Mini shoved the sprig of youth into her backpack and grabbed Boo out of the air.
“Remember how to access the Otherworld!” hissed Boo. “Reach for the light, look but not look, and touch the second—”
But the rest of his words were drowned out as a gust of wind blew them backward. Aru would’ve slammed against the salon door if Mini hadn’t caught her arm.
Together, they touched the second key symbol on the side of their hands. The wind howled. Aru could feel that familiar strand of light just out of sight, but something else caught her attention.
A dark shape started emerging from the concrete of the parking lot, a massive form of twisted ink and ice. And with it came laughter. The hairs on the back of Aru’s neck rose. She knew that laugh. It was the same one she’d heard when she lit the lamp. A slick of ice spread from the places the Sleeper had stepped, crusting everything in his wake.
A powerful ache went through Aru. Every frozen thing—leaf, rock, and human—reminded her of one person: Mom. Hanuman had assured her that her mother wasn’t in any pain. But how much longer would it stay that way? On the center of Aru’s palm, the number eight was already beginning to change form….She was running out of time.
And now the Sleeper had found them.
“Aru!” shouted Mini. “Hurry!”
Mini was a couple feet away from her and standing half in, half out of a cut of light. She extended her hand, and Aru raced to grab it. Her fingers brushed Mini’s, and that familiar pull of the Otherworld tugged at Aru.
But then it snapped.
Something had caught her. She couldn’t step forward.
“Come on, Aru!” screeched Boo.
Aru heaved. Something was squeezing her. She gasped and choked. Darkness squiggled at the corners of her vision. A black snake tail encircled her waist. She was trapped.
“I—I can’t,” she spat out.
Mini tugged her arm, trying to pull her into the portal.
As Aru heaved and strained, she heard a voice at her ear:
“Just like your mother, aren’t you, Aru? Slippery and deceitful—”
Wings flapped against her face.
“Get off! Off! Off!” shouted Boo. He pecked violently at the Sleeper’s coils until they shuddered, loosening just enough to let Aru grab the golden ball from her pocket. It was now a dull gold, not blindingly shining like it had been against Brahmasura.
“DO SOMETHING!” she roared at the orb, all her panic focused like a laser. She imagined it lighting up, becoming a sword, turning into a snake made of light, anything that would get her out of here….
Light exploded, and the snake coils fell away from her.
Aru leaped for the portal. The Sleeper’s angry screams chased her as she fell through. Finally, she landed on her butt (which hurt way more than it should have, because she didn’t have a lot of built-in cushioning) in the middle of a forest.
Through the still-open seam, a man’s arm reached out, swiping left and right as his hand grabbed for them.
Mini started beating the hand with the sprig of youth and shouting, “I”—smack—“do”—smack—“not”—smack—“like”—smack—“you!”
This didn’t sound like very fierce smack talk to Aru, but considering that it was coming from Mini, it was about as violent as it would get.
With a final smack, the arm reared back. Boo flew through the gap of the portal, pecking at the line of light as if he were zipping it back up. After a final flash, the portal—and the hand—disappeared completely. When Aru opened her palm, the ball returned.
Boo fluttered to the ground, his wings drooping in exhaustion.
Aru scooped him up and hugged him. “Thank you,” she said.
“No touchie!” huffed Boo. But he didn’t move away from her.
“That was the Sleeper, right?” asked Aru.
There was no mistaking that voice, or that laugh. Guilt needled her. She had let him out into the world.
“He knew where we were,” said Mini, clutching her backpack. “And now he knows where the second key is!”
Boo fluttered away from Aru. “No. He doesn’t. I changed the portal location at the last minute to hide our whereabouts.”
They were surrounded by wilderness. Aru didn’t see a single other person. Wherever Boo had taken them was not in the same time zone as the salon, because it was still daytime. Not that there was much sunlight. Overhead, solemn oak trees drank up most of it, so that little was left to illuminate the cocoa-dark forest floor.
“You are safe, but not for long,” said Boo. “The Sleeper will be watching for any signs of magic. We need additional protection to get you to the Night Bazaar, where the second key lies.”
“Protection? Like travel insurance?” asked Mini.
“What is that?” asked Boo. “You know what? Forget I asked.”
“We could ask the gods for some help?” suggested Aru. “They weren’t just going to leave us with a ball and a mirror, right?”
Aru felt silly for hoping their soul dads would care more, but it didn’t stop her from looking at the sky, wondering if she might see a message spelled out in lightning. Just for her.
“I told you, they will not meddle in human affairs.”
“What about demigod affairs?” asked Aru.
“No meddling. It is their rule.”
“So who is going to help us?”
Boo seemed lost in thought for several moments. He circled the ground, then tottered over to a small anthill beside a log. He stared at it.
“I think I might know someone who would be very interested in meeting you…” he said slowly. “Now if I could only find him. Hmm. Ah, wait! There! See that?”
He was pointing at the dirt. Aru and Mini exchanged nervous looks. Mini made a little swirling sign of He’s lost it next to her head.
Boo glared at them. “No. Look.”
Aru moved closer and saw a slender line of ants leading away from the log and over a pile of leaves.
“We must follow the ants,” said Boo.
“Yup,” said Aru to Mini. “He’s lost it.”
“We follow the ants, because all ants go back to Valmiki.”
“Valmiki? He’s alive?” asked Mini, shocked. “But he was alive thousands of years ago!”
“So were you,” said Boo curtly.
“Who’s Valmiki?” asked Aru. The name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it.
“The sage of learning,” said Mini. “He’s the one who wrote the Ramayana!”
Aside from the Mahabharata, the Ramayana was the other ancient epic poem that lots of Indians knew. It told the story of Rama, one of the reincarnations of the god Vishnu, who fought a ten-headed demon to rescue his wife. Aru’s mother had collected some art depicting Rama’s adventures, and now Aru recalled an image of a sage sitting on an anthill. She also recalled something else about him:
“Wasn’t Valmiki a murderer?”
“Well, he started out as one,” said Mini.
“Even if you murder only once, you’re still a murderer….”
“He changed,” said Boo. “For many years, Valmiki sat and chanted the word mara, which means kill. But his chant changed over time and became Rama, another name of the god—”
“And then a bunch of ants swarmed around him, and that’s how he got his name!” chimed in Mini. “In Sanskrit, it means born of an anthill.”
Aru wasn’t sure that people could really change. On many occasions her mother had promised that things would be different. Sometimes she kept her word for as long as six days. For those days Aru would be walked to school, fed a non-bland dinner, and even spoken to about something other than her mother’s newest museum acquisition.
But things always went back to normal in the end.
Still, having that mom was better than having a frozen mom. Aru swallowed her urge to cry. What were they doing here? They needed to get those celestial weapons, and soon!
“People can change,” added Boo. His eyes looked very knowing in that moment, as if he’d read her mind. It didn’t escape Aru that Boo sounded a little defensive.
“Okay, if you say so. But why do we have to meet this guy?” asked Aru.
“Valmiki’s very wise,” said Boo. “He’s gathered all kinds of mantras, sacred words that will help you. But, be warned, he’s still awful….”