Who’s a Good Boy?

“Nope!” said Aru. “No thanks! We’ll find another way in—”

“I’m not going anywhere!” said Mini.

Ek yawned as if he’d heard this before. His teeth were really sharp. Why did they need to be that sharp? And was that…blood on his fangs?

“You don’t have to go anywhere to die, little one,” said Ek.

“That’s not what I meant. I’m not going anywhere, because…because this is my kingdom?” said Mini. Her voice went up at the end. “I am the daughter of the Dharma Raja, and I demand entrance—”

“And I’m the daughter of Lord Indra!” butted in Aru.

Mini glared at her.

“Celebrities! Oh! Welcome, welcome!” said Do. “Could I get your autograph? We could do it before or after the whole killing-you thing. Whichever is most convenient.”

“Who cares if they’re celebrities? Death is the greatest leveler of them all! They are not the first. Nor the last. We’ve carried the souls of queens and murderers and infernal Yogalates instructors between our teeth,” said Ek proudly to the girls. “Even the Pandava brothers had to die. Even gods reincarnated in mortal bodies have to die.”

“That’s true,” said Do agreeably.

“It’s just a body!” said Ek, staring down his nose at them. “Leave them behind! Then we’ll let you through.”

“You can get new ones!” said Do.

Aru saw the telltale signs of Mini’s confidence waning: glasses off-kilter, lip tucked between her teeth.

“Um,” said Mini.

Ek’s teeth gleamed whiter. “We’ll make it quick.”

“I don’t really feel like rending someone apart,” mourned Do, even as his fur turned more bristly and his fangs elongated. “Why don’t we go out to the cremation grounds instead and bury bone shards? Or we can play Catch the Beheaded Thing! I’ve always liked that game.”

Ek growled. “Not now, Do! This is our job! Our dharma! Our duty!”

“Ha. Duty. Doo-tee.”

“Do, now is not the time—”

“It’s never the time, Ek! Yesterday you said we could play catch. Did we? No!”

Aru nudged Mini. Just beyond the two dogs, a thin sliver of light appeared. Maybe that was the true door to the Kingdom of Death and this was just the stuffy front hall. In which case, the reason it was opening now was probably because it sensed that someone was about to be dead. Aru gulped. If they could just get past these guardians, they could get into the kingdom.

Not that Aru was particularly excited about entering.

Something seemed to call to her from beyond that door. Something she already knew she did not like. Something that taunted. It reminded her of the Sleeper’s voice in her ear.

But still, anything was better than being torn apart.

“Wait till my father hears about this!” bellowed Mini. “I mean, my godly father. Not the human one. My human one would be mad too, but—”

“Mini,” Aru interrupted. “You’re not supposed to explain yourself after you say ‘Wait till my father hears about this.’”

“The girl is a brat,” hissed Ek.

“I thought she seemed nice,” said Do. His ears flattened against his skull.

“I can’t believe they’re not listening to me…” said Mini, shocked.

“Maybe it’s because you sounded like a brat?” suggested Aru.

Ek, who had grown to the size of a respectable town house, laughed. It was not a friendly laugh. “It certainly didn’t help.”

“Aru…” said Mini, her voice squeaking.

Aru had little experience with Door of Death dogs. But she did have experience with regular dogs. Last summer, she had taken Mrs. Hutton’s poodle (P. Doggy) on a walk and almost lost her arm when he spotted a cat.

“Compact,” whispered Aru, not taking her eyes off the two dogs. And then, in an even softer voice, she said, “Cat.”

“How shall we choose which one to eat first?” asked Ek. “Perhaps in a game of heads or tails?”

“Heads!” said Do.

“Are you flipping a coin?” asked Aru.

If she could distract them, maybe they wouldn’t see what Mini was conjuring with her compact.

“We’re not flipping coins!” said Do, excited. “We’re deciding which one of us gets to go after which parts of you!”

“But we don’t have tails,” said Aru.

Do looked at her for a moment longer, as if just realizing that she did not, in fact, possess a tail.

“Oh, that’s true….” Do looked to Ek. “Can we still eat them if they don’t have tails?”

“I meant ‘tails’ in a metaphorical sense,” said Ek.

“What’s that mean?”

“Metaphorical means symbolic, Do. Honestly, it’s like you never paid attention in class! A metaphor is a word representing something else. They don’t have tails per se, but they have a top and a bottom. So the head is the top and—”

“What’s the opposite of metaphorical?”

“Literal!”

“But then—”

While the two of them bickered, Aru and Mini put their heads together. (Metaphorically and literally.) Purple smoke emerged from the compact Mini was clutching. The smoke took a shape and began to grow a tail and a head. (Literally.)

“Ready?” asked Aru.

“Ready,” said Mini. She stayed hunched over the smoke.

“Hey! Ek and Do!” shouted Aru.

She looked at the glowing orb in her hand. She rolled it between her palms, wishing it weren’t so tiny. As she thought about it, it actually changed. It grew to the size of a tennis ball.

Do cocked his head. One fat pink tongue lolled out the side of his mouth.

“No!” growled Ek. “It’s a trap!”

“IT’S A BALL!”

Aru threw the ball as hard as she could. Do bounded off after it.

Ek stayed put. “If you think that a ball—”

Mini let go of her enchantment. A sleek purple cat leaped out of her arms and away into the darkness. Ek’s eyes turned huge. His tail started wagging, and the darkness began to vibrate around them. The crack of light just behind him widened.

“WOOOOOOO!!!” he shouted, taking off after the cat.

“Good boy!” said Aru.

Mini and Aru took off toward the slender doorway of light. As Aru’s pumping legs churned the darkness beneath her, the only thing on her mind was this:

Maybe she should ask her mother about getting a cat instead of a dog.