Ash Mistry and the City of Death. Sarwat Chadda

      Two bright golden lights settled on Jack’s neck – one just below his bulging Adam’s apple, the other near the jaw.

      Easy ways.

      Ash closed his eyes. But he could see the bright points shining through his eyelids. He covered his face with his hands, but it did no good.

      Jack laughed. “Look at him. He’s going to cry.” He prodded Ash in the chest. “Boo hoo.”

      “Leave him alone, Jack. It’s not nice.”

      “Jesus, Gemma, I’m just trying to toughen the boy up.” There was a laugh from one of the others round the table. “Everyone knows he’s madly in luurve with you. Isn’t that true, Ash?”

      “Jack, I’m warning you.”

      Jack ignored her. “C’mon, Ash. We all know you fancy her. Be a man, just say it.” He put his fingers on either side of Ash’s chin, wiggling it up and down. “Say it. ‘Gemma, I love you so much.’” He squeezed harder, burying his nails into Ash’s skin. “Say it.”

      Ash opened his eyes and gazed at the brilliant lights that lay like a galaxy of stars over Jack. They glistened along his arteries. They shone upon his heart, his lungs. Joints sparkled. His eyes were golden bright.

      The Chinese called it Dim Mak, the Death Touch. But to Ash it was Marma Adi, the 108 kill points. He knew them all – the points of weakness all living things possessed – and he could exploit these points to injure, disable, or kill. They moved and varied in intensity depending on the person. The old, infirm and very young had many more than the 108. Jack had fewer – he was young and strong and fit – but he had enough.

      There was a spot glowing on the side of Jack’s head. Ash just needed to touch it, not very hard. Enough to create a blood clot in the brain. Death would come in five seconds, maybe six.

      It would look like an accident.

      “I’d let go, Jack,” said Ash. A warning. That was fair.

      “Or what?”

      Ash shivered. It wasn’t fear that made his heart quicken; it was excitement. He slowly raised his right hand. He could just tap the spot with his finger…

      “That’s it.” Gemma got up and grabbed her bag. “C’mon, Anne.”

      “Whatever,” said Jack, letting go of Ash. He grinned at the audience and got a smattering of embarrassed giggles for his performance.

      Gemma gave Jack a withering look as she slung her rucksack over her shoulder and strode off, almost knocking down some small kid. Jack turned to Ash and winked.

      “Way out of your league.” He picked up his own bag, making sure he tensed his biceps as he did so. “Leave the hot ones to guys like me. You stick to the farmyard animals.” Then he left. The others round the table, the entertainment over, quickly gathered their own gear and began to break up. Anne gave Ash a half-shrug before scurrying off after Gemma.

      Ash stood by the now-empty table. What was he thinking? He stared at his hand like it wasn’t his. He’d almost killed Jack. Over what?

      Josh joined Ash. “Well, that went down like the Titanic.”

      Ash looked at him. Lungs, heart… There were nodes of energy shining on Josh’s throat, and on either side of his eyes too. So many… Ash retreated a step, afraid an accidental touch might kill his best friend.

      “You all right?” Josh asked.

      Ash braced himself against a table. “Just… catching my breath.” The sensation passed. It felt like a cloud fading from his soul. The Marma Adi visions were happening more and more often. He needed to be careful.

      “That was banging,” said Josh.

      “Banging?”

      “Where were you over the summer, Ash? Oh yeah, out in India, bored out of your brain. Everyone’s using it. ‘Banging.’ Impressive. Of an epic nature.”

      “What? Really? That was impressive?” Ash blinked, more than a little surprised by the assessment. “I thought I looked like a moron.”

      “You did,” said Josh. “I was talking about Jack. That was a great line, don’t you think? The one about the farmyard animals. Couldn’t have thought it up himself, but he’s got the delivery.”

      “I just wish I’d had something smart and devastating to say back,” said Ash.

      Josh nodded. “Like ‘In your fat face, Jack’? That’s pretty cool.”

      “If you’re seven.” Ash gazed towards the canteen doors, half hoping Gemma might turn round and come back. No such luck. “Why is it so hard to talk to girls?”

      Josh slapped Ash’s head. “Because we’re nerds. Acting awkwardly around girls is our superpower. Anyway, forget about Gemma. You coming around next Tuesday?”

      “Tuesday?” asked Ash.

      “Dungeons and Dragons, old-school style. We’re on the last level of the ‘The Catacombs of Doom’ and we need you, Ash.”

      Oh yeah, Dungeons and Dragons. Josh’s dad had banned him from any sort of computer gaming – any sort of computer access at all. Josh hadn’t explained why, but Akbar reckoned he’d been caught visiting a few sites way inappropriate for his age. So they’d dusted off their old role-playing games and miniature figures, and Tuesday nights were D&D.

      Josh put his arm over Ash’s shoulder. “It will bang to the utmost. You’ll be fighting the demon lord of hell.”

      “Done that already.”

      “What?”

      “Never mind.” Ash wriggled out from under Josh’s heavy arm. “Remind me again why I hang out with you?”

      Josh gave a mocking sob. “What? After all I’ve done for you? If it hadn’t been for me, remember, Gemma wouldn’t know you even exist. That poem you wrote her was banging.”

      “Uploading it on to the school blog wasn’t what I had in mind.”

      “Then you should have a better password than ‘TARDIS’, shouldn’t you?”

      

sh kicked a full rubbish bin on his way home. It must have weighed more than fifteen kilograms, but it lofted into the air and spun in a high arc over a long line of oak trees, a block of houses and the A205 road. He heard it splash down in a pond somewhere in Dulwich Park, half a mile away.

      He could do that, but he couldn’t ask a girl out. Anger surged within him, and Ash struggled to cool down.

      But maybe he didn’t want to cool down. Maybe he could show Jack and everyone what he was capable of. They’d look at him differently then.

      Yeah, they’d look at him with horror.

      Some days, it was as if nothing had ever happened, and Ash was just a normal fourteen-year-old boy trying to keep on the straight and narrow. Not exceptionally bright like Akbar, nor as cool as Jack, just kind of in the middle, not making any ripples.

      But then the dreams came. Dreams of blood and death.

      Then Ash remembered exactly what he was.

      The Kali-aastra, the living weapon of the death goddess Kali. He’d slain the demon king Ravana and absorbed his preternatural energies. He could leap tall buildings in a single bound and do five impossible things before breakfast. Six at the weekend.

      Had it only been last summer? It felt like a lifetime ago. It had been a lifetime ago. Ash