Aru nudged Mini. Just beyond the two dogs, a thin sliver of light appeared. Maybe that was thetruedoor to the Kingdom of Death and this was just the stuffy front hall. In which case, the reason it was opening now was probably because it sensed that someone was about to be dead. Aru gulped. If they could just get past these guardians, they could get into the kingdom.
Not that Aru was particularly excited about entering.
Something seemed to call to her from beyond that door. Something she already knew she did not like. Something that taunted. It reminded her of the Sleeper’s voice in her ear.
But still, anything was better than being torn apart.
“Wait till my father hears about this!” bellowed Mini. “I mean, my godly father. Not the human one. My human one would be mad too, but—”
“Mini,” Aru interrupted. “You’re not supposed to explain yourself after you say ‘Wait till my father hears about this.’”
“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 ametaphoricalsense,” 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 havetailsper 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. (Metaphoricallyandliterally.) 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.
