Ash Mistry and the City of Death. Sarwat Chadda

that she had to be brave and she would come back, but the words were bitter and dead on his tongue. This was Gemma and they’d played together since nursery school. Her sister was Lucky’s best friend. He’d seen her almost every day of his life, and this was about to be her last.

      Each bead of sweat on her shone brighter than any diamond, her skin pale as the most perfect marble. Each breath smelled sweeter than any rose. Gemma’s grip weakened. Her eyes, ever changing in colour, were wide and staring, her pupils swelling until they almost consumed her irises.

      Ash heard sirens in the distance.

      “Just hang on, Gemma. Hang on.”

      Heat burst within him, straight into his heart and flooding every atom of his being. The world shook around him as waves of energy pounded him, filling him with more and more power.

      This was a Great Death.

      

sh replayed the last moments of Gemma’s life a thousand times, a hundred thousand times over the next few days. From the moment he woke, it haunted him. A fraction quicker, a centimetre truer with his aim, and it would have all been different.

      He walked down the dark, lamplit street, head down and lost in memory.

      The ambulance came, too late, and then the police found Ash covered in blood with a dead girl in his arms. Jack had been hysterical, shouting about him, and there were witnesses saying Ash had been with Gemma and then there’d been some argument with another girl. All these small, random details. A punch dagger had been found, smeared with blood, and the sheath strapped to his belt fitted the blade perfectly. So the police and half the school added two and two and got five.

      It had been a dark, lonely night in the police station before the fog had cleared in the morning and the police found a dead hyena. The wounds on Gemma proved to be from an animal bite – an escaped animal from some zoo, the police thought – and Ash finally went home with his parents.

      Their silence had been awful. Lucky had looked at him with such cold hatred and disgust that though she had not said a word, he knew exactly what she was thinking. Gemma was dead because of him.

      And she was right.

      If only he'd stayed on the bus instead of walking back, Jackie wouldn't have been able to follow him. If only he hadn't given Gemma his coat. If only he'd been closer he would have put the blade in Jackie's skull instead of her shoulder. If only he'd been quicker. If only he'd been faster, stronger, better.

      If only…

      Did Jackie bite Gemma before he'd thrown the katar, or after?

      Why had Parvati said “No” when Jackie had demanded the diamond?

      Why?

      He stared at his left hand, at the small scar on his thumb. If it would do any good, he’d cut it off right now. But the Kali-aastra was all of him, and he was it. There was nothing heroic about what he’d become. Quite the opposite. He was a curse. Elaine had predicted this would happen. Someone had ended up dead, and he was so very sorry.

      But what gripped his heart with fear was the certainty that this would never end. Who would be next? His parents? His other friends? Lucky?

      Gemma’s death had made him more powerful, and he hated himself for it. Parvati had explained, ages ago it seemed, that the more significant the death, the more power Ash gained. He hadn’t realised what she meant until Gemma’s energies had filled him: a Great Death. His strength, speed, agility and senses had crept further up the scale, leaving ‘human’ further behind. The shock of it left him dazed, far more than he’d expected.

      Had his presence accelerated Gemma’s death, even? Kali was a greedy, blood-drinking goddess. Had the aastra, sensing death, drawn it out? He felt sick to his guts whenever he heard his parents talking downstairs and Lucky crying. He picked up the looks and the fear from the other kids in class. His supernaturally acute hearing gathered the whispers and the quiet mutterings as he passed. The rumours about that awful night infected all of West Dulwich High.

      He missed seeing her in class. Her chair remained empty as if she’d just got up, still warm with her presence so he could fool himself, even just for a second, Gemma was still there. Instead the shadows of the trees outside passed over it as the sun, winter low, crossed the sky east to west. How he wished he could make the shadows reverse their path.

      Ash stared at his shadow now as it rose up against Josh’s front door. He stood there, outside his best friend’s house, and raised his fist. He could hear the others inside. There was Akbar’s snorting laugh, and he could smell Sean’s aftershave, and that they had salt and vinegar crisps out, that there was hot chocolate brewing and their takeaway pizza had cheese, olives and anchovies on it, plus some curry powder. Josh burped after a mouthful of Sprite. Sean, Josh and Akbar. His closest, oldest friends who’d known him for years and years. Ash had been just like them, and right now that was all he wanted. To be like them again. Normal, and none of this supernatural, superhuman crap.

      Dice fell on the kitchen table and pencils scratched on notepaper. Akbar said something about the sorcerer casting a firestorm spell at the manticore. The game of Dungeons and Dragons was in full swing. Ash knocked.

      Josh’s laugh carried all the way to the door until he opened it and saw Ash. Then it froze on his face as he stood there, staring at him. He opened his mouth, but it took a few attempts before words came out. “Ash?”

      He’s scared.

      Josh’s heartbeat accelerated, the rapid thumping as loud to Ash as a circus drum. Sweat formed across his forehead and upper lip, and the colour faded from his face. His breath was short, shallow and panicky; even his hand trembled on the door handle.

      He’s not scared, he’s terrified. Of me.

      Ash forced a smile, even though inside his heart was tearing in two. “It’s Tuesday. ‘The Catacombs of Doom’, remember?”

      Josh’s gaze shifted down to his feet. “Oh, right. It’s just… we didn’t think you’d come.”

      “I’m here now.”

      There was no move to let Ash in. But Josh’s heart rate was over a hundred beats per minute. He looked up at Ash, biting his lower lip. He was struggling to speak, to say something, but couldn’t.

      Ash’s gaze darkened. Josh shouldn’t be treating him like this. “You going to let me in or what?”

      “Or what, Ash? What are you going to do if I don’t?”

      “What?”

      “What are you going to do?”

      For a second, just a second, Ash let his anger, his rejection, show. He wanted to push past. He could do it so easily. Josh couldn’t stop him, he was just a human. How dare Josh judge him, what right did he have? Didn’t he know what Ash had done? Josh was pathetic. Ash raised his hand and—

      Stepped back.

      The look on Josh’s face said it all. The fear practically dripped off him. He trembled. Ash lowered his hand, wishing he could take that last moment back. He smiled at Josh, but the smile was too harsh, too much like a grinning dead man.

      “Look, Josh, there’s nothing to be afraid of. You know me.”

      “Do I? Really?”

      He couldn’t believe it. Did Josh think he’d killed Gemma? How could he? “I’ve done nothing wrong, Josh. You have to believe me. I wouldn’t hurt anyone. Christ, Josh, this is me.”

      “I saw you, Ash. I saw you.” Josh winced and put his hand over his face. “I’m still not sure I believe it, but I saw what you did at the park the night Gemma died.”