“What?” Neel asked.
“That shoreline in front of us is definitely not the Maya Mountains.” My stomach was in knots.
“What is it, then?”
I turned around to face him, my eyes wide. “It’s Demon Land!”
We pulled the boat onshore as quietly as we could, hiding it beneath some dried palm fronds. Neel made a sort of sling with the silk scarf around his waist, and tucked the golden and silver spheres into it. If the whole situation weren’t so dire, I would have made a joke about his bowling ball babies. Instead, I slung my backpack, bow, and quiver onto my shoulders in silence. We both stuffed our pockets and packs full of the rubies we’d gathered from the sea. We didn’t speak once, except in looks and gestures. This was bad. Really, really bad.
I tucked the python jewel inside Neel’s jacket, which I was still wearing, so there was only the light from the stars to guide our way. The moon seemed to have disappeared permanently behind the clouds. I couldn’t blame her. She probably didn’t want to watch her daughter get eaten by a horde of hungry rakkhosh.
The thin strip of beach was empty, except for piles of rotting animal carcasses. I wondered if some of those skeletal remains might actually be human. Beyond the beach, there was evidence of wanton destruction everywhere. Trees pulled out by their roots, burned remains of wood and paper, candy wrappers, gigantic balls of chewed gum, empty soda cans—many of them half-eaten with teeth marks all over them. The trees hung heavy with goopy body fluids—snot or spit or boogers, I couldn’t tell, but their rancid odor made my eyes water.
“Hygiene is clearly not a priority here!” Tuntuni sputtered.
We crept as quickly as we could through the woods at the edge of the shore. There was the long-dead corpse of a vulture hanging from one of the trees. I shuddered, swatting away a sticky string hanging from a branch.
I saw the remains of a lawn mower that someone had tried to snack on. And what was that other thing behind the rock? A front-loading washing machine with a gigantic bite out of its side?
“Some gourmet tastes your relatives have,” I said before I could stop myself. Nice going, Kiran.
Neel didn’t answer, but even in the darkness I could tell he was scowling. “Look, they’ll all eat me as easily as they’ll eat you.”
“Except for your fangirls, of course.” I tried for a lighter tone, but Neel didn’t look like he was in the mood to laugh.
To our left, something was crashing through the forest. We all froze. A raucous, bawdy, and yet horrifying singing filled the bitter air.
“Hob, gum, goom, geer! Pass the blood! Pass the beer!
Hob, goom, gum, geet! We want to feast on human meat!”
The noise came from a little too nearby—just beyond a clump of palm trees.
“Run!” Neel yanked me behind him as he dashed through the trees. I kept up as much as I could. My arms got scratched by hanging branches, and my feet bruised by roots sticking out of the ground, but I ran like my life depended on it. Which, basically, it did.
“Princess, help!” Tuntuni called from behind me.
I ran back. The bird had flown straight into a net of demon goo as thick as a spider’s web. I tried to untangle his wings, but couldn’t.
“Neel!” I screamed.
The prince came running, and together we struggled to pluck the little bird out of the gloppy mess.
“We don’t have time for this!” Neel drew his sword.
“What are you doing?” For a second, I panicked. He wouldn’t hurt the bird, would he?
“Getting us out of here!” Neel cried. He sliced Tuni out of the goo and thrust the tangled bird into my arms. “Let’s go!”
“Oh, my beautiful feathers! Oh, the horror! The stench!” the sticky bird wailed in my arms. But I kept running. The band of drunken demons was getting ever closer. And they had a serious case of the munchies.
“Gob gaam! Khom khoo!
We want some human stew!”
“There!” I pointed.
We’d entered a clearing. An old deserted cabin stood in its center. The door of the cabin was kind of rickety, but the walls seemed strong enough.
We dashed into the dark building just in time. With a thrashing of bush and tree, the demons came into the clearing themselves.
“Thakata-thakata-dang-dang-dort!
We love hunting meaty sport!”
I helped Neel prop the cabin’s broken table, chairs, and a cabinet against the front door. Unfortunately, there was still a small opening in the frame where the hinge had come off.
“We’re in luck.” He peeked through the opening into the moonlit clearing. “They’re khokkosh.”
“What’s that?” As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I tried to shake the remaining strands of demon goop off of poor Tuntuni, who still looked shell-shocked.
“You remember how bright the rakkhosh we met in New Jersey was?”
“He was an idiot. He tried to eat my toaster.”
“Yeah, well, these khokkosh make that guy look like Albert Einstein.” Neel’s face was grim. “One of the few 2-D geniuses who recognized the multiplicity of dimensions.”
Okay, what? But there wasn’t time now to ask Neel about that. I watched as he ran around the small cabin, grabbing the oil lamps that were littered here and there.
“If they’re so dumb, then why do you still look so worried?”
“They may be stupid,” he muttered as he lit each lamp, “but they’re strong. And obviously, hungry.”
I took a peek through the door opening myself. Yipes. The clearing was thick with the ferocious khokkosh. They were smaller than rakkhosh, and more animal-like. They had yellow skin, crooked teeth, and pointy ears that made them look like a cross between giant rabbits and enormous bats. Their claws seemed plenty sharp, and their long, skinny arms were twisted with stringy muscles.
“Don’t say anything,” Neel whispered. “Just do what I do.”
I nodded.
Tuni let out a low, soap-opera-style wail. “Oh, the humanity! The humanity, I say! We’re all going to die, we’re all going to die,” the yellow bird cried, falling to the floor with a wing perched dramatically over his head.
Neel and I stood still, our every muscle tensed. My straining ears could even make out the snuffling and shuffling as someone, or something, walked toward the house.
It was all I could do not to jump when a horrible, nasal voice called from just outside the door. “Hub, hum, hai, hower! Who’s awake at this dark hour?”
“We are hungry rakkhosh!” Neel growled.
At that the khokkosh retreated from the door. We could hear them whispering to one another from a few feet away.
“Huum-humm hoam! Let’s plunder and roam!” said one group.
“Gumm-guum gaam! Let’s go home!” said another.
But they didn’t leave. The khokkosh gathered away from the door to engage in some more whispering and negotiating. One, who I assumed was their spokes-demon, a stupid-looking guy with a scar over his eye and a half-chewed-off ear, walked up to the cabin again.
“Goom-goom, doom-dite! If you’re really rakkhosh, turn off the light!”
“No we won’t!” Neel held the lamps high even closer to the door and gestured to me to do the same.
At my raised eyebrows, he hissed, “Everyone knows khokkosh can’t see in the light!”
“I’m sooo sorry!” I whisper-yelled. “I must have missed that lecture in demonology class!”
There was some more murmuring from outside as the demons consulted one another to figure out their next move.
“Shoom-shaam, hoom-hails! If you’re really rakkhosh, show us your nails!”
Neel put down the lamps and picked up a bunch of arrows from my quiver. He shoved the points through the opening. Tuntuni handed me a few arrows with his beak, and when I stuck them through the hole, I was gratified to hear the spokes-demon yelp.
“Oh, my mother’s sainted fart! This demon’s nails really smart!”
> There was more mumbling from outside, and even the sound of a fistfight. Someone seemed to be biting someone else. The spokes-demon approached the cabin again, this time with an even stupider-looking fellow with a wart the size of a watermelon growing out of his forehead.
“Dum-doom, ding-dung! If you’re really rakkhosh, show us your tongue!”
With only a second of hesitation, Neel thrust the blade of his sword through the opening, making both the spokes-demon and his assistant screech.
“Oh, my uncle’s rotten guts! That rakkhosh’s tongue really cuts!”
This time, a whole troop came up to the doorway. “Gob-goob, flim-flit! If you’re really rakkhosh, let’s see your spit!” They chanted in one voice.
“What do we do now?” I moaned.
Neel looked desperately around, mumbling, “Spit, spit.”
The khokkosh outside the door began shrieking and howling. “Let’s see your spit! Let’s see your spit!”
A few of the bolder ones began banging and scratching on the door. A few more seconds and they just might realize we were lying, and decide to bash the door down.
“Anytime now, Neel!” I’m not ashamed to say I was kinda freaking out.
The noise outside was getting louder and louder, and the wood of the door was starting to splinter from the force of the demons’ blows. What were we going to do? Neel was still dashing around the hut, looking for something that could substitute for rakkhosh spit. I looked desperately around too, and then my eyes alighted on the oil lamps.
“Neel!” I pointed. As he figured out what I meant, he started to grin.
I mouthed the words, “On three,” and he nodded. On my count, we picked up the lamps and spattered all the hot oil through the opening. The khokkosh howled, dousing the spots where the oil had burned them with their tails.
“Oh, my grandpa’s nose rings! That rakkhosh spit really stings!”
This seemed to be the last straw for the khokkosh, who didn’t even consult one another before running out of the clearing.
“Gob-gum! Dum-dack! There’s rakkhosh here, let’s go back!”
As the monsters ran pell-mell out of the clearing, we all sank to the floor of the hut. We were safe, for the moment at least.
It took a couple minutes for everyone’s breathing to go back to normal. Neel was the first to recover. He glanced around the shack. “This is as good a place as any to hide out for the night. In the morning, we’ll have to find my grandmother, to see if she can get us to the border safely.”
“Your grandmother?” I asked. “Wait a minute, I thought all demons came from some faucet of evil or something.”
“Well, not all, obviously.” Neel pointed at his own chest. “But yeah, most full rakkhosh are born from wells of dark energy.”
“So how is she your grandmother?”
“Come on, your mom doesn’t have to be the one who gave birth to you, but the one who raised you. I’d think you of all people would understand that. My Ai-Ma is the one who raised my mother.”
It was hard to imagine the Rakkhoshi Queen once being a baby demon in someone’s warty arms.
“Some nanas knit or cook; his eats flesh!” Tuntuni quipped.
“Don’t start,” Neel snapped, “unless you want me to give you to her for lunch.” He turned to me. “Listen, you get some rest. I’ll take the first watch.”
It was the gray morning when I at last opened my eyes. I realized that Neel hadn’t woken me up to take over the watch.
“You looked tired,” he explained, yawning himself.
Neel hadn’t slept all night but was still pretty energetic as he gathered our things, including the golden and silver spheres, cradled like twin babies in his makeshift sling. This morning they were buzzing and humming, letting off a red glow and the warm smell of cotton and honey.
“They’re happy to be together,” I said.
“Make new orbs, but keep the old; one is silver and the other gold,” Tuni sang.
“Tuni,” I warned, “maybe it’s a little too soon.”
“You are so spherical, so round and spherical, you make me hap-py when rakkhosh stay,” the bird continued, ignoring me.
“Hmm … wonder if my grandma would fancy some Tuni-bird stew,” Neel snapped. Immedately, the bird stopped singing.
“Come on, let’s go.”
It was a long walk over a rubbish-filled stretch of land—broken yo-yos, half-eaten peanut butter sandwiches, a few scary-looking skulls, and more than a few smelly old socks, none of them with a proper partner. As we walked, we saw no one.
“They’re mostly nocturnal,” Neel said.
“Like the snakes,” I offered. Neel gave me a half smile. He seemed to get what I was saying. That my biological relatives were just as terrible as his.
We were heading for a giant gorge between two steep mountains on either side. When we got closer, gooseflesh broke out on my arms. I wasn’t sure if it was coming from the gorge itself, but the air was filled with an almost-deafening rumbling sound. It sounded disturbingly like some very large creature snoring.
“We’re almost there.” Neel stopped walking to look critically at me. “You’re wearing my jacket, so that’s good.”
Neel picked up Tuntuni and, to my surprise, sat him right on my head.
“Hey, what’s the big idea?” I asked as the bird squawked his surprise too.
“As much as I don’t mind if my Ai-Ma makes chicken stew out of the bird, I think I’d better try to get him home in one piece. And he’ll be safer out of sight.” Neel pulled out a long cloth from his pocket and wound it around both Tuntuni and my hair, making a big, only slightly lumpy turban.
There were muffled sounds of Tuni squawking nervously. “How do chickens get strong?” Without waiting for an answer, the bird yelled out from inside the turban, “Eggs-ersize!”
“Chill, Tuni. We’ll be all right.” I patted my head. “Just try not to dig your claws in, okay?”
“How do crows stick together in a flock?” came the muffled question. And again, without waiting for an answer, the bird squawked, “Velcrow!”
“How did the dead chicken cross the road?” Neel snapped. “It didn’t, because it was dead!”
That shut the bird up rather quickly.
Neel made a few more adjustments to my outfit, then stepped back, obviously satisfied with the results. “You’ll pass.”
I wasn’t sure what I was passing for—a bird-containing turban certainly wasn’t going to fool anyone into thinking I was a demon—but I was too exhausted to protest. Just like Tuntuni, if I wanted to make it out of Demon Land alive, I was going to have to trust Neel.
He reached into the food pouch at his waist and brought out a handful of dark seeds. “Keep these just in case she asks you to chew on anything,” he said.
Chew on something? I wanted to ask but the prince kept walking. “Come on, we better get there before any of the other rakkhosh wake up.”
We entered the gorge, and I realized that the awful snoring had been coming from here after all. Those horrible rumbling, shrieking, trilling noises were coming from the nose of an elderly rakkhoshi who was fast asleep in the riverbed.
“Ai-Ma! Ai-Ma!” Neel called, gesturing to me to stay behind him. “It’s your grandson, Neelkamal!”
The old crone sat up mid-snore, and then came flying at us. Her knobby arms and legs were flapping, her gray hair was streaming behind her, and her near toothless mouth was fixed in a wide grin.
“Oh, my sugar plum yum-yum, my lollipop dum-dum, my molasses-sweet grandbaby, oh me, oh my, oh, come and give your old Ai-Ma a kiss!”
“She can’t see very well, and she can’t hear very well,” Neel hissed as the old woman approached. “And she can’t remember very well.” I felt my heart lighten, then fall again as Neel added, “But unfortunately she can still smell really well.”
The old rakkhoshi crone bent far down, and standing high on his toes, Neel gave her a gingerly kiss on her hairy cheek. Then Ai-Ma bega
n to sniff the air like a crazed hunting dog catching the whiff of a fox.
“Grandbaby, my sweet boo-boo, have you brought a pet? A human being to play with? A gift for your poor Ai-Ma?”
My turban shuddered. Neel slapped it. I didn’t love the thought that Tuni or I might be considered a delicious gift, like a box of cookies, for Neel’s grandmother.
“Ai-Ma!” Neel exclaimed. “What are you saying? This is my brother, Lalkamal, and he’s your grandson too!”
The crone reached for me, but, feeling my turban first, withdrew her hand.
“The brother of my gum-gum must be my grandbaby too,” the old crone mused. “But why does he smell so much like a human pup?”
Neel’s grandmother drew herself up to her full height, and then, randomly, snorted out some iron pellets from her left nostril.
“If you are my family true, here’s some iron pellets for you to chew,” she sang, handing the booger-covered iron pieces to me.
I had no choice but to take the revolting things. I slipped the pellets into my jacket pocket, and substituted the seeds Neel had given me. I chewed them as loud as I could. Ma would be horrified at my table manners, but Ma would be even more horrified if I was this old biddy’s main course for dinner.
Ai-Ma smiled, but kept sniffing the air. “Is old Ai-Ma’s nose fooling her? Why do I smell human flesh? And mixed in with a nice roasted chicken?”
My turban muttered and wobbled again, but I gave it a good punch.
“How can my grandbaby be so small? Let me see your eyeball!” Neel’s grandmother demanded.
I looked in shock at Neel, who handed me the golden ball from his sling. I held it out to the crone, who felt the bowling-ball-sized object, and smiled.
“Oh, boys, what has become of your Ai-Ma? Why do I still smell delectable meats?” The old crone’s mouth was watering, and giant drops of spittle rained down from her mouth like a fountain. She slurped loud and long.
“If of my flesh you are a part, why, let me see your beating heart!”
The Serpent's Secret (Kiranmala and the Kingdom Beyond #1) Page 15
