For my family

Be not entangled in this

world of days and nights;

Thou hast another time

and space as well.

Muhammad Iqbal

poet

Table of Contents

Title Page

Dedication

Epigraph

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

Chapter Twenty-eight

Chapter Twenty-nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-one

Chapter Thirty-two

Chapter Thirty-three

Chapter Thirty-four

Chapter Thirty-five

Chapter Thirty-six

Chapter Thirty-seven

Chapter Thirty-eight

Chapter Thirty-nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-one

Chapter Forty-two

Chapter Forty-three

Chapter Forty-four

Chapter Forty-five

Chapter Forty-six

Chapter Forty-seven

Chapter Forty-eight

Chapter Forty-nine

Chapter Fifty

Chapter Fifty-one

Chapter Fifty-two

Chapter Fifty-three

Chapter Fifty-four

Chapter Fifty-five

Chapter Fifty-six

Acknowledgements

Also by Sarwat Chadda

Copyright

About the Publisher

Chapter One

Ashoka Mistry tripped over the tree root. A second later he crashed flat on his face, eating leaves as he slid down the muddy slope and landed in a grey, stagnant puddle.

He lay there, in the foul water, groaning.

And this was exactly why he hated cross-country running.

“For heaven’s sake, Mistry,” said Mr Leach, the PE teacher. “Are you auditioning for the circus or what?” He scampered down the slope, moving with what could only be described as cat-like grace. He finished with a controlled skid that brought him to a perfect stop in front of Ashoka. A few boys clapped.

“Sorry, sir,” said Ashoka, slowly sitting up and spitting out leaves.

“Well, get up. Get up.”

Ashoka tried to stand, but his shorts were caught on something. “Sir …”

Mr Leach took hold of his arm and pulled.

“Sir!”

The loud, sickening tearing sound made the whole class erupt in laughter.

“Nice underpants,” said one of the boys.

“Your mum buy you those, Mistry?” said another.

Ashoka stood ankle-deep in the water, smeared with mud and plastered with leaves, his running shorts bearing a long gash down the back, exposing his limited-edition Doctor Who underpants.

Mr Leach sighed then tucked his clipboard under his arm and scrabbled up the slope to where the rest of the class stood waiting. He turned back to Ashoka. “Come on, lad.”

Ashoka stared at the steep incline and the long, brown trench he’d left in it. The entire wood was just a sea of mud and here he was, at the bottom. He tried to adjust his shorts but all he got was a longer tear. He clambered up the slope. Or tried to.

The laughter and the snickering and the catcalls he blanked out. They were the same taunts no matter which sport he did. Football, rugby, basketball, gymnastics. If there was a piece of equipment that he could stumble over, he would. But cross-country was a special type of hell. It was bad enough doing laps around the school grounds, but this, out in Dulwich Woods, brought a whole new meaning to the word ‘humiliating’. This first run of the year was the worst. The snow had barely melted and the earth was a mixture of freezing puddles, slush and deep, thick mud. Ashoka was not a January sort of person. Now he was going to have to jog all the way back with his backside hanging out. And that included going past two girls’ schools.

“Come on, Ash,” urged Josh.

“Ashoka, my name’s Ashoka,” he muttered under his breath. How many times had he told Josh? He wasn’t Ash, not any more.

Gritting his teeth, Ashoka grabbed hold of a fistful of weeds and began hauling himself up. He was going to get to the top, no matter what.

His boots, totally sodden and slick with mud, couldn’t get any sort of grip. He slipped to his knees, panting, but still hanging on.

Mr Leach drummed his fingers on his board.

Don’t rush. Just get to the top.

His arms ached. His grip weakened. The root was damp with dew. With awful slowness, Ashoka began to slide backwards.

He dug his fingers into the ground, but he was too heavy. Sharp stones scraped his shins and knees, but Ashoka didn’t care – he would not fall back. Vainly he tried to find another handhold, but before he knew it he was back at the bottom.

Mr Leach rolled his eyes. “I should have known.” He turned to the rest of the class. “What are you lot waiting for? Get back to the school right now.” The group of boys began to move off, but not before a few of the wits waved goodbye to Ashoka.

“Don’t worry, we’ll send a crane for you!”

Mr Leach, hands on hips, gazed down. “Look, Mistry. Follow the path that way and you’ll come to another gate. Go through that and you’re back on to Lordship Lane. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then off you go.”

Ashoka stood up and wiped the worst of the mud and leaves and blood off his knees. Jeez, when would this ever end? He was hopeless.

He plodded along towards the gate. The clouds had that fat, grey, swollen look about them and he hoped he’d get back before they finally opened up.

Last. As usual. He was just not built for exercise. Or any sort of physical activity beyond handling a games console.

No, not totally true. He was one of the school’s best archers, but then shooting an arrow didn’t require much running and jumping. Still, technically it was a sport and he was pretty good at it. So why did they have to torture them with cross-country runs in the middle of winter? There should be a law against it.

He reached the gates and found them locked. Of course. The gods had it especially in for him. A heavy chain went around the bars a dozen times and the padlock was about the size of his fist. The gates and fence were almost three metres high and topped with spikes.

Ashoka searched for some convenient gap and found one. Unfortunately it was only wide enough for half of him.

He sat down on a bench. He could only think of one other way out, but that was three miles uphill towards Crystal Palace, in totally the wrong direction. He’d be lucky to get back before dark.

Could this day get any worse?

Then he saw the boy. In the hoodie.

Magnificent. Now I’m going to be mugged.

The boy didn’t move. He sat opposite Ashoka on a tree stump, elbows resting on his knees. He could be looking at him, he could be asleep; the hood hid his face. All Ashoka could tell was that the guy was lean and tough-looking. His stillness was like that of a viper or mantis, about to pounce.

Ashoka gazed through the bars, hoping someone might be passing by, walking their dog or something.

I don’t have a mobile, or any money, thought Ashoka. He can see that. Maybe he’ll just let me go.

The boy got up. He moved with sure, athletic confidence. Black hoodie, pair of dark jeans, and all Ashoka could make out was a pair of glistening dark eyes. Trouble with a capital ‘Extreme Bodily Harm’.

“You need some help?” said the boy.

“No. I’m fine. Just resting.”

“The gate’s locked, in case you hadn’t realised.”

“Thanks.” Which is exactly why you’re here, waiting to trap someone and steal everything they’ve got.

“I haven’t got anything,” said Ashoka.

“Nice underpants.”

Oh, Jeez. He wants my underwear.

“They so won’t fit you,” said Ashoka.

“True. I’ve lost some weight recently.” The boy pointed at them. “Though I do, did, have a pair just like those.”

“You a Doctor Who fan?”

“David Tennant or nobody.”

Ashoka smiled. “Me too. The new guy just doesn’t count.”

There was a nod. “We have a lot in common.”

Ashoka peered at him, not sure whether or not the boy was being funny. He couldn’t tell.

The boy went to the padlock and lifted it up. He shook it, head tilted as if he was listening to it.

“You can’t open it,” said Ashoka.

The boy felt along the lock, probing with his fingertips. “Everything has a weakness. You just need to find it.”

He shook the padlock again, then squeezed it between his forefinger and thumb. He jerked it, hard.

The padlock held.

Ashoka tried not to laugh. “Er, well done.”

“I used to be better at this,” the boy muttered. He punched the padlock.

It snapped apart.

“Wow,” said Ashoka. “How d’you do that?”

“Just a trick, nothing special.” The boy drew the rattling chain out and pushed the gate open.

“Thanks.” Ashoka gazed down the path out of the woods. If he was quick he could be back before dinnertime. “Thanks a lot.”

“Anytime, Ash.”

Ashoka half opened the gate. “My name’s Ashoka. Not Ash. Not any more.”

“Since when?”

“Since—” He turned around. No one. He looked towards the trees. Just trees. The boy had been standing right there. Ashoka glanced up at the branches overhead. The boy must have flown away to vanish like that. Weird. Ah well. At least he was safe.

Ashoka set off, not fast, but steady. This last bit was downhill, thank goodness. He got to the Lordship Lane exit and stopped. Hold on.

“Anytime, Ash.”

How did he know my name?

“You heard that the next Doctor Who’s going to be a woman?” said Akbar. “Seriously, it’s all over the blogs.”

Ashoka bounced his dice in his hand. “Never going to happen.”

“Oh, and why not?” said Gemma. “I think a female doctor would be great. And about time too.”

“Yeah, Ash,” said Josh. “Why not a girl Who? You’d still watch it if they had Kermit as the Doctor.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, Josh? It’s Ashoka. Three syllables. Not complicated.”

“Joshua,” said Josh.

“What?” said Ashoka.

“If I have to call you Ashoka, you need to call me Joshua.”

“Fine. Joshua. Whatever. Can we get back to the game? My paladin aims his magic arrow at the necromancer.”

Tuesday night was Dungeons & Dragons night. Ashoka, Josh (sorry, Joshua), Akbar and Gemma were in the middle of exploring the ‘Caverns of Chaos’ and right now they were trying to stop an evil sorcerer from turning the entire population of the Greyfalcon into zombies. Or vampires. Or miscellaneous undead types.

Gemma picked up her dice. “My thief sneaks around the back of the columns. She’ll try and get closer to the Big Bad.”

Gemma had only joined a few months ago, right after Guy Fawkes Night. He’d thought she’d play once or twice, then stop and go off and do something cool with the other cool kids like Jack, but, proving that there was a God, she’d turned out to be a closet geek. So Tuesday night, as well as being Dungeons & Dragons, was Gemma night.

They reached over the table and repositioned their miniature figures. Akbar started describing how the evil necromancer was raising a horde of skeletal warriors from the ground, and Josh – Joshua – retaliated with his elvish sorcerer casting a fireball spell.

“Ignore Josh,” said Gemma as the battle progressed. “I like ‘Ashoka’.”

“Thanks.” It still took people a bit of getting used to. Most of the teachers remembered and his parents too, but half his mates still slipped up and he reckoned Josh – Joshua – was doing it on purpose. But Ashoka’s trip to India last year had changed his outlook on a lot of things. It had been the best holiday ever, and after coming home he’d decided to use his proper ‘Indian’ name from now on.

The battle wrapped, the bad guy dead and the city saved, they began to tidy up. Ten minutes later and Ashoka and Gemma were strolling down South Croxted Road. The wind blew along the path, carrying a vortex of leaves that swirled in the amber light of the streetlamps. Ashoka adjusted his coat, zipping it up to his chin. The cold went into the bones. Gemma had her hands stuffed in her jacket. They walked in silence.

I should try and hold hands, or something, he thought. How hard can that be?

Yeah, Ashoka, and while you’re at it you can try leaping that building in a single bound.

“Saw you coming back from cross-country,” Gemma said. “I assume it was you: covered in leaves and mud and your shorts all ripped at the back?”

Oh, no. Ashoka pulled his cap down, hoping she couldn’t see him blushing.

“Nice underpants, by the way.”

“Shut up, Gemma.”

She laughed and they got to the corner of Tesco. “This is me,” she said, gesturing over her shoulder. “See you tomorrow, Ashoka.”

Wow. Ashoka sounded so much better the way she said it.

They waited at the traffic lights. Cars went by.

Go on. Do something. Kiss her. You know you want to.

Ashoka shuffled. “Yeah, tomorrow. G’night.”

The traffic lights changed from green to red and Gemma crossed.

You are a total coward.

That was a golden opportunity and he’d blown it. Why didn’t he just go for it? What was the absolute worst that could happen?

She’d say no. Face it, that’s what she’d say, isn’t it? Better not even try than suffer the rejection. Girls like that don’t go out with guys like you. Especially once they know you wear Doctor Who underpants.

Ashoka adjusted his backpack and took the gap between the shops, his shortcut home. The alleyway wasn’t wide and they still hadn’t fixed the lights, but he’d done this route a million times and his feet went on autopilot. It was along the estate and the rubbish wasn’t collected till the morning so he had to watch his step around the black refuse sacks. Two red-eyed rats watched him pass.

“Gross.” He kept away. The things looked evil.

A dog barked nearby, then whimpered and shut up.

Someone chuckled ahead of him.

“Who’s there?” said Ashoka.

The chuckle turned into a grotesque howling laugh and a figure appeared at the end of the alleyway. The light from the courtyard behind cast an eerie light over everything.

A woman, dressed in a white suit, stood waiting for him. She leaned against the wall, arms folded, her thick, tawny hair framing her face like a mane. She wore a pair of dark glasses and a hungry grin.

“Ash Mistry?” she asked. Her accent was posh, clipped, with each syllable bitten off.

“Do I know you?” He was tempted to correct her, tell her it was Ashoka, but a large part of his brain was sending signals to his mouth warning him that this was not the sort of woman who liked being corrected or made upset or angry on any level.

“My name’s Jackie.” She stepped forward and her fingers flexed. Her long, curved nails shone like daggers. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

A snarl from behind him raised the hairs on the back of his neck. He turned to see two men standing there. They glared at Ashoka, smiling with crooked, jagged teeth in their thin mouths and long, greasy whiskers under their rodent-like noses. Their eyes were malevolent, burning crimson.

Cold terror flooded Ashoka. He held out his bag. “Here, take it.”

Jackie tutted. “Oh, Ash, that is not what we want.”

“What then? What do you want?” said Ashoka. How does she know my name?

She smiled. Even the darkness couldn’t hide the brilliance of her fangs. “We want to kill you, dear boy.”

Chapter Two

“There must be some mistake, I … I don’t know you,” stuttered Ashoka. “Please, it’s a mistake.”

He looked at the woman, hoping to see a glimmer of pity, or compassion. But she just smiled, and there was no humanity in those fangs. “Please,” he repeated feebly.

“Begging, Ash? How disappointing,” said Jackie. “But then we can’t all be heroes.”

Without thinking, Ashoka slammed the bag into one of the rat mens’ face. He didn’t think about it; it just happened. The bag contained three huge hardback books, a large bag of dice, some lead miniatures and his boots. Rat-face Number One squeaked as the bag smashed into his nose. Ashoka then kicked Rat-face Number Two between the legs.

He’d seen it done a million times in movies and the guy always went down. Always.

Rat-face Number Two didn’t go down. He just leered.

Ashoka charged. The two tumbled into a pile of rubbish and knocked over a bucket of compost. Ashoka pushed the rat-face down into a bag of rotting, stinking onions as he scrambled to his feet.

Claws, hot and sharper than razors, tore open the back of his coat and sliced his skin. But he was too full of fear and adrenaline to feel the pain, and was up and running a second later, stumbling out of the alleyway.

“Run, Ash, run!” Jackie laughed.

What am I doing? What am I doing?

He’d never been in a fight before and this was for real – life and death. His heart was pounding violently in his chest and his boots beat the pavement, the heavy impact echoing like a drum in the night. He was only a few hundred metres from his front door, but suddenly the alleyways through the estate turned into a labyrinth. He ran down one and came out into a small enclosed green, empty but for a pair of swings and a see-saw. He stared at the blank, unlit windows of the apartments that overlooked it.

“Help!” He raced past the swings, throwing them behind him in a desperate attempt to stop Jackie. She moved on all fours and bounded over them. How is that possible?

Lights came on in the estate around him, but he didn’t dare stop to call for help. One swipe of those claws and she’d have his head for a football. He ran on, down into another narrow gap between the apartment blocks—

—and crashed straight into the rat-faces, who grabbed him. Ashoka wrestled and punched but couldn’t get free.

“Hold him,” Jackie ordered. She panted and her tongue hung red and loose from her wide jaw. The rat-faces twisted Ashoka’s arms behind his back until they felt as if they’d break.

“What do you want? I don’t even know you!” Ash shouted. This was insane.

Jackie looked him over, coming so close he could smell her breath. Worse than a dead dog’s guts. “No, but I know you.” Jackie stroked his face with the back of her nail. “And I’m here to make sure you never do.” Then she turned her hand and dragged her fingers through his shirt. The cloth ripped open and she drew three thin, bleeding lines down his chest. She pulled his shirt wide open and peered at his skin. Her nail pressed against his belly. “No scar.” She grabbed his left hand and stared at his thumb. “Interesting.”

She flexed her fingers and the nails struck like a butcher’s blades. “Hold him still. I don’t want his blood on my suit.”

“Please …” begged Ashoka.

A steel scream rang out right in his ear and Ashoka cried out as blood showered over his head.

The rat-face gripping his right arm wobbled and Ashoka turned towards him to see blood vomiting from his severed neck. The head was still spinning in the air and Ashoka stared at the wide, surprised expression on his face, his mouth a perfect ‘O’.

A moment later another figure appeared to the left, a long triangular blade of bright, sharp steel shining in its right fist. The rat-face who still had a head dropped Ashoka and drew out a pistol. It wasn’t some cool Desert Eagle or Walther PPK, it was an ancient gunpowder thing from a hundred years ago. But the barrel was huge, and in the narrow alleyway he couldn’t miss. The flint burst a bright flash of powder, and then thunder exploded from the barrel opening, filling the entire alleyway with acrid gun smoke.

The bullet sparked on the steel blade as the figure swatted it aside, the lead ball rebounding to tear a chunk of brick off the wall.

He swatted a bullet, thought Ashoka. That’s not possible.

The rat-face stared as the shadow rammed his right fist, and the steel triangular blade, into his chest so hard that he came off his feet. A second fountain of blood sprayed out as the tip of gore-coated metal tore through the rat-face’s back. He scrabbled, and screamed a scream that should have shattered all the glass nearby, and almost did the same to Ashoka’s eardrums. Then the figure, a boy in a hoodie, tossed the dead rat-face aside and stepped past Ashoka, his attention on Jackie alone. The boy’s fingers tightened around the steel dagger in his fist.

A katar. An Indian punch dagger. Ashoka hadn’t seen one since—

“Jackie,” said the boy in the hoodie.

“It’s true. You’re here,” Jackie snarled, edging away. She looked from Ashoka to the boy and back again. Then she threw back her head and screamed with demonic laughter and with two bounds vanished into the night.

“Are you all right?” asked the boy, turning to Ashoka.

Ashoka blinked and tried to wipe away the blood that covered his face. He thought he’d swallowed some. He swayed, his legs suddenly as solid as jelly.

“He’s going to fall,” said the boy.

Someone helped to support Ashoka: a girl of about fifteen or sixteen, dressed in a close-fitting suit of black-green. “I’ve got you,” she said. Despite the darkness she wore shades, so all Ashoka could see was the reflection of his own petrified face.

“Let’s get away from here,” said the boy. “And bring him.”

“I only live—”

“I know where you live,” the boy snapped. “Now come on.”

The girl steadied Ashoka. Then she picked up a long steel coil off the ground. The weapon had a sword hilt, but instead of a single blade there were four razor-sharp steel strips.

“An urumi,” said Ashoka. “The serpent sword. That’s … cool.”

He looked down at the now headless corpse of the first rat-face. She’d done it with the urumi. He could see the open arteries and the spine and neatly sliced muscle of the neck stump.

“Oh, God.” Ashoka tried to hold it down, but bile flooded to the top of his throat. Then came straight out over the ground and his shoes. His stomach spasmed and bitter vomit poured out again and again.

The boy in the hoodie sighed. “Pathetic.”

The girl was patting Ashoka’s back. “Oh, please. You were just the same when I first met you.”

“Was not.” The boy sounded petulant. “Have you quite finished?”

“Yes. Yes, I have.” Then Ashoka saw the second rat-face, torso slick with black blood and white bone jutting from the gaping hole where his chest must once have been.

“No. No, I haven’t.” He vomited some more.

Once the vomiting was all done and he’d downed a bottle of water, Ashoka was eventually able to walk again, and he followed the boy and girl out of the estate. I could run, he thought, but something told him he wouldn’t get very far.

“What’s going on?” Ashoka demanded. “Has the world gone bat-loony? Why were those people trying to kill me? Who were those people?”

The boy hurried Ashoka across the road, his face still hidden in the deep shadow of his hood. “Last question first. Those aren’t people. They’re rakshasas.”

Ashoka scoffed. “Indian demons? Yeah, right.”

“You don’t have to believe me.”

“Thanks. I won’t.”

“But you should.”

Ashoka paused. “You were at the woods today, weren’t you? Have you been following me?”

“That’s right. I knew Jackie would make her move sooner or later.”

“Who are you?” Ashoka said, suddenly filled with a dreadful anticipation. A small part of his subconscious didn’t want to know. There was something terrible and familiar about the boy.

The girl nodded. “Tell him.”

The boy took off his hood. A pair of dark eyes gazed back at Ashoka. Eyes he knew. The boy’s face was gaunt, but smooth and brown like his and his hair was the same as Ashoka’s, maybe longer than he wore his and more dishevelled than his mum would allow. The boy smiled, and it was a smile Ashoka could mirror, perfectly. He struggled to breathe. “Who are you?” he whispered, even though he knew.

The boy’s smile softened. “I am Ash Mistry.”

Chapter Three

“Sit down,” said the girl.

Ashoka took a seat in his kitchen, his back against the wall, staring at the other boy.

The other Ash Mistry.

Weird did not begin to describe what it felt like to be face to face with himself. The boy had all his mannerisms – the way he pulled his hair from his forehead, the way he stood and tilted his head as he thought. But there were differences. The most obvious was that this other Ash was as sleek as a dagger and the way he moved was almost scary. He had a confidence that Ashoka lacked. Ashoka shuffled through life, a bit wary, a bit timid. This guy wasn’t just in charge of the situation – he owned it.

“This is too weird,” he said, and not for the first time. “How can you be me?”

“Check the house, Parvati,” ordered Ash, “and get him some clean clothes.” The girl nodded and left the two of them alone.

“There’s no one here,” said Ashoka. “Mum and Dad have taken Lucky to a gymnastics competition.” But he glanced at the clock. They should have been back by now.

“As soon as they return we all leave.”

“Leave?”

Ash checked out the window. “He’ll come after you. After everyone. We can’t stay here.”

Ashoka looked down at his torn shirt. He was still shaking. He walked over to the sink and filled his Yoda mug with water. He rinsed the vomit taste out of his mouth, then splashed his face, closing his eyes and letting the cold water refresh him. “Who’s after me? Why would anyone be after me?”

“Sit back down. Stay away from the window.” Ash’s hand twitched on the hilt of his katar.

Ashoka faced him. “Listen, this is my house and—”

“No, you listen,” snapped Ash. “There are people out there that want to kill you. I am the only one who can keep you alive, but I can only do that if you do exactly as I say. This is not open to discussion.”

Parvati reappeared. “All clear.” She had a bundle of clothes under her arm and a bag over her shoulder. She gave it to Ash. “And I found this.”

“Hey, that’s mine!” Ashoka said.

Ash paused, then held the bag out to Ashoka. “Show me.”

Ashoka unzipped the black canvas bag and drew out his bow.

Matt black with a magnesium-alloy main body, composite limbs with pulleys to increase the power. The bowstring was made of coated steel cables. State of the art. Right now the frame was folded in on itself and the bowstrings wound into the pulleys so the entire weapon was less than half a metre in length. He’d been given it as a present on his last day in India.

Ashoka held the central body and gave the bow a sharp flick.

The two limbs snapped out and locked. The pulleys whirred as the bowstring unreeled and quivered, springing into tension. Fully extended, the bow was just shorter than him.

“You any good with it?” asked Ash.

“Is that important right now?” said Ashoka.

“You’re right, it isn’t.” Ash tapped his watch. “Want to get a move on?”

Ashoka looked at the pile. He didn’t like getting changed in public. He had enough teasing about his weight in the changing rooms. “Do you mind?”

Ash shook his head, turning away. “This is ridiculous. I am you, Ashoka.”

“How can you be? I don’t look like you. I can’t do what you do.”

“I am you, but from a different timeline.”

Ashoka stopped. “A different timeline. Right.” That was the craziest thing he’d ever heard. The other boy frowned, no doubt seeing Ashoka’s disbelief.

“I know it’s hard to believe,” said the other Ash.

“You’re right about that.”

A distant cousin he could have believed, given how similar they looked. Maybe, just maybe a long-lost twin, some bizarre mishap at the hospital when he’d been born.

But different timelines?

“But if we are the same, right down to our fingerprints and DNA,” said Ashoka, “how come you look like that and I look like this? Which is very different. Shouldn’t we be really mega-identical?”

Ash shook his head. “Things happened in my life that never happened in yours. In my world, in my universe, I’ve a sister called Lucky, I live in this house and my mum and dad are the same as yours. But a month ago my timeline ceased to exist and somehow I ended up in yours.”

“What happened?” asked Ashoka, pulling off his bloody, tattered shirt and putting on his Nike T-shirt instead.

“The past was changed. I’ve spent the last five weeks investigating, and as far as I can tell, it changed ten years ago. A person went back in time by a decade and altered his past. So, from that point on, our existences diverged. Your universe took a different route to mine.”

“Just like that?”

Ash nodded. “Just like that. No big flash or bang. I shouldn’t exist here – this is your universe – but I do. I’m here with Parvati because we’re somehow immune to the effects of the Time Spell.”

“Time Spell? Someone cast a spell? This is truly weird.”

Parvati interrupted. “Your lives are different, but your destinies will be the same.”

Ashoka frowned. “Sorry, I don’t understand that.”

Ash rolled his eyes and, looking around, grabbed pen and paper from the kitchen counter. Ashoka watched over his shoulder as Ash began to draw a line. “This is us. We are the same person. We are born, and then, when we are four, something happens.” He drew a thick dot, and two parallel branches emerging from the same line, one above the other, close but separate.

“Year by year we live different lives, me along this top path, Timeline A, you along the bottom one, Timeline B. Then in December I jumped from my timeline to yours.” He did a loop from the top line to the bottom. “Instantly. There was no going backwards or forwards in time, but I left my universe and carried on in yours.”

“And what’s happened to yours?” asked Ashoka.

Ash frowned. “It could be continuing, everyone living their day-to-day lives without me. I simply vanished and the universe continued. Or it could have just …” he bit his lip and Ashoka saw a flicker of anguish “… stopped. Ended. I don’t know.”

“Amazing,” said Ashoka. “Totally amazing. But I don’t believe a word of it.” He’d calmed down now and was putting it all together. Attacked by demons? It had been a set-up. Clever special effects, plus it had been dark and he’d been scared. Things look different in the dark. Masks might look real, things like that. Any second now Ant and Dec were going to leap through the doorway. This was some new TV series, about freaking people out with stories of time travel and demons and alternate selves. Ashoka inspected the boy before him. It had been dark and he’d been in shock when he’d first seen him. Sure, he did look a lot like him, but there were subtle differences. Stuff that the make-up and whatever prosthetics they used couldn’t disguise. The eyes were darker, more haunted. His lips harsh and stiff. Things this boy had seen and done lay under his skin. Shadows of his deeds flickered in his penetrating gaze. Why had they picked an actor like him? Same height but definitely not the same physique. Ash had the body of an Olympian, all hard edges and harder muscles. Though the months of pulling a bow had built the muscles on Ashoka’s arms and back, they were still hidden under layers of podginess.

“Any second now,” he said. Maybe the presenters were getting their make-up sorted first.

Ash and Parvati looked at each other. “Any second now what?” said Ash.

Even with bad traffic, his parents and Lucky should have been home by now. It was almost ten.

Ashoka smiled. They must be in on the joke.

His mobile rang. It was Dad.

Ashoka sighed with relief. He’d freaked when he’d seen Ash and the girl, Parvati, freaked some more when Ash had told him his bizarre story of gods and monsters, but now normality had returned.

“OK, Dad, where are you? Joke’s over.”

“This is no joke, boy.” It was a man’s voice, but not one Ashoka recognised, or liked.

“Who is this?” Ashoka asked.

“Speak to him, child,” said the voice.

Ashoka heard sobbing and a sniff. This wasn’t some game or TV show. As cold dread crept through his veins, Ashoka realised his world had changed and all the earlier stuff, the easy life, was about to end. Right now.

“Ashoka?” said a young girl’s voice.

“Lucks?” Ashoka’s fingers tightened around his mobile. “Where are you?”

His sister sobbed again and then she screamed.

“Don’t you dare hurt her!” yelled Ashoka. “Don’t you dare hurt her!”

“Give us the Kali-aastra, boy,” said the man. “Do that and your family go free.”

Kali-aastra? Wasn’t that some sort of magical weapon? A weapon of the gods? What made them think he had it?

“I don’t have any Kali-aastra. I’ve told you already – this is some big mistake. Please, let my family go.”

“He was with you tonight.”

He? That made even less sense. An aastra couldn’t be a person. Could it?

Ashoka looked at Ash. He’d seen Ash in action. How he’d taken out the two rat-demons without breaking a sweat. How he’d knocked aside a bullet. If anyone could be a weapon, it was Ash.

Kali’s weapon. Kali, the goddess of death and destruction, was the most terrifying of all the gods, more feared than the demons she fought. If Ash was her weapon, then maybe Ashoka should be as afraid of him as of the demons, if not more.

He should give them Ash. No question.

Ashoka put his hand over the mobile. “They want you.”

“It’s a trap.”

“Yeah, and my family are in it and I want them out, right now. You need to turn yourself in.”

“That would be a mistake.”

“The only mistake is you being here! It’s a straightforward swap. You for them.”

Ash shook his head slowly. “The moment you do that, they’ll have no reason to keep them. They’ll be killed.”

“No,” said Ashoka. “You’re just saying that. I can’t risk it.”

“Give me a chance to save them.” Ash’s gaze hadn’t shifted. He drew a deep breath. “But it’s your choice.”

Ashoka lifted his hand away.

“Ashoka?” said Lucky. “Are you there?”

“Yes, I’m here.” What should he do? He shouldn’t be making these sorts of choices! It was as if he’d gone into an alternative universe too, one with demons and death and horror. Ashoka closed his eyes, but no wish was going to change things. He had to act. “He’s … gone.”

Lucky yelled as the mobile was snatched from her. “Where is he?” the man snarled.

“He didn’t tell me. I think he went after that Jackie woman,” Ashoka replied. “He said he’d be back tomorrow.” He gulped and steadied himself. “Please, as soon as he comes back, I’ll call you.”

“Do that,” said the man. “Or I promise you I will eat your sister’s eyes for dinner.”

The mobile went dead.

“What have I done?” Ashoka stared at the mobile, tempted to call right back and tell them the truth. Tell them to come and get Ash right now and give him his family back. That’s all he wanted.

Parvati spoke. “They were only taken a few hours ago. They can’t be far.”

“London’s a big place,” said Ashoka. “How will we find them?”

“We’ve some help,” said Ash. “Come on.”

Ashoka looked around his kitchen. His home. It felt shockingly empty.

Lucky grinned at him from a photo, sitting proudly on her black and white pony, Domino. She’d nagged and nagged, and right after coming back from India, Dad had got her one. She’d almost exploded with happiness and Ashoka had just acted all cool, ignoring her excitement. Now he’d do anything to have her back. “Promise you’ll find them.”

“They’re my family too,” said Ash. “You need anything?”

He had a state-of-the-art games system upstairs. He had his books and gear and clothes and trainers and everything. But that was all junk. The only things that mattered were gone.

His gaze fell to his bow and he picked it up.

“You got any arrows for that?” asked Ash.

“No. Dad said they had to stay at the club. He was worried I might put one through a neighbour’s window by accident.”

Ashoka pressed open the catches and disassembled it in a matter of seconds.

Parvati look across at him intently.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she replied.

“If Jackie’s just hired help, then who’s she working for?” asked Ashoka as they headed down into Brixton tube station. Ash and Parvati stood either side of him, scanning for trouble.

“Lord Alexander Savage,” said Ash.

Ashoka stopped. “Savage? He can’t be. Savage is one of the good guys.” He looked around until he saw a poster on the wall across the street. “See that? The Savage Foundation. He owns it. It’s his charity. It saves millions of lives. Medical supplies, fresh water to villages in Africa, humanitarian aid to war zones. He’s an amazing man. And a friend of ours.”

Parvati snorted. “No, he’s not.”

“Savage is just a businessman. He wouldn’t get mixed up in demons and kidnappings. Why should he?”

“Savage is much more than a mere businessman,” said Parvati. “He’s a three-hundred-year-old sorcerer. He’s been looking for the secret of immortality and it looks like he’s finally found it.”

They rushed down the escalator on to the platform, looking around them as they went. Not too many people about, and definitely no rakshasas.

“My uncle works for him,” continued Ashoka. “We stayed with him in India last summer. Savage gave me that bow. Why bother if he wants me dead?”

“You’re just bait, Ashoka,” said Parvati.

“Bait? For what?”

“Save it for later. The train’s coming. Look sharp …” Ash forced Ashoka back a step, “… and stay close, all right?”

The train carriages weren’t busy at this time of night and they kept Ashoka wedged between them, both Parvati and Ash watching the other passengers, ready for the first hint of trouble. It freaked Ashoka out that Ash had exactly the same greatcoat as him, his Sherlock Special.

But Ash looked really cool in his. Way cool.

How were they the same guy?

They weren’t, not in a million years. Ash was the Kali-aastra.

He’d read about aastras. They were super-weapons, made by the gods and carried by the great heroes of Indian mythology. Rama, the prince, had used an aastra to destroy the demon king, Ravana. Ashoka loved that story, the Ramayana. Rama and his brother Lakshmana had spent years searching for Rama’s wife, the beautiful Sita, who’d been kidnapped by Ravana and taken to his island fortress of Lanka. The story had climaxed with a massive battle where Rama and Lakshmana had fired aastra after aastra, killing tens of thousands of demons with each shot and destroying Lanka.

And what would an aastra of Kali do? That was a no-brainer. It would be the ultimate weapon, the ultimate killing machine.

Was that what Ash was? Some divine terminator?

They came out at Finsbury Park station and on to the streets again.

“What are we doing here?” said Ashoka.

“Keeping you safe,” said Ash. “We’ve a friend—”

“Acquaintance really,” interrupted Parvati.

“… Who knows the situation. We’ve been staying with her for the last month. She’s helping.”

Ashoka turned up the collar of his coat to cut out the chill wind. The only place open was a kebab shop and the only people around were tramps loitering under the bus shelters.

Everywhere they looked were boarded-up shops. A man stood guard outside an off-licence, a snarling pit bull tugging at its leash. The car parked opposite had smashed windows and no wheels.

“Nice neighbourhood,” said Ashoka.

Ash pointed to a shop on the corner.

Elaine’s Bazaar.

It was a junk shop. Steel grilles covered the windows, not that what was in there looked worth stealing. Old dust-covered VCRs, a kid’s bike, mannequins wearing last century’s clothes, and cheap Formica furniture. The paint on the overhead sign, three golden balls, was turning green and flaky with age. The shop had an apartment above it and lights shone within. Ash got out some keys.

“This is your secret hideout?” asked Ashoka. He peered through the shop window. Was that a stuffed bear inside? “It’s not exactly Wayne Manor, is it?”

“And you’re not exactly Bruce Wayne,” said Ash.

The interior smelt musty. The stuffed bear wore a feather boa and a top hat. Clothes spilled out of battered trunks. A small door behind the counter opened up and a light came on.

An old woman wearing a faded tartan dressing gown paused to look at them. Her wild grey hair stuck out in all directions and she was scrawny, her skin wrinkled and thick on her bones. A cigarette glowed between her yellow teeth. “Where are the others?” she said.

“Captured,” said Ash. He took the cigarette out of the woman’s thin fingers. “And I’ve spoken to you about these already.”

Parvati interrupted. “Ashoka, meet Elaine. She’ll be your host for the next few days.”

Elaine peered at Ashoka. She didn’t look impressed, but then neither was Ashoka. Wasn’t there somewhere better than this dump? Like a cardboard box under a bridge?

“Were you followed?” asked the old woman.

“Please,” said Parvati. “Give us some credit.”

Elaine pulled the dressing gown up to her neck and double-locked the door behind them. “I just don’t want any unexpected guests, that’s all. Not safe for an old woman like me, living all alone.”

Ashoka felt exhausted. The last few hours, all the panic and fear and running, were catching up with him. He wasn’t used to this. “This is not my life,” he muttered.

“It is now,” said Ash, not too unkindly. “I’m sorry.”

Elaine turned around and started back upstairs. “I’ve a room for you, boy.”

The apartment upstairs wasn’t exactly flash, but, unlike the shop below, it was at least neat and tidy. There were some photos on the wall, a frame with Arabic calligraphy and a painting of a scene from the Bible. He spotted a statuette of Ganesha on the mantelpiece and a menorah beside it. Sticks of incense smouldered in a narrow brass fluted pot, the sweet smell mixing with coffee and nicotine. Ashoka picked the sofa with a Rajasthani cover and fell on it.

He’d never been so beaten in his entire life. Every part of him was on the verge of collapse.

Rakshasas. Time travellers. Kidnappings. And Savage. Was it true? Was Savage behind all this? It was too much to take in.

He put his face in his hands.

Ash pulled off his coat and dropped his katar on the dining table. “You’ve had a busy day. Get some sleep and we’ll go over everything in the morning.”

“How can you be so calm?” Ashoka snapped. “They’ve got my family.”

Parvati smiled at him. “Please, Ashoka, we’re here to help you. Get some rest.”

Elaine came through with a bundle of linen, a pillow and a duvet. “Here you go.”

He wasn’t happy, but Ashoka took the pile off the old woman. She directed him through a doorway and Ashoka entered a small room with a single brass bed and table. There was a window, but it faced a brick wall. He dropped the duvet over the mattress and dropped himself on to the duvet.

He was asleep before he hit the bed.

Chapter Four

Parvati stood at the door, listening. “He’s asleep.”

Ash turned back to the dining room as Elaine put a mug down. She shook out another cigarette, then caught the look in his eye and put it back with a forlorn sigh. “Well, what next, boss?” she said.

“A shower.” Ash sniffed his clothing. “I stink of rat-demon.” There were flecks of blood on his sleeves. “Then we talk.”

He entered Elaine’s bathroom and dumped his clothes on the cold tiles. The pipes rattled as he turned the hot tap full on. The shower head gurgled, then steaming hot water blasted out. He put his head under and let it burn him.

The water turned pink and Ash watched it swirl around the plughole.

Calm? Ashoka thought he was calm? Couldn’t he see how terrified he was?

Ash felt along his chest, from the smooth skin, taut across his muscles, to a ridge on his solar plexus. To the scar.

He glanced down at his thumb. There was a small cut. Last summer a sliver of metal had entered, kicking off his transformation from schoolboy to master of the arts of death. Servant of the goddess Kali. Her divine weapon.

The Kali-aastra.

He’d acquired superhuman strength and reflexes and even mastered Marma Adi, the ability to kill with a touch. He’d even gained the ability to glimpse the future, as his patron goddess was also the mistress of Time.

But all that power had gone the moment he’d jumped timelines.

It was as if he was half sleeping. Everything was slow, dull, colourless, compared to how he’d felt as the Kali-aastra. Had the jump to Ashoka’s universe drained him of all his power?

He shouldn’t be here. It had to be because of the Kali-aastra. Somehow it had protected him from the Time Spell, but in doing so burnt out his powers.

He needed to find a way to awaken them again. He needed a Great Death because that was what Kali craved. By killing for Kali, Ash gained more power.

He’d slain those rat-demons though and nothing had happened. He’d not felt even the slightest trickle of supernatural energy.

Perhaps their deaths weren’t great? Perhaps Kali wanted more death before she granted him anything? The last time, he’d had to sacrifice himself. How was he going to top that?

And in the meantime, without the power of Kali, what was he? Just a normal boy all over again, trying to defeat the greatest evil the universe has ever known.

And Ashoka thought he was calm?

He made a fist, looked at the water run and steam over the hard knuckles. Normal? Maybe that wasn’t totally true. He’d seen Kali dance. He still knew all the moves she’d shown him. He could fight better than any man, but once he’d been able to tear down buildings with his hands, move faster than an eye-blink, kill with a touch. That was all gone. Physically he was in perfect condition, perfect human condition. But that wasn’t going to be enough for what they faced. Not by a million miles.

Calm? He was so scared he wanted to puke.

He should tell Parvati. Why hadn’t he? He should have told her the instant he’d realised. Was it because he was afraid she’d think less of him for being ‘merely’ human? Was it pride?

He had to tell her. And he would.

When the time was right.

Ash spun the tap closed, dried and slipped on fresh clothes. Barefoot, he re-entered the main room and sat down on the sofa, facing Elaine and Parvati at the dining table. He ached everywhere.

Parvati looked up from her tea, frowning. “You all right?”

Ash forced a casual smile. “Fine.”

Elaine had her laptop open and a bundle of papers waiting for him on the dining table. She patted them. “All the information I could get on your boy.” She gazed at the screen. “Lord Alexander Savage. Multi-millionaire. Philanthropist. One of life’s good guys. And very easy on the eye.”

Ash looked at the photo. It was Savage with the US president, collecting some humanitarian award. The man was tall, handsome, with that floppy blonde hair common among dashing aristocrats, and wearing a white suit designed in Savile Row and sunglasses, like a Hollywood superstar. Even though the other guy in the photo was the most powerful man on the planet, there was something about Savage that just overshadowed all else. The president looked small and insignificant next to him.

Elaine had been working since December on finding out all she could, and they had built a timeline out of what they knew. Elaine was an occultist, a woman Ash had known in his own world, the only person they could go to who would believe them. The three of them had holed up in her apartment for the last month, scouring through the web, newspapers and Elaine’s own private library, digging up and assembling the pieces of the jigsaw. They didn’t have it all, but a picture was emerging.

“Savage came on to the scene ten years ago,” said Elaine. “He bought the old maharajah’s palace down from Varanasi and immediately started excavating the local area.”

“He was looking for the Kali-aastra,” said Ash. “It had been buried there.”

That’s where all the trouble had started, back in Ash’s timeline. Ash and his sister Lucky had been exploring the excavations. Ash had tumbled down a pit and ended up finding the golden arrowhead of Kali, the Kali-aastra, instead of Savage, a bit of Kali’s arrowhead embedding itself in his thumb.

Now that Savage could move through time it made sense that he’d have gone back into the past and made sure that he found the Kali-aastra first.

How can you defeat a guy who can travel in time? In Ash’s world Savage had been defeated, all but destroyed. Now he was the most important man on the planet.

Elaine nodded. “Reckon he found it pretty quick as the works didn’t last more than a month. He knew exactly where to look. It was at that point that he hired your uncle to oversee the dig, there and in Rajasthan.”

Parvati grimaced as she looked through the photos of a vast archaeological dig in the desert. “Where Ravana was imprisoned. Savage knew where he was, and now he had the means to free him.”

Elaine gave a low whistle. “Imagine – freeing the demon king himself. Savage plays for the highest stakes, doesn’t he?” She turned to Ash. “And in your timeline, you destroyed him?”

Ash nodded. “In my timeline it was me who found the arrow of Kali, not Savage. The one weapon in the universe that could kill the demon king. And it did.”

Parvati frowned. “But that was in your timeline. What do you think happened here?”

Ash continued. “Savage told me he never intended to allow Ravana to live. He just wanted to free him long enough to be granted immortality. Judging by the more recent photos, it looks as if he got his wish. Then I think he used the Kali-aastra to kill Ravana himself. Savage could not stand to have a rival.”

“Then what?” asked Parvati.

Elaine opened up the top folder. “Then Savage goes shopping. He’s spent the last decade turning the Savage Foundation into the biggest provider of medical and humanitarian aid in the world. It’s more or less wiped out childhood diseases. The rich countries pay for the medicines and Savage gives them to the poor ones for free. He’s got hospitals everywhere, even in the war zones no one else would dare enter. He could be the richest man in the world, but chooses to spend most of it on his charities. The Church wants to make him a saint, the Muslims consider him the Mahdi, the Buddhists say he’s a bodhisattva and the Hindus think he’s an avatar, a reincarnation of Vishnu. I think I’ve got a photo somewhere of him blessing the Pope. Or was it the Dalai Lama?”

“What’s Savage planning?” asked Ash.

“To make the world a better place?” suggested Elaine.

Parvati scoffed. “That’s what they all say. Every tyrant, every dictator in the world. Throughout history. They all promise a better world, but their utopias are always built with bones.” She drummed her fingertips and her long green nails clicked upon the wood. “I’ve seen men perish building the Great Wall. Watched children crushed under the marble they used to clad Rome. Slaves working in the Russian gulags, digging for diamonds in Africa, gold in the Americas. It’s all paid for in blood, Elaine. Every bit of it.”

“Your family, I mean Ashoka’s family, seem to have done pretty well out of it.” Elaine handed over a collection of cuttings. “Your uncle heads up the Savage Foundation’s Archaeological Institute, and your father’s business is booming, thanks to construction contracts from Savage. Why?”

Ash had thought long and hard about that. Savage had been like a fairy godfather to Ashoka’s family for the last decade. “He wanted them close. What better way to keep an eye on them? He must be worried Ashoka might somehow become the Eternal Warrior. He probably never expected me to turn up here.”

“It all changed on 12th December,” said Parvati. “That was the day Savage, in our universe, cast the Time Spell. It sent him back ten years to change the past. And Ash and I woke up in a different timeline – we just jumped sideways. I’d felt … something was happening a few days before. So I came straight over from India to here. I was on my way to Ash’s house when the Time Spell was cast. By the time I reached West Dulwich station the past had changed. I felt it happen.”

“Savage must have felt it too. He must have sensed our presence,” said Ash, “which is why he didn’t make a move against Ashoka and his family any earlier – because we hadn’t arrived yet. It’s only since we turned up on 12th December that he feels threatened.”

“So he sets his rakshasas on Ashoka to draw you out of hiding?” said Elaine.

“Exactly.”

“If the rest of this world changed, then why not you two?”

Parvati answered. “I had my father’s scrolls on sorcery for many centuries. I have studied some, though none to any great depth. I think, subconsciously, I knew enough about the magic of Time to make myself immune to the change. Ash is the Kali-aastra; Kali is the goddess of death and destruction, and Time. I believe she protected him.”

Ash shifted in his seat. “It’s only a theory.” He picked through the newspaper cuttings, trying to work out what changes Savage had made in the last ten years. Governments were different, the prime minister was an old friend of Savage’s, a board director at the Savage Foundation. He owed his entire career to Savage. No one would say a bad word against the aristocrat. Why should they? He had done only good.

But Ash knew Savage. There had to be more. “What’s he planning?”

The scale of his organisation was vast, global. The business papers joked about it.

The Savage Empire.

But Ash didn’t find it funny. “They think he’s the Messiah.”

Parvati sat down beside him. “He’s not the Messiah, he’s a very naughty boy.”

Elaine turned the laptop around to face them. “I found this clip on YouTube. It’s Savage being interviewed by Letterman last year.”

The frozen image had captured Savage close up. Eyes hidden behind his shades, he was smiling, the easy smile of a man who knew it all. His skin shone with an inhuman purity, too perfect to be real, as if he was shining from within. He relaxed into an armchair, left heel of his boot up on his right knee, dressed immaculately, of course. The interviewer leaned over his desk, captivated.

Ash pressed play.

“So, Lord Savage—”

“Please, David, it’s Alex. I know how you Americans feel about us aristocrats.”

“We love you Brits!”

The audience cheered and clapped.

Savage smiled. “You weren’t so keen on us in 1776.”

The interviewer shook his head. “Alex, if you’d have been in charge, maybe we wouldn’t have been so desperate to rebel.”

Ash noticed the change as Savage’s radiant smile darkened for just a second, then switched back. “Well, you can’t fix the past.”

“But you can fix the future, right? Is that what you’re about?”

Savage nodded solemnly. “I’ve seen the future, David. It’s not good. Unless someone does something, then we’re on the path to destruction. Mankind has all these gifts and we don’t know how to use them. If it’s not war, it’ll be pollution, overpopulation. No one country is to blame. You’re all at it. Grabbing what you can without caring what you leave. Expecting your children, their children, to sort out your mess.”

“Alex Savage, saving the world. All by yourself?”

Savage’s smile broadened. “No. I’ve got some friends on their way.”

Ash shivered.

“You’ve come a long way in a short time, Alex. You’re the number-one pharmaceutical company in the world and your donations to charities run into the billions. What’s the secret of your success?”

Savage laughed. “I learned from my past mistakes.”

“Come on, there must be more. Your vaccines will save millions of lives. Some say your genetically modified crops that can grow in barren deserts will end global hunger. And you’ve done this all for free. Why?”

“I own the Savage Foundation. I have a lot of money. How rich does one man need to be?” said Savage.

“So, any ambitions still left unfulfilled?”

Savage smiled. “Oh, just one.”

The interviewer leaned closer. “And what’s that?”

“I want it to be a surprise.”

The audience howled with disappointment, and the clip ended.

“You can’t argue with the facts,” said Elaine. “Savage has helped improve the lives of millions of people.”

“He wants to keep the sheep happy,” said Parvati. “It makes them easier to handle when you take them to the slaughterhouse.”

“Maybe he’s changed.” Elaine put a cigarette between her lips. “People do that, y’know.”

Ash took it out of her mouth and squashed it. “But for most, old habits die hard.”

He stared at the frozen image of Savage on the small screen. His ruthless smile, his casual air of superiority. It was all there, but no one else seemed to see it. Savage hadn’t changed. He was planning something and Ash had no doubt it was something terrible and on a massive scale.

But what?

Chapter Five

When Ash awoke the next morning, the others were already up and in the kitchen having breakfast. Elaine was keeping herself busy while Parvati was trying to talk to Ashoka about something.

Ash pulled up a chair and looked at the boy sitting opposite him. Ashoka had his arms crossed in front of him and a look of disbelief on his face.

“I don’t get it,” said Ashoka.

Ash and Parvati looked at each other. Parvati shrugged. Ash met Ashoka’s gaze. “What don’t you get?”

“Like, how are you the Kali-aastra?”

Ash took a deep breath. “Last summer I went to India with my sister, Lucky. We were visiting Uncle Vik and Aunt Anita in Varanasi.”

“And that’s when you found the golden arrowhead of Kali, right?”

“That’s right, and a sliver of it entered my thumb. What I didn’t realise at the time was this meant I became the Kali-aastra.”

“A superhero then.”

“I wouldn’t go quite that far.”

“But you have superpowers, right?”

Ash frowned.

“A superhero. With or without the cape.” Ashoka was clearly smirking. “What does being the Kali-aastra allow you to do? Heat vision? A spot of leaping tall buildings?”

“Depends,” Ash said, ignoring the smirk. Don’t rise to it. He’s trying to wind you up. “When a person dies, I absorb some of their life force. When I killed Ravana—”

“Ravana, as in the demon king?” The smirk widened.

“Yes. Him. When I killed him I gained superhuman strength, speed, endless endurance, all of that.”

“OK,” said Ashoka. “I don’t want you to take this as an insult or anything, but you three are clearly insane. You’ve obviously escaped from some loony bin, and that Jackie is another escapee from the asylum, and she was after you, not me. You all have major issues that need resolving, either in group therapy or with medication. My family have got mixed up in all your craziness and you need to call whoever has them right now and tell them to free them. Whatever drama you have going on is none of my business.”

“I give up,” said Ash. He’d tried to be reasonable, but now it was time to hand it over. “All yours, Parvati.”

Ashoka smirked. “What is this? The good-cop, bad-cop routine?”

Ash picked up his tea. It was cold. Typical. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Parvati smiled. “So, you’ve got it all sorted, have you, Ashoka? No such things as rakshasas?”

Ashoka nodded. “No. Such. Thing. Fairy tales.”

Parvati took off her sunglasses and leaned towards Ashoka so they were nose to nose. “Then these must be some … genetic defect?” Her eyes were pure serpent; green with a pair of black slits for pupils.

Ashoka leaped out of his seat. “Bloody hell!”

Parvati had him flat against the wall. Ashoka’s face had turned sheet white. Ash almost felt sorry for him.

Almost. Actually, he didn’t feel sorry at all. He was enjoying this. Maybe it was bad of him, not warning Ashoka about Parvati in advance. But he’d had enough of that smirk. Ash leaned back and watched, smiling to himself. How can you explain a girl like Parvati? She might look like a teenager, but she was more than four and a half thousand years old. Her mother had been a human princess and her father was Ravana, the demon king. Her early years had not been particularly stable. She had a deep psychotic streak and was a one-girl weapon of mass destruction.

But when she laughed, nothing else seemed to matter.

Ashoka tried to slide sideways towards the door, but Parvati extended her fangs, pausing a few centimetres from his throat. Sweat ran down his pallid face. “And this must just be poor dental work.” Each one was slick with venom. She shivered, and scales, shiny green scales, rose through her skin, clustering like a collar around her neck at first, then extending to her jaw, her cheekbones. Her hair sank into the skull as it widened, swelling either side into a cobra’s hood. “And this? Do you think some dermatologist might be able to fix this?”

Ashoka’s breath had deteriorated into short, desperate pants.

Ash was impressed. He’d thought Ashoka would wet his pants. Still, Parvati’s shock tactics seemed to have done the job.

“Enough, Parvati,” said Ash. He didn’t want Ashoka having a heart attack.

She dropped on to the table and the transformation was complete. A cobra now rose up before the terrified Ashoka. Its tongue flickered, it hissed, and Ash could tell Parvati was laughing.

Ashoka stared. Jaw moved. No words came out.

“I said enough,” said Ash. “You’ve made your point.”

The snake curled up, wound itself together and then unfurled back into a young woman. Scales still covered her like armour, taking a moment or two to recede back under her skin. She winked at Ash, took up her sunglasses and left the room.

Ash smiled and looked back at his doppelgänger. “Are you all right?”

Ashoka stared after her. “Rakshasas, they’re for real?”

“Very. But she’s on our side.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Ashoka replied, his voice still quivering. He picked up a glass of water and tried to hold it steady enough to drink. Eventually he gulped it down. “My God.”

“Well, what do you think?” Maybe they’d overdone it. They’d just planned to frighten him, not break his fragile little mind.

Ashoka huffed. “A rakshasa.” Then he smiled. He grinned. “That is bloody awesome.”

“Do we have any leads yet?” asked Ashoka, looking anxiously at the clock. “We’re running out of time. You said you’d rescue my family and it’s already five. They’ll be expecting our call soon, and then what?”

“Pacing up and down will not help,” said Parvati. “Just sit.”

Elaine was still on the phone, as she had been all day. The woman knew almost everyone. Ash wasn’t sure, but he thought he’d heard her speaking to an archbishop earlier. She was in the hallway, turning an unlit cigarette in her fingers.

Ashoka hurled himself back into the sofa. “This is hopeless.”

“That’s the attitude,” snapped Ash.

“We wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for you.”

“Don’t forget who saved your life.”

“Yeah, only to get my family killed instead.”

Ash sprang up, tossing the chair aside. That was it. He grabbed Ashoka’s shirt, hauled him off the sofa and stared hard into the boy’s eyes. “You have no idea—”

Elaine cleared her throat. “Finished?”

Reluctantly, most reluctantly, Ash let Ashoka go. “Please tell me you have something.”

Elaine flicked through her notepad. “Your dad drives a Range Rover? Licence plate M1STRY 1?”

Ashoka straightened his shirt, smoothed down his crumpled collar. “Yes. It’s grey.”

“Well, a friend of mine in the police has just found it. Abandoned in Docklands, Jardin Street. Just around the corner from—”

“East India Dock,” interrupted Ashoka.

“You know it?” asked Ash.

Ashoka nodded. “Savage owns a house there. Actually a converted warehouse, overlooking the dock. The dock itself is where he moors his yacht whenever he’s in town. Place was done from top to bottom. Dad was the project director, at Savage’s request. The guy had the works: new floors, windows, upgraded the IT systems, the security, the whole audio-visual thing, home cinema. Major, major money was spent.”

“When was this?” Ash asked.

“About a year ago.”

“This security, what’s it like?” asked Parvati.

“Top notch. Presence detectors on the roof. Thermal and motion sensors on all floors. Six-digit PIN on entry. CCTV as standard with remote recording. Alarms hard-wired to both the local police station and a private security firm with a two-minute response-time guarantee.”

Ash looked at Parvati. “What do you think?”

Parvati frowned. “Thermals I could bypass. My body temperature is the local ambient.”

Of course Parvati, like all reptiles, was cold-blooded. “And the rest?”

“If there was a vent or drain, I could get in without worrying about the door alarm system.”

“I’ve a suggestion,” said Ashoka.

“Yeah, in a minute,” replied Ash. “So the problem’s the motion sensors, right?”

“Ahem,” said Ashoka.

“In a minute. But they would be deactivated if the house was occupied. Stands to reason.”

Parvati shook her head. “The building would be zoned. All the unoccupied spaces would still be alarmed. If Savage has any sense.”

“Look, I’ve an idea—”

Ash turned around. “Will you just be quiet and let the grown-ups talk?”

“So you don’t want to hear how I can bypass the security system?” Ashoka shrugged. “Fine. Carry on. Ignore me.”

“What? Seriously?” said Ash, trying his best to hold back his irritation. “Why didn’t you just say? Oh, never mind. How?”

Ashoka looked at Elaine. “Your laptop still on?”

“All yours.”

Ashoka took the chair. A few seconds later the screen went to the webpage of Mistry and Partners.

“Dad runs his own company?” said Ash.

“Yours doesn’t?”

“No way. He’s not even an assistant director.”

“All perks of being on the Savage payroll,” said Ashoka. “Anyway, Dad designed the security system. And, like all software, it needs upgrading on a regular basis.” He skimmed over another page and logged in. “You’d think Dad would have a better password than—”

“AshandLucky?” said Ash.

“AshokaandLucky,” corrected Ashoka. “And … open sesame.”

A 3D wire diagram of a large four-storey townhouse appeared. Ashoka spun it around using the mouse so they could see the outline of every room. It was drawn in immense detail. Zooming in, Ash could inspect the doors, the windows and even the chimneys which were, sadly, blocked. “That’s pretty cool.”

“I helped design it,” said Ashoka. “The model, that is. Got me the science prize at school last year.”

“All very lovely,” said Parvati, “but what about the security?”

Ashoka scrolled down to a series of reference numbers. “These are temporary PINs. If we needed to upgrade the system, we’d need to disable it first. These numbers here give us access. Then the PIN returns to whatever code Savage has been using. It’s just a manufacturer’s reset really, like on most electronic items. A security system’s not much different.”

Parvati grinned at them both. “Then what are we waiting for?”

While Ashoka went to get ready, Ash and Parvati stacked the plates and bowls in the kitchen sink. Ash got the tap running and the sink filling with steaming water. He glanced over his shoulder. “Ashoka is such a smart-arse.”

“Ha!” replied Parvati as she passed him dirty cutlery.

“What do you mean, ‘ha’?”

“He’s so like you it’s just bizarre.”

Ash frowned. “I am nothing like Ashoka. His mouth is on constant overdrive and he thinks he knows everything.”

“Sooo different from you.”

“Y’know, Parvati, sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.”

Parvati glanced slyly sideways at him. “What was that you said about being a smart-arse?”

The mobile on the table rang. Ashoka must have left it. Where was he? Ash picked it up. Then he saw the name on the display.

Gemma.

“Ashoka?” Ash heard Gemma’s voice coming from the phone. He hadn’t even realised he’d answered it.

“… Yes?”

“It’s me, Gemma.”

Ash could only listen. In his timeline Gemma had died in his arms. Just a few months ago he’d watched her eyes fade and heard her last sigh.

Ash had been friends with Gemma since primary school. They had played together every day as kids, but had gone their separate ways at secondary school. Gemma had gone off to join the cool kids while he’d become a founding member of the Nerd Herd. It was only after he’d become the Kali-aastra and defeated Ravana that he had found the courage to ask her out. Funny that he wasn’t afraid of a demon king, but was terrified to ask a girl out on a date.

He hadn’t realised that when he came back from India his troubles would follow him to his front door and the people he cared about would suffer, would die, because of him.

He’d wanted things to get back to normal. But they would never be normal again.

This was a second chance. His heart quickened. In this timeline Gemma was alive! Like Savage’s, his mistakes had been fixed.

“Say something, Ashoka.”

“It’s good to hear your voice again, Gemma.” She had no idea how good.

“You weren’t at school today. What’s up?”

“Family emergency. Sorry.”

“Oh … all right. Everything OK?” asked Gemma, sounding concerned.

“Fine, fine,” said Ash, wishing it was.

“Anyway …” she paused, “… last night was great, wasn’t it?”

The world was too weird. In this timeline Gemma hung out with Ashoka! Unbelievable.

Parvati was looking at him with a funny expression that Ash couldn’t read. But it could have been her ‘Are you totally and utterly mental?’ face. He turned away and tried to ignore her.

“There’s something I wanted to say to you, Gemma.” He couldn’t help it. “I think about you a lot, as a matter of fact.”

“Oh yes …?” He could almost see the dimples in her cheeks as she smiled.

“You mean a lot to me, Gemma. I just want you to know that. There’ve been so many times I wanted to tell you that, but I always chickened out. Stupid really.”

“Ashoka, are you all right?” Gemma said. “This isn’t like you.”

“It is, but you just don’t know it. Sometimes I don’t know what I am either.”

“Maybe we can talk tomorrow. I’d like to.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Why do you think I come to Josh’s to play Dungeons & Dragons every Tuesday?”

“Er … because you’re a geek?”

Gemma laughed. “That too.”

Gemma was interested in Ashoka? The world had gone officially loony.

“You’ll call me?” she asked. “So we can meet up? Just you and me?”

Totally loony. “That would be great. I’ve got some family business to sort out first. Might take a few days. But, yeah, I’ll call you.”

“All right. Listen, the bell’s about to go. Take care of yourself, Ashoka.”

“You too.”

He clicked off the phone just as Ashoka came back in. They looked at each other. “Was that for me?”

Ash gave him his most casual look. “Oh, just someone checking up. On stuff. You know. And, you know, Gemma.”

“You spoke to Gemma?”

Parvati sighed. “He asked her out. As you.”

Ashoka’s mouth dropped open. “A date? Why? What? Seriously? What did she say?”

“She said yes,” said Ash, grinning. “As unbelievable as it might seem.”

“She said yes?” echoed Ashoka. “Aw, excellent! Thanks!”

“This is too, too insane,” said Parvati, shaking her head.

Chapter Six

Ash couldn’t get it out of his mind. Gemma was alive. Of course he’d known she would be, but it was different actually speaking to her.

She lived. His uncle and aunt lived. All the trauma he’d been through had never happened to Ashoka.

Was that why he found his other self so irritating?

Admit it, you’re jealous.

Ash was the Kali-aastra. He’d saved the world a couple of times. He was the Eternal Warrior, the reincarnation of some of the greatest heroes the world had ever known, and he was jealous of a podgy, lazy kid who’d achieved absolutely zero with his life.

And he was still going to get the girl.

“Get with the programme,” snapped Parvati. She handed him his punch dagger.

“What? I didn’t say anything.”

“It’s all over your face. Life not being fair and all that.”

“Well, it’s not.” Ash glanced towards the sofa. Ashoka was bending over to do up his shoelaces. “Look at him. He can’t even touch his toes and yet he gets it all.”

“You’re such an idiot,” fumed Parvati.

“What’s up with you, anyway?” said Ash, looking at her.

Elaine came in jangling a bunch of keys. “I reckon if you’re heading into the lion’s den you might need some hardware.”

“What have you got?” Ash asked.

“More’s the question, what haven’t I got? Come downstairs. You too, fat boy. And bring that bow of yours.”

Ashoka flushed. And tried to hold his stomach in. “I’m not fat,” he muttered. “It’s water retention.”

Elaine smirked. “It looks like cake retention to me.”

There was a small door behind the counter that led to the basement. Elaine shuffled through her keys, shaking them off a cumbersome steel ring, inspecting one after another. “If you wait a month or so, I could get you some reinforcements.”

“Who do you have in mind? The SAS?” asked Ashoka.

Elaine tried another thick iron key in the door. “Better than that. But they’re all out in Russia right now.”

“We haven’t got a month,” said Ash. “Savage will catch up with us well before then. We need to take the initiative.”

“Ah, here we go.” Elaine pushed a key into the lock and twisted.

She flipped on a switch and a lone light bulb illuminated a narrow set of stairs leading into the basement. “This is where I keep the toys for the boys.” She gave Parvati a mock bow. “And the demon princesses.”

Ash followed Parvati down and then gazed about him. And grinned. Ashoka stepped in after him.

“Wow,” said Ashoka. “You really are ready for the zombie apocalypse.”

The wooden rack to his left was stacked with katanas – samurai swords – each wrapped in a silk cloth. Axes stood up against the wall opposite, their blades bright as mirrors. Spears, maces, even suits of armour ranging from stiffened leather to chain mail to plate helmets. Ash picked up a curved tulwar, slowly rolling his wrist in loose figures of eight.

Parvati picked up a flat steel ring, slightly bigger than palm size. “A chakram. It’s been a while since I saw one of these.”

Ashoka collected a pair of nunchakus and adopted a Bruce Lee pose. “I’ll take these.”

Parvati raised an eyebrow. “You know how to use one?”

“I’ve seen Enter the Dragon a billion times.”

She took it from him. “You’re more likely to knock yourself out.”

Ash picked up an arrow. The tip was needle sharp. “I don’t want you getting close enough for a punch-up. You leave that to Parvati and me.” He handed the arrow over. “You stay at the back and use these with your bow, if you think you can handle it.”

“I can handle it.”

“Actually, you don’t have to come,” Ash offered. Maybe it would be easier if just he and Parvati went? That way he wouldn’t have to spend half the time looking out for Ashoka.

Ashoka inspected the arrow and ran his fingers through the fletching. “No. I want to do this. I have to.” He chose a collection of barbed arrows, broad leaf-shaped heads and some narrow, needle-pointed bodkins. The first two were designed for maximum damage, while the bodkins were for armour penetration. Ash would have picked the same.

Maybe we aren’t so different after all.

Elaine pushed open a wonky cupboard and lifted out a Kevlar jacket. “What about body armour?”

Ash peered at the rest. She had ancient mail shirts and even a knight’s helmet. “Why do you have this stuff?”

“You don’t want to know.”

Ash inspected the jacket. “Too heavy.”

Ashoka notched the arrow against the bowstring.

He knows how to handle a bow, that’s for sure. Maybe he wouldn’t be totally useless.

Ashoka turned to Elaine, arrow pointed safely down, but the bowstrings seemed to hum. “Care to put an apple on your head?”

Elaine grunted. “I’ll get the van warmed up.”

Ash inspected the rest of the weapons while Ashoka followed Elaine out to the van. Parvati watched him go, her long fingers on her chin, her green eyes glowing. “Interesting, don’t you think?”

“What?” said Ash. “Ashoka notched an arrow and didn’t shoot his own foot?”

“It’s not crossed your mind why he’s picked a bow?”

“Involves minimum running around? What’s your point, Parvati?”

Parvati tapped his forehead. “He’s the Eternal Warrior. Just like you. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

Ash stopped and looked at her. “You’re sure?”

She nodded. “It might manifest itself differently, but the bow, his handling of it, I’ve seen it before, a long, long time ago. He didn’t learn that in archery class.”

Could it be true? thought Ash. Why not? They were the same person. They would have had the same past lives. Ash had had visions of his own past existences. They’d come to him in his dreams, with subtle messages as to what he’d be facing, offering coded clues and advice. The problem was, they were always obscure. “You think he’s accessing the talent of one of his past lives? I’ve never been able to do that.”

“Ashoka might be different, though. I don’t know for sure, but, at least at a subconscious level, he’s tapping their knowledge.”

Ash heard the engine start somewhere above them. He picked up his punch dagger. It was all he really needed. “Do you think we should tell him?”

“No. He’ll find out soon enough.”

Chapter Seven

Ash sat in the back of the van with Ashoka. Parvati was up front with Elaine.

It was good to be doing something. Now they knew where Savage lived there was a buzz in the air, a crackle of anticipation.

He’d been here before, at the eve of a battle.

Then why are my hands so sweaty?

Ashoka strummed his bowstrings nervously. He had an arrow clip fixed to the bow, and six arrows, double-stacked, ready and waiting.

How would Ashoka do in battle? Was he really the Eternal Warrior, just like him?

“How much further?” Ash asked. He just wanted to get started now. Then the nerves would go.

“We’re almost there,” said Elaine.

The Docklands in east London were a mixture of old and ultra-modern. Their route took them through Canary Wharf and past the headquarters of Barclays Bank, Credit Suisse, HSBC and all the other global financial houses. In the dark the skyscrapers shone as if covered in crystal.

Beyond the bastions of super-wealth came endless, squalid council estates, low and mean and hidden in the gloom, shadowed by the glass titans and circled by busy ring roads.

“Not surprising Savage would set up here,” said Elaine as she drove. “This was where it all started.”

She was right. Savage had begun as a soldier of the East India Company back in the eighteenth century. From there he’d built his fortune through slavery and drug smuggling and conquest. He’d marched with the likes of Napier and Clive, carving up India, creating what would be the heart of the British Empire. Spice ships had docked here, bringing pepper, once more valuable than gold, but there had been gold aplenty too. Gold, silver, diamonds, ivory, and tea and cotton and countless other treasures of the East.

But the old warehouses had all been turned into offices or fashionable apartments for the merchant bankers, now trading electronically and growing just as rich as the nabobs of the Honourable East India Company.

Snow had just started to fall. The clouds were a deep orange from the city. It never truly became dark in London, and small flurries of snowflakes swirled in the pool of amber from the sodium streetlights.

Elaine slowed down and came to a halt at the corner of the road. “There it is.”

The warehouse took up an entire block. Four storeys tall with a multi-pitched roof with plenty of nooks and crannies among the chimney stacks. As it stood alone they could see the building backed on to a dock: a square, artificial bay with a few designer barges and yachts moored, quiet and idle. Two hundred years ago the basin would have been filled with high-masted clippers and men heaving the fortunes of nations off the boats and into the warehouse.

The windows were dark. A white Humvee stood outside the front door.

Ash slid the side panel open and stepped out of the back of the van. He shivered as the wind whipped along the street, but pulled off his coat and threw it back in. He didn’t want it getting in the way. He touched his katar handle, strapped to the back of his belt. “You ready for this, Ashoka?”

“No, but I’m coming anyway.” He slung his bow across his back.

Parvati smiled at him as she stepped out, hand on her urumi.

Elaine leaned out of the driver’s window. “I’m going to hide over the other side of the dock. Good luck and don’t be long.”

They made their way towards the warehouse. Ashoka was pale, eyes darting everywhere.

Ash flexed his fingers, trying to keep the cold out. This wasn’t how he’d wanted to take on Savage. They were on the back foot, going into unknown territory without all their powers.

But that was just the way it had to be.

What and who was in there? Ashoka’s family? Jackie? Savage even? Ash wished he was more ready; that they all were. The only one who looked at ease was Parvati. Nothing ever phased her. Always cool, always in control.

She peered through the letter box in the front door. “What’s the PIN?”

Ashoka inspected his palm. “040776.”

Parvati shrugged off her coat. “I’ll just be a minute.” Then she reached through the letter box, sliding into her cobra form as she did so. Her tale flicked before vanishing through the slot.

Ashoka glanced up and down the street. “I’ve never done anything illegal, and now I’m breaking and entering.”

“How are you finding it?”

“I feel half sick and half excited, you know?”

“Yes,” said Ash. “I do know.”

A minute later the door opened and Parvati, back in human form, smiled at them. “Come in.”

Savage hadn’t stinted on the decorations. It was an elegant mix of old and modern. The walls were original bare red brick, but full-height portraits lined the hallway, each lit by a discreet spotlight hidden among the old wooden beams across the ceiling. A long, dark red Persian rug ran all the way to a wrought-iron staircase, and the doors leading off the hallway were antique wood, their colour glossy and dark from the varnish.

Ashoka stood facing a life-sized portrait. “It’s Savage.”

Ash had seen it before, back in India. “At the beginning of his career.”

Savage wore the red jacket of an officer of the East India Company. He gazed down at them with half-lidded eyes that were cold blue chips of ice. They burned with all the greed, hunger for power, the sense of destiny, and of superiority that would define his three-hundred-year existence. All present in this first portrait of him as a mortal man in his mid-twenties. He held a tiger-headed cane, and the beast’s own gaze was pure red, two small rubies glistening from the silver face, snarling at the painter. Behind Savage lay a pair of manacles and a bundle of dried poppies, the source of his wealth. Further along the hallway was a portrait of him as an old man, then nearest to the stairs the most recent – just him sitting on a stool, dressed in his customary white suit, wearing his black shades. His skin was pearly white, almost luminescent. Behind him was desert and the faint outline of a vast archaeological excavation. His cane rested across his knees.

“That’s the dig in Rajasthan,” said Ash, “where we found Ravana.”

Parvati stood by a small electrical panel beside the door. A schematic of the building showed all the alarm locations, now all green. She double-checked and sighed. “The entire building is alarmed.”

“Which means no one’s at home,” said Ashoka. “What are we going to do?”

Ash knew Ashoka was gutted, and he was too. But then did he really believe it would have been that easy? This was Savage they were dealing with. The Englishman would have backup plans to his backup plans.

But they were here. In his house. Who knew what they might find?

“We need to have a good look around,” he said. “Maybe we’ll find a clue as to where they’ve gone. We know they were here recently.”

Parvati didn’t look happy. “It’s a big house.”

“We should split up.”

Ashoka shook his head. “Nope. No way. I’ve seen too many movies where that happens and the loser in the party …” he looked to Parvati, then Ash, “… which, under these circumstances, would be me, comes to a bloody and awful end.”

“Which is why you’ll be staying with Parvati,” said Ash.

“How come I get stuck with him?” replied Parvati.

“Hey!” said Ashoka.

“You have him,” she continued.

“No. Hanging out with him, it’s just too … freaky.” Ash smiled. “And look, you dealt with me when I was young and useless, so—”

“Who says I’m useless?”

Parvati put up a finger. “Shh.” She turned to Ash. “OK, then what are we looking for?”

“The house is huge, and I don’t want to stay here a moment longer than necessary, but we need to try to find out where they’ve gone, and we need to work fast, and that means splitting. I don’t like it any more than you do, Ashoka, but otherwise we have no leads. I’ll start at the top, you two start down here, and we’ll meet in the middle. All right?” Ash turned to Ashoka. Yes, it was still odd, staring at himself. “You do exactly as she says. Got it?”

“I am not useless.”

“Whatever.” Ash checked his watch. “We’ll meet in fifteen minutes.”

Parvati nodded, then took the left corridor, Ashoka close behind her.

Ash went directly to the wrought-iron staircase and climbed, moving quickly and keeping to the shadows. A clock chimed somewhere in the house, but all else was silence. He paused at the first floor to listen, gazing down the corridor. There was no one around. He continued on up.

Clues. I’m looking for clues. Now which door leads to clues?

He was at the top of the house. A skylight illuminated a large square patch of the corridor in a silvery blue. The space was mean compared to the rest of the house. The ceiling was low and the doors were plain, without the ornate panelling of the floors below. It smelled musty and a cold breeze sank through the old frame around the skylight.

He peered into the first room, opening the door slowly to minimise the squeak of the hinges. Linen sat in neat white stacks upon a row of shelves and there was the stuffy odour of mothballs. Ash moved on.

He went quickly from room to room, finding nothing of interest. He saw the stairs at the opposite end. One more room to check, then he’d make his way down to the floor below and search there.

The door was oak and the handle a brass curl, different from the rest. Ash opened it and entered.

Chapter Eight

A study. Savage’s home from home. It had to be. Small, cramped and with a row of windows overlooking the street, but there was a tiger skin on the floor and a large desk by a window. The desk was bare but for an old-fashioned telephone. Most of the wall was covered with shelves overstuffed with books, mainly old, worn and leather-bound. Alongside these were some glass cabinets, each filled with archaeological artefacts from around the world. There were ancient bronze arrowheads, clay statues, feather headdresses and gold coins, rusty swords and urns. Animal heads decorated the walls, everything from tigers to boars with massive tusks.

A chill breeze caressed Ash’s nape.

He’d been in a room a lot like this once, in the Savage Fortress. It had been the night he’d learned his world was stranger than he’d imagined, when he’d discovered monsters – demons – were very real.

A photograph caught his attention. Age had turned it yellow and the black had given way to a metallic sheen.

Savage wore an officer’s uniform. His legs were in puttees, long strips of cloth wound round for protection, and he had an old-fashioned tin hat, a Brodie, on his lap. The soldiers around him looked at the camera, cigarettes or pipes loose in their mouths, weary, with muddy shovels and picks lying around a half-dug trench. One man rested his arm across a large machine gun.

The First World War.

It had to be. The style of the uniforms and the weapons were consistent with the Great War. Ash had studied it and read about the terrible slaughters of the first mechanical war and how thousands of men would march across no-man’s-land to be decimated by machine-gun fire and poison gas.

Only Savage looked relaxed. He knew that he was going to get out of this alive. He knew the bullets and the gas and the bombs couldn’t hurt him.

One of the men was gazing across at Savage. Ash looked at his face – just some nameless private. Forgotten in history. Was there anyone alive now who knew his name? What sort of life he’d led? What sort of death he’d had? Whether or not he’d made it out of the Normandy mud alive?

If only I could slip into the picture, thought Ash. Stop Savage then, before he became too powerful.

But that might only make it worse. He’d be changing Time himself then, and who knew what the effects would be? The further back you went, the bigger the ripples.

He came to the desk and checked the drawers. Then he grinned.

Got it.

A notebook, the electronic variety. He ran his palm over it. There might be some useful info on it, and if Ashoka could bypass all this security then surely he’d have no problem hacking something like this. He put it in its plastic case and zipped it closed. Too big for his pocket, he tucked it inside his shirt. Ash closed the drawer, had a last look around to see if there was anything else of use – nope. He had what he wanted.

He was out a moment later, the door clicking as he closed it behind him.

He jumped as Parvati appeared in front of him. She was just a silhouette at the top of the stairs, but he knew it was her by her stance and her shape. Even in the darkness he could see the faint shimmer of her scales.

“I’ve got Savage’s notebook.” He patted his chest as he approached her. “It could be useful. You find anything?”

Parvati hissed and Ash stopped.

“Parvati? What’s up?”

Her front foot slid forward and her fingers flexed.

Now, as his eyes adjusted to the gloom, Ash noticed something different about the rakshasa princess. “What happened to your hair?”

Her hair was always long, down to her waist and as glossy black as oil on water. Now it was cropped short and spiky.

“Parvati?” Ash stepped nearer and reached out. “What’s wrong?”

Her fist rammed into his jaw, propelling Ash into the wall. Stars blazed in his eyes. He blinked and dived as her boot swung towards his head. Her heel smashed the wall lamp, sprinkling Ash with glass.

He blocked the next kick, but couldn’t stop the flurry of punches that came from all directions. It was as if Parvati had six arms. One blow rattled the teeth in his mouth and suddenly he was spitting blood.

“Parvati!” he shouted. “Stop!” What the hell was going on? She had gone mad. But there wasn’t a chance to ask. Parvati reached over her shoulders and there was the ominous sound of steel against steel. Two curved blades shone in the darkness.

He needed to level the battleground. Darkness was Parvati’s element. He stumbled backwards towards the patch of light in the corridor.

“Parvati …”

She swung the twin tulwar blades with mastery. A wall of lightning, blazing silver blurred about him and Ash ripped free his katar, barely deflecting one of the swords before it decapitated him. Sparks jumped as metal struck metal. Ash struck back, a feint to try to wrong-foot her, but Parvati saw through it and he received a cut along his arm for his pains.

“Parvati, please …”

Parvati stepped into the square of light. “My name is Rani.”

Three crooked grooves crossed her face. Her left eye was blind and white, the tip of the upper lip raised in a sneer by the scar that ran from her temple down her cheek. Steel barbs chimed in her hair, tied to the brutal short locks. Her armour was a mixture of ancient and modern, her arms coiled with serpentine tattoos. A pair of daggers had been rammed into the white sash she wore around her slim waist, each with a cobra-styled hilt, matching the designs on her swords, their eyes glistening with emerald stones. She glared at Ash, her forked tongue flicking between her long fangs. Her face was framed by scales, giving her a greenish hue. This wasn’t the Parvati he knew.

“Ash!”

Parvati ran up the stairs. His Parvati. She stared at Ash and the girl he was fighting. Ashoka, huffing and puffing, clambered up behind her, carrying a satchel. His mouth dropped open.

Two Parvatis. And Ash was obviously fighting the evil-twin version.

That explains a lot. None of it good.

Two Ashes. Two Parvatis. Two of everyone.

Parvati flicked free her urumi. The four steel ribbons danced and lashed, eager tongues wanting blood.

“Wait!” shouted Ash. This was Parvati, of this world. Maybe she could help them.

But Parvati wasn’t listening. She pounced.

Rani transformed. She spun between the steel whips, any one of them capable of slicing off a limb, one moment taking the form of a cobra, twisting in the air, then, as the four blades recoiled, landing on the ground, human again.

Parvati couldn’t change that fast, nor with such precision.

Rani spun her swords and came at Parvati. She sheared off one of her locks and Parvati flinched as the tip entered her shoulder. The urumi skated across Rani’s armour but did nothing more than scratch the black-lacquered steel.

They weren’t going to stop. One would kill the other.

Ash wasn’t going to let that happen. He charged in.

He jabbed low with the katar, following with kicks and punches as Parvati swept her urumi blades in all directions.

But Rani wove through their assault. Ever changing, often in the blink of an eye, she twisted and spun and struck, one second human, another cobra, sometimes a creature melding both. Her spine did things that should be impossible without crippling herself and her limbs were quadruple-jointed so attacks came from unbelievable angles and she could slip through even the strongest, bone-breaking locks and holds.

But she couldn’t defeat them. She stepped back as Parvati and Ash merged their fighting into a single, seamless, blazing blitzkrieg.

Ash, panting and sweaty, stood beside Parvati as she shook the urumi, ready for another attack.

“You can’t win,” Ash said. “Put down your weapon and let’s just talk. That’s all.” He bent down, opening his hand. “Look, I’ll go first.” He rested the katar on the floor. “See?”

Rani smiled crookedly. “Stupid.”

The tulwar flashed at Ash’s unprotected neck. She transformed, her arm stretching out an extra metre. Ash didn’t even flinch before Parvati barged him out of the way. The blade sliced along her back and Ash heard the skin and muscle rip open. Blood splashed the wall. She was hurt.

The front door crashed open downstairs.

Then Ash heard the cackling howl. Jackie had come to the party.

“Get Parvati out of here,” he said to Ashoka. “Now.”

How many were there? Did it matter? He could barely hold Rani at bay. She smiled and it was an ugly thing; the moon-shadow made her look gaunt and turned her face into a death mask.

The house echoed with the beat of boots. They were going to be trapped. Ashoka helped Parvati up while Ash stood between them and Rani. But the cobra girl wasn’t interested in attacking, she was just waiting for reinforcements.

Ashoka’s gaze darted from one end of the corridor to the other. “They’re coming up the staircase. There’s no way out.”

Ash nudged them back, his attention never wavering from Rani or her two swords, which she twirled in slow, supple circles. “The skylight.”

“How am I going to get up there?” asked Ashoka in a panic.

“Just think!” He really was useless. “Climb on that table.”

Ashoka muttered something and knocked a vase off a small coffee table. He dragged it into the spot right under the skylight.

The howling rose in pitch and the air quivered with Jackie’s giggling delight, accompanied by a chorus of other snarling beasts and who knew what else.

The glass shattered. He dared not take his eyes off Rani, but heard Ashoka huff and puff as he clambered up on the table, which creaked ominously. What a bloody farce. The lump of lard was going to break the table. Ash would have been out and gone by now. “Any time today would be good.”

“I’m doing my best!”

Ash grunted again and then the roof creaked as a weight rested upon it. Ashoka was up.

Just at that moment Jackie appeared. Her mane shook with excitement and her face was a hideous amalgam of human and jackal, a long snout dominating it and each fang dripping with spittle. Her amber eyes shone hungrily.

Parvati groaned as she slithered up on to the roof, Ashoka pulling her from above. “Come on, Ash.”

“You get going. I’ll catch up once I’ve dealt with this lot.” Wow, that sounded almost confident.

Four more men ran up behind Jackie, pausing on the stairs. A couple of heavy-shouldered dog-demons – thick necks and blunt noses and small feral eyes. Two more rats, each carrying a pistol, those old-fashioned flintlock things with wide barrels.

“Come on, Ash,” urged Parvati.

He glanced up.

She stretched out towards him, sweat covering her face and her scales shimmering nervously. A trickle of blood ran down her arm, dripping from her fingers. “Come on!”

Ash looked up at her, then, reaching into his shirt, he slapped the notebook into her hand. “Go!”

And then she was gone, and Ash charged.

His attack took Rani by surprise. She ducked his swipe but not his knee as it slammed into her belly. Ash tripped over her foot, but rolled past and then was swamped by the musky stench of Jackie’s fur. The jackal rakshasa screamed as she sank her claws into his shoulder.

Ash tried to heave his katar into the monster’s face, but someone grabbed his arm. He roared and kicked as bodies flew at him, weighing him down by sheer numbers. A bullet whistled and more glass smashed.

Once he’d have carved through this lot in seconds. Once, when he’d been a master of death. Now he took punches and blows and couldn’t see for the blood in his eyes.

Winning didn’t matter. Ash headbutted one of the beasts. He just needed to keep them busy.

Feet scurried above him, one light and graceful, the other lumbering and uneven. Parvati and Ashoka were getting away.

A fist came out of the bundle and almost took his head off. Ash braced himself, wobbled, then one more dog charged him and they all – Ash, Jackie, the rest – collapsed into a scrum. With Ash at the bottom.

Blood dripped from his cut lip and his shoulder ached from Jackie’s claws digging into the meat.

Buried under a pile of demons, Ash couldn’t move. His face was pressed against the floor and all he could see were feet.

A dainty toe pushed against his cheek. “So you’re the Kali-aastra?” said Rani.

“At your service.”

The toe dug hard into the soft flesh under his eye. “I was expecting more – given the way Savage talks about you.”

“Yeah, Savage is my number-one fan.”

“Get him up.”

They held him by the arms, legs and waist. They weren’t taking any risks. Jackie gripped his neck from behind, controlling him like a puppet so he had to face Rani.

She looked so much like Parvati. The scars and the white, blind left eye had surprised him, but these details were superficial, meaningless. This was Parvati. How could they be enemies?

Rani slapped him hard. “Don’t look at me like that.”

He wasn’t going to have any teeth left soon. “Just being friendly.”

“We are not friends. Savage told me all about you. How you want to destroy the rakshasa nation.”

“Some of my best friends are rakshasas.”

Rani glanced at the skylight, then spat. “That girl, Parvati? A traitor to her people. Can she do what I do? Not any more. She has allowed her human side to make her weak. She refuses to acknowledge what she is. A demon. The daughter of Ravana.”

Was that it? Rani had embraced her supernatural heritage. All these things she could do, change in an eye-blink, fight so far beyond human ability, all because she had full access to her demonic powers, powers Parvati had been denying herself.

Now it seemed obvious. Parvati held back. She’d done it for so long it had become natural.

What other sacrifices had Parvati made to try to be human?

Ash followed Rani’s gaze to the broken skylight. “At least they got away.”

Rani laughed. The sound could have cut stone. This was how a demon queen should laugh: without pity or joy. It was as cruel as winter. “There is an English saying about out of a frying pan and into a fire, yes? I prefer from the fangs of a cobra into the jaws of a crocodile.”

Crocodile? What did she mean?

There had been a crocodile. Along with Jackie and a vulture demon he’d been one of Savage’s henchmen. But he’d died. Ash had killed him.

In another timeline.

Oh no. Ash remembered.

Jackie sniggered and her breath was rank on his skin. “You killed my closest friend, but that was in another world, boy.” Her claws dug into his neck. “He’s been dying to meet you.”

Chapter Nine

Ashoka hauled Parvati up through the hole in the roof. He heard Ash’s roars and thumps and cries. Maybe his double could win, but they couldn’t risk hanging about. He looked across the snow-layered roof. There was a flattish path between the chimneys. “Come on, Parvati.” He took her hand.

“We need to help him!” cried Parvati.

“Come on!” The roof creaked as he pulled her along.

Parvati hesitated and it looked as if she was going to jump back down into the fray.

Ashoka understood. He’d do anything for the people he loved too. That was why he was here. But Parvati was in no state to fight. And he couldn’t rescue his family alone. “You don’t stand a chance down there with that injury. And I need you, Parvati.”

She didn’t say anything, but her lips tightened grimly and she joined him, hardly leaving footprints in the snow.

They weaved their way between the chimneys, and as the snow fell Ashoka couldn’t tell which way they were going. He wiped the flakes off his face and tried to penetrate the white wall ahead of him.

Streetlights glowed below, reflecting off the water in the basin. The quay sat alongside the rear of the warehouse, where the ships must once have docked and offloaded their spices and cottons from the East. The deep bay had canals branching off it and modern apartment blocks overlooked the shimmering waters. A flotilla of barges was moored up along the quayside.

They were more than twenty metres above the ground and Ashoka walked, ever so carefully, to look down the side of the warehouse for a ladder or outside stairs. His legs turned to jelly as he saw the drop to the waters of the dock below.

The wind picked up and the flakes swirled about him.

“We need another way down,” he said.

“Can’t we jump?” Parvati asked, joining him at the edge. “The water looks deep enough.”

A flock of birds squawked and clustered above them, circling and swooping this way and that. Ashoka waved his arms. “Shoo!”

Their wings were everywhere, and Ashoka wobbled as his heel went up against the low parapet wall. What was wrong with them?

They broke away and flew off, still cawing angrily as they vanished into the sky. Ashoka spat out some feathers. “Yuck yuck yuck.”

A deafening shriek shattered the night. The wind whooshed, hurling up a wave of snowflakes, and a black shape swooped down. Ashoka screamed as he glimpsed razor-sharp talons cutting through the air and the wings, the massive wings, beating and creating spinning eddies in the snow. A man’s face, dominated by a large hooked beak, glared at him. He was bald and a tuft of feathers encircled his scrawny neck. He shrieked again and dived towards Ashoka.

It was impossible. Ashoka stared, a moment too long. He should have ducked, leaped aside, but he was transfixed. The man was like a vulture, a great big ugly one. The demon’s greedy pink eyes locked with his.

The talons came straight for Ashoka, tearing at his chest, straight through his coat and jacket and shirt and skin. Ashoka stumbled back and his heel caught the very edge of the parapet. He flailed and reached for Parvati, but she was a hand’s breath too far away. Her eyes widened with horror and he tilted backwards.

The demon vulture’s wing brushed his face.

Ashoka grabbed it.

Chapter Ten

Vulture man cartwheeled as Ashoka held on to one wing. The demon screamed so loudly Ashoka thought his ears would bleed, and the world turned over and over. Talons swished at his face, then dug into his arm. Ashoka let go.

He smashed into the black, freezing water. Straight down he went, the cold clutching his lungs. Arms and legs flapped, as bubbles rose all around him. Faintly he heard another splash and, in the dim light cast by the streetlights he saw Parvati’s slim figure pierce the water. She turned to him, gestured to the far side, and kicked off.

At least down here he was safe from the vulture guy. That was the freakiest thing he’d ever seen.

Ashoka broke the surface and began to swim towards the other side. His clothing weighed him down, but the dock wasn’t that big. Still, he was panting in no time. He paused, treading water, took several big, deep breaths, and looked around.

“Parvati?”

She was already halfway across. In spite of her wound she cut through the water with smooth, easy strokes. It wouldn’t take her long to reach the ladder on the opposite side.

Ash started off. Not easy doing the front crawl wearing winter woollies with a bow across his back, but each stroke took him another metre from vulture man and Jackie and Rani and danger. A horn sounded ahead and he saw Elaine’s van. She waved at him.

Parvati was climbing out.

Almost there.

His arms felt as if they were made of lead. His stroke barely broke the surface. The dock wasn’t as small as he’d first thought.

Parvati was shouting at him.

What was she saying? Elaine now stood beside her and they were both signalling frantically.

Was it Rani? Jackie? He looked around, but there was no one there.

The water rippled behind him. A gull, sleeping on the surface, bobbed up and down. Looking startled, it raised a wing, squawked and vanished under the water, leaving a small puff of feathers.

That’s not good.

“Ashoka! Swim! Swim!” Parvati screamed.

“Put your back into it, boy!” added Elaine.

The water surged and a deep roar shook from under him. Ashoka pounded the water, splashing wildly. He had to get out. Parvati’s eyes were wide with terror. “FASTER!”

The water peaked and troughed now as the huge submerged mass accelerated towards him.

Ashoka gasped with each stroke. He beat the water with his arms and legs, every muscle burning with effort and fear. He had to get out!

The growl broke the surface and he heard a huge splash of something heavy and long hitting the water.

What was it? He dared not look. He just focused on the two women ahead. Parvati had clambered back down and was reaching for him. Elaine just stared past him, hand covering her mouth, her face utterly pale.

Ashoka dragged up all his strength and heaved his way forward.

There was another splash and then the water swelled under him. Something had dived back down. It was coming.

“Ashoka! Take my hand!” Parvati leaned as far as she could, one arm hooked around a ladder rung, the other stretched out.

Just a few more metres!

The submerged roar shook his very bones. A long, huge black shape began to appear below him. Big, thick scales of dark, knobbly green caught the undulating light. Huge yellow reptilian eyes shone, and beneath them stretched a mouth filled with jagged fangs. Wider and wider it opened, enough to swallow a cow whole. A tail, thick as a tree truck, whipped the water behind it and it surged upwards.

Ashoka thrashed forward.

His hand caught Parvati’s. She pulled.

Ashoka slapped against her as a creature erupted out of the water, showering them both. Its cry turned his blood to ice and all he could do was cling to Parvati, paralysed by terror. The air rushed around him as the monster rose and he was blinded as its shadow loomed over them both.

This is it. Death.

But if he was dead, he wanted to see what had killed him. He turned his head.

A crocodile, tall as a house, climbed and climbed, water cascading from its open mouth and down its gigantic body. It smashed the water with its tail and towered over them, even over Elaine and her van. The scales looked thicker than his hand and the teeth would crush his skull with ease. A few feathers clung to its jaw.

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