Aru Shah and the End of Time (Pandava Quartet #1)(51)

“The girl is a brat,” hissed Ek.

“I thought she seemed nice,” said Do. His ears flattened against his skull.

“I can’t believe they’re not listening to me…” said Mini, shocked.

“Maybe it’s because you sounded like a brat?” suggested Aru.

Ek, who had grown to the size of a respectable town house, laughed. It was not a friendly laugh. “It certainly didn’t help.”

“Aru…” said Mini, her voice squeaking.

Aru had little experience with Door of Death dogs. But she did have experience with regular dogs. Last summer, she had taken Mrs. Hutton’s poodle (P. Doggy) on a walk and almost lost her arm when he spotted a cat.

“Compact,” whispered Aru, not taking her eyes off the two dogs. And then, in an even softer voice, she said, “Cat.”

“How shall we choose which one to eat first?” asked Ek. “Perhaps in a game of heads or tails?”

“Heads!” said Do.

“Are you flipping a coin?” asked Aru.

If she could distract them, maybe they wouldn’t see what Mini was conjuring with her compact.

“We’re not flipping coins!” said Do, excited. “We’re deciding which one of us gets to go after which parts of you!”

“But we don’t have tails,” said Aru.

Do looked at her for a moment longer, as if just realizing that she did not, in fact, possess a tail.

“Oh, that’s true….” Do looked to Ek. “Can we still eat them if they don’t have tails?”

“I meant ‘tails’ in a metaphorical sense,” said Ek.

“What’s that mean?”

“Metaphorical means symbolic, Do. Honestly, it’s like you never paid attention in class! A metaphor is a word representing something else. They don’t have tails per se, but they have a top and a bottom. So the head is the top and—”

“What’s the opposite of metaphorical?”

“Literal!”

“But then—”

While the two of them bickered, Aru and Mini put their heads together. (Metaphorically and literally.) Purple smoke emerged from the compact Mini was clutching. The smoke took a shape and began to grow a tail and a head. (Literally.) “Ready?” asked Aru.

“Ready,” said Mini. She stayed hunched over the smoke.

“Hey! Ek and Do!” shouted Aru.

She looked at the glowing orb in her hand. She rolled it between her palms, wishing it weren’t so tiny. As she thought about it, it actually changed. It grew to the size of a tennis ball.

Do cocked his head. One fat pink tongue lolled out the side of his mouth.

“No!” growled Ek. “It’s a trap!”

“IT’S A BALL!”

Aru threw the ball as hard as she could. Do bounded off after it.

Ek stayed put. “If you think that a ball—”

Mini let go of her enchantment. A sleek purple cat leaped out of her arms and away into the darkness. Ek’s eyes turned huge. His tail started wagging, and the darkness began to vibrate around them. The crack of light just behind him widened.

“WOOOOOOO!!!” he shouted, taking off after the cat.

“Good boy!” said Aru.

Mini and Aru took off toward the slender doorway of light. As Aru’s pumping legs churned the darkness beneath her, the only thing on her mind was this: Maybe she should ask her mother about getting a cat instead of a dog.





Soul Index


With the dogs’ howling cut off behind them, Aru and Mini went from utter darkness to blinding light. Aru squinted around, trying to get her bearings.

When her eyes finally adjusted, she saw that they were standing in a line. One glance around immediately told her they’d come to the right place. These people were definitely not alive.

One person was on fire. He yawned and went back to poking at the inside of a toaster with a fork with a very sheepish expression on his face. Then there was a very sunburned-looking couple in hiking gear sporting some nasty bruises and scratches. And beside Aru, moving quickly and calmly, was a bald girl in a hospital gown clutching a silk rabbit. Everyone was packed tightly together, and the crowd kept growing. Before her, she could just make out the letters of a hanging office sign that said:

KARMA & SINS

Est. at the first hiccup of time

Please, no solicitors

(As of the 15th century, indulgences are no longer permitted. Nice try.)



There was a lot of murmuring around them.

“I can’t understand what anyone is saying,” said Mini.

Aru caught fragments of words. It didn’t sound like English. “Mini, do you speak any Hindi?”

“I can ask for money and say I’m hungry?” said Mini.

“Wow. So useful.”

“It was useful!” said Mini. “When I went to India and had to meet all my mom’s relatives, those were the only two phrases I needed.”

“They never taught you more?”

“Nope,” said Mini. “My parents didn’t want me and my brother to get confused in school, so they only spoke English. And my lola got mad when my mom tried to teach me Hindi, because my name was already Indian and she thought my mom was trying to make me forget I was Filipina too, and it became this huge fight at home. I don’t remember it, because I was little. My mom tells it one way, my lola tells it another. Ugh.” She took a deep breath, and then brightened. “I do know some curse words in Tagalog, though! They’re really awful, like this one—”