This wasn’t a dream, was it?

I did not stay calm. Even as my brain rejected the possibility that this was real, my body started to panic. My heart pounded. My curtains were on fire, my desk was on fire, the sketchbook on my desk was on fire.

And the Asura was gone.

I heard a crash from downstairs as the front door slammed open. He had escaped.

Great. There was a demon loose in London.

“What was that?” I could hear Mum shifting in bed. She would be downstairs any minute now. “Was that the door?”

There was literally no way I could answer that honestly, so I lied. “I didn’t hear anything!” I squeaked.

What was I supposed to deal with first? Fire or demon? Demon or fire?

Well, one of the two was still in my house with my mother, so that settled things. Holding my breath and scrunching up my eyes to block out as much smoke as I could, I dragged my blankets off my bed, smacked at the curtains with them, and then threw them over the desk to smother the remaining flames.

Then I turned and ran, barefoot, out of my room, down the stairs, and out of the open front door. I had absolutely no idea what I planned to do when I found the Asura, who was an impressively ferocious dragony demony thing while I was just a kid in her favorite pajamas, but I couldn’t just let him get away, either. After all, I was the one who had somehow set him loose.

Not to mention the fact that he was the only one who could explain to me how he had become so, you know, real.

So I ran down the street and turned the corner. My feet did not approve of the cracked, uneven pavement and my decision to venture forth without shoes, but they would just have to put up with it.

By the time I found the Asura, he was causing quite a stir at the bus stop. The bus had actually stopped, which is more unusual than you would think at a bus stop, and the few people who had been on it had abandoned it because the Asura got on board. He stomped up and down the aisle, puffing smoke and snarling at the driver, who mostly sighed and looked very put-upon.

“It’s way too late for this, mate,” I heard him say. “Save the costume for the West End. Just buy a ticket so we can all go home, yeah?”

“Costume?” the Asura roared. “COSTUME? Do you not know who I am? I am an Asura! I am a warrior in the great Mahishasura’s army! And I will help him return to this world!”

“Ticket,” the bus driver replied, unmoved, “or get off.”

This couldn’t possibly end well. I had to do something before someone ended up eaten or barbecued or both. I looked around desperately for inspiration, but there wasn’t even a convenient stick lying around that I could hit the Asura with (not that a stick would have done much against a demon, but said stick could have at least had the courtesy to make itself available).