Aru Shah and the Tree of Wishes, page 4
Nikita narrowed her eyes. “What did you say?”
“Seemed kinda loud to me,” said Sheela, shrugging. But if she was as offended as her sister, it didn’t show.
“Welp,” said Aiden, pinching the bridge of his nose. “She went there.”
Mini edged closer to Aru. “Aru…do something.”
Nikita extended her wrist. Inky vines shot out, wrapping around Brynne’s ankles and pulling her to the ground.
“You little—” Brynne swung her mace and a gust of wind sent Nikita flying backward.
“Yeah, no,” said Aru, stepping away.
Nikita ran back and got too close to Brynne. Maybe she was trying to reach for the mace, or maybe she just tripped. But their fingers touched, and Aru felt a change in the air—a crackling like radio static deep within her bones. The skies parted above them. Two beams of light—one green and one silver—shot down from the skies…and lifted the twins off the ground.
Far above, Aru caught the silhouette of two horse-faced gods leaning out of the clouds as if they were looking down on the Pandavas from behind a huge bowl of sunshine. Nikita, in the beam of green light, floated toward the god on the left, who was surrounded by the glow of sunrise: rose-quartz pinks and dewy cream, and all the glittering potential of a new day. Sheela, in the beam of silver light, rose toward the god on the right, who was surrounded by the fire of sunset: scarlet and ruby-dark, and just beneath all that red…the mysterious promises of stars and nighttime.
Their soul fathers were none other than the Ashvin twins. Which could only mean that they were the reincarnations of Nakula and Sahadeva, the brothers famous for their beauty, archery and equestrian skills, and wisdom.
Aru had heard that the Ashvin twins were the physicians of the gods. Hanuman, who was a demigod and a patron of wrestling, often stopped by the Ashvins’ medical offices to get treatment for his lower-back pain.
You only get one body, he would say solemnly. You must take care of it.
Do you really only get the one? Aru once asked him. I mean, honestly, how many times has Arjuna been reincarnated now? That’s at least, like, five bodies.
Hanuman had not been amused.
Slowly, the twins drifted back to the ground. Unlike Mini, Brynne, and Aru, neither had been gifted with a weapon. But something small and penny-size glowed at the base of their throats. On Nikita, the object now embedded in her skin was a green heart. On Sheela, it was a silver star.
Nikita walked—no, strutted—toward Brynne.
“I forgive you,” she said.
“I didn’t apologize,” growled Brynne.
“Must’ve been hard to recognize me as another Pandava, considering my uniform,” said Nikita.
She touched her dress. Flowering jasmine branches wrapped their way around the cloth, creating a kind of hoop skirt before extending down into a glamorous train. A high collar made of frothy-looking pink azaleas grew around her neck. She cast a withering look at Aru, Mini, and Brynne.
Aru gazed down at her own outfit: dark jeans and a long-sleeved green tee with the word NOPE stamped across it. Mini was dressed in an all-black getup (“It hides dirt better!” Mini had said) and Brynne wore a blue romper that kinda looked like an apron, with the word HANGRY stitched across it.
“I’m sure your clothes repel enemies,” said Sheela kindly.
“Thanks,” said Aru drily. “If only that didn’t include the entire male population.”
Sheela lightly touched the star at her neck. She seemed completely unfazed by her Claiming, which made sense. She must have already known, Aru guessed. Sheela was able to tell the future, after all.
Did the clairvoyant understand the words she’d uttered? The Pandavas might have failed at preventing the Sleeper’s soldiers from hearing the prophecy, but if Aru and her friends could decipher all its mumbo jumbo, they would totally have an advantage over the Sleeper.
And yet, one part of the prophecy pricked at Aru’s brain like a thorn.
One sister shall turn out not to be true.
With a single choice the world shall receive its due.
Which sister? What did it mean? And how come, when Sheela had said it, her eyes hadn’t left Aru’s face…as if she’d seen something inside her? Something dangerous.
“Sheela, do you remember what you said?” asked Aru.
“Of course I do,” said Sheela dreamily.
“You mentioned something about a sister who wouldn’t be true,” said Aru. “What…what was that about?”
Sheela sighed, looking up at the sky, and in her faraway voice said, “I don’t know?” She twirled a little on the spot. “That’s just how the future is. It has a funny way of making itself true. I see stuff that other people can’t see yet.”
“Like what?” asked Mini.
“Well, right now I see an angry pigeon?”
“Boo!” shouted Aiden, waving his arms.
“I don’t think that will scare him off,” said Sheela solemnly. “Pigeons are kinda fearless.”
“That’s his name,” said Aiden.
“Fearless the Pigeon?” asked Sheela.
Nikita shuddered. “Pigeons are repulsive.”
From the folds of twilight-colored clouds, Boo dove toward them, squawking loudly before alighting on his favorite perch: Aru’s head.
“You’re late!” he squawked, and pecked her ear. “Look at all the feathers I lost waiting for you!”
“Are you taking your supplements?” asked Mini, concerned.
“Honestly, I think it’s all in your imagination,” said Brynne.
“One, yes. Two, no. Also, rude. And three—” Boo stopped mid-rant.
Aru couldn’t see what he was looking at, but she felt his clawed feet reposition in the direction of the twins.
“Oh gods…The targets were Pandavas? Am I to have no rest?”
As Aru had predicted, Boo tumbled over in a faint. She only just managed to catch him before he hit the ground. He stirred weakly in her hands, moaning something about “the cruel ineffable twists of fate” and “three was bad enough.”
“Can I pet him?” asked Sheela.
“I am not a pet!” squawked Boo.
“Nice birdie…” cooed Sheela, reaching out.
Boo snapped at her fingers, then righted himself. “Despite this latest development,” he said, eyeing the twins, “I’m glad you’re here.” He puffed up his feathers. “I trust your mission went exactly as planned, which is what I told the rest of the Council—”
“Actually, um, Boo…” started Aru.
“We’re definitely in for it now.” Brynne groaned and crossed her arms. “But it’s not our fault!”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” hedged Mini. “But we really did try.”
“In for what? Whose fault?” asked Boo, alarmed. “You did get the prophecy, didn’t you?”
Aru winced. “Yes, but—”
A thundering voice crackled through the heavens like the loudspeakers at school:
“ATTENTION, ATTENTION. URGENT INSTRUCTION FOR THE PANDAVAS: REPORT TO THE GATE OF AMARAVATI IMMEDIATELY.”
“Amaravati?” echoed Aiden, looking stricken.
“Who’s that?” asked Nikita.
“It’s not a person,” said Mini, her face paling. “It’s a city.”
Vajra buzzed excitedly against Aru’s wrist. No doubt the lightning bolt missed its home. The famous heavenly city was the court of the apsaras and, of course, Indra, the god of thunder and lightning and Aru’s soul dad.
But none of the Pandavas’ soul fathers were allowed to interfere in their lives, so what did it mean that they were being called to Indra’s court? There were only two things that would draw the attention of the heavens—either something truly wonderful, or something downright awful.
And Aru had a sinking feeling she knew which it was.
Password! But Make It Fash-un
You WHAT?! Boo had shrieked.
Aru winced at the memory as she sat on the outskirts of the Night Bazaar. She was reliving the terrible conversation they’d just had with their mentor twenty minutes ago. The moment they told him they’d failed to prevent the Sleeper from learning the prophecy, Boo had taken this information back to the Council to “triage.”
Whatever that meant.
In Aru’s head, it sounded like adult-speak for You really screwed up.
She sank a little lower in her seat. The five Pandava sisters and Aiden were squished on a bench atop a grassy hill that looked over the glittering gem of the Night Bazaar. To the right of the market was a wall of entrance portals. To its left loomed the moonlit arches of the chakora forest. Boo had flown through one of those arches to get to the heavens.
Aru could barely bring herself to look at the Otherworld. Guilt weighed heavily on her, and she knew she wasn’t the only one feeling that way. Brynne was tight-lipped and stony-faced. Mini looked close to weeping. And Aiden was so out of it he wasn’t even fiddling with his camera.
Aru sighed. Almost two years ago, the Sleeper had gotten away because of her, and now, after their latest fiasco, the Otherworld was even more at risk.
Aru felt the threat of war all around them like the atmosphere before a thunderstorm. Which only made her feel guiltier because, despite everything, she still felt a rebellious streak of doubt. It had started gnawing at her after they defeated Lady M in the Ocean of Milk not more than a year ago. Lady M had stolen the god of love’s bow and arrow as part of a wicked plan to turn people into Heartless zombies, but she’d done it because the devas had disgraced her. Lady M had told Aru that to many people the Sleeper wasn’t a monster—he was a hero.
The whole ordeal had jumbled everything Aru thought she knew about good and evil. Sometimes it kept her up at night, wondering about whether she was doing the right thing by fighting on behalf of the devas. Were they really the “good side”?
Ugh. She needed a nap.
You don’t deserve a nap! hissed a corner of her brain.
Aru was on the verge of putting her head in her hands when she heard someone softly ask, “Does the Otherworld always look like this?”
Aru turned sharply to her left. She’d been so lost in her thoughts, she’d almost forgotten that the twins were sitting next to her. Sheela stared out at the great expanse of tents that had been magically decorated for the holiday of Holi. Clusters of marigolds spangled the air. Fireflies darted among the floating orange blossoms like little living stars. In the market proper, the tents’ usual colorful ribbons had been replaced with a mirrorlike silk that reflected the rainbow-painted floor, the garlands of spring flowers, and strings of twinkling lights, turning the whole bazaar into a dizzying array of sunny yellows, fiery reds, and sapphire blues.
The sight of it made her heart ache.
All this…All of it could be destroyed because they’d failed.
“Kinda?” Aru said. “But right now it’s decorated extra special for Holi.”
Her mention of Holi momentarily perked up the others.
Holi was Aru’s favorite Hindu holiday. Depending on who you asked in India, the festival was about love or springtime…or both. But the best part about it? COLOR PARTY! Every year, the Night Bazaar went wild. Everybody showed up wearing white and threw fistfuls of different-colored powders at one another while the apsaras danced overhead and the gandharva musicians played a hundred songs on their enchanted instruments.
But because of the war threat, this year the celebrations would be different.
They might even be cancelled entirely.
“Holi is the best. Holiday. Ever. Period,” said Brynne. “Last year, I was so covered in color that I sneezed blue for, like, a week. That’s got to be a world record.”
“Well, I looked like a tie-dyed Oompa-Loompa for ten days,” said Aru smugly.
Mini shuddered. “I almost got stampeded.”
“It’s not a competition.” Aiden sighed.
“Don’t be jealous, Wifey,” said Aru.
Nikita frowned. “Wifey?”
“You can call him that too, you know,” said Aru, glad to be distracted from her thoughts.
“Please don’t,” said Aiden.
“Or Ammamma,” added Brynne with an almost smile. “Aiden is a serious grandma. Always has candies in his purse—”
“Satchel!” corrected Aiden.
“Complains about ‘kids these days’—”
Aiden grumbled. “I just think it’s kinda sad how our generation—”
“And he gets tired at, like, seven o’clock.”
“That was one time!” protested Aiden. “And you were tired, too!”
“But why Wifey?” asked Nikita.
Aru was about to answer when Sheela spoke up.
“Once upon a time,” she said, in her singsong voice, “Aiden’s soul lived within a beautiful and powerful princess who married all five Pandava brothers—which was sometimes strange, but mostly okay, because she got five times the presents on her birthday and anniversary. The only sad thing was that she loved one brother more than all the rest.”
Sheela didn’t bother to look at them until she finished, and when she did, her gaze went straight to Aiden. Her eyes flashed silver for a moment, like someone had flipped a quarter in a beam of light. And then she tilted her head. “Even lifetimes later?” she asked, as if to herself.
Aiden frowned. “What are you talking about?”
But Sheela ignored the question, turning her attention instead to the leaves on the moonlit branches.
Boo came soaring out of the trees. Normally, he would’ve alighted on Aru’s head. Or Mini’s shoulder. But this time, he just hovered in the air.
“Come along, children,” he intoned. “We have an appointment.”
Mini piped up first. “With Hanuman and Urvashi?”
“No,” said Boo in a clipped voice. “They’ve left.”
“What? Why?” asked Brynne.
Boo quoted the last lines of the prophecy: “But the tree at the heart is the only true cost. No war can be won without finding that root; no victory had without the yield of its fruit. In five days the treasure will bloom and fade, and all that was won could soon be unmade.”
Aru was glad he left out the part about the untrue sister and the whole world receiving “its due” from a single choice.
“The Council believes the prophecy means that the nectar of immortality is at risk, and so they have left for Lanka—”
“The city of gold?” asked Aiden, awed.
“The very same,” said Boo. “Deep in the city lies the labyrinth containing the nectar of immortality. The rest of the Council is conferring with Lord Kubera to make sure it is well protected, especially over the next five days.”
“Are the Guardians mad at us?” asked Mini, in a small voice.
At this, Boo finally relented. With a sigh, he swooped down and alighted on Mini’s head.
“No one is mad at you,” he said.
Mini sniffed. “You’re just…”
Oh no, thought Aru. Mini’s least favorite word.
“Disappointed?” Brynne guessed.
Boo looked at all of them and then shook his head. “Scared,” he said. “We are too close to war…. We cannot make such mistakes. And you…You should have been able to handle this. That you couldn’t is not your fault, but ours. Now come. We have a meeting with a crisis manager to figure out what must be done about you.”
“All of us?” asked Nikita.
It was the first time she’d spoken up. She stood slightly in front of Sheela, as if ready to shield her at any moment.
“Yes,” said Boo, a touch more gently. “All of you.”
For the first time, Aru saw fear flash over Nikita’s face.
“It’ll be fine,” said Mini. “Trust us.”
Nikita’s expression hardened into a scowl. “No chance of that.”
Boo flew into the chakora forest, urging the Pandavas to follow. Aru trudged behind the others. Crisis manager? That sounded…awful. And Hanuman and Urvashi had flat-out left? Shame roiled through Aru’s belly, and she kicked at the moonlit ground. Usually, walking through the chakora forest relaxed her. It was the home of the magical birds who fed on moonlight. But now even the moonbeams seemed harsh, casting a silvery glow that seemed to illuminate Aru’s every thought about all the ways they’d failed.
Boo led them through a tunnel that carved through a hill and opened up into a chamber that looked like a fancy hotel lobby with marble floors and warm lighting. Except instead of an elevator bank there was an intricate golden gate, the top of which seemed to disappear into a ceiling of low-hanging clouds. Its metal railings were bent into what resembled a grinning mouth.
“Password?” it prompted.
The gate’s voice reminded Aru of her school’s guidance counselor. A weird note of sweetness that never changed. Seriously. That lady could be politely delighted about the apocalypse.
“Why does it need a password when we were asked to show up here?” demanded Brynne. “Shouldn’t it just know who we are?”
“You can never be too careful,” said Boo.
Mini checked her pockets. “Are we supposed to have a password? I don’t have one! Did I miss a handout? Or a homework assignment—?”
Aru gripped her sister’s shoulders. “Breathe, Mini.”
Boo circled overhead. “Now, what was it again…? Something about the heavens’ current fascination…Oh yes!”
“That’s not the password,” said the gate smugly.
“I know that—”
“That’s not it, either,” sang the gate.
“I will melt you into a thumbtack!” threatened the pigeon.
“Still not iiiiit,” crowed the gate.
“Boo, just say it!” cried Aru.
“ATHLEISURE!”
The gate parted, and bright sunlight spilled out.
Bro, Do You Even Lift?
Aru held her breath as that familiar weightless sensation of the portals swept through her. Bright light washed over her face, and when it finally cleared, Aru stumbled forward, still determined to keep her eyes shut. They were going to Amaravati, the capital of the heavens! It was going to be drenched in terrible divine light, and what if Aru found herself standing in a beautiful arena surrounded by huge, angry gods and—?
