by Jasmine Walt
“No, wait.”
Hands grabbed at me, trying to pull me back, but I was already over the rock wall. Garuda was within reach. He shook his head, warning me to back off. But forget that. Someone cried out in alarm, the crowd buzzed with the scandal of it, and at that moment, I hated these people with their high-and-mighty attitude and their peace-loving façade. Snakes, the lot of them. Ha! The platform was high, but I managed to pull myself up, catching Garuda as he slumped. Holding him up as the lashes fell, his blood wet and warm on my palms.
“What’s happening? Who is she?”
Fire cut open the back of my hands. No, not fire. The fucker had accidentally whipped me, and then the punisher was freezing mid-swing and gazing up at the balcony. If my ears hadn’t been ringing so bad, I’d have been able to hear what the heck was being said, but my hands were twin orbs of pain, Garuda was unconscious in the crook of my shoulder, and focus had deserted me.
As the punisher stepped down off the platform, I exhaled in relief.
It was over.
Garuda lay belly-down on my bed. His back was a mess of torn flesh and dried blood. He wasn’t healing. Why wasn’t he healing?
“Does it hurt? Gah! Stupid question.”
He chuckled and winced. “Yeah, it hurts like a fucking bitch.”
I crouched by his head. “Why isn’t it healing?”
“My abilities are muted here. My strength and super healing aren’t at max while in this realm.”
“So once we get out, you’ll be okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Then let’s go. What are we waiting for?”
He groaned. “For the feeling to return to my extremities.”
Crap, yeah. He’d had to be carried here. “Do you want me to get you some water?”
“I’m fine. Just give me thirty minutes, and we’ll be good to go.”
He closed his eyes, giving me the chance to study his face. His brows were pinched, and his lips were pressed together—the only signs that he was in any pain. Thick, dark lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, and my finger ached to trace his eyebrows. They were nice eyebrows.
Five hundred lashes . . . well, almost. Vasuki had cut the proceedings short when I’d made an appearance. My hands, where the whip had caught me, had healed, but the echo of pain still lingered. I couldn’t even begin to imagine the level of pain Garuda must have experienced, especially now he’d revealed that he wasn’t at full power here. His breathing grew deep and even. Maybe he was asleep. I reached out and lightly ran the tip of my index finger across his eyebrow.
He opened his eyes.
Wow, now I just felt creepy.
“Someone’s coming,” he said.
A knock at the door had me on my feet. “Come in.”
Bhima popped his head around the door. “I just wanted to give you warning. Vasuki is on his way with your great-grandmother. She insisted on meeting you before you leave.”
“Laila is coming here?” Garuda scrambled onto his knees.
Bhima nodded. “Yes, she missed the other incarnations of Malina as she was in slumber. Your great-grandmother is at the age where she can sleep for decades to pass the time. She’s eccentric, but you’ll like her.”
Garuda was off the bed, scanning the room.
“What are you doing?”
“We need to get you out of here.”
“Why?”
“Laila is a paigambar, a seer of great power.”
“So?”
“So? Dammit, Malina, have you forgotten who your fiftieth kill was?”
Vinod . . .
“You may have convinced them to lessen my sentence, but I’m not a naga. I’m not one of them. If they find out what you did, I doubt they’ll be as forgiving, especially since you didn’t act in self-defense.”
Shit, shit, shit. “Bhima, is there a way out of here? Some way we can get back to our reality without coming face to face with this seer?”
Bhima opened his mouth to respond, but the door behind him swung open to reveal Vasuki and a small, silver-haired woman with intense green eyes. A slender young naga walked by her side, leading her by the hand.
The silver-haired woman hobbled toward me, her gaze fixed on my face. “My, it’s like looking in a mirror.”
Seriously? Did I look that haggard?
She chuckled. “Not now, of course, but in my youth. I was very beautiful, you know.”
“Yes, mother, you were,” Vasuki said.
A relative who could read my mind and see into my soul. I really needed to get the heck out of here.
She cocked her head. “Do not fear, I will not invade your private thoughts, child. Come, give your great-grandmother a hug. This may be my last chance to see you before I succumb to the eternal slumber.”
I glanced at Garuda, who shook his head almost imperceptibly. But what could I do? Say no thanks and walk away? Taking a deep breath, I leaned down, allowing her to envelop me in a bony, yet sturdy, embrace.
Her body stiffened, and she released me, stepping back quickly. “Oh, child. Oh, my dear child.”
Shit on a stick. “I thought you said you wouldn’t invade my private thoughts?”
“I didn’t need to. Your psyche screams and wails its crime.”
Noisy fucking psyche.
“What is it? Mother?” Vasuki asked.
The old woman turned to her slender companion. “Shut the door, Kunti.”
The slender woman, probably her maid or something, did as told.
Laila shook her head. “What you did was heinous, but I sense it was a blind act, a mistake maybe, and so I will keep my peace. Go from here now. Before anyone else discovers the truth.”
“What did she do?” Kunti asked.
But Laila ignored her, turning instead to Vasuki. “Lead them to the nearest gateway and send them back to their reality.”
Vasuki didn’t question. “Come with me.”
He led us through the many corridors and out into the rapidly falling night. We ran through a courtyard and entered what looked like a stable. Except it wasn’t filled with horses; it was full of those weird wicker carriages that Garuda and I had been transported in. Vasuki placed his hands on the carriage. His eyes rolled back in his head until only the whites showed. The thrum of energy filled the air, and the whole structure began to vibrate.
I looked to Garuda. “What’s he doing?”
“I don’t know.”
“But I do.” Harish appeared in the doorway to the stables. “He’s enchanting one of his private carriages to take you to the nearest gateway. To help you escape.” His gaze fell on me. “You. A murderer.”
Several guards spilled into the room, their black and silver toques gleaming in the moonlight. Garuda stepped in front of me at the same moment Vasuki came out of his trance.
The naga king took in the scene and turned on Harish. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Oh, yes. Your mother neglected to inform you, didn’t she? This version of your granddaughter is a murderer. A murderer of kin, and if not for Kunti’s loyalty to the realm and our people, we would have let her get away.”
Vasuki’s eyes narrowed. “If mother asked me to get her to safety, then the circumstances must have been extenuating.”
“Surely that’s for the council of judges to decide. Being king does not make you judge and jury. That custom was abolished eons ago. Arrest the girl and prepare the judgment chamber.” His thin lips curled into a cruel smile. “We have a trial to conduct.”
I’d never been one to shy away from the spotlight, but this was one of those situations where a seat way in the back would have sufficed.
We were returned to the chamber. The judges were seated on the balcony, but instead of Vasuki taking the floor, Harish was leading the proceedings. I’d taken Garuda’s place as the subject on trial. So far, things weren’t looking good. Harish, the tosser, had disregarded all my arguments. The I-didn’t-realize-he-was-a-good-guy argument wasn’t working. In fact, it made
me sound like a callous killer. A murderer who knocked off any target sent her way. The fact there had been no passion in the kill apparently made me a terrible person. I was beginning to agree with them.
All this time, I’d killed on cue, hiding behind my mantle of guild assassin. I was simply doing a job by ridding the world of scum. But being able to kill like that, with dispassion . . . What did that make me?
“What does that make you?” Harish asked, echoing my thoughts. “It makes you a cold-blooded killer.”
“She was a fucking pawn,” Garuda spat. “She was taken as a child. She was an innocent who was corrupted. You can’t hold her accountable for that.”
Vasuki, relegated to a seat on the sidelines as punishment for trying to aid in my escape, stood up. “Let us see the truth. Let us know for sure.”
What did that mean? But then Laila shuffled into the room, her cane tapping against the marble floor. Her delicate jaw was set, and she turned her nose up at Harish as she passed. He didn’t try to stop her. She came to a standstill before me. They knew I’d killed a naga, but not who, or how. They knew I was an assassin and that the kill had been ordered. And now, thanks to Garuda, they knew that I’d been taken as a child and indoctrinated into that life. But Laila would delve deeper, and I didn’t know if I wanted her to.
“It’s all right, child. This won’t hurt physically, and it may help to see the full story. Now, please, get on your knees.”
I did as she asked, and she placed her fingertips against my temples. The world went black and then my life began to flash before my eyes, images and snippets: laughing with Aaron and Carmella at Loki’s, curling up on the sofa with Toto, falling into Ajitah’s arms, breakfast with Barrett, and then came the kills. One after the other, they flitted through my mind, the moment of death, the moment I walked away, until we came to Vinod. His face twisted in horror and his final words—You. Wrong.
It looked bad, really bad. The pressure of her fingers eased, but then other images flashed in my mind: a red swing set, the azure sky filled with fluffy white clouds, and Eamon’s smiling face as he scooped me off the swing and spun me around like an airplane. Yes, I remembered this. I’d been happy . . . so happy. And safe . . . I’d always felt safe. As if a dam had broken, the memories came flooding back, one after the other, faster and faster, filling the empty spaces of my mind and infusing my body with the ache of nostalgia. A fist of fear formed in my stomach as the viscous black entity reached for me. A high-pitched scream filled my ears. My childhood self’s fear and desperation ripped through my body. It was going to kill me. Mummy, where was Mummy? I wanted Daddy. No. No!
Laila released me, and I fell forward, my chest heaving painfully. I blinked away the tears to clear my vision.
“Your memories . . . why were they hidden?” Laila asked.
I lifted my head, my throat constricted with emotions. “Trauma.”
My memories . . . I had them back. The love I’d felt. The sense of family . . . I needed to get back to Dad. I needed to see him and hold him. The panel was staring at me with dazed expressions on their faces. Had they seen what Laila had?
Harish’s lip curled in disgust. “Do you know who you killed, little girl? You killed your own uncle—a naga of royal blood, one who left to forge a new path with his artistry in a world he hoped to fill with the color of his beautiful words. You stripped your reality of the chance to be tamed by his ballads and to learn from his tales. You took away his chance at happiness.”
Vinod had been my uncle? He’d looked at me as if he recognized me. Had he been seeing echoes of my mother, Diya, in my face? Vasuki was staring at the ground. His shoulders rose and fell as he visibly worked to compose himself. I’d killed his son . . . or a version of him. Garuda stared daggers at Harish.
Laila caressed my cheek. “You weren’t to know. Vinod chose his path when he left us, and his alternates still live. We may see him again.”
Harish snorted. “That is beside the point.”
Laila’s green eyes flashed and she buckled, falling to her knees before me. A low keening filled the air, and a deep hush fell over the gathered naga. Laila swayed from side to side for several long seconds before slumping to the ground.
I pulled her head into my lap. “What happened? What’s wrong with her?”
Vasuki left his seat, strode over, and gathered his mother into his arms. “She is seeing the future.”
Laila moaned. Her eyes fluttered open, and she gripped Vasuki’s tunic. “Suppressor of the void . . . she must not die.” Her voice was a strangled gasp, and then she slipped into unconsciousness.
Vasuki glanced up at Harish, who shrugged.
“You can’t ignore the seer’s words,” Vasuki said.
Harish snorted. “What words? ‘Suppressor of the void, she must not die?’ It could mean anything. It doesn’t have to relate to this case.”
“She said that Malina must not die,” Garuda snapped.
“She said the suppressor of the void must not die. That could be anyone. And even if it is Malina, the concerns of alternate worlds, including their future, are not relevant to us. Our world is distinct, unique, and untouchable.” He looked to the judges. “You will disregard the seer’s final words.”
“Dammit, Harish. You have no right!” Vasuki said.
I expected him to morph into a serpent at any moment, but although his skin rippled eagerly, he maintained his human form.
“I have every right,” Harish said. “You handed all the rights to me when you attempted to aid the criminal’s escape. You approved our way of life; our laws were written by you. A temporary abdication is the law when the king is considered emotionally incapable of ruling on a case. This is such a case. You are simply too close to the subject.” He ended with a snide smile and swept around to address the judges’ balcony. “Malina has certainly lived a colorful life, but aside from the childhood trauma that took her memories, all we saw were scenes of friendship and laughter interspersed with kills. Hardly grounds for excusing the murder of a naga.”
Bhima stood up on the balcony. “However, if Malina has been lied to all her life and fed innocents as targets, she can hardly be held accountable.”
Harish’s lips tightened. “I don’t believe you were given permission to speak.”
Bhima ducked his head and sat down.
Harish turned to the judges, holding out his arms. “My brothers, I acknowledge Bhima’s point. However, we have already allowed our guardian’s killer to go free, and there is dissension in the naga community. Naga are saying we are becoming lax in our duty to enforce the law. If we now allow the murder of a naga to go unpunished, especially one renowned and loved for his heart-wrenching poetry and ballads, then we may as well send a message to every citizen telling them that murder is no longer grounds for execution, that as long as they have a story, they may be allowed to live. The one law has allowed us to exist in peace for eons. It has permitted us to prosper and thrive. To change it now would be inviting anarchy.”
He turned to point at me. “The laws of her world are lax, and I look at that world, filled with death and destruction, needing assassins to cull the wicked. There may be beauty, too, but it is buried under the ugliness of greed and ambition. Do we want to be like them?” He shook his head, his lips downturned. “No, we do not. But if you allow her to live, then you will be forcing us to take the first step on a slippery slope leading us to destruction.”
I hated this guy with a passion, but his words made sense. Their laws were alien and archaic to me, but the results were . . . undeniable. Yeah, his people may be a little antsy. They may have lapped up the lashing like it was chocolate milk, but overall, they seemed happy, because they felt safe.
I exhaled. I was so screwed.
The judges were murmuring above, and Vasuki dropped his gaze. Garuda met mine head-on, his jaw tense. He would fight. I could see it in the lines of his body. But if he did, he would fall. He was one against a hoard, and his powers were useless here.<
br />
Someone began to speak—not Bhima this time, one of the others. The words death, execution, and immediate reverberated around the chamber, and blood was whooshing in my ears.
Garuda’s bellow filled the room.
Rough hands grabbed me by the biceps. There was no point fighting. There was no place to run. A blanket of calm fell over me, stifling the terror and blocking out the reality of what was to come.
I shook off the guards. “I can walk on my own steam.”
“Malina.” Garuda struggled against the four naga guards pinning him to the ground.
“It’s all right. Just get back home. Tell them . . . tell them I love them, and tell Dad . . . tell him I remember.” There was nothing else to say.
I turned away, allowing the guards to lead me to my death.
27
We’d barely made it three steps when the ground began to tremble and the room started to shake.
“What’s happening?” Harish cried.
Garuda batted off the guards and ran toward me, but the ground erupted in front of him, cutting him off. The shaking stopped, and the dust cleared to reveal a figure I knew. Harish stumbled back and dropped to his knees, and the whole room fell into complete silence.
Vasuki carefully laid Laila on the ground and stood to face the figure, his eyes gleaming with moisture. “Varuna, my lord. It has been too long.”
Varuna, dressed in white wraparound trousers and a golden tunic, inclined his head. He was clutching a silver trident, and there was some kind of instrument, a set of wooden pipes, hanging around his neck. The whole ensemble was a far cry from the swimming shorts and towel I’d seen him in a few days ago.
“It is good to see you again, too, my faithful friend, Vasuki. I would not intrude on your domain except that you have something that belongs to me.” He glanced over at me and smiled. “You have my hellhound.”
Harish stood up, blinking as if coming out of a dream. “No. We serve no one, not any longer. Varuna, you have no right to come here. You aren’t even a god any longer. You serve the multi-verse now. You are one of many.”
