I drew for hours, ignoring the ache in my neck and hand. Over and over, I traced the same shapes a hundred times, then two hundred times. The sun crept up in the sky and the day grew hot and sticky as the others came and went with drinks and snacks and conversation, but I kept drawing.

“Do you have a minute?” Jojo asked at one point, poking his head in the doorway. He wheeled himself inside. My finished costume was on his lap.

I could have squealed. It was my very own superhero costume. Like the others’ uniforms, it was a full stretchy suit in black with red-and-gold panels across the chest, hips, and around the cuffs of the sleeves and legs. The gold sparkled with stardust and moonbeams, an extra bit of protection from teeth and claws.

“It’s perfect,” I said. “Thank you.”

He grinned, thrilled with himself. “You can try it on later,” he said, and gestured to the drawings on the floor. “I’ll let you get back to it.”

I went back to it.

And then, just as I finished my final piece, there was a tremendous shriek in the sky outside. It rattled the windows and shook the walls, and my skin prickled with goose bumps. It was high and shrill, the cry of a bird when it sees a threat, and it echoed across the entire city.

Suki burst into the room. “Kiki, it’s happened! It’s really happened! The gandaberunda is awake!”

It was time.

29

We marched across the city to Lalith Mahal. We were a pretty magnificent procession, if I did say so myself. Chamundeshwari rode at the front on Simha’s back, a glorious goddess with a golden spear in one hand. Lej, the twins, and I followed, with Jojo and the Good Witch right behind us in a shiny mechanical chariot that I had sketched for them before we’d left.

And we weren’t alone.

As we made our way down the streets, around the corners, and up to the long white chariots’ driveway in front of Lalith Mahal and Chamundi Hills, Asuras watched us from the sky. Like a storm, they gathered, throwing shadows across us, waiting to see what we would do. By the time we reached the white road, Mahishasura and the rest of his army had come out to meet us.

They spread out in front of their gleaming white palace, hundreds of monstrous demons, with horns and teeth and claws. There was no sign of Ashwini, of course. She had said a pretty final goodbye at the top of the palace.

Mahishasura stepped away from his army. He was even bigger in the full light of the sun than I remembered, muscled and tall, horns sharpened, with nostrils puffing and those amber eyes narrow with malice. He searched our faces, stopping when he found mine, and I watched him take in the costume, the colors, the small sword in my hands. I swallowed hard, suddenly certain that this wouldn’t work, that I’d been foolish to even try this, that everyone I loved—in both worlds—was going to pay the price for my stupidity.