“You have very nice hair, but it’s quite long!” the girl yelled behind me. “I can’t see past it! You’ll have to tell me which way to steer!”

“What?”

“YOU’LL HAVE TO TELL ME—”

“Left!” I shrieked as a car zipped past us, honking indignantly. “Now right! No, wait, stay left! Stay left!”

We hit the crest of the hill. The next thing I knew, the girl made a sharp turn into a cobbled side street, and I saw the Asura stop and turn to face us.

As soon as we hit the cobblestones, the bicycle went flying. I tumbled right out of the basket and landed with a painful whump on my bottom, while the girl did a backflip, landed perfectly on her feet, and jumped straight at the Asura.

This time, there was no fight. As she jumped, she wrapped both hands around her sword and raised it high. She slammed into the Asura, his bared teeth barely an inch from hers, and drove the sword down over his head and into his back, between the black-jeweled wings.

The Asura roared, a bone-rattling sound that made all the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

But the girl didn’t even flinch. She just opened her mouth and roared back.

As she yanked the sword out, the Asura burst into smoke.

“That should be permanent,” said the girl, satisfied.

I staggered unsteadily to my feet. My heart was beating so fast, I was pretty sure it was going to burst right out of my chest. Cars passed by on the main road, and music spilled out of a window somewhere above us, but it all felt very far away.

The girl came over to where I stood, shivering in the cold. Or maybe it was the shock. We stared at each other. I tried to speak, but could only get one word out.

“Ashwini?”

Her grin grew bigger. “So,” she said, “you’ve made quite a mess, haven’t you?”

4

Ashwini walked the bicycle back to its home. I hobbled after her, not quite believing any of this night had happened.

Ashwini thayi, my great-grandmother’s sister. Ashwini thayi, the cautionary tale. Ashwini thayi, the family ghost. Except the thayi part sounded really weird now. It had been easy to say it when she was a dead ancestor like our other dead ancestors, but I couldn’t bring myself to call her that now. She wasn’t dead. She wasn’t even old. She was barely any older than I was!

“Ashwini Kallira is supposed to be dead,” I said.

“Ashwini Kallira is dead.”

“But you’re here.”

“Yep.”

“You have a British accent.”

“So do you.”

“And,” I heard myself say, “you’re wearing jeans. I’m pretty sure Indian girls didn’t dress like this back when you were alive. Did jeans even exist then? How come you have jeans and a British accent?”

She stopped walking and turned back to face me. “You plucked me out of your head,” she said, like I was being silly. “Your head thinks in a British accent. And you drew me in jeans. You drew me exactly like this.” She swept her hands up and down to indicate her hair, her sword, her black jeans and red leather jacket. “You look confused.”