The chandelier crashed down. The Sleeper barely got a scream out before a bunch of glass and crystal erupted around him.
“Sorry about the chandelier, Mom!” Aru whispered. She raced back toward Mini.
All around her sister lay the slumped-over forms of demons and rakshas.
“They’re not dead, unfortunately,” said Boo, landing on Aru’s shoulder. “But they’re out of commission for now. The problem is, this is only a fraction of the Sleeper’s army.”
“Where’re the others?”
“Sleeping,” said Boo in aduh-why-do-you-think-he’s-called-that-it’s-not-like-he’s-known-for-his-own-epic-napping-skillstone.
The seven-headed horse shook its head. Blood and spit flew over the walls. “We cannot stay much longer, daughter of Indra, but you have fought…” The horse paused, struggling to find the right word.
“Bravely?” Aru guessed.
The horse heads snorted.
“Valiantly?” she suggested.
“Cunningly,” it finally said.
Aru sighed with relief, bracing her hands on her knees. Now that the Sleeper was down, all she needed was to finish him off with Vajra.
She turned toward the wreckage of the chandelier, but a demon rushed at her. Boo acted quickly, and bird droppings rained across the demon’s eyes and forehead.
“ARGH!” it shouted, spinning around before knocking itself unconscious by running headlong into the wall.
“If only I was in my former form,” the pigeon moaned. “Ah, well. Annoyance is its own power.”
Aru raised her arm and Vajra transformed into a whip. The lightning bolt was very heavy, like carrying three gallons of milk in one hand. But she was so close to having everything back to normal that strength rushed through her. She brought Vajra down with a sickeningcrack, and the demon flew back, slamming into the wall before evaporating into…demon dust? No, demongunk. There was some sticky-looking residue on the paint. Nasty.
The chandelier shards twitched. Mini ran to Aru’s side. Time for their final blow.
It should have been easy. Quick and painless.
But then a lot of unexpected things happened at once.
Around them, the room went from full to empty in the space of a second. The army of demons and rakshas—many of them now little more than melted lumps on the lobby floor of the museum—vanished in a puff of smoke. With a rush of wings and paws, the celestial mounts disappeared, called back to the deities they served. The last thing Aru heard was “Blessings upon the Pandavas.”
The Sleeper rose from beneath the smashed chandelier. Pieces of glass scattered in a thousand directions. Aru squeezed her eyes shut, gripping Vajra tightly. Then she raised the lightning bolt over her head. Beside her, she could sense Mini’s thoughts:Now, Death Danda, move quickly!
Unfortunately, the Sleeper moved faster. Black ribbons streamed from the tips of his fingers. They were aimed not at her, but at Mini and Boo.
The two of them slammed backward and were pinned to the wall.
“Aru!” croaked Mini.
Aru raised the lightning bolt, but a ripple of instinct held her hand. It was as if Mini’s thoughts alone had stopped her:If you attack, he’ll kill us.
Aru paused, her lungs heaving from the weight of the lightning bolt and the decision put before her.
“Your move, Aru,” said the Sleeper. He grinned. “You can destroy me, or protect them.”
Aru stood still. There was nothing she could do. No right answer.
“The chandelier was a rather clever move,” said the Sleeper, rubbing his jaw. “But not quite clever enough, I’m afraid. Here’s some advice: let your family die, Arundhati. The love of one’s family can be a powerful and horrifying thing. Why, just look at the stories of the Mahabharata. Consider Shakhuni—although you know him as ‘Boo.’ He felt his sister had been insulted when she was forced to marry a blind king, and for that he swore destruction on your ancestors. And he succeeded. That’s just one example among many. You see, child? To act with your heart is a dangerous thing. Let them die.”
“Let them go,” croaked Aru.
