We Shall Be Monsters, page 32
“Kajal,” he whispered, his voice faraway. Something slipped out from under his shirt, swinging in front of her face. The amber pendant with its lotus petal.
Her shaking receded, and the cold turned into a sweet drifting sensation, like a boat taken out by the tide. She stared at the amber pendant, its edges limned in blue light.
There was a song in her memory, in her framework, notes hidden between her ribs and under her nails and behind her teeth. She blindly turned toward it, the music of her blood and marrow.
She followed the path of it home.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Divya, come here.”
She looked up from where she crouched before an array of cups, fascinated by their various shapes and patterns. She’d been told each spirit that arrived in Patala required a specific one, but no one knew which until the right moment.
Following the sound of Bijul’s voice, Divya left the shelves and entered the main chamber. It was wide and cavernous, its dark walls encrusted with glittering jewels that winked in a mosaic of ruby and peridot and spinel and topaz. Beyond the gaping mouth of the chamber lay a stretch of black sand with specks of white diamond. An avenue of looming black trees led to a lake, its surface gleaming like burnished silver.
Around the lake, a few nagas were peering curiously at whatever had risen from its depths. It wasn’t often a spirit caught their attention like this, and it made Divya’s heart beat faster.
She peered up at Bijul. The back of the nagi’s hood was carbuncled with amethyst and cast her eyes in half shadow. The nagi smiled down at her, revealing fangs.
“You are young and haven’t experienced this before,” Bijul said in her soft sibilance. “It is likely you won’t experience it again. Pay attention.”
Divya pouted. It was true she was young—five this year, according to Martya’s measurement of time—but dakinis aged slower and lived longer than humans. Who was to say she would never see the same thing twice?
She had already seen far more than the other dakini children. Dakinis tended to inhabit caves on the borders of Patala, but one day she had snuck all the way down to Nagaloka, the lowest realm, where the nagas watched over the lake through which spirits entered the netherworld. Hidden among the shelves, she had observed one such spirit rise from the lake and drift into the chamber, nothing but a small ghost light. Bijul had cupped it between her green-gray hands and judged it in silence.
“They have met a certain amount of dharma,” Bijul had announced. “They will be reborn in Martya to complete it.”
The ghost light formed into the figure of a man. He was old, his eyes closed, and he was leaning slightly forward with hunched shoulders. Bijul wandered among the shelves of cups until her fingers paused over one of copper, small and unassuming, with a cow etched along its side.
The other nagas lifted the lid off a large cast-iron pot. The steam rising from the liquid inside smelled of cardamom and anise, of clove and pepper. The forgetting tea. Bijul ladled some into the copper cup and held it to the spirit’s lips. Once the man had drunk, he let out a sigh like the wind moaning through trees, then dissipated into wisps of white fog.
Hands clasped sedately before her, Bijul had watched until the last slip of soul was gone. Then she’d called, “You may come out now and ask your questions.”
Divya had burned with embarrassment at being caught. But she’d been taught to be deferential to the nagas, so she’d crawled out and stammered an apology. Bijul had only smiled. She’d known better than to ask why Divya’s mother had let her out of her sight; among the dakinis, there was no emphasis on mother. Everyone took care of the children equally, regardless of whose womb they’d grown in.
Since then, Divya had been allowed to come to Nagaloka whenever she pleased, so long as she didn’t get in the way. She had seen many more spirits take the forgetting tea, their souls dispersing to return in another form among the planes. Few had been sent on to Svarga, and fewer still had reached enough enlightenment to be removed from the cycle of reincarnation altogether. Some had been violent and disturbed, and Bijul had sent them to Naraka, where their souls would be trapped for an eternity of punishment.
But this was the first time Divya had seen such fuss. Two spirits rose out of the lake, barely rippling the surface, their forms the same ghostly pale as all the others had been.
Divya blinked. No, there was something strange about them, something new. One spirit swirled with a fretful crimson energy, and the other radiated a gentle azure.
The contingent of nagas escorted the two spirits down the avenue of trees and toward the judgment chamber, thick tails making waves in the black sand. Bijul was focused in a way that made Divya’s back straighten.
When the two spirits entered the chamber, Bijul prostrated herself before them. Divya started; Bijul had never done that before. The other nagas smoothly followed suit.
“Holy Deva, Blessed Asura,” they murmured as one, “we thank you for your gifts and guidance.”
The asura and deva? She had heard of them from the other dakinis, but she had never caught a glimpse, let alone met them. And now they were dead.
Bijul rose on her tail and carefully, so carefully, cradled each spirit within her palms. The energies within them seeped out like milk from a broken pail, fretful red and gentle blue, until they formed their own small orbs.
“Your dharma is complete,” Bijul intoned. “May you find peace eternal.”
The ghost lights, separated from their colorful energies, formed into the figures of two women, identical in every way, save that one had long hair and the other short. Unlike most of the other spirits Divya had encountered, their eyes were open. They had reached enlightenment.
The spirits inclined their heads and vanished into sighing fog. Only the red and blue lights were left.
Bijul smiled at her. “Can you guess what these are?”
Divya stepped closer. The red light scared her a little, zipping restlessly here and there. Instead, she reached for the blue light. It obediently floated into her small hands, casting her brown skin silver, like the lake.
It was…warm. It felt like holding a cup of cha, the heat seeping into her palms and fingers, delving down and taking root in her stomach. She grinned and held the orb against her chest to protect it.
Bijul laid her hand atop Divya’s head. “These are the essences of the asura and deva. Although the humans who carried them are now gone, the cycle of the asura and deva is ongoing. Unending.”
“So they’ll be reborn? Like spirits?”
“Precisely.”
Divya nodded in understanding. There were no souls attached to the energy, the essences, but they had to go somewhere.
Reluctantly, she let go of the blue light. It drifted back up to its sibling, which pressed in closer as if it had missed the other. Bijul cradled them in either hand.
“Go and journey into Martya,” she said to them. “Find those who would house you, feed you, cultivate you. We will wait patiently for your return.”
With a sense of loss, Divya watched the lights fade away.
* * *
One day, she was traveling down to Nagaloka when she sensed something unusual.
She was currently in Sutala, where Lord Dukha’s palace sat within the city of Bali. Divya had never gone into the city, but she greatly enjoyed the land surrounding it. Each of Patala’s seven realms was said to be more beautiful than Svarga, and Sutala was no exception; here, the ground was blanketed in purple sands and sparkling black grasses, strewn with waterfalls that spilled over dark rock formations, and overhead were far-flung gems even brighter than the stars in Martya. Trees grew tall and thick, their black branches shivering with leaves of silver and gold. She liked to pluck the round red fruits they grew, which were always perfectly ripe, their juice bright and tart. Bijul often clucked her tongue while wiping Divya’s sticky, grinning mouth with a wet cloth after she’d eaten them.
She was halfway to reaching for one such fruit when a sensation skittered across her nape. Not as if she were being watched, though the elder dakinis had taught her what to do in such a situation.
If someone follows you with ill intent, or touches you without your consent, you teach them better, one had said while presenting her with a curved dagger. We will show you.
Divya liked to practice the moves whenever she was alone, but this feeling meant she was not alone, so she abandoned the fruit and dove behind a large boulder covered in glittering moss. Soon after, a figure emerged from the trees.
It was a boy. He was young, perhaps her age, which in Martya time meant he was twelve or so. Her hand settled on her dagger as he came closer to her vantage spot, chewing on his lower lip and casting his gaze around in wide-eyed apprehension.
Divya gawked. It was a human boy, one who had clearly never been here before. It was rare for humans to enter Patala, though not unheard-of. But one as young as him, without an escort?
The more she stared, taking in his short dark hair and amber eyes, the more she wondered if she had seen him before. But certainly not—the dakinis did not cross paths with human men if they could help it.
A memory tickled the fringes of her mind. Standing in the judgment chamber with Bijul, cradling azure warmth between her hands, overcome with a rare and remarkable sense of peace.
Divya grinned wide. Hello again, little light.
Unable to hide any longer, she hopped onto the boulder and put her hands on her hips. “Where do you think you’re going?”
The boy gasped and stumbled. One of his hands fell to a knife at his belt.
“Wh-Who? I…I’m not—” He swallowed hard and whispered, “Please don’t hurt me.”
Divya threw her head back and laughed. The boy balked as if she were some towering daitya with a cudgel rather than a scrawny young dakini.
“Why would I hurt you?” She nimbly jumped off the boulder and approached him. “You’re the deva.”
The boy lost some of his tension, hand dropping from his knife. “How do you know I’m the deva?”
“Because I’m omnipotent. I know everything.” Her cheeks puffed out with the effort not to laugh at his bewildered face. “I could tell you what you’re thinking right now. I could tell you what you had for breakfast this morning. I could tell you when you last emptied your bowels.”
“Don’t,” he choked, with a deepening flush.
The laugh that tumbled out of her was so strong she had to hold on to her sides. “No, no, none of that’s true. We’ve actually met before.”
This only flustered him more. “We have?” His gaze darted from her long braid to her black, pointed fingernails to the third eye upon her forehead. “I…don’t remember meeting you.”
“You wouldn’t be able to. But we’re meeting now! Officially.” She bounced on the balls of her feet, teeming with an overflowing sense of joy. She was often told by the elders that she had too much energy, but she’d never agreed until this moment, when she was filled crown to toes with it. As if she could run through all of Patala and hardly be out of breath.
Was that the effect of the deva? Or was it merely delight at reuniting with that warm, soothing light?
“I’m guessing you’re lost,” she went on. “Is this your first time in Patala?”
The boy nodded. “My brother and I are supposed to be paying our respects to the demon lord. But…” He scratched the back of his neck. “There was an interesting flower. I lost him.”
Divya scoffed. “There’s plenty of interesting flowers here. If you go wandering off to look at them all, you’ll spend your whole life lost.”
“I know that now,” he muttered.
“There’s a lot to see in Patala, you know. You could go up to Vitala and see the goblins who mine mountains of gold. Or visit all the palaces built by the demon architect. But do not go to Atala!” She shuddered at the memory of stumbling upon that realm even after the dakinis had warned her not to, the tableau of depravity forever seared into her mind. “They have different appetites there.” That’s what one of the elders had told her, anyway.
The deva stared at her with lips parted, either awed or overwhelmed. Perhaps both. Taking pity on him, she grabbed his hand and tugged him forward.
“Come on, I’ll show you to Bali,” she said over her shoulder. “That’s where your brother was going, isn’t it? The asura?”
“Y-Yes,” he stammered, his fingers twitching within hers. “But it’s all right. Really. I can—”
“There you are!”
Another boy ran toward them, his face—so similar to the deva’s—contorted with worry. Purple sand kicked up from his boots as he skidded to a stop, looking between Divya and his brother.
“You shouldn’t have let me continue on like that!” he scolded, panting from his run. “Here I was chatting away, only to realize I was talking to myself!”
The deva hung his head. “Sorry.”
The asura sighed. “No matter. At least I found you.” He bowed to Divya, and she dropped the deva’s hand in surprise. “Thank you for escorting him.”
“I didn’t really do anything.” If she concentrated, she could sense within him the restless energy she’d seen in the judgment chamber. That fussy red essence, so unlike his brother’s. It didn’t feel bad—just different.
“Still.” The asura trotted back toward Bali, gesturing for his brother to follow. “Come on, Lord Dukha is waiting.”
The deva hesitated. He chewed his lower lip again, chapped from the habit.
“All those things you talked about,” he murmured. “In Patala. Are those really things I can see?”
Divya brightened. “Of course. I can take you to all the realms. I know the best shortcuts.”
The boy’s expression softened with a smile. Divya’s breath caught at the sight of it, and again she was filled with that soothing warmth.
“I’d like that,” he whispered.
“Tav!” his brother shouted. “Hurry up!”
The boy uttered a quick goodbye and took off. Divya stood staring after them long enough that the newly lit fire in her chest dwindled down to popping embers.
* * *
It was months before she saw him again.
She’d started lingering in Sutala, in case she caught him journeying to Bali. She crouched in the grass and ate fruit until her mouth dripped red, sometimes scanning the roads and valleys for hours before giving up.
Of course it was a day she didn’t plan to linger that she ran into him. In fact, both of them were standing before one of the lakes, admiring the veil of rushing water that spilled over the gleaming rocks. The asura, talking nonstop, had an arm perched on his brother’s shoulder, and when the deva replied the asura erupted into laughter.
“I’m sure it’s not poison!” she heard once she’d crept close enough to eavesdrop over the roaring of the waterfall.
“You don’t know for certain,” the deva murmured, shifting on his feet. She remembered the name his brother had called—Tav—and wondered what would happen if she shouted it.
Before she could draw in a breath to try, the asura whirled around. His jovial face fell to wariness, his brown eyes ringed crimson. Divya scurried back, but within a couple of blinks, his eyes returned to normal.
“Oh, it’s you,” he said. “The one who helped Tav last time.”
If she didn’t know any better, she’d say the two of them were happy to see her. Divya allowed that to bolster her as she stepped out of the long grass.
“Divya,” she said.
“Divya,” the asura echoed while his brother silently mouthed the name beside him. “I’m Advaith. Me and my brother were arguing over whether the lakes here are poisonous.”
“Why would they be poisonous?”
Advaith nudged Tav in the side. “See?” Tav whacked his arm away. “I wanted to go swimming, but someone was too scared.”
Tav sighed. “I was being careful. We’re in Patala. You know how people talk about rakshasas.”
Divya frowned; what did they say about rakshasas in Martya?
“Baa-Ji said—”
Advaith blew a raspberry at his brother. “Baa-Ji isn’t the asura or deva, is he?”
“Adi.”
“What? It’s true.” Advaith grinned at Divya. “So? Is it safe for swimming?”
She nodded, not quite sure what to make of the conversation.
With her assurance, he shimmied out of his kurta and shoes. Left only in his trousers, he leapt into the lake with a splash. Divya had never interacted with humans this closely before, wasn’t sure how they typically acted outside the stories the dakinis told her. She’d never heard any stories about them loving water like this.
Advaith surfaced and crossed his arms on the rocky ledge along the shore. “Well?”
Tav glanced at Divya and blushed, but he pulled his kurta over his head. Then, rather than jumping in like his brother had, he slowly eased into the water.
“Oh,” he said. “It’s warmer than I thought it would be.” He gazed up at Divya. “Are you coming in?”
What a strange question. The thought must have shown on her face, because his shoulders crept up.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he mumbled.
“Well, it’s not about wanting.” She sat on the smooth rock below her. “I don’t know how to swim.”
Advaith, who’d been floating on his back, squawked and flailed, accidentally splashing Tav. “You don’t know how to swim?”
“That’s what I said.”
Tav gave a retaliating splash. “Not everyone does. It’s fine.”
“But—” Advaith sputtered. “You have to learn! Come in, we’ll teach you!”
Divya burst out laughing. Before she could explain why she found this so funny, two young danavas appeared out of nowhere. She reached for her dagger.
