Ash Mistry and the World of Darkness. Sarwat Chadda

going on?” Ashoka demanded. “Has the world gone bat-loony? Why were those people trying to kill me? Who were those people?”

      The boy hurried Ashoka across the road, his face still hidden in the deep shadow of his hood. “Last question first. Those aren’t people. They’re rakshasas.”

      Ashoka scoffed. “Indian demons? Yeah, right.”

      “You don’t have to believe me.”

      “Thanks. I won’t.”

      “But you should.”

      Ashoka paused. “You were at the woods today, weren’t you? Have you been following me?”

      “That’s right. I knew Jackie would make her move sooner or later.”

      “Who are you?” Ashoka said, suddenly filled with a dreadful anticipation. A small part of his subconscious didn’t want to know. There was something terrible and familiar about the boy.

      The girl nodded. “Tell him.”

      The boy took off his hood. A pair of dark eyes gazed back at Ashoka. Eyes he knew. The boy’s face was gaunt, but smooth and brown like his and his hair was the same as Ashoka’s, maybe longer than he wore his and more dishevelled than his mum would allow. The boy smiled, and it was a smile Ashoka could mirror, perfectly. He struggled to breathe. “Who are you?” he whispered, even though he knew.

      The boy’s smile softened. “I am Ash Mistry.”

       Chapter Three

      “Sit down,” said the girl.

      Ashoka took a seat in his kitchen, his back against the wall, staring at the other boy.

      The other Ash Mistry.

      Weird did not begin to describe what it felt like to be face to face with himself. The boy had all his mannerisms – the way he pulled his hair from his forehead, the way he stood and tilted his head as he thought. But there were differences. The most obvious was that this other Ash was as sleek as a dagger and the way he moved was almost scary. He had a confidence that Ashoka lacked. Ashoka shuffled through life, a bit wary, a bit timid. This guy wasn’t just in charge of the situation – he owned it.

      “This is too weird,” he said, and not for the first time. “How can you be me?”

      “Check the house, Parvati,” ordered Ash, “and get him some clean clothes.” The girl nodded and left the two of them alone.

      “There’s no one here,” said Ashoka. “Mum and Dad have taken Lucky to a gymnastics competition.” But he glanced at the clock. They should have been back by now.

      “As soon as they return we all leave.”

      “Leave?”

      Ash checked out the window. “He’ll come after you. After everyone. We can’t stay here.”

      Ashoka looked down at his torn shirt. He was still shaking. He walked over to the sink and filled his Yoda mug with water. He rinsed the vomit taste out of his mouth, then splashed his face, closing his eyes and letting the cold water refresh him. “Who’s after me? Why would anyone be after me?”

      “Sit back down. Stay away from the window.” Ash’s hand twitched on the hilt of his katar.

      Ashoka faced him. “Listen, this is my house and—”

      “No, you listen,” snapped Ash. “There are people out there that want to kill you. I am the only one who can keep you alive, but I can only do that if you do exactly as I say. This is not open to discussion.”

      Parvati reappeared. “All clear.” She had a bundle of clothes under her arm and a bag over her shoulder. She gave it to Ash. “And I found this.”

      “Hey, that’s mine!” Ashoka said.

      Ash paused, then held the bag out to Ashoka. “Show me.”

      Ashoka unzipped the black canvas bag and drew out his bow.

      Matt black with a magnesium-alloy main body, composite limbs with pulleys to increase the power. The bowstring was made of coated steel cables. State of the art. Right now the frame was folded in on itself and the bowstrings wound into the pulleys so the entire weapon was less than half a metre in length. He’d been given it as a present on his last day in India.

      Ashoka held the central body and gave the bow a sharp flick.

      The two limbs snapped out and locked. The pulleys whirred as the bowstring unreeled and quivered, springing into tension. Fully extended, the bow was just shorter than him.

      “You any good with it?” asked Ash.

      “Is that important right now?” said Ashoka.

      “You’re right, it isn’t.” Ash tapped his watch. “Want to get a move on?”

      Ashoka looked at the pile. He didn’t like getting changed in public. He had enough teasing about his weight in the changing rooms. “Do you mind?”

      Ash shook his head, turning away. “This is ridiculous. I am you, Ashoka.”

      “How can you be? I don’t look like you. I can’t do what you do.”

      “I am you, but from a different timeline.”

      Ashoka stopped. “A different timeline. Right.” That was the craziest thing he’d ever heard. The other boy frowned, no doubt seeing Ashoka’s disbelief.

      “I know it’s hard to believe,” said the other Ash.

      “You’re right about that.”

      A distant cousin he could have believed, given how similar they looked. Maybe, just maybe a long-lost twin, some bizarre mishap at the hospital when he’d been born.

      But different timelines?

      “But if we are the same, right down to our fingerprints and DNA,” said Ashoka, “how come you look like that and I look like this? Which is very different. Shouldn’t we be really mega-identical?”

      Ash shook his head. “Things happened in my life that never happened in yours. In my world, in my universe, I’ve a sister called Lucky, I live in this house and my mum and dad are the same as yours. But a month ago my timeline ceased to exist and somehow I ended up in yours.”

      “What happened?” asked Ashoka, pulling off his bloody, tattered shirt and putting on his Nike T-shirt instead.

      “The past was changed. I’ve spent the last five weeks investigating, and as far as I can tell, it changed ten years ago. A person went back in time by a decade and altered his past. So, from that point on, our existences diverged. Your universe took a different route to mine.”

      “Just like that?”

      Ash nodded. “Just like that. No big flash or bang. I shouldn’t exist here – this is your universe – but I do. I’m here with Parvati because we’re somehow immune to the effects of the Time Spell.”

      “Time Spell? Someone cast a spell? This is truly weird.”

      Parvati interrupted. “Your lives are different, but your destinies will be the same.”

      Ashoka frowned. “Sorry, I don’t understand that.”

      Ash rolled his eyes and, looking around, grabbed pen and paper from the kitchen counter. Ashoka watched over his shoulder as Ash began to draw a line. “This is us. We are the same person. We are born, and then, when we are four, something happens.” He drew a thick dot, and two parallel branches emerging from the same line, one above the other, close but separate.

      “Year by year we live different lives, me along this top path, Timeline A, you along the bottom one, Timeline B. Then