“Magical dead zone,” repeated Aiden, massaging his temples. “That means Vajra won’t work there. Neither will Dee Dee or Gogo. Brynne is strong, but it’s not like she can carry four fully grown rakshasas by herself.”
“Challenge accepted,” said Brynne, rolling up her sleeves.
“Challenge not accepted!” said Mini. “You could strain yourself, and there’s no way to secure them.”
They stared at the rakshasas for a moment, and then Sheela cleared her throat and poked her twin in the arm.
“Fine,” said Nikita dramatically. “I guess.”
Sheela beamed.
“I’ll take it from here,” said Nikita, stepping forward.
She stretched out her hand and green light radiated from her fingertips. The sidewalk trembled as weeds between the cracks grew taller, multiplied, and spread outward until they had formed four rectangular cushions on the ground. Fluffy silver dandelions—or “wishing weeds,” as Aru liked to call them—sprang free from the dirt, quadrupled in size, and rolled under the cushions to form wheels. Vines snaked out from Nikita’s tiara and grew several feet long before they snapped off and wound around each of the rakshasas, binding them tight. Then the vines dragged the unconscious bodies onto the trolleys. Lastly, all four of Nikita’s trolleys grew sturdy pulling-ropes that bloomed with small pink and white flowers.
“Voilà,” said Nikita smugly. “Transportation, protection, and, naturally, a touch of beauty.”
Ten minutes later, Aru found herself deeply concerned for the citizens of Atlanta. Not one person seemed to bat an eyelash at the four kids lugging masses of human-shaped vines through the streets of downtown.
“Is anyone else alarmed that no one is alarmed?” asked Aru.
Brynne scoffed. “I live in New York. Trust me, this is nothing.”
“Maybe they can’t see us?” asked Mini. “It is nighttime.”
“Or they’re choosing not to,” said Aiden. “It would mess up their idea of reality, so they just ignore it.”
As they crossed a street corner where a bunch of bikers revved their engines, Aru decided to test Mini’s theory. She called out, “Nice ride! I’ve got a demon!”
“Don’t we all!” hollered one guy with an impressive neon-green mustache. “Have a good one!” And he zoomed off.
Aru turned, ready to make a joke, when she saw the twins huddled together.
“Honestly, Nikki, it’s fine,” whispered Sheela.
“No, it’s not fine!” said Nikita. “We’ve wanted this for so long, and it just—”
Abruptly, she got quiet. When Nikita raised her voice, the red roses of her crown curled into tight buds, the way someone presses their mouth closed when they’ve said something they didn’t want to.
Aru looked from Brynne to Mini and Aiden. For a moment they all stopped hauling the rakshasas.
“Sheela, are you still feeling sick?” asked Mini gently, holding out her hand.
Sheela looked up at Mini, shock giving way to a surprised smile. Cautiously, Sheela raised her own hand, but Nikita stepped in front of her twin.
“I can take care of her,” snapped Nikita.
“But, Nikki—” Sheela started.
“No!” said her twin.
“You know, I get the whole no new friends policy, but we’re actually on your side,” said Aru.
Sheela smiled up at her, but Nikita scowled.
“I’ve heard that before,” she said.
Walking a few paces ahead of them, Brynne pointed across the street to a large concrete overpass. “The entrance to the dead zone is over there, in the shadows.”
Aru eyed the dark area beneath the bridge. In the glare of a nearby streetlight, she could see that discarded blue plastic containers and torn sleeping bags littered the ground in front of it.
“Um, has anyone ever been to a magical dead zone before?” asked Mini.
“I have,” said Aiden. “Once.”
“I saw the dead zone in your dream,” said Sheela quietly.
“You’ve seen our dreams?” asked Aru, panicking.
For a moment, she wondered if the twins knew about her constant nightmare…the one where she betrayed everyone she loved, just as the Sleeper had predicted.
But Sheela shook her head. “Don’t worry, we won’t tell anyone about how, in your dreams, Aiden—”
NOPE! blared an alarm in Aru’s head. NOPE, NOPE, NOPE!
“Didn’t your parents teach you better manners?” demanded Brynne. “That’s so rude.”
Sheela clammed up. Her chin fell. “Our parents are—”
But Nikita shot her a silencing look, and before Aru could ask, Aiden gestured them forward.
“Let’s cross now, while we can.”
Pulling the rakshasa wagons behind them, they jogged across the road and stopped in a patch of yellow light cast by the streetlamp. The light ended abruptly five feet away from the shadow of the overpass, as if someone had cut it with a knife. Overhead, the concrete bridge trembled from the rush of cars. The humid air smelled…unstirred, as if it had been left alone too long. Usually, the air near a magic portal was warped in a certain way, or there was a thrumming sensation, as if someone had plucked a violin string and the ripples of sound never quite died. Aru detected none of that.
Vajra wriggled uncomfortably on her wrist.
“We’ll be in the Otherworld soon,” Aru assured her lightning bolt.
Nikita pointed at the garland rope Brynne was pulling. “Don’t break it, ’cause I won’t be able to fix it once we go through.”
Aru looked over her shoulder at the vine-wrapped conked-out demon on her trolley. A tendril of fear wound through her. How much longer would the rakshasas stay unconscious?
As the group walked forward, the long shadow of the overpass transformed. It scrunched up, turned into a square, and then peeled itself off the ground and became a sharply defined door.
Beside Aru, Sheela’s eyes gave off a faint, icy glow. “We should go through,” the twin said. Her voice sounded funny, as if a second voice had been layered on top of it. “Now.”
Magical Dead Zone
The magical dead zone was not what Aru expected.
“It looks kinda like the Night Bazaar,” said Brynne.
Aru saw what she meant. Once they walked through the shadow door beneath the underpass, they stepped into a strange parallel-universe version of the Otherworld…but only if that parallel universe was like one of those depressing postapocalyptic movies where everything was awful. Aru glanced up, half expecting to see the Night Bazaar’s split sky showing both the sun and the moon. Instead, there stretched only gray twilight that promised neither stars nor the blush rays of dawn. It made Aru feel cold.
People in drab clothing milled about the dead-zone market. Aru saw a few with feathers showing at their collars, and others with sawed-down horns on their head, as if they were trying to hide their true identities. They all had an air of unmistakable sadness about them.
Ash-colored stalls offering expired magical fruit hobbled feebly through the crowd, while merchants wound their way in between, hawking wares like cloudy vials of discount dreams. In the walls surrounding the market were dozens of doors, all squat and shabby-looking except for one: at the far end of the courtyard loomed a steel exit fifty feet high. At least a hundred people were queued up before it.