by Jasmine Walt
He grabbed my forearm and pulled me in, his other hand cupping my cheek. “Be safe.” His breath caressed my lips, and he took my mouth, softly, sweetly. He broke the kiss, pressing his forehead to mine. “Come find me when you get back, no matter how late.”
I closed my eyes and inhaled him. “See you soon.”
We drove wrapped in silence. No banter, no barbs, just the low hum of tension thrumming between us. Something had changed, and I wasn’t sure what. We parked as close to the bridge as we could and made the rest of the journey on foot. The city was alight with smells and sounds. It was in the dead of night when London truly came alive. The briny smell of the Thames, mingled with the spicy aroma of tacos from the riverside food stalls, filled the air. The clip of boots, the buzz of conversation, and the tinkle of laughter made up the symphony of the night.
“This way.” Garuda led me down a flight of stone steps just before the bridge began proper.
“I’ve never noticed those stairs before.”
“Only those looking for them can find them,” Garuda said.
We stepped onto the thin sliver of a riverbank. The moon’s questing fingers didn’t make it this far, but my night vision was exceptional and keeping up with Garuda wasn’t a problem. We slipped under the cold, dank gray stone of the bridge, into complete darkness, accompanied only by the slap of water.
“Here,” Garuda said.
I saw nothing—just the water and the unmistakable smell of algae. “What’s here? I don’t see anything.”
“This is the rumored spot.”
“Okay, give me a minute. Maybe there’s some kind of mechanism, some kind of mystical switch to open the doorway?”
The stone was slimy and cold beneath my fingers. I searched every nook and cranny. Garuda crouched, searching the pebbled sand. Time ticked by. A chill began to penetrate my natural heat reserves. When was the last time I’d eaten? Heat enveloped my body, and warm hands cupped my shoulders.
“Your teeth are chattering.” Garuda slid his hands down my arms.
My skin greedily soaked up the warmth, my body moving into him involuntarily. For a moment, the fear was forgotten, buried beneath another kind of need, one that fluttered in my throat, teasing the pulse at the base of my neck and pushing air out of my lungs.
He wrapped his arms around my waist, his hands splayed over my hips, his fingers hot brands seeping through the fabric of my slacks.
“You need to eat something.” His breath was hot on the side of my neck.
The heat from his body pressed flush against mine, infusing me and dispelling the chill.
“Malina . . .” His voice was tight.
Garuda’s arms flexed beneath my fingers—fingers that were busy stroking and caressing him.
What was I doing?
The familiar fire exploded in my belly, forcing me to pull away from him. I needed distance, a moment to collect myself and deal with the cocktail of fear and longing. I hated this, hated that I wanted him so badly. I picked up a stone and flung it into the water. It landed with a plop, sinking into the dark depths of the river.
Pebbles crunched beneath Garuda’s boots as he took a step toward me.
“Don’t.”
“I’m sorry. I had no right to touch you.”
No, he hadn’t, but I could have moved away sooner. Instead, I’d reveled in those few moments of fear-free contact. I’d lapped it up like the creamy froth on a cappuccino. Yeah, I was pissed, but more at myself than at him. I’d committed myself to Ajitah. I’d made a choice. This—feeling this way—was wrong.
“Malina?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“No, listen.”
A low rumble reached my ears. The ground beneath my feet began to vibrate. The water slapped against the bank, seething with white froth.
“Something’s coming.” Garuda stepped closer to me.
The water finally parted to reveal a platform attached to a flight of descending stairs. Had the stone I’d thrown somehow summoned it? I stepped onto the platform, heart racing. What was down there? What kind of world would I be entering? Garuda stood on the bank. If only he could come with me. I glanced back, and he was right behind me, on the platform. He shouldn’t come. The naga probably hated him. I opened my mouth to tell him so, but his powerful presence was too much of a lure. Surely he could come with me some of the way? I turned away from him and cautiously made my way down the steps, slippery with algae.
A wall of water rose on either side of us, black and rippling. What if the magic holding it at bay failed? What if it collapsed on us? Then I’d hold it with my power. My pulse eased, and the anxiety ebbed. The world rumbled, and my stomach dropped. The whole structure was descending. There was nothing to hold on to, except the wet stone steps themselves.
“Hang on.” I dropped and pressed myself against the stairs as we slipped into the depths of the river.
Our descent came to an end. A stone arch, glowing blue and green, loomed ahead in the darkness.
This was it—the doorway to my mother’s realm.
Taking the last few steps, I passed under the arch. A sensation like pins and needles broke out across my skin but dissipated as soon as I stepped into the chamber beyond. The walls were beset with huge, gleaming jewels: emeralds, rubies, and diamonds. The ground was golden sand, filling the room with a warm glow. Dark, empty archways led off from the chamber, heading further into the realm, but I had no clue where to go from here.
“This is . . . wow.” Garuda stepped through the arch, and the jewels flickered and went out.
“What’s going on?” I strained my eyes, trying to make out something, anything. But here, below the river, without the light of the gems, it was pitch-black.
“Dammit. This is my fault,” Garuda said.
“What do you mean?”
“I felt it as I stepped through the arch. I shouldn’t have come. The naga and I . . . we don’t have a good history.”
I was afraid to move. “So what happens now?”
“I don’t know.”
A gust of air brushed against my skin, lifting my hair from the nape of my neck.
Something was coming.
Behind me, Garuda let out a low, feral rumble.
“Are you okay?”
His breathing was rapid and harsh.
Terror spiked in my veins. “Garuda?”
The ground shifted, and a loud whooshing cut through the air. Something was slicing through the sand—something long, large, and serpentine.
“Malina, get away from me. Run!”
Fighting against my instincts, I stood my ground. “Like hell. I’m not leaving you.”
It burst into the room from the right. Silver scales glittered in the gloom. A flash of light here, a burst of air there—the biggest fucking snake I’d ever seen. It brushed past me, beelining for Garuda, but Garuda wasn’t himself anymore. He was the beast, the monster that killed my kind. They clashed, coming together in claw and fang. Sand swept up, smacking me in the face, gritting my eyes, and sitting grainy and invasive on my tongue.
I spat and whirled, leaping at the serpent, hooking my fingers to try to gain purchase on its scales. But it moved too fast, its body turning and writhing. The serpent slammed into me, sending me sprawling across the ground, butt scraping sand.
This wasn’t my fight. It was an ancient primal battle, and I hadn’t been invited.
A wail of pain echoed throughout the chamber. The serpent . . . was hurt. My body was in motion before I could think things through, smashing into Garuda with a rugby tackle to be proud of, with enough power to knock him back and force him to relinquish his grip on the serpent.
“Stop! Stop it! This isn’t you. Not anymore.” Dammit, he was strong. Thrashing and bucking. Shit. I needed to hold on . . . give him a moment to pull it together. “Come on! Just chill the fuck out!” His body stilled, predator eyes glaring down at me. “You with me?”
The beak melted away, pupils fillin
g out again until he was just Garuda once more. Thank God, he was back.
He glanced over my head. “Now maybe you can work that magic on the big killer snake.”
I spun around to see the serpent rearing back, ready to strike. Its black eyes were fixed on Garuda, its jaws open, fangs dripping venom. This was a century’s worth of payback. A fuck you, Garuda, from the entire snake population in Nagalok. A finger to the gods who’d set him on them. It was a snub to the peace, and I wasn’t having it.
Sliding my body over Garuda’s, my back to his torso, I held up my hands. “Stop! No more!” My knees quivered, but my tone was strong and filled with authority. The serpent faltered. Its huge body swayed above us. Did it understand what I was saying? It must be sentient, right? “The war is over. Garuda means you no harm. He’s my . . . my friend, but I’m sorry I brought him here. Just let him go.”
The monster lowered its head with its beady, shiny eyes fixed on me. The world rumbled but we remained locked in a stalemate—the majestic serpent, regal and powerful, against a hellhound-naga hybrid.
The beautifully terrifying creature inclined its head. “You, ssscent of naga, may remain. But Garuda, defiler of the naga, blood sssoaked murderer of my kin, must leave this place and never return, for next time I will not be so graciousss.”
Okay, so a huge, talking snake. Nice.
“I’m not leaving her,” Garuda said. He lifted me off his body, setting me on my feet.
“Isss that your final ressponsse?”
“Yes.”
“Then you will die!”
It attacked again. I was no match for Garuda’s strength as he shoved me to the side. I scrambled to my feet as he tousled with the serpent, pinning it beneath his rippling body. Wings burst from his back, and his face morphed into that of a bird of prey.
The serpent screamed, its cry of pain tearing at my insides, calling to something deep inside me—a hidden door to a place I’d yet to visit.
“No!”
The world was a haze of movement as I ran, sand shifting beneath my feet. I bunched my thighs and launched myself onto Garuda. I pulled him back and threw myself onto the wounded serpent, hugging the snake, its blood slick against my cheek, my eyes burning with emotions.
“Ssscent of usss.”
“Please, don’t. Garuda, don’t hurt her.”
Any moment now, his beak would tear into my flesh, ripping me away to get to his prize. Any moment now . . .
“Malina . . . I . . . I’m sorry.”
Beneath me, the snake lay still and cold.
And then the chamber was filled with the sound of footfalls.
Garuda’s arms wrapped around me, pulling me away from the snake. We were surrounded by tall men brandishing tridents. Gold bands gleamed on their biceps, their bare chests smooth and hairless. The bottom halves of their bodies were in snake form.
Naga, I presumed.
One of the larger males slid forward. “Murderers. Defilers. You have slain the guardian, and you will be tried.”
They slithered toward us as one. Garuda tensed, ready to fight, and the nearest guard flinched but held his ground. I caught the flash of fear in another guard’s eye. Of course . . . they were naga, and Garuda was their natural predator. They held their ground and closed in.
Garuda growled.
“No.” I pressed my hand to his chest, my throat pinching. “No more death.”
21
The naga men—the guardian’s keepers—had bundled us into a strange carriage made entirely of what looked like wicker. The contraption wasn’t tethered to anything, so I had to assume they either pulled it themselves, or some kind of otherworld magic made the whole thing work. With no idea where they were taking us, or what this trial would entail, there was little to work with in terms of preparation.
Hopefully, once we got wherever they were taking us, we’d get the opportunity to speak to someone in charge. But then, what the heck would I say? Sorry my escort killed your guardian? Man, Garuda had really fucked this up for me. I’d come here to ask for something, to implore whoever was in charge to give me back what belonged to my mother. Like heck they’d do anything to help me now. I hadn’t been the one to kill the guardian, but I’d been the one to bring Garuda into their world. Why hadn’t I stopped him from following me down that staircase? Oh, yeah, because I’d been too much of a wet blanket to go down by myself. This was as much my fault as his. Killing naga was in his nature. Being mad at him would be like getting pissed at a spider for spinning a web. But the anger was still there, simmering in my blood, a lump in my throat.
Garuda stood, hands braced against the wicker walls of our carriage, eyes fixed on the view through the tiny aperture that served as a window. The coach lurched, and I flew forward, slamming into his back. He turned to steady me, and I smacked his hands away.
He immediately released me. “I’m sorry.”
There was so much remorse in his tone, raw and sincere. I had to find a way to let it go. What was done was done, right? But it was more than anger over the kill. It was grief for the majestic creature he’d slain. And frustration at the way the dice kept landing, reminding me of the futility of him and me, making my neck heat with shame that I was still even thinking about that possibility. I was with Ajitah. I’d accepted that and chosen him and all that shit, so why was I still hoping?
“I didn’t want to kill her, but she could have hurt you.”
“Bullshit. She knew I was one of them. She said as much. It was you she wanted out of there. You should have just . . . gone.”
“Yes. I should have.”
He was admitting he’d acted rashly. The droop of his shoulders and the downturn of his lips told me he regretted his actions. If only regret were a sufficient sentence for such a crime.
“When we get to wherever they’re taking us, I’ll explain what happened. That I acted alone.”
“Yes, you will, because I’m not losing what I came here for just because you can’t control the predator inside you.”
He blinked, his expression smoothing out. “I promise you, I’ll do whatever it takes to get you what you came for.”
Man, I felt shitty now. It wasn’t his fault. Just like attacking me hadn’t been his fault. But it kept happening and would keep happening. This was who he was. I needed to get over it. Fast. I sat on the ground opposite him, the weave of the carriage rough and bumpy against my butt.
“You’re getting better at controlling it,” he said.
“What?”
“Your primal reaction to me.”
At least one of us was getting better at something. “What will they do to you?”
He raised a brow.
“For killing their guardian?” I added.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. The naga have their own laws. I knew it was a risk following you in. I should never have stepped onto that platform, but you needed me.”
When he said stuff like that, it made it impossible to be mad at him. We locked eyes, and the intensity in his gaze forced me to look away. I stood, hunched over, and stepped around him to peer out the tiny window. Rolling hills flew by . . . blue, green, and yellow. The sky above was azure, laced with silver. “How is this possible?”
“The gods have marveled at it for eons, but only Varuna has ever been welcomed into their realm. The naga are anomalies—thieves of immortality. It seems that Amrit gave them more than just the gift of godliness. It gave them power over time and reality itself—something the gods discovered not too long ago.”
I shuffled away from the window and slid to the floor, stretching out my legs. “I don’t get it.”
Garuda leaned his head back, his lids heavy. “How much do you know about the gods? About the universe?”
“About as much as the average person.”
“And what does the average person know?”
“Ooh, a test.”
He sighed. “Forget it.”
God, I was such a dick sometimes. He was trying to pro
vide a distraction, and I was getting all snarky. “I’m sorry. Wait. Let me see. Okay, I know the gods used to reside in Swarga, and they call our earthly realm Prithvi. Oh, and then there’s the underworld. That’s about it.”
“Correct. At one time, it was believed that Nagalok was in the seventh lowest region of the underworld, also known as Patala. But once the gods locked the gateway to the underworld, and the naga continued to come and go, we realized the naga may have other gateways—ones that we were previously unaware of.”
“You lost me at Patala.”
“Have you heard of the multi-verse theory? That all the different pathways our existence could take exist at the same time, superimposed over one another? The theory that each person can spawn hundreds of realities depending on how many vital decisions they may have had to make in their lives?”
“Yeah. Eamon mentioned infinite universe or something a while back. He said my mother was a believer. It’s an interesting theory.”
He sat forward. “Yes. It’s in the Hindu scripture.”
“Okay. But it’s just a theory. It’s not real.”
He arched a brow. “It’s more than a theory. It’s fact.”
I shook my head. “Nah.”
“We just summoned a stairway into the earth, stepped through a magical gateway, and are now traveling in a wicker carriage under a blue sky, when a moment ago we were underground. Why is the possibility of other realities so hard to accept?”
He had a point, but still . . . “I don’t know. It just seems so . . . weird.”
He snorted. “Yeah. For me, the idea of not being unique is the uncomfortable part. But after the Patala incident, the gods did some digging and concluded that the naga have many doorways out of Patala. Further digging revealed that those doorways lead to other realities.”
So Eamon had been right to believe. To hope . . . “So there’s another version of me out there somewhere?” A Malina who’d grown up with parents?
Were there worlds where the shaitan had never rampaged? Did I even exist in those realities?
