breeze and the murmurs of Jassi and Dalbir.
“She died,” Kajal whispered. “And it was my fault. I wanted—I want—to bring her back like I brought back Tav. But until the rebels allow me to resurrect her, her bhuta haunts me. It feeds on my anger, my fear. Riddhi—”
“I can guess.” Vritika came to stand before Kajal, forcing her to meet her venomous gaze. “Riddhi kept riling you up, so you unleashed your bhuta on her.”
“It was an accident,” Kajal stressed. “I tried to stop Lasya, but she’s far more powerful than I am. And when I deny her a kill, she turns on me instead.”
“You considered your life more important than Riddhi’s, then.”
Kajal supposed that was true. But she couldn’t properly explain that a body would give in to any demand if only to lessen its agony.
“If that’s how you see it, fine,” Kajal said. “But I tried to save Riddhi. Whether you believe it or not, I wanted you to know. And to apologize on behalf of me and Lasya. It isn’t enough, but it’s all I can offer.” Kajal had little practice in apologies and wasn’t fond of how squirmy it made her feel, but she bowed her head anyway, hoping it conveyed her sincerity.
Vritika didn’t say anything at first, glaring at the grass between their feet. Then she aggressively wiped her eyes.
“Get out of my sight,” Vritika muttered.
Kajal was more than happy to oblige. She returned to where Kutaa waited, ears pricked as if he’d been listening in on the conversation.
He wasn’t the only one. Kajal froze under the mantle of Tav’s gaze, unable to decipher the peculiar look on his face until he nodded at her.
Sadness. Empathy. Respect.
Already jittery from the conversation, Kajal settled down with Kutaa, filled with an uncomfortable chagrin. Her sleep was broken and uneasy, but she managed a few hours of dozing, on the edge of true dreaming.
When she opened her eyes to the spreading dawn, she found something wooden in the grass beside her. Kajal lifted it to better see. It was a small figurine, somewhat crudely whittled but unmistakably in the shape of Kutaa.
Kajal turned. Tav sat cross-legged facing her, as if he’d been awake awhile. As soon as their eyes met, he scrambled to his feet and busied himself with saddling the horses.
Fighting back a smile, she held the figurine out to Kutaa for his appraisal, and he gave it a cursory sniff. Then she slipped it into her pocket and got ready for what was sure to be a challenging day.
* * *
Kajal mused over Ranbir’s last words while Kutaa trotted beside her horse. On her opposite side, Tav was tight-lipped and wan. The other three were in the lead.
“Maybe Advaith removed Ranbir’s jewel so that he could get past him,” Kajal said, her voice creaking with disuse. Other than her apology to Vritika, she’d hardly spoken since leaving the forest. “To join you in battle.”
Tav stirred. “I thought of that. But if so, why remove his jewel instead of bringing Ranbir with him to fight Bakshi?” He shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense.”
Kajal had to agree. There were still so many pieces missing, like the burned-out holes in Tav’s memories.
“He thought you were Advaith,” Kajal said after a long pause.
“Most people do.” His voice was flat.
She fidgeted with the reins. “Lasya and I once stayed in a town where there was a girl named Hafa. When we found work dyeing fabrics at the river, she taught us the basics. She was pretty and had a contagious laugh.”
Tav silently yet bewilderedly allowed her to go on.
“But Lasya was better at flirting than I was. I always ended up being mean. I accidentally pushed Hafa into the river, and Lasya was the one who pulled her out.” Kajal was torn between laughing and cringing at the memory. “Naturally, Hafa liked Lasya more. I found them kissing behind a shed.”
“I’m…sorry?”
“Don’t be. It was silly, and pointless. We ended up leaving town a couple days later.” She swallowed, thinking about the rock that had struck Lasya’s temple. “What I’m trying to say is, I understand what it’s like to be the lesser-known sibling, the less favored. I didn’t mind being in Lasya’s shadow—she was the better of us, it made sense—but once in a while, I could see just how far apart we were.”
Tav processed her words while she stared straight ahead and pretended she hadn’t just yanked a rotting tooth from her mouth.
“I also didn’t mind being in Advaith’s shadow,” he said at last. “Most of the time. But there were moments I didn’t feel like my own person. Even now, I don’t.” The hand resting on the box curled inward. “My whole life was dedicated to him. I guess I’m learning who I am without him. I don’t know who that is, really.”
She recalled that first horrible month after Lasya’s death, the numbing, endless abyss of it. Like crawling without a destination, a hopeless, halfhearted shuffle to move forward without knowing why you needed to move at all or what waited for you ahead.
Kajal gripped the saddle horn tight. Who she was without Lasya was only a worse version of who she’d been before: a girl who didn’t care about consequences so long as she got what she wanted. Selfish and uncaring and dishonest.
“I killed her,” she whispered. She thought of the dakini’s forehead against hers, the affirmation she’d longed to hear but didn’t deserve.
Tav’s gaze was heavy. “How?”
“Does it matter? She’s gone because of me. The best one died, leaving the other to cause problems.” She stole a glimpse at Vritika and found the girl’s head turned toward them. Realizing she’d been caught, Vritika nudged her horse faster.
“That’s not true.” Strength had returned to Tav’s voice, and he shifted his horse closer to hers. “Your help has been invaluable. Without you, I…” He gave a feeble huff. “Without you, I’d still be dead.”
Any appreciation Kajal would have felt at the words was lost in the maelstrom of doubt her thoughts had become since her time in the dakinis’ forest. Since Vivaan and Sezal had revealed themselves and given her their ultimatum. Since that vine of blight had broken free of the earth.
“Kajal?”
She looked up. Tav was toying with his amber pendant, the hope in his eyes so delicate it made her throat constrict. He opened his mouth, but suddenly she couldn’t bear to hear whatever he was about to say.
That’s when Jassi’s voice called out, “We’re here.”
In the distance rose the spine of the eastern mountains, the ridges dark purple against the oncoming sunset. Less than fifty miles north lay the village of Siphar, where all this had started. Where Kajal had buried Lasya with the promise to return and revive her.
Kajal’s vision darkened under the force of her heartbeat, and she reached for the pouch containing her sister’s finger. The rebels would pay for what they’d done, but first and foremost she had to make sure they had no reason to set fire to Lasya’s body.
“Ride for the nearest city and get someone to escort you back to the university,” Jassi told Vritika. “I know the Meghanis favor Bakshi and wouldn’t want you caught up in this.”
“But I—”
“Unlike us, you actually have a choice,” Dalbir said. The closer they’d gotten to the estate, the more reticent they’d become, and they’d even tucked their journal away. “Take advantage of that, and leave while you can.”
Vritika clearly wanted to argue, but Jassi’s plaintive expression made her shoulders fall. “I won’t go far,” she warned. “Not until I learn the bhuta’s been taken care of.” She spared Kajal a glare before turning her horse north.
The rest of them continued south, to the estate. It was ringed by a stone wall, its gates armed with guards in dark uniforms. At Dalbir’s order, the gates opened, and they were admitted into the courtyard.
“Well, this is it,” Dalbir said gloomily. “Welcome to my family’s seat.”
It was the biggest home Kajal had ever seen. The exterior was made of white brick and stone, with long columns and square balconies, framed by scalloped archways. A rectangular pool in the courtyard was surrounded by palms and geometric hedges. Kajal would have appreciated it a lot more if every inch of her hadn’t been screaming to run inside and demand they tell her where they had put Lasya.
A small welcoming party appeared at the front entrance. Kajal’s upper lip curled when she spotted Vivaan and Sezal in their human guises. Beside them stood a woman and a turbaned man in their midyears, their clothes colorful and immaculate next to the rebels’ travel-worn garb.
They all dismounted, and Dalbir touched their parents’ feet in respect. Their mother reached down to cradle the back of their head.
“We missed you, beta,” Shrimati Sodhi said. “Has there been any trouble?”
Dalbir looked over their shoulder, as if debating whether or not to mention the blight, the Vadhia, the dakinis’ forest. At Kajal’s small headshake, they smiled at their mother.
“No trouble,” they lied.
Vivaan’s gaze fell upon the box Tav held. “Is that…?”
Tav held the box closer, regarding him frostily. “Did you find the rest of him?”
Vivaan visibly had to restrain himself, hands fisted at his sides.
Sezal spoke for him. “We did. All that’s missing is his head.”
The Sodhis stared at Tav. Kajal wondered if they were now fretting over a succession crisis, like Tav’s father had.
“Astounding,” Shrimati Sodhi murmured. She turned to Vivaan and Sezal. “I was skeptical when you first said there could be a way to revive the prince. But you truly came through. Well done.”
It was because of me, Kajal thought, indignant at having her praise stolen.
When Tav caught the husband’s eye, the man brushed down his mustache before bowing. “We welcome you into our home, Your Highness. We must admit it is a surprise to know of your existence, but by no means a bad one. To think the crown prince had a brother, and that you were the asura and deva…”
His wife laid a hand upon his shoulder as Tav’s expression grew chillier. “We will discuss this inside. Please, follow us.”
Kajal stepped forward. “Where is my sister?”
The Sodhis looked puzzled. Did they not even know they had the corpse of a dead girl in their lavish estate?
“You’ll see her once the crown prince is resurrected,” Vivaan said. “And only then.”
Kajal would have pressed, but Shrimati Sodhi had cocked her head to one side, her large golden earrings swaying. “You must be the girl they mentioned.”
Kajal’s skin prickled under the woman’s assessment. Unimpressed with what she saw, Shrimati Sodhi turned without further comment.
Reluctantly, Kajal passed the threshold. The interior boasted white walls with hanging tapestries and silver-framed mirrors, wooden floors that shone like glass, and a wide, curving staircase that led to an upper floor. She had peeked into fancy homes before, had even been inside a couple when she and Lasya had been hired for the odd job here and there, and every time she was rocked by the realization that there were people in this world who could throw away their money on things they had no use for. The hanging jeweled incense holders, for example, or the decorative glazed vases that had no purpose other than to sit there collecting dust.
She was a second away from sprinting off in search of Lasya. Kajal thought she could sense the bhuta at the edge of her consciousness, ready to be called on. She was closer than she’d been in months and still so far away.
Dalbir seemed embarrassed at Kajal’s assessment, but they relaxed when two brown dogs ran up to them. Unlike rural mutts that people considered little better than scavengers, these hounds were sleek and powerful, clearly bred for guarding the estate. Dalbir greeted them with enthusiastic pets until the hounds turned to Kutaa, who only stared at them until they flattened their ears with soft whines.
Seeing that Kutaa had followed Kajal, Shri Sodhi wrinkled his nose. “The dog stays outside.”
Kajal scowled and knelt to whisper to Kutaa, “Keep an eye on the surroundings.” He pressed his cold nose to her cheek before trotting back outside.
“We were worried the process would take much longer,” Shrimati Sodhi said as she led them through wide double doors into another open courtyard cut into the middle of the estate. “The Vadhia are passing through this area more and more of late, as if Bakshi wants us to know that he is keeping an eye on us. Not to mention all the trouble they’re stirring in the countryside.”
Trouble. As if such a mild word could encompass the torture, interrogation, and death brought about by their hands.
“We’ve received multiple reports of hangings,” her husband added. “Dharati is being decimated with blight more and more each day. The farms around here are failing. The people want an easy way out, and the Vadhia are preying on their fear.”
Vivaan and Sezal both glanced at Kajal. She flexed her fingers, remembering how it had felt to hold a jar of poison to her lips.
They were led into a wide parlor at the rear of the estate. There were no guards or servants here, and the whole wing had an empty, unlived-in atmosphere. The room featured dark wooden floorboards and furniture in red upholstery, with ceramics and decorative weapons lining the walls. Incense burned in every corner, and Kajal immediately recognized the five elements used in Ayurveda, tangled in a cloying braid of scents: cassia for water, anise for ether, valerian for earth, vetiver for air, and clove for fire.
The last one burned at the head of a shrouded body that lay in the middle of the room. Or, rather, the incense burned where the head should have been.
Tav released an unsteady breath. The rebels must have removed Advaith’s body from the soil as soon as they’d seen their horses on the horizon. They wanted this done immediately.
“We gathered the materials you requested,” Shrimati Sodhi said with dip of her chin at Vivaan and Sezal. “Thank you for providing us with instructions.”
They had used her notebook. Kajal fought against nausea at the idea of these people looking through her notes—her simple, hard-to-read handwriting and nonsensical doodles—and focused on the tall slab of limestone the body was lying on.
“Well?” Vivaan directed at Kajal.
Everyone looked to her. This would not be like working in the laboratory, where she’d had blessed privacy; this was a stage, an ordeal, and if she didn’t perform to their liking, there would be a price to pay.
She will burn.
Heart racing, Kajal gestured to Tav. He knelt beside the shroud and unlatched the box. Vivaan crouched beside him as Tav lovingly lifted out Advaith’s head, brushing dirt from his brother’s face and hair. Vivaan made a soft, punched-out sound, and Sezal squeezed his shoulder. The Sodhis looked eagerly on, as if this really were some morbid play.
