Ash Mistry and the World of Darkness. Sarwat Chadda

not.” Ash glanced towards the sofa. Ashoka was bending over to do up his shoelaces. “Look at him. He can’t even touch his toes and yet he gets it all.”

      “You’re such an idiot,” fumed Parvati.

      “What’s up with you, anyway?” said Ash, looking at her.

      Elaine came in jangling a bunch of keys. “I reckon if you’re heading into the lion’s den you might need some hardware.”

      “What have you got?” Ash asked.

      “More’s the question, what haven’t I got? Come downstairs. You too, fat boy. And bring that bow of yours.”

      Ashoka flushed. And tried to hold his stomach in. “I’m not fat,” he muttered. “It’s water retention.”

      Elaine smirked. “It looks like cake retention to me.”

      There was a small door behind the counter that led to the basement. Elaine shuffled through her keys, shaking them off a cumbersome steel ring, inspecting one after another. “If you wait a month or so, I could get you some reinforcements.”

      “Who do you have in mind? The SAS?” asked Ashoka.

      Elaine tried another thick iron key in the door. “Better than that. But they’re all out in Russia right now.”

      “We haven’t got a month,” said Ash. “Savage will catch up with us well before then. We need to take the initiative.”

      “Ah, here we go.” Elaine pushed a key into the lock and twisted.

      She flipped on a switch and a lone light bulb illuminated a narrow set of stairs leading into the basement. “This is where I keep the toys for the boys.” She gave Parvati a mock bow. “And the demon princesses.”

      Ash followed Parvati down and then gazed about him. And grinned. Ashoka stepped in after him.

      “Wow,” said Ashoka. “You really are ready for the zombie apocalypse.”

      The wooden rack to his left was stacked with katanas – samurai swords – each wrapped in a silk cloth. Axes stood up against the wall opposite, their blades bright as mirrors. Spears, maces, even suits of armour ranging from stiffened leather to chain mail to plate helmets. Ash picked up a curved tulwar, slowly rolling his wrist in loose figures of eight.

      Parvati picked up a flat steel ring, slightly bigger than palm size. “A chakram. It’s been a while since I saw one of these.”

      Ashoka collected a pair of nunchakus and adopted a Bruce Lee pose. “I’ll take these.”

      Parvati raised an eyebrow. “You know how to use one?”

      “I’ve seen Enter the Dragon a billion times.”

      She took it from him. “You’re more likely to knock yourself out.”

      Ash picked up an arrow. The tip was needle sharp. “I don’t want you getting close enough for a punch-up. You leave that to Parvati and me.” He handed the arrow over. “You stay at the back and use these with your bow, if you think you can handle it.”

      “I can handle it.”

      “Actually, you don’t have to come,” Ash offered. Maybe it would be easier if just he and Parvati went? That way he wouldn’t have to spend half the time looking out for Ashoka.

      Ashoka inspected the arrow and ran his fingers through the fletching. “No. I want to do this. I have to.” He chose a collection of barbed arrows, broad leaf-shaped heads and some narrow, needle-pointed bodkins. The first two were designed for maximum damage, while the bodkins were for armour penetration. Ash would have picked the same.

       Maybe we aren’t so different after all.

      Elaine pushed open a wonky cupboard and lifted out a Kevlar jacket. “What about body armour?”

      Ash peered at the rest. She had ancient mail shirts and even a knight’s helmet. “Why do you have this stuff?”

      “You don’t want to know.”

      Ash inspected the jacket. “Too heavy.”

      Ashoka notched the arrow against the bowstring.

      He knows how to handle a bow, that’s for sure. Maybe he wouldn’t be totally useless.

      Ashoka turned to Elaine, arrow pointed safely down, but the bowstrings seemed to hum. “Care to put an apple on your head?”

      Elaine grunted. “I’ll get the van warmed up.”

      Ash inspected the rest of the weapons while Ashoka followed Elaine out to the van. Parvati watched him go, her long fingers on her chin, her green eyes glowing. “Interesting, don’t you think?”

      “What?” said Ash. “Ashoka notched an arrow and didn’t shoot his own foot?”

      “It’s not crossed your mind why he’s picked a bow?”

      “Involves minimum running around? What’s your point, Parvati?”

      Parvati tapped his forehead. “He’s the Eternal Warrior. Just like you. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

      Ash stopped and looked at her. “You’re sure?”

      She nodded. “It might manifest itself differently, but the bow, his handling of it, I’ve seen it before, a long, long time ago. He didn’t learn that in archery class.”

      Could it be true? thought Ash. Why not? They were the same person. They would have had the same past lives. Ash had had visions of his own past existences. They’d come to him in his dreams, with subtle messages as to what he’d be facing, offering coded clues and advice. The problem was, they were always obscure. “You think he’s accessing the talent of one of his past lives? I’ve never been able to do that.”

      “Ashoka might be different, though. I don’t know for sure, but, at least at a subconscious level, he’s tapping their knowledge.”

      Ash heard the engine start somewhere above them. He picked up his punch dagger. It was all he really needed. “Do you think we should tell him?”

      “No. He’ll find out soon enough.”

       Chapter Seven

      Ash sat in the back of the van with Ashoka. Parvati was up front with Elaine.

      It was good to be doing something. Now they knew where Savage lived there was a buzz in the air, a crackle of anticipation.

      He’d been here before, at the eve of a battle.

       Then why are my hands so sweaty?

      Ashoka strummed his bowstrings nervously. He had an arrow clip fixed to the bow, and six arrows, double-stacked, ready and waiting.

      How would Ashoka do in battle? Was he really the Eternal Warrior, just like him?

      “How much further?” Ash asked. He just wanted to get started now. Then the nerves would go.

      “We’re almost there,” said Elaine.

      The Docklands in east London were a mixture of old and ultra-modern. Their route took them through Canary Wharf and past the headquarters of Barclays Bank, Credit Suisse, HSBC and all the other global financial houses. In the dark the skyscrapers shone as if covered in crystal.

      Beyond the bastions of super-wealth came endless, squalid council estates, low and mean and hidden in the gloom, shadowed by the glass titans and circled by busy ring roads.

      “Not surprising Savage would set up here,” said Elaine as she drove. “This was where it all started.”

      She was right. Savage had