A Trip to the Beauty Salon

It took Mini a full five minutes before she could say another word. “Kill…us?” she squeaked.

“He’s a demon, Mini,” said Aru. “What do you think he’s going to do? Sit you down for tea?”

Boo hopped along the sidewalk, gathered a pebble in his beak, flew up, and dropped it on Mini’s head.

“Ow!”

“Good! You felt pain. Relish it, girl child. That’s how you know you’re not dead,” said Boo. “Not yet, anyway. And you”—he glowered at Aru—“careful with that sharp tongue.”

Aru rolled her eyes. She’d only been pointing out the obvious.

“Can’t he just find his own way into the Kingdom of Death?” asked Aru. “Why does he have to follow us around?”

This demon sounded lazy.

“He cannot see what you can,” said Boo.

“What if he tries to attack us in the meantime?” asked Mini. “We don’t have anything to defend ourselves with.”

That wasn’t exactly true. They each had a gift. Aru opened her hand where the golden Ping-Pong ball sat. It didn’t look like it would do anything remarkable. She threw it onto the ground. Instantly, it bounced back into her hand. Aru frowned. She threw it farther. Still it came back. Then she tossed it across the street, where it rolled straight into the gutter.

A blink later, it was in her hand.

“Okay, that’s a little cooler, but still useless in a fight against a demon.”

“Give thanks anyway,” scolded Boo.

“Thanks, Universe,” said Aru. “Even if I die, at least I can be buried with this ball attached to my hand.”

“Not buried,” said Mini. “Wouldn’t you be cremated? I guess that depends on if you want to follow Hindu burial practices….”

“Not helping, Mini.”

“You never know what might turn out to be handy when you need it most,” said Boo.

It looked like he was going to say something else, but then Mini squeaked.

“Whoa!” she said, staring at the compact she’d gotten from the Dharma Raja.

Envy flared through Aru. Did Mini’s gift actually do something magical? Why didn’t hers?

“What’s it showing you?” she asked.

“A zit!” said Mini, pushing her nose to one side.

“What? That’s it?”

“It means I’m growing up!”

“Or it means bad hygiene?” teased Aru.

“Or that,” said Mini. She looked far less excited when she closed the compact.

“So we have a mirror and a glowing ball,” said Aru.

“Yes,” said Boo.

“To fight monsters.”

“Yes.”

Honestly, what was the point of being a demigod if this was all they got? The shiny weapons were half the appeal anyway! And where was her majestic steed? She’d feel a lot better if she at least had a cape.

“Perhaps you will not need any additional weapons to get all three keys,” said Boo.

“And if we do?” asked Mini.

Boo’s feathers shivered. “If you do, then I must take you to the Night Bazaar.”

Night Bazaar? That sounds awesome, thought Aru.

“Assuming we survive getting the first key,” said Mini.

That thought was less awesome.

Mini looked around at their surroundings. “If this is where Urvashi’s mehndi map led us, then the first key should be somewhere around here….But why would anyone hide a key to the Kingdom of Death in a strip mall?”

The three of them looked around the parking lot. There was a Chinese takeout place and a dry-cleaning store. Also a Starbucks that was missing some letters in its sign, so it read: STA B S.

Aru’s gaze fell on a sign that was a little brighter than the rest:

The longer Aru looked at the sign, the brighter the mehndi version of the first key glowed. Beside her, Mini wiggled her fingers.

“Is your map glowing brighter? Maybe it works like a homing device…” said Mini, poking at the “sprig of youth” design on her wrist.

“Only one way to find out,” said Aru. “We have to go inside.”

Mini gulped loudly, but nodded, and they made their way to the salon.

Light rippled around the edges of the storefront. It looked like a year-round Halloween store, with a few stray ghost decorations on the window and a rotting pumpkin by the entrance. Masks of screaming women hung from the roof. Their elongated faces and gaping mouths reminded Aru of that Edvard Munch painting her Art teacher had once shown the class.

“This place feels off,” said Mini, pressing closer to Aru. “And do you smell that?”

She did. A sharp, acrid scent, like overheated rubber or charred leaves. She wrinkled her nose and covered her face with her sleeve. “It smells like something was burned,” said Aru. “Or…someone.”

Mini made little goggles with her hands and pressed her face against the door. “I can’t see anything,” she whispered.

The door was a dark mirror. Aru wondered if it was a two-way one that let people on the other side see you while you only saw your reflection. Aru had learned about those the hard way. Two weeks ago she had looked in the mirrored door to the teacher’s lounge to see if there was something up her nose. A teacher had coughed quietly on the other side, and said, “Dear, you’re free of boogers. Trust me. I can see quite clearly.”

Aru had been mortified.

But now she didn’t feel mortified. She felt a strange twinge of cold run up and down her spine. The air crackled and popped like logs in a bonfire. The hairs at the back of her neck lifted.

A light shone from her pajama pants pocket. The Ping-Pong ball was glowing.

Engraved on the door was: MADAME BEE ASURA, HEAD STYLIST.

Aru knew that name. But why?

“Boo, when we open the door, you can’t act like, well, yourself,” said Aru.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” retorted Boo.

“You’ve got to act like a pigeon! Or you’ll blow our cover.”

“You want me to stay outside?”

“I’ll prop the door open,” said Mini. She pulled a piece of biscotto from her backpack, crumbled it up, and threw it on the ground. “Here ya go, birdie!”

“I. Do. Not. Eat. Off. The. Ground.”

That bitter taste of smoke filled Aru’s nostrils. “I. Do. Not. Care,” she whispered back. “Now stay here and be a good pigeon while we investigate.”

A bell jingled as Aru opened the door.

The girls slipped inside. Mini left the door slightly ajar, so Aru could see one beady pigeon eye peering through the crack behind them.

The room was a bright lapis blue. Aru touched the wall gently and found it cold and hard. It was made of gems. Panels of mirrors formed the ceiling and floor. Big, comfy salon chairs lined the walls. But instead of a mirror in front of each chair, there was a portrait. Each one was of a beautiful woman. And yet…they didn’t look very happy….

Because they were frozen in the middle of screaming. Just like the masks on the roof.

The line of salon chairs seemed endless. There had to be as many as seventy pictures of screaming women.

“Nope. Nope. Nope,” said Mini. “This doesn’t look right.”

“How can I help you girls?”

From the end of the room, Aru saw a lovely woman walking toward them. Urvashi had been beautiful in the way a rose was beautiful. The mind was already trained to find it exquisite.

But this woman was beautiful in the way that a bolt of lightning shattering the sky was beautiful. Almost scary. Definitely striking.

She was slim and tall, with shiny black hair that was piled in soft curls on the top of her head. When she smiled, Aru saw a crescent of sharp teeth behind her red lipstick.

“Did you come here for a haircut?”

“No?” said Mini.

Aru elbowed her in the ribs and said, “We didn’t mean to, but we could get one?”

Aru wanted to spend more time with the stunning woman. Just being around her made her feel entranced. She had an overwhelming desire to please this person.

“No way,” said Mini firmly, reaching for Aru’s arm.

“What’s wrong with you?” muttered Aru, yanking her arm away. The woman just wanted to cut their hair. Plus, she was so…pretty. “We need to look around anyway.”

“Business has been a little slow,” said the woman. Now she was standing right in front of them. “I’m Madame Bee. What are your names, lovely girls?”

“Mini…” said Mini, her voice getting squeaky. She wasn’t looking at the woman. Her eyes were on the wall.

“Aru.”

“Pretty names,” crooned Madame Bee. “Usually I only cut older women’s hair. Their beauty is a little more, well, potent.” She grinned. “It has steeped longer, like tea, and therefore it lasts longer. Here, have a seat.” She ushered them to two of the empty salon chairs.

“I’ll only be a moment,” said Madame Bee. “Just need to get some supplies from the back.” Before she left, she smiled. It made Aru feel like she’d eaten a stack of waffles: rather warm and syrupy…and sleepy.

“Look!” hissed Mini. She grabbed Aru’s face and turned it toward the wall.

The woman in the nearest portrait was still screaming. But there was something else: her eyes…they were moving. Following Mini and Aru. Another cold twinge coursed through Aru, waking her up.

“She trapped these women, Aru,” whispered Mini. “We’ve got to get out of here!”

Aru slid out of her chair. Mini was right.

But there was another problem.

“The first key has to be here,” said Aru. She held up her hand, where the design glowed brighter and brighter. “We have to find the sprig of youth before we leave!”

The girls scanned the room. It was pristine. With the mirrors on the ceiling and floor, they should have been able to find it easily. But they didn’t see anything that looked like the mehndi design.

“It’s got to be around here somewhere…” said Mini.

“Why couldn’t the gods have given us more useful gifts?” grumbled Aru. She couldn’t call Indra “Dad.” It was too weird.

Mini took out her compact. When she opened it, a strange thing happened.

In the small mirror, Aru saw an alternate version of the room they were standing in. The walls were studded not with gemstones but with bone fragments. Instead of a polished floor, they stood on packed dirt. And when Mini angled the compact to reflect the portraits of screaming women, the paintings revealed something very different: skulls.

“The compact sees through enchantments,” said Mini, in awe.

A sound made them jump.

They both looked up to see Madame Bee coming toward them, carrying a small tray that held two miniature jars. “Had to find small vessels for your ashes,” she said, grinning.

Aru and Mini glanced at the compact. Where there had been a beautiful woman, now they saw Madame Bee for what she really was:

An asura.

A demon.

Her hair wasn’t lovely black locks, but coils of fire. Her teeth weren’t teeth at all, but tusks that curled up and out from thin black lips. Her skin wasn’t a dusky shade of amber, but a pale and sickly white.

And there was something at the top of her head. A fancy blue hair clip?

No, a twig with tiny blue blossoms. Minus the color, it was identical to the design on their mehndi maps.

It was the sprig of youth.

The first key to the Kingdom of Death.