But then, over the music, came a new sound: “RUN!”
Aru’s gaze flew to the other side of the room. A section of shelves opened like a door, allowing a naga boy about her age to enter before it swung closed behind him. He had come from some kind of secret passageway. From the waist up, he wore a bright orange hoodie, but from the waist down he had a crimson snake tail banded with yellow stripes. He also wore sunglasses, which was absurd, considering how dark the chamber of treasures already was. His ears were covered by a pair of heavy DJ-style headphones. He held up two speakers, pointing them at Takshaka. The serpent writhed as if someone had doused him with spiders.
“RUN!” the boy said again.
Brynne was the first to act. She hoisted Aru to her feet and the two of them rushed over to Aiden. Aru tried to lift him by the arm and stumbled.
“I got this,” said Brynne. She gathered him up like he was a bundle of blankets and threw him over her shoulder.
They ran to where the naga boy stood by the door. His head turned toward them when they approached, but his focus seemed like it was elsewhere, as if he was looking at something just to the left of them.
Now that she was close to the door, Aru could see that it was a portal. It was slightly ajar, and through the crack Aru could glimpse street signs and a cement sidewalk, cars disappearing around corners, even people in winter coats walking their dogs.
But just as Brynne reached to pull it open all the way, a low hiss startled them, and the door slammed shut. At first, Takshaka had been enthralled by the bhangra rhythm, swaying back and forth, even happily rapping along. But now he was stiff and alert, his blind eyes fixed on the boy.
“You!” he snarled. “You are not fit to call yourself my dessscendant.”
The boy with the headphones flinched, but he didn’t drop the speakers. “What you’re doing is wrong, Dada-ji.”
Dada-ji. That’s what you called a grandfather. Who was this boy?
“Do you fancy yourself some kind of hero?” hissed Takshaka. “Ssstep aside and I may forget how your very existence is a disssgrace to my lineage.”
“Hero?” repeated the boy. “I mean, yeah, I guess, if you call stopping murder on a Saturday heroic. Be mad at me all you want—you probably won’t even remember this later.”
And with that, he put the speakers down on the floor, pulled a phone out of his hoodie pocket, and punched in some numbers. The music grew louder and Takshaka fell into a deep trance.
The boy held open the door for Brynne and Aru. “Ladies and unconscious dude.”
Aru and Brynne just stared at him.
“Who are you?” demanded Aru.
“You’re supposed to say thank you.”
“I’m not thanking anyone!” said Aru. “How am I supposed to know what’s behind that door? And you’re his grandson! Why should we trust you?”
Brynne stepped on her foot. “Thank you.”
“I can tell you what’s not behind the door,” said the boy in sunglasses. “Definitely not an ancient serpent king that wants you dead. But lots of traffic. And maybe even some help.”
“You—”
“Saved your life, and I’m offering you a way out,” said the boy. But now he was standing with his back against the door. That didn’t seem like a way out. He crossed his arms. “Your move.”
Maybe some people would be willing to help for no reason other than to be kind. People like Mini, for example. But this kid clearly wasn’t one of those…. There was something too sly about him. And even though she was an inch away from a total meltdown, Aru wasn’t so gone that she hadn’t noticed how Takshaka had spoken to his grandson. This boy was, to put it lightly, not a family favorite.
There was something else, too. She’d seen him before somewhere….
“You’re that boy from the Night Bazaar,” she said.
It was during their last quest. This boy had smiled at Mini, which had led her to walk straight into a telephone pole.
“Hard to forget a face like this,” he said, cupping his chin and grinning.
“Why are you helping us?” demanded Aru. “What do you want?”
“Aru!” said Brynne, sinking a little under Aiden’s weight. “Why are you arguing?”
“Because he wants something.” She knew it in her gut.
“You’re right,” said the boy. “I want your number.”
“You what?”
First, Aru never gave out her number to boys (then again, it’s not like any boy had ever asked for it, but that was neither here nor there), and second, Mini had walked into a telephone pole after seeing him…. On principle, that just wasn’t right.
“Your. Number,” he repeated slowly. “Unless you want me to send you a message by carrier pigeon or something. C’mon, it’s important. Trust me.”
“Aru,” said Brynne. “Just do it, and let’s get out of here.”
It was now or never.
“Fine,” she said. She gave him her number.
“I’ll text you,” he said, finally stepping out of the way. “I’m going to need your help, Aru Shah.”
“How do you know my—?”
But he was already closing the door. The last thing Aru saw was a smug grin.
The Dangerous Samosa
Aru blinked and found herself staring at a brick wall covered in flyers for lost pets, more missing men, household help wanted, and remedies for baldness (Hair transplants! Now you don’t have to be bald and creepy! You can just be creepy!). A hard crust of frost clung to the cement, and strings of Christmas lights wound around the potted trees near the storefronts. The cold air smelled like winter…and curry. A few pedestrians bustled past. A brown woman wearing a parka over her salwar kameez disappeared into a grocery store. On the other side of the street, a young white couple pushed their baby in a stroller and took turns eating out of a paper bag filled with crispy samosas, an Indian snack of fried pastry filled with potatoes and spices.
“Where are we?” asked Aru. She was freezing. They definitely weren’t in Atlanta, that was for sure.
Brynne gently lowered Aiden onto the sidewalk. He groaned, shook his head, and looked around groggily.
“Snake?” he asked.
“He’s off dancing bhangra.”
Aiden blinked. “’Kay,” he said fuzzily and slumped against the brick wall.
Brynne licked her finger and raised it to the air.
“Does that actually work—?” Aru asked.
“We are 40.5187 degrees north and 74.4121 degrees west.”
“In English!” said Aru through chattering teeth.
“Edison, New Jersey.”
Aru blinked. Now the stop signs, smells, and even the different storefronts made sense. “So, we’re in Little India.”
“Yep.”
It was no secret that there were lots of South Asian families in this pocket of the United States. Aru was pretty sure she’d even read a newspaper article about it once.
Now that she knew where they were, Aru returned Vajra to ball form in her pocket and looked at everything a little more closely. Snake boy had said they’d find some traffic, and maybe even some help, but nothing looked helpful here…. This city too had contributed to the growing number of Heartless. In the display window of an appliance store, TV screens showed news anchors frowning above tickers that pronounced:
SEARCH FOR THE MISSING CONTINUES EXPERTS SUSPECT BIOCHEMICAL FOUL PLAY IS THERE SOMETHING IN YOUR WATER?
“Is the thief’s song safe?” asked Aru.
Brynne nodded, tilting her head to one side, so Aru could see the hint of the necklace’s chain. “Now all we need to do is rescue Mini. Once we get her and she gives us the thief’s name, it’s all over. And we know we have to go to Durvasa. How hard could it be?”
It did sound easy. Then why was Aru so nervous?
“How far away is the land of sleep, anyway?” asked Aru. “And what about Aiden? Are we going to drag him behind us the whole time?”
“I’ve got him
,” said Brynne, scooping him up like a sack of rice.
Aiden groaned. “This is humiliating. Put me down.”
“You’re about to pass out.”
Aiden raised his eyebrows. “Fair,” he said groggily, and slumped back to sleep.
Brynne shivered and shrugged. “C’mon, we can sort everything out over some chaat.”
Chaat didn’t mean a talk, but savory Indian fast food—a combination of things like crispy potato pieces, spiced chickpeas, and yogurt sauces bursting with flavor. Just thinking about it made Aru’s stomach rumble hungrily. Pulling her sweatshirt tighter around her, she followed Brynne—who was half-cradling Aiden—into a nearby chaat shop. The three of them squished into a booth. The table surface was kinda sticky, which made Aru miss Mini even more. If she were here, she would’ve brought out a one-gallon bottle of hand sanitizer. Brynne ordered them a ton of food, and within minutes, the table was covered with steaming samosas, paper-thin dosas next to bowls of bright green chutney, sweet gulab jamun sitting in a dish of syrup, and iced mango lassis.
“First things first,” said Brynne, picking up Aiden’s water glass. He didn’t notice, because his head was on the table and he had started to snore. “Aru, can you take Aiden’s camera?”
“Why?” she asked.
“Just do it.”
Aru gently pulled the strap off Aiden’s shoulder—careful not to disturb him—and laid the camera on the chair next to her.
“We don’t want it to get wet,” said Brynne.
“Dude, we’re indoors. It’s not going to rain—”
Brynne dumped the glass of water on Aiden’s head.
“HEY!” he shouted, startling awake.
“You’ll be fine,” Brynne said breezily. “Have some food.”
He scowled at them, still somewhat out of it. Then he touched his shoulder, and his eyes widened. Panicking, he bolted to his feet and looked right and left. Droplets flew from his wet hair. “Where’s Shadowfax?!”
Aru, drinking her water, almost did a spit take. Shadowfax was the name of Gandalf’s horse in The Lord of the Rings. And she would have definitely noticed if Aiden had been hauling around a horse.
“Shadowfax is fine,” said Brynne, pointing at the camera. “Aru has it.”
Aiden exhaled in relief as Aru handed back the camera.
“You named your camera Shadowfax?”
Aiden patted his camera like it was a puppy.
“Is it hungry?” asked Aru. “Want me to feed it?”
“Go away, Shah.”
“How about a belly rub?”
Aiden flicked a piece of samosa at her face. Aru caught it in her mouth, but she was so surprised she’d managed it, she started choking. Death by samosa! No! What a dumb way to go! Brynne had to thump her back a couple times until she hacked it up.
“Did I dream it, or did some guy save us back in the naga treasury?” asked Aiden.
“Takshaka’s grandson,” Aru said after catching her breath. She was still hungry but now distrustful of samosas, so she stabbed one a little too violently with her fork to make sure it knew who was boss. Don’t get any ideas, food. “He said he’s going to need our help later, but he didn’t say with what.”
Brynne tore into her dosa and said through a mouthful, “And he asked for Aru’s number.”
Aiden raised his eyebrows. “Why?”
“Wow, thanks.”
He flushed. “I didn’t mean—”
“Never mind,” said Aru, ignoring the slight sting. “We have the thief’s song. That’s all that matters.”
Brynne took off the necklace with the scarlet orb and laid it on the table. All three of them winced at the same time, and Aru knew the others were picking up the terrible sensation that the soul song evoked, of being utterly lost.
Aiden shook himself. “That’s definitely what we were looking for.”
He poked it experimentally with a fork.
“Stop it! That’s someone’s soul!” said Aru.
“It gives off bad vibes,” said Brynne. “Why couldn’t it just play a sad song instead?”
The three of them leaned forward. Smoke whirled in the orb. For a moment, Aru thought she saw a flash of sharp red fingernails, but the image disappeared instantly. No music whatsoever. By now, that sinking feeling of abandonment had vanished.
“The important thing is we have it,” said Brynne. “Now we need Mini.”
“And a sage to help us get her,” said Aiden. “Where’s that business card?”
Aru pulled it from her back pocket and slid it across the table. The three of them stared at it.
S. DURVASA
DO NOT BOTHER ME WITH INFANTILE CONCERNS
I WILL CURSE YOU FOR WASTING MY TIME
“He sounds like Brynne when she’s hungry,” whispered Aiden.
“Or just Brynne in general.”
Brynne scowled. “I’m right here, you know.”
“Is there anything on the back of the card?” asked Aiden. “Like an address or something?” He flipped it over. In very tiny font it read:
DMV (DEPARTMENT OF MANY VOICES)
LOCATION REVEALED WHEN INQUIRER STATES NAME AND PURPOSE
INQUIRIES ANSWERED IN THE ORDER IN WHICH THEY ARE RECEIVED
“Department of Many Voices?” repeated Brynne. “Is that like a call center?”
“Or the Department of Motor Vehicles,” Aiden said with a groan. “I had to go there with my mom once. It’s the most boring place in the world.”
“Well, if we want to find out, I guess we should try talking to the card,” said Aru. “Ready?”
“It’s all up to you, Shah,” said Brynne, slurping down the rest of her mango lassi.
Aru held the card out in front of her and cleared her throat. “Um, hi?”
The card continued to act like a piece of paper.
“My name is Aru, and—”
“Use your full name,” cut in Brynne. “Way more official-sounding.”
Aru hesitated. She felt weird saying it in front of the others. “My name is Arundhati Shah. I’m with…”
“Brynne Rao.”
“That’s not your full name,” said Aiden.
Brynne groaned. “Okay, fine, it’s technically Brynne Tvarika Lakshmi Balamuralikrishna Rao.”
Aru’s eyebrows skyrocketed up her head, but she continued. “Um, we need to find our sister. Her name is Mini…Yamini Kapoor-Mercado-Lopez. She told us to find S. Durvasa.”
At first nothing happened, and they all felt stupid for talking to a card. Aru put it back down on the table. While they waited, Aru eyed Brynne.
“So…”
“Yeah, I know, I’ve got a thousand names…I’m a Telugoose—” She paused at Aru’s confusion, then said, “You know, Telugu from South India? I never met my dad, though. I think Anila said he was Irish.”
“Telugoose,” clucked Aiden, making chicken arms. Brynne flicked his ear and he laughed.
“It’s a pretty name,” said Aru. “But imagine if you were a spy! You could never say something like ‘Bond…James Bond,’ because then the villain would be there all night—”
Brynne threw a piece of samosa at her forehead.
Then, right in front of them, the corners of the business card folded down all on their own. The card twisted and creased and tore itself until it resembled an origami clock with an actual moving hand. The clock ticked down.
Aru frowned. “Now what?”
“Now,” said Brynne, “we wait for an answer.”
For the next few minutes, Brynne went Full Brynne. She sent back three dishes. One because the coconut wasn’t toasted enough. The second because it was too salty. The third because it wasn’t salty enough.
Aru was glad she’d had enough to eat by then. There was no way she was going to chance ordering anything else from this kitchen. Half the staff would probably spit into it, thanks to Brynne.
“That’s it,” said Brynne, starting to get up. “I’m going back there—”
&
nbsp; “No,” said Aiden calmly as he pulled her into her seat. “When you’re angry, say the numbers one through ten.”
“One through ten. Now can I go?”
“You should be on a cooking show where you just yell at people. Like Gordon Ramsay,” said Aru, trying to distract her. The last thing they needed was to get thrown out of the restaurant before they had their answer from S. Durvasa.
Brynne emitted a happy sigh. “That’s my dream.”
“Where’d you learn all this stuff about cooking, anyway?” asked Aru.
Brynne flicked the paper timer around the table, not looking up at them.
“My uncles taught me,” she said. “I moved in with them when I was four, after Anila left.”
“Anila?”
Brynne’s jaw looked tight. “My mom.”
“Oh,” said Aru, embarrassed.
“My uncles said that she had me too young and wasn’t ready to be a mom,” said Brynne. She started tearing her dosa into smaller and smaller pieces. “She still isn’t. But, I dunno, maybe she’ll change her mind someday.”
Aru thought about the photo album that Brynne kept in her backpack, and all those trophy bracelets on her wrist. Now Aru got it. Brynne carried them not as proof to herself that she was awesome, but as proof for someone else…someone like a mom who didn’t stay.
“I like cooking, because you know what’s going to happen,” said Brynne quietly. “You have a good idea of how things will react and taste, and if you don’t like how it comes out, you can start over.”
“Brynne makes really good lasagna,” added Aiden.
“The best lasagna,” she corrected him with a smile.
In the middle of the table, the little origami clock began to spin. A thin trail of smoke curled out of it and snaked through the restaurant and out the door. Aru looked around, but none of the other customers seemed to have noticed. In her pocket, Vajra hummed.
A little voice whispered from the folded paper, “Sage Durvasa has accepted your request for an appointment.”
“Sage!” said Aiden. “I knew it!”
A sage is a very wise person. Aru’s mom had told her that some have special powers, because of their religious focus. Once there was a sage so formidable he put a curse on the gods themselves—he caused them to lose their immortality. Aru did not want to run into someone like that.
Aru Shah and the Song of Death Page 15