It could’ve sounded really epic. Like Batman hollering, To the Batmobile! But it was barely intelligible, because Boo was squawking from inside Aru’s cupped hands. She placed him on a nearby tree.
“I don’t remember how to get there,” said Mini. “I went once, but I got carsick.”
Envy shot through Aru. “You’ve been to the Otherworld?”
Mini nodded. “My parents took my brother when he turned thirteen. I had to go, too, because they couldn’t find a babysitter. I think all the parents of Pandavas are supposed to take them to the Otherworld once they show signs of being demigods. Didn’t yours?”
Didn’t yours?
Aru hated that question and every variation of it. She’d heard it all the time growing up.
My mom packed me a sandwich for the field trip. Didn’t yours?
My parents always come to my choir practice. Don’t yours?
Sorry, I can’t stay long after school. My mom is picking me up. Isn’t yours?
No. Hers didn’t, doesn’t, isn’t.
Aru’s expression must have been answer enough. Mini’s face softened.
“I’m sure she meant to and just never got around to it. It’s okay.”
Aru looked at Mini: the flattened mouth and pressed-together eyebrows. Mini pitied her. The realization felt like a mosquito bite. Tiny and needling.
Just enough to irritate.
But it also made Aru wonder. If Mini’s mom had told Mini everything, then did that mean their moms knew each other? Did they talk? If they did, how come Aru didn’t know?
Perched on a myrtle tree, Boo began to preen himself. “Right. So, here’s how to get there: You—”
“We’re not driving?” asked Mini.
Aru frowned. She didn’t know much about magic, but she didn’t think the Otherworld should be within driving distance.
Boo shook his head. “Too dangerous. The Sleeper is looking for you.”
Goose bumps prickled across Aru’s arms. “Why?” she asked. “I thought he just wants to go wake up the Lord of Destruction. What does he want with us?”
“He’ll want your weapons,” said Boo. “The Lord of Destruction is surrounded by a celestial sphere that can only be shattered by an immortal device like those weapons.”
Aru was getting a headache. “Wait, so, we need weapons to protect our weapons from becoming…weapons.”
“But we don’t have any weapons!” said Mini. “Or at least I don’t.” She turned pale. “Am I supposed to have a weapon? Do you have one? Is it too late for me to get one, too? Is there a specific one, like only having number two pencils for standardized tests, or—”
“SILENCE!” shouted Boo. “It is fine that you are unarmed. As for where you shall be retrieving these powerful weapons, I shall leave those instructions to the Council of Guardians. They will be waiting for us in the Otherworld.”
He flew down in front of them. Then he pecked at the ground while walking in a small circle. “The key to getting to the Otherworld is reaching. You must grab hold of something invisible. Imagine it’s a string of hope. All you have to do is find it and tug. Simple.”
“A string of hope?” said Aru. “That’s impossible….”
“If it wasn’t, then everyone would go!” retorted Boo.
Mini pushed her glasses a little higher up her nose, and then reached in front of her. Gingerly, like the air might bite her. Nothing happened.
“It helps to look sideways,” said Boo. “That’s usually where you find most entrances to the Otherworld. You have to look and not look. You have to believe and not believe. It’s an in-between thing.”
Aru tried. She glanced sideways, feeling utterly ridiculous. But then, incredibly, she saw something that looked like a thread of light hanging down in the middle of the empty street. The world was still. All the beautiful houses were at once close and also a millennium away. Aru thought that if she were to reach out, her fingers would meet a thin sheet of glass.
“Once you’ve got ahold of the in-between, close your eyes.”
Mini obeyed, and Aru followed her example. She reached out, not expecting anything, but wanting desperately.
Her fingers found nothing at first, and then…she felt it. Like a current of warmth.
It reminded her of summer. Those all-too-rare days when her mother took her to the lake. Sometimes there would be cold spots in the water. And sometimes there were swirling eddies of warmth, a bit of sun-drenched water ribboning around her.
Or sometimes it was just because someone had peed next to her. That was the worst.
This felt like that (the warmth, not the pee).
She grabbed the current, and something firm nosed into her hand—
A doorknob.
Not quite a doorknob. More like a bit of magic trying its best approximation of a doorknob. It was cold and metallic feeling, but it squirmed and tried to wrest itself from her hand. An indignant squeak followed when Aru gripped the knob a little tighter. All of her thoughts poured into a single command: Let me in.
The doorknob made a harrumph sound.
She pulled.
And where there had once been a bit of road, a shriveled crape myrtle tree, and a slightly wonky-shaped mailbox…now there was a panel of light. Boo’s wings rustled behind her.
The three of them walked through that entrance of light. (Well, Boo didn’t walk, because he had decided to perch on Aru’s head.) Her eyes adjusted slowly. All she could see at first was a cavernous ceiling arching above her. They were in a gigantic cave studded with stars. Tiny lights flew past them.
“Bees!” shrieked Mini.
Aru blinked. They weren’t lights, or bees, but moths. Moths with wings of flame. Every time one darted past her, she heard a whisper of a laugh. The walls were cloaked in shadow. There were no doors leading in or out. They were in a bubble.
Aru examined the strange floor beneath her: off-white and bumpy. Each tile was a different length. In fact, the more she looked at it, the more it looked like…
“Bones!” said a voice in front of them. “Do you like them? Took me ages to collect. They’re really quite comfy to walk on, but mind the teeth. Some of those are incisors.”
Aru stiffened. Mini clawed into her backpack and drew out an inhaler.
The little moths of light began to gather around a shape in the dark. One by one, they fluttered their wings and stayed still, as if they were buttoning up whoever stood in the shadows. The shape grew more distinct.
Now it resembled a crocodile that had rolled around in Christmas-tree lights. Only this crocodile was bright blue and the size of a three-story house. The crocodile was also grinning, either happily or—as Aru’s growing panic was beginning to point out—hungrily.
The Council of Guardians
“Pleasedonteatuspleasedonteatuspleasedonteatus,” said Mini rapidly.
“Eat you?” repeated the creature, shocked. Its eyes widened. They reminded Aru of an insect’s eyes—strangely prismed, like a cluster of television screens. “You don’t look very edible. Sorry. I don’t mean to be rude.”
Aru was not in the least bit offended but thought it wise not to point this out.
Boo flew down from her shoulder. “Makara! Guardian of the thresholds between worlds!”
Aru gawked. A real makara. She’d seen photos of them, but only as crocodile-like statues that guarded temples and doors. It was said that the goddess of the Ganges River rode one through the water. Aru wasn’t sure whether that made them mythical boats or guard dogs. Judging from the way the makara was excitedly wagging its tail, she was going with the latter.
“Make way for this generation’s Pandava brothers—” started Boo.
The makara frowned. “They look more like sisters—”
“That’s what I meant!” snapped Boo.
“Wait…I recognize you,” said the makara slowly, tilting its head as it considered Boo. “You don’t look the same.”