We Shall Be Monsters, page 29
Dalbir sighed as they emerged into a dim hallway and rounded an increasingly dizzying number of corners. “Possibly. My parents aren’t too happy about that—or about any of this. At first, their idea was to just assassinate Bakshi, but when those demons got wind of you, their plans changed. They wanted to restore Advaith to the throne and be rewarded handsomely for it with titles and land. They didn’t expect to deal with the long-lost asura and deva.”
Kajal snorted loudly, and Tav squeezed her elbow in warning. “Know the feeling.”
“The prince said something about opening the gates to Patala, but his trishul isn’t materializing. The gates can’t open without it.”
“My sudarshana chakra isn’t appearing either,” Tav said.
“Huh.” Dalbir glanced at Kajal. “He, uh…also asked for more information about you. I had to tell him what happened these last few days. For some reason, it seemed to raise his spirits.”
A spike of nausea hit her. She slid between present and past, standing within an extravagant estate one second, and the next kneeling before a twisted vine of blight punching a hole through a soldier’s chest.
She fell upon the nearest vase and emptied the sour, acidic contents of her stomach. Tav held her braid out of the way, and Dalbir made a strangled sound.
“That vase was from my grandmother,” they complained.
Kajal coughed and wiped her mouth. “We need to get out of here.”
“Yes, that’s what we’ve been trying to do, thanks for paying attention!”
“I can help with that.”
Vritika stood breathless in the hallway. Her crossbow was slung over her shoulder, and her eyes were spooked.
“Oh, why am I not surprised,” Dalbir drawled. “Of course you didn’t do as Professor Jassi told you.”
“I had a bad feeling,” Vritika said. “And I was right. There are rakshasas here. I saw two danavas through the window.”
“Those would be the rebels,” Kajal said.
“How are—? No, you can explain later.” She unslung her crossbow, carrying it like she’d been born with one in her hands. “We need to get going.”
“I have to get my sister first,” Kajal protested.
Vritika huffed. “Exorcising her would be a great deal easier.”
“Over my cold corpse.”
“Are you volunteering?”
“All right, all right,” Dalbir hissed, getting between them. “Vritika, so long as you’re quiet you can lead these two out while I go find this fabled sister.”
Vritika frowned. “Aren’t you coming with us?”
Dalbir shook their head. “I don’t want to leave my parents alone with the demons. But it seemed like the prince was getting ready to ride out soon, and he wanted to talk to his brother and Kajal before then. We don’t have much time.”
“You don’t have any time, unfortunately.”
That hoarse, cheerful voice made everyone freeze—except for Vritika, who turned and fired off a bolt with lightning reflexes.
A flash of red, and the bolt broke apart midair. Advaith stepped over the splinters with hands tucked behind his back, flanked by Vivaan and Sezal. He wore an apologetic smile.
“Didn’t mean to break up the escape attempt,” he said. “I was curious to see how far you’d get.” He studied Vritika with disdain. “I take it this one is a demon hunter?”
Tav approached his brother. “Adi, let Kajal and the others go. I’ll stay.”
Before Kajal could argue, her tongue clumsy under the effect of the sura, Advaith spoke first.
“I can’t do that.”
“Why? You don’t need them.”
“I do, actually.” Advaith’s gaze met Kajal’s, and something zapped through her at the contact. “The hallway’s too crowded for this. Come.”
Vivaan confiscated Vritika’s crossbow and quiver before corralling them to follow Advaith back to the parlor. The broken limestone and pottery had been cleaned up, and the Sodhis sat grim-mouthed and silent on the couch. Jassi was nowhere in sight.
“Sit,” Advaith said pleasantly, gesturing at the couches. “Make yourselves comfortable. No need to stand around awkwardly on my account.”
Tav sighed. “Adi.”
“What? Oh,” he said with a small bow toward the Sodhis. “Apologies. This is your household, after all.”
But the two merely shook their heads, tight-lipped. Dalbir went to sit with them. Their mother gripped their hand.
“What are you planning?” Tav asked, clearly tired of the theatrics.
“Tav, please sit down. All of you, just…sit.”
Vivaan looked like he would force them one by one onto the couches. Since Kajal felt like she was ready to keel over anyway, she didn’t sit so much as collapse onto the couch opposite the Sodhis. After an impressive face journey ranging from uncertainty to annoyance, Vritika joined them.
“Better.” Advaith gave them a sunny smile.
Kajal couldn’t help but stare; seeing Tav’s face with such a broad grin was bizarre.
Shrimati Sodhi noticed Vritika. “Who is this?”
“She’s a Meghani,” Dalbir mumbled. At the name, their parents’ eyes flashed with hope. “She—”
“Is of no consequence,” Advaith finished, earning a sharp glare from Vritika. “All right. So. There is an issue.”
He waited until he had everyone’s attention before holding his hands out before him. “The trishul is the asura’s weapon. It is ancient and unbreakable, and appears whenever the asura calls for it. It is not only a weapon, but a tool. A key. A way for humans to enter Patala from Martya.”
His fingers curled into his empty palms like flowers at night. “But no matter how often I try, the trishul does not come.”
He turned toward his brother. Tav nodded silently, confirming his suspicion.
“It should be impossible to hide the asura and deva’s weapons,” Advaith went on, “but somehow, I believe Bakshi is the one behind this. Or perhaps Lord Dukha. I don’t know. I don’t…” He faltered, and Vivaan took a half step toward him. “Either way, I need a new method to return to Patala and find the demon lord. To ask him how to reverse halahala.”
Dalbir breathed in suddenly. That got Advaith’s attention, and he made a motion for Dalbir to stand. Dalbir did so with some reluctance, their mother refusing to let go of their hand.
“I was told your knowledge of the asura and deva was useful in finding me,” Advaith said with a smile. “Thank you.”
Dalbir was stricken by that smile—or perhaps at being thanked for a passion their parents hadn’t wanted them to pursue.
“Does this mean you are also knowledgeable about our holy weapons?” Advaith went on.
Dalbir swallowed. “Y-Yes? Um. As you probably know, these ancient weapons were forged out of the cosmic matter between the planes. The trishul appeared on Lake Hira, and the sudarshana chakra appeared at the top of Taara Peak. The yaksha deities held on to the latter, and the nagas possessed the trishul—until the asura and deva came along. These weapons became conductors for their unique energies.”
Dalbir had gotten lost in the explanation, shaking off their mother’s hand to gesticulate while talking. “The deva’s power is related to sattva, or ‘pure’ energy, which connects to Svarga. The asura’s power comes from tamas, ‘unruly’ energy, which connects to Patala. Since the weapons are conductors, that allows them to be used as keys, like you said. But even without the weapons, the asura and deva are still wielders of their respective energies, which means they each should have the ability to forge something else into a conductor.”
Advaith had tilted his head to one side, listening with the raptness of a scholar. “Go on.”
“The story of halahala claims it first originated with the demon lord while he was trapped within the ocean, and the demon lord is supposedly the source of tamas. Which means that the asura, who wields tamas with or without their trishul, is also tied to halahala.”
Advaith silently began to pace the length of the room. Everyone else was thrown into strained silence, and Dalbir took this as their invitation to sit back down. Sweat dotted their forehead, and their breathing was somewhat erratic.
“I’ve learned that some of Bakshi’s soldiers have traveled through here recently,” Advaith said eventually, eyeing his ruby ring. “This is good timing.”
Tav stiffened. “What do you mean?”
Advaith turned to Kajal. “Would you like to explain it?”
All eyes turned to her. Blood stung her face, even as the rest of her grew cold. Vritika edged away from her, as if Advaith’s attention were contagious. Or maybe she smelled like sura and bile.
“The elements of Martya are composed of both life and death,” Advaith said, undeterred by her silence. “An overabundance of sattva, and the world blooms too wildly to maintain. An overabundance of tamas, and the world withers.” He held out his hands in imitation of scales, tipping steeply in one direction. “Just as Martya was once ruled by an excess of sattva, it is now becoming ruled by tamas.”
Everyone hung on to his words. Even Tav watched his brother with unblinking concentration.
“But if the blight or halahala is tamas, or at least has a connection to it…” Advaith’s eyes flitted toward Dalbir.
“Then the asura can control halahala, to some extent,” Dalbir finished quietly.
“You’re going to attack the Vadhia with blight?” Tav demanded.
“You were always sharper than you let on, bhara.”
“What will that accomplish, other than taking out a small fraction of Bakshi’s forces?”
“As the young shri just said, we need a conductor.” Advaith inclined his head to Kajal. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say it was deferential. “It was the manipulation of tamas that killed those soldiers you encountered on the road, wasn’t it?”
Kajal pressed her trembling lips together. Tav studied her, no doubt recalling what she had done in the dakinis’ forest.
“And the fact that they were controlled by the blight afterward…” Advaith grinned. “Their bodies became conduits for tamas, amplifying it to new levels. That is exactly the sort of energy that can force the gates of Patala open.”
Kajal was caught in a spasm of vertigo, tremors spreading through her body like she was standing at the epicenter of an earthquake. Someone called her name as the echo of breaking stone jarred her bones and rattled her teeth.
“What’s wrong with her?” Vritika asked.
“Kajal,” Tav whispered, and his voice reverberated through her. “Breathe.”
She tried to. Her vision had gone dark, but with each inhalation the shadows eased, until she could make out her hands curled in her lap. Floating above them were two small yaksha butterflies. They landed on her fingers and flapped their wings slowly, in time to her breaths.
“Kajal.” The voice was similar to Tav’s, but hoarser, the inflections slightly off. She glared up at Advaith, who had come to kneel before her. “This is a lot to take in, I know. But I’ll need your help.”
She exhaled through her teeth. “No.”
Advaith wasn’t deterred. “Please?”
“Piss off.”
He didn’t bother to mask his disappointment. He stood and made his way toward the door. “Then perhaps this will convince you.”
He opened the door and peered into the hallway. When he returned, Jassi tagged along behind him, her face pinched with fatigue and guilt. She quickly glanced at Kajal, then away.
But it wasn’t Jassi who Kajal was focused on. It was the person who entered the room after, her white funeral dress exchanged for a plain blue salwar kameez, the dirt washed from her face, her right hand missing its pinkie finger.
Kajal rose to her feet like a dreamer, without conscious will. She occupied the moment between a cut and the first seep of blood, before nerves recognized pain.
Lasya’s eyes watered. Not red like cinnabar but rich brown. “Kajal,” she whispered, the same voice that had been whispering to her for months, begging Kajal to kill her for good. But here she was, flesh and bone and muscle, miracle and impossibility and memory.
Tav looked between them with growing bewilderment. Vritika’s eyes widened, and Dalbir’s mouth fell open.
It was no mystery why. In all the time the bhuta had haunted her, they hadn’t been able to see Lasya, not the way Kajal had. None of them had known what to expect of her sister.
She was certain they hadn’t expected the face staring back at Kajal to be a mirror image of her own.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The room fell away. If anyone spoke, it didn’t register; nothing mattered more than the rise and fall of Lasya’s chest, the wetness of her eyes, the small yet undeniable proofs that she was alive.
Alive by someone else’s hand.
Fury unlike any Kajal had felt before eddied through her. She was a summer storm, all crackling pressure and heat, as she forced herself to turn toward Advaith. He watched her placidly, though the curl of his mouth hinted at triumph.
“What a scary face,” he muttered with a mock shudder. “I figured out your little trick, thanks to Professor Jasmeet.” Jassi’s gaze stayed rooted to the floor. “I’d say something like this would be cause for thanks. You brought back my brother, so I brought back your sister.”
Kajal’s fury ratcheted up, banging against her rib cage, her chest, baying to be let out. How dare this boy lay his hands on Lasya. How dare he revive her without Kajal’s consent, without her present to ensure that he had done it right, if her chakras had been opened correctly, if—
“Hold on,” came Dalbir’s voice. “You’re twins too? What’s the statistical likelihood of this? It’s weird, right?”
“Dalbir,” Vritika snapped.
“I think,” Advaith said, “this should be enough to convince you to help me. More than anyone here, you understand the intricacies of how energies interact.” His smile was as knowing as Vivaan’s glare had been, and Kajal’s heart sank. “I’ll need you if we’re to open the gates to Patala.”
Kajal yearned to check Lasya’s pulse, her channels, her lungs, and her heartbeat, but she couldn’t force herself away from Advaith’s smugness. She burned, and she longed to burn him, this terrible creation that had been sewn together and breathed to life under her hands.
She moved forward, and Advaith’s smile faltered. She felt bigger than herself, outside her own body, propelled by little more than a wild urge to bite through his sutured throat.
“Kajal.”
Her whole body flinched. Lasya faced her with that same grim, sorrowful expression, one hand curled loosely at her chest. Her dark hair fell around her shoulders, hair that had whipped in the eerie silence of the bhuta’s wind.
“Don’t,” her sister whispered. A warning. An order.
Kajal’s lungs heaved for breath; she was starved of air, couldn’t inhale enough of it. “He—”
“Don’t put up a fight.”
She wondered how Lasya could be this calm, this composed, in the face of everything.
And then she looked closer and saw the hairline fractures in Lasya’s expression, the desperate way she was holding herself together for Kajal’s sake. Something dark stirred behind her eyes, a flash of unnerving shadow under the water’s surface.
The fury within Kajal guttered, a crimson flame doused with snow. Tears welled and spilled down her face.
“I’m sorry,” Kajal whimpered, and it split apart on a sob, all her own hairline fractures threatening to shatter her into pieces. “Lasya…”
Her sister’s face crumpled. Though Kajal didn’t deserve comfort in any form, Lasya enveloped her in her arms.
“I’m sorry.” Kajal hid her face in Lasya’s shoulder as she wept. Her fingers dug into Lasya’s back, hard enough to hurt, to make sure she was solid and warm and living. “I’m sorry.”
Lasya petted a hand down her hair. Kajal might never earn Lasya’s forgiveness, but at least she had this: a familiar touch, however brief.
“We’ll have to do as he says for now,” Lasya whispered, so soft Kajal could barely hear it. “Don’t give in yet.”
Kajal wasn’t sure what she had expected—a fight, an argument, another escape attempt. Not complete surrender.
She pulled away. Lasya’s face was just as wrecked as hers. Her sister sniffed, then brushed the wetness from Kajal’s face.
“Later,” Lasya promised. Helplessly, Kajal nodded.
Advaith exhaled as if he’d been holding his breath. “Well, that was touching. Did you expect more tears from me, Tav? I’m sorry I underperformed.”
Everyone had been watching with fascination or bafflement, but Tav’s expression was unreadable. At Advaith’s words, he roused himself. “Drop the tone, Adi. Tell me what you plan to do with Kajal.”
“About that.” The crown prince turned to the Sodhis. “We’ll need supplies for a short journey.” His hand drifted to his unadorned hip. “And I’ll need a weapon.”
* * *
The Sodhis were reluctant to let Advaith go anywhere.
“I will return,” Advaith promised, inexplicably beguiling, taking Shrimati Sodhi’s hand in his. “Before I can reclaim the throne, I must first fix our land. I’m sure you’d agree.” In the end, they did.
Although the Sodhis had enough horses for everyone, Advaith insisted that Lasya ride with him. With nothing more than a stern look, Lasya prevented Kajal from arguing.
It was a look Kajal was exceedingly familiar with. As they’d traveled, as they’d worked, as they’d encountered people of all creeds, Kajal had been the one to cause trouble when there was none, to turn a small inconvenience major with little more than an off-putting word or gesture. It had been up to Lasya to be the mediator, to hold the end of Kajal’s leash.
