Ashwini, who had approached the mysterious bubbling cauldron, now said, “This is coming along, isn’t it? Nice work, brat.”

I peered at the frothing golden liquid inside the cauldron and, without thinking, stuck my finger out to touch it.

“Eeeek!” Suki shrieked, diving in front of me. “No! Absolutely no touching!”

“It’s poisonous,” said Samara, from her side of the room.

“Oh,” I squeaked.

“Suki’s our apothecary,” Ashwini told me, gently but firmly nudging me away from the cauldron. It was probably for the best. I clearly couldn’t be trusted. “If you need a potion or a poison, she’s your girl. That’s what all the plants and flowers are for.”

“That, and they’re lovely to look at,” Suki added, sighing happily as she looked around her small, bright, green space.

“I can’t believe you think I’m cool,” I said, amazed. “This is cool.”

Suki’s face glowed with pride. She took my arm and tugged me over to her sister’s side of the room. “This is where Samara does all her research,” she said. “She loves books. Like, loves them. If you ask me, it’s not as fun as what I do, but I guess someone someday might need to know what a wolf Asura’s greatest weakness is.”

“Says the girl who always smells like wet dirt,” her twin replied with a grin. “I’ll take my books over your plants, thanks.”

“I do not always smell like—”

“Ooookay,” Ashwini said quickly, looking up at the ceiling like she was asking the universe how she ended up in this situation. “Kiki and I are going to go see the rest of the house.”

“And then breakfast?” Suki asked hopefully.

“You already had breakfast!”

“But I’m starving.”

Ashwini groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. “If the Asuras don’t murder them,” she said to me, “I will.”

9

There were just two doors at the top of the next flight of crooked stairs. One was closed, but the other had been flung wide open. As Ashwini and I stepped onto the landing, there was a whoop of glee from beyond the open door. Then a boom rattled the entire house.

I looked at Ashwini in alarm, but she was unfazed. “That happens at least twice a day,” she said breezily. “You’ll get used to it.”

A young boy with sticky-uppy black hair and twinkling brown eyes stuck his head out of the room at the sound of her voice, and his whole face lit up when he saw me.

I sucked in a breath. I knew that face. “Pip?”

“You know Pip, of course,” Ashwini said, and Pip grinned at me.

I did know Pip. Other than Ashwini, he was the only one of the Crows I had gotten around to putting down in more detail in my sketchbook. But the truth was, I had created Pip long before I had created Ashwini, the Crows, Crow House, or even my Mysore.

He had been my very first friend, a twinkly, merry boy I had conjured up when I was about four or five. I had still been brave sunshiny Kiki back then, so Pip had been my companion on endless adventures: we were pirates, superheroes, princesses. In fact, Pip had been so real to me that I would make Mum set an extra plate for him at the table (“Salt is his favorite meal,” I would inform her, insisting that the salt shaker always be within his reach), and I would tell other people with perfect seriousness that I had a brother (Mum usually had some very awkward questions to answer when I did that).