“Over here!” shouted Boo from atop the books.
Aru really wished she could fly. But since she couldn’t, she lost a couple of moments grabbing the stools, restacking them, and climbing to the top shelf. She was out of breath by the time she spotted the book.
It stood apart from the other volumes. Aloof and—if books could act that way—a little judgmental of its neighbors. Its title glowed in silver foil on the spine: Adulthood. Boo hopped onto her head and pecked at her hair, urging her to take it.
Aru glanced at the other titles next to it. Adulation was singing. Pink hearts kept oozing from its pages. Adullamite hopped away, running toward the B titles, which flapped their pages to welcome it.
A bite of adulthood… What was she supposed to do? Grab the book and actually sink her teeth into it?
She glanced at Mini, who was trying to keep the cloak tied over the frozen Sleeper. But he was beginning to move. Shards of ice flew off him. Mini met Aru’s eyes and hollered, “Do it!”
Boo soared down to help Mini, leaving Aru on the shelf.
“What are you waiting for, Aru?” demanded Mini.
“Ew, ew, ew!” said Aru. She squeezed her eyes shut, grabbed the book, and bit into it.
It squealed.
She hadn’t given much thought as to what a book might taste like. But Adulthood had a strange flavor. Sweet and bitter at the same time, like candied orange peel. It reminded Aru of walking to school on a cold February morning, when the sun was bright but distant and everything was a little too stark.
She spat the bite of Adulthood into her palm. The wet wad of paper transformed into a glowing silver coin. Aru shoved it in her pocket, then ran her tongue along her teeth, hating that she couldn’t quite rid herself of the taste.
“I got it—” she started, but her victory was short-lived.
The Sleeper had thrown off the cloak. Now it lay dull and limp on the floor, slowly melting.
“You are testing my patience—” he hissed.
“You slept in a lamp for a hundred years and that’s the best you could come up with?” shouted back Aru. “What a cliché. All you’re missing is the villain mustache.”
She was trying to keep his attention on her while Mini fumbled for another magical item from the Seasons. But it wasn’t Mini who launched herself at him next. It was Boo.
“Those!” he snapped. “Are!” He pecked at the Sleeper’s eyes. “My!” He pooped. “HEROINES!”
Aru clambered down from the stools and snatched the backpack off the ground. Mini was trying to shake the Cloak of Winter back into something that would tame the Sleeper, but it stayed lifeless.
Boo let out a loud, pained squawk. The Sleeper had caught him in one hand. With the other hand, he wiped the bird poop off his head. He peered more closely at Boo. He didn’t yell or scream. Instead…he laughed.
“What has happened to you, old friend?”
A Strange Case
Friend? Aru almost dropped the backpack.
“You are much changed since you were the king of Subala.”
“Boo, what’s he talking about?” asked Mini.
The Sleeper smiled. “Boo? That’s what they call you? Has all that guilt made you soft?”
Something clicked in Aru’s head. Subala wasn’t Boo’s name, but the name of his kingdom. She remembered Urvashi’s laugh….If they really are Pandavas, then the irony that you are the one who has been chosen to help them delights me.
“I get it,” said the Sleeper mockingly. “Boo is short for Subala.” He turned to the girls, his eyebrows knitted in that oh-I’m-so-sorry-for-you-NOT way that only truly awful people can pull off. “His name isn’t Subala. It’s Shakhuni. I suppose you could call him Shocky. In which case I imagine this might be a shocker.”
He chuckled at his own joke. Which is another thing that only truly awful people do (grandparents, dads, and that one well-meaning but weird uncle are exceptions).
Shakhuni. Aru’s heart went cold. She knew that name from the stories. It was the name of the deceiver. The sorcerer who led the eldest Pandava brother astray in a cursed game of dice, where he was forced to gamble away his entire kingdom. Shakhuni started the great Kurekshetra war. His revenge consumed his own kingdom.
He was one of the Pandavas’ greatest enemies.
And she…She had let him sit on her shoulder. Mini had fed him an Oreo. They’d cared for him.
“Your quarrel is not with them,” Boo said to the Sleeper.
“My, you have become quite the addled one,” said the Sleeper. “You’re telling me you have actually been tasked to help the Pandavas? What is this, your penance for committing so horrible a sin?”
“No,” said Boo, and this time he looked at Aru and Mini. “It is not my penance. It is my honor.”
Aru felt a flush of pride in the same instant that she felt a stab of misgiving. Nice words, but why should she believe them? Poppy and Arielle had been nice to her up until the moment when they weren’t.
“You have gone soft,” said the Sleeper, frowning.
“I’ve grown stronger. In a way that, perhaps, you can no longer understand. People change. You used to believe that most of all,” said Boo. “Or have you forgotten?”
“People don’t change. They just grow weaker,” said the Sleeper. His voice was as icy as the Cloak of Winter. “For the sake of old times, I will give you one chance. Join me. Help my cause. I will make us gods, and end this age.”
This is it. Aru waited for Boo to betray them. She braced herself to feel a rush of hurt, but Boo didn’t hesitate. His voice was loud and strong when he said, “No.”
Aru’s heart squeezed.
The Sleeper growled and threw Boo across the room. The pigeon hit a shelf with a loud smack and slumped to the floor. Mini and Aru screamed, but the moment they tried to run toward him, a wall of air forced them back. Aru braced herself, her hand flying to the pendant that Monsoon had given her. She wanted to throw it at him, but all it could do was aim right. Making sure a rock hit the Sleeper on his nose wouldn’t do much good if he could just shake his head and keep going. She needed something bigger or more powerful.
The Sleeper prowled toward them. As Aru was scanning the collection for a giant book to hit him with (the biggest one, Atlas, growled at her from the lowest shelf), Mini let out a scream. She tore off her headband and threw it like a Frisbee at the Sleeper. It caught on his ear.
For one moment, his eyes went all black. But then he recovered, and the headband vanished.
“That was your best effort?” he asked, laughing. “A headband? I’m trembling with fear. Now, let’s be honest. I could kill you easily. Two little girls. No training, no valor. Do you really think you can get the celestial weapons?”
Aru felt her face turning red. Indra had claimed her as his daughter. Maybe she’d been light-headed from standing up in the clouds when it happened, but she’d seen (at least she thought she’d seen) the statue of Indra smile at her. As if he was…pleased.
Remembering that gave her the courage to say, “We were chosen by the gods.”
Then again, what was with the golden ball? Aru didn’t have any experience with dads, but she was pretty sure giving your kid a glowing Ping-Pong ball to fight demons was like getting pocket fuzz and spare change instead of an allowance.
The Sleeper scoffed, “The gods would never trust you to do anything. Just look at you.”
The more he talked, the angrier Aru became. She wasn’t going to back down. They had something the Sleeper didn’t.
“Threaten us all you want, but you need us to get those keys, don’t you?” asked Aru. “You can’t see them. You don’t even know what they are.”
The Sleeper grew quiet and stroked his chin thoughtfully. Finally he said, “You’re right.”
Aru couldn’t believe it. Had she talked him down?
The Sleeper raised his hand, curling his fingers. Boo zoomed into his palm. The bird wasn’t moving.
“I do need you,” he sai
d. “I would’ve taken the key you have now, but it may lead you to the other two. And it doesn’t matter that I can’t see them, because you are going to deliver all three to me by the new moon.”
He squeezed Boo, and Mini began to whimper.
The Sleeper turned toward her. “I know so much about you now. From listening to your heartbeats,” he said with mock sweetness. “Your father wears a cross beneath his shirt and an agimat necklace passed down from his family in the Philippines. Your brother hides a photo of his soccer teammate beneath his pillow, and when you found it, he swore you to secrecy. Your mother’s hair smells like sandalwood.”
Mini’s face turned white.
Then the Sleeper faced Aru. Something flashed in his eyes. “And you. Well. You and I might as well be family.”
“What are you talking about?” Aru blurted. “You’re crazy! I—”
He cut her off with a look. “Summon me just before the new moon, or I will do more than just freeze your loved ones.”
“Never!” said Aru. “We’ll fight if we have to, and—”
“Tsk-tsk,” said the Sleeper. “Before you even think about fighting me, know that I am gathering my own friends.” He gave them a cruel smile. “And trust me, you won’t like meeting them.”
He disappeared, taking Boo with him.
For a whole minute, Aru and Mini didn’t budge. Aru felt like she was spinning even though she was standing still.
Too many things were zipping through her head. Boo had fought for them just now. But once he had been the Pandavas’ enemy. Was that why he was being forced to help them in this life, in the form of a pigeon, no less? And then there was the fact that the Sleeper knew her mom—and Mini’s family. How was that possible?
Around them, the books began to run about, desperate to restore some order. Their pages ruffled like birds settling back down to sleep. Without the Sleeper covering it, the ceiling now looked like open sky. Bruised purple storm clouds drifted across it. Aru scowled. It didn’t make sense for the magic around them to look so beautiful when she felt so…ugly.
What was the point in even trying to get to the Kingdom of Death without Boo? The Sleeper was right. She had caused all this. And she had failed everyone.
“Why?” croaked Mini.
She didn’t have to say the rest.
Why had Aru lied about the lamp? Why had Boo hidden his past? Why was any of this happening to them?
Aru was tired. Tired of lying. Tired of imagining the world as it could be and not as it was. She was tired of making herself bigger and better in her own head when it was clear that she never would or could be in her real life.
She pulled the coin that she’d gotten from Adulthood out of her pocket. It had faded to dull silver.
Aru couldn’t meet Mini’s gaze. “I knew a little of what would happen if I lit the lamp—my mom had told me, but I didn’t really believe her—and I lit it anyway. What the Sleeper said was true: I did it to impress some classmates that I thought I wanted as friends.”
Mini’s shoulders shook. “My family is in danger because of you,” she said. She didn’t cry or yell. And that made it so much worse. “You lied about everything, didn’t you? Were you just laughing at me the whole time?”
Aru looked her in the eyes now. “What? No! Of course not—”
“Why should I believe you?” Mini cut in. “You said you thought I was brave. And that it wasn’t a bad thing to be the Daughter of Death.” She stared at Aru as if she could see straight through her. “You even told me that you wouldn’t leave me behind.”
“Mini, I meant all of that.”
“I don’t care what you say, because you’re a liar, Aru Shah.” Mini snatched the bite of Adulthood from Aru.
“Hey! What are you doing?”
“What’s it look like I’m doing?” said Mini. She put the coin in her backpack along with the sprig of youth. “I’m finishing this. I have to try to save my family.”
“But you need me,” said Aru. She had that hot, stuffed-inside-a-sausage feeling that always happened before she cried. She didn’t want to cry.
“Maybe,” said Mini sadly. “But I just don’t trust you.”
Mini pressed the image of the last key on her hand, the wave of water shimmering across her fingers.
“Mini, wait—”
She stepped through a cut of light. Aru tried to grab her hand, but only found air. Mini had disappeared.
Aru was left standing by herself. The books around her tittered and gossiped. There was no place left for her here in the Otherworld. The Sleeper didn’t even think they were enough of a threat to bother with killing them. She should have felt grateful, but she just felt invisible. Useless. On top of that, Boo was hurt, and Aru had earned and lost a sister in a matter of days.
At the thought of days, Aru slowly turned over her hand. She felt like she was being handed back a quiz that she’d definitely failed and was doing her best to turn over the paper as slowly as possible.
What the heck was that?
Whatever number it was, it definitely wasn’t the number six. Mini would know what it meant. But Mini wasn’t here.
Aru was running out of days, and if ever there was a time to cry, it was now.
But she couldn’t. She was too tired. And angry.
She paced. There was no way she could go back to the museum. What would she do, sit under the elephant and wait for the world to end? And yet she couldn’t follow Mini, either. Mini didn’t want her help. Aru had nothing to offer. Her only natural gift was lying.
That wasn’t a very heroic quality.
Aru was nearly at the end of the library’s row A when a strange book caught her eye. It was small and bright green. It bounced up and down when she got close. The title was simple: Aru.
Curious, she reached for it and opened the front cover. There she was. There was a picture of her at school. And there was another picture of her waiting at home for her mom. She rifled through the pages, her heart racing. There was even an illustration of her and Mini at Madame Bee’s beauty salon. Aru was in the middle of talking. In the next painting, Aru was looking down triumphantly in the Court of the Seasons.
She tried to flip to the end, but the pages were glued together. Mini had said something about the library of the Night Bazaar, that this place held the stories of everything and everyone. Including her. Maybe it meant that her story wasn’t finished just yet. She had deceived both Madame Bee and the Seasons…but her lies hadn’t been bad. They had led to something good. She’d talked herself and Mini out of trouble, and gotten them new weapons. Maybe…maybe her gift wasn’t lying. Maybe her gift was imagination.
Imagination was neither good nor bad. It was a little bit of both. Just like her.
Was Arjuna at all like this? Did he ever lie or worry that he was more bad than good? The legends made him sound perfect. But maybe if he’d grown up the way she did, he would’ve made mistakes, too. It was hard to judge, based on a story, what he might really have been like. If she were writing about herself, she wouldn’t put in the bad parts, only the good. Tales are slippery, her mother had often said. The truth of a story depends on who is telling it.
If that Aru book was to be believed, it meant that her story wasn’t finished yet.
Aru glanced at her palm. Whatever that Sanskrit number was, it looked too fancy to be a one. She was sure there was still some time left. She closed her hand into a fist.
Forget the Sleeper. I’m going to fix this.
Aru shut the book. Part of her wanted to take it with her, but she stopped herself. It reminded her of the time she’d passed a cemetery that had an apple tree. The fruit looked like jewels, and Aru had wanted to pluck one. But she had the weirdest sensation you weren’t supposed to take them, let alone eat them. That was how she felt about the book. Aru ran her finger along its green spine and felt an answering trace down her back. Then she forced herself to put it back on the shelf.
As Aru rounded the corner, something bright ca
ught her eye.
It was the birdcage. The one the Sleeper had carried.
She remembered now: it had rolled away from him. It had come to rest in the B aisle. The shelves were noisy, and it smelled like vanilla here. Baby, a small blue book, was wailing, while Backhand and Backward took turns smacking each other with their covers.
Aru knelt and picked up the birdcage. It seemed odd that the Sleeper had taken the bird, but not the cage. Rattling around inside were a few small clay figurines, each no longer than her pinky. She reached in and pulled out a goat, a crocodile, a pigeon, a snake, an owl, and a peacock. There was even a seven-headed horse. And a tiger with its mouth still open in a roar.
As she arranged the animals in a line on the floor, she frowned. Didn’t the goddess Durga ride a tiger? And she could have sworn that the god of war rode a peacock….
Why would the Sleeper be carrying this with him?
Aru traced the manes of the seven-headed horse. Indra, her father, rode an animal like this. Except it wasn’t made of clay (duh). In the stories, the creature was said to shine brighter than the moon. Aru pulled the glowing ball from her pocket so she could see the figurines better.
The moment the light of Indra fell upon the clay, the entire chamber began to quake. Aru dropped the horse.
Had it really been made of clay, it would have exploded into shards.
But it didn’t.
On the contrary, it began to grow. And not just the horse, but all the animals.
Aru scuttled backward. The ball in her hand glowed so bright she couldn’t make out the books anymore. Light burst around her.
The hubbub of the B section faded and was replaced by new sounds: the rustling of wings; the clop of hooves on the floor; the chuffing of a tiger. Even the hiss of a snake.
Aru blinked, her eyes adjusting.
Standing before her were the stolen mounts of the gods. So that’s what the Sleeper was carrying the whole time. How could he leave it behind—?
Aru Shah and the End of Time Page 13
