Goddess of Gotham (6 page)

‘Urk!’

Instantly, she spat it out. Her tongue was tingling, her taste buds dancing. Actually, this stuff was not so bad. She took another swig.

Piling a plate with all the food she could find, Kumari decided to explore some more. She tucked the bottle of brown liquid under her arm. It made her feel curiously alert. The next room along
turned out to be Ma’s bedroom. She could tell by the outsize clothing draped over every surface. Ma certainly had unusual taste, as well as a penchant for fancy footwear. Kumari slipped her
foot into a silver shoe, its sole stacked and squishy She hopped up and down a couple of times, admiring the fluorescent flash on one side.

Spying a pink, sparkly cap she jammed it down on her head. Rummaging through the piles for more, she unearthed a long scarf made of feathers. Adding a frilly jacket, she gazed at herself in the
wardrobe mirror. The sleeves hung a foot from her hands; the cap obscured half her face. Pleased with the effect Kumari began to twirl, faster and faster. Slithering down, the feather scarf tripped
her up and she fell backwards on to the bed. She seemed to sink forever into its soft embrace, its aged springs sighing soggily. Compared to the unyielding wooden beds in the kingdom this was a
positive invitation to play. Scrambling to her knees, Kumari began to bounce, higher and higher. Whooping with delight she flung herself around, Badmash flapping beside her.

All of a sudden, she noticed that Badmash was no longer there.

‘Badmash? Where are you?’

She found him trembling in a corner.

He was staring at a table half-hidden by a screen. Upon it sat a candle, carved into the shape of a skull. Adorning it, a crown of leaves. Before it, a dish of incense. Kumari wrinkled her nose.
It smelt resinous, familiar. The whole arrangement sat on a golden cloth draped across the table.

‘It’s OK, Badmash,’ she cooed. ‘It’s only an altar.’

So they had altars in the World Beyond. Which meant ceremonial magic. Maybe it was not so different to the kingdom after all. Only Time would tell.

The sound of the front door opening sent Kumari scuttling back to her room, shedding Ma’s clothes. Not two seconds after she had shut her door, it opened again.

‘Hi,’ said a friendly voice. Two voices in fact. Two smiling faces stared at her, almost identical in every respect.

‘I’m LeeLee,’ said one.

‘And I’m CeeCee,’ said the other.

Kumari gawped at them. She had never seen two girls look so alike. They didn’t look to be much older than her which made them Ma’s daughters, she would guess. There was a resemblance
to Ma in their eyes and in their mouths although their hairstyles were more sober, tied back neatly behind their heads.

‘Oooooh, cuuuute,’ said CeeCee, suddenly spotting Badmash. Too late, Kumari realised he was still perched upon the bed. Sweeping him up in her arms, CeeCee cuddled him as LeeLee
petted him. Or maybe it was the other way round. Kumari felt thoroughly confused. Still, they appeared to like Badmash, which was a great relief. She had been so afraid they would refuse to let him
stay. Not everyone liked small, scruffy birds.

While CeeCee carried Badmash, LeeLee took Kumari by the hand. Together, they lead her through into the room dominated by the talking box. At the sight of its screen, Kumari’s head began to
ache. Patting the long, squashy seat in front of it, the girls gestured to her to sit down.

‘You hungry?’ asked LeeLee, opening her mouth and pointing inside.

Kumari shook her head. Goodness knows what they would produce.

‘OK,’ said LeeLee and sat down beside her. CeeCee sat on the other side, stroking an almost comatose with pleasure Badmash.

One of the girls pressed a button and instantly the talking box sprang to life. Within seconds, Kumari was once again mesmerised, lost to all but its magic. The World Beyond certainly was a
curious place. Whatever next?

Sonny Hernandez skulked by the kitchen door. His mom refused to give him any cash.

‘Not until you mend that door,’ she scolded.

‘Yes, Ma,’ he sighed.

‘And another thing, Sonny. I don’t want you bringing those boys here no more.’

‘What boys?’

‘You think I don’t know? I got eyes everywhere, son.’

Sonny gave the door a surreptitious kick. It was not fair, the way she treated him. Always on his case about something. She didn’t treat his sisters that way. Just because they were twins,
it didn’t make them special. They were in there now, cooing over the weird kid with the ugly bird. Kid didn’t even speak English. Just sat there in her funny clothes.

‘Where’s that kid from, anyway?’ he muttered.

‘You leave her alone,’ said his mother. ‘That child’s been through enough. Running through the parade like that. Girl could have been killed. No one’s any idea
where she’s from or if she has any folks. Makes you wonder how she got here, her and that darn bird.’

‘They don’t know where she’s from?’

‘Nope. She just appeared, all on her own.’

‘What, like from nowhere?’

An idea was forming in Sonny’s mind.

‘Something like that,’ said Ma. ‘It’s a mystery, that’s what it is. You know, like on that TV show. That guy who suddenly appears. Can’t remember nothing, not
even his own name. What’s that thing he’s got called? Amn . . . something. I forget.’

Sonny hung back as his mother waddled through into the lounge, in her arms boxes of pizza which she proceeded to hand round.

‘Sonny, come get your pizza.’

‘Just washing my hands, Ma.’

Had Ma paused for thought, she would have considered this odd. She was far too busy, however, sinking her teeth into a Hot One. Seizing his chance, Sonny snuck to the phone.

‘Uh, yeah,
Daily News?
Got a story for you guys. You get the details for dough, man. You know what I’m saying?’

Sonny Hernandez was not known as Ratboy for nothing. He combined a rodent’s low cunning with its fondness for a free lunch. His latest scam was selling stories, a nice little sideline. So
far, he had ratted on an ex-soccer star now peddling dope, and the sleazebag trainer of the local swimming squad. As he waited to be transferred to the news desk, a smile stole across Sonny’s
face. This story was definitely worth a few bucks, he could feel it in his bones. Sell out that kid and he could pay off what he owed. Sonny began to hum under his breath.

Suddenly, life was looking good.

KUMARI’S JOURNAL

(TOP SECRET. FOR MY EYES ONLY.

EVERYONE ELSE KEEP OUT!

THIS MEANS YOU!)

The World Beyond

First Night

It’s so noisy here I cannot sleep. Those things with wheels rush up and down all night. I can hear people shouting in the street and other sounds. I have no idea what
they are. The light shines in through the window so brightly I can see to write – far brighter than moonlight. Weird thing is, I can’t even see the moon or stars. I need to find the moon to
work how long I’ve been here.

If I can work out how long I’ve been here already, I’ll know how much of my year and a day I have left. But there doesn’t appear to be a moon. Instead, the sky is a kind of
orange. At least Badmash is asleep. He looks so tired it makes me think he must have travelled far which means I must also have come a very long way from home. The scariest thing is not knowing
where I am.

These people seem to be friendly enough although I don’t like the way that boy stares at me. I think he must be Ma’s son, the brother of those girls who look the same. Except for
the boy, they are all very kind, although I suppose it could be a plot. They could be working with those men who snatched me. At least those guards with guns have got them now so they can’t
take me again.

I don’t think the people here are working with those men, though. I trust Ma – she’s a good person. She has gentle eyes and a kind face. She reminds me of
the Ayah a little bit, like a big, soft cushion (in a nice way). I like her hair – it’s mad. And her clothes are something else. But I wish I could understand what she says. The words
just don’t make sense. The RHM would feel so smug – ‘You should have listened,’ that’s what he’d say. Yeah, right. Accessing the Gift of Tongues.’ I mean,
it didn’t seem exactly relevant before all this.

I wish I was back home. Everything here is really strange. Even the food they eat is bizarre. Instead of plates, they seem to use boxes to eat from and all the food appears to come from
packages. I’d give anything for a bowl of spiced lentils and rice. Or maybe the Ayah’s special momos. Tonight we all sat looking at the talking box and ate some kind of bread and cheese
thing they called ‘peetza.’ Do people watch the box every night? Or do they read or talk or practise rituals? The talking box is pretty cool, although I still can’t work out how
they get the people in it.

There certainly seems to be some powerful magic in the World Beyond – I don’t know yet just how strong. They might even be using some now to keep me here, although I’m sure
I would feel it. Plus I have my amulet back – that must be doing something to protect me. Or it would do if I could only remember how to activate it.

It’s not like I can test it by trying to escape, seeing as I don’t even know where I am, right now. What’s the point of running away if you don’t know where
you’re heading? I don’t know a single person in the World Beyond so it’s not like
there’s anyone to help me, anyway. I did try with that king guy but it was pretty
clear he didn’t recognise a fellow royal. The best thing to do is sit tight and think. At least, that’s what Mamma would say. I can see her picture now on the pillow beside me. I miss
her more than ever.

CHAPTER 4

K
umari tiptoed into Ma’s bedroom, casting a last, nervous glance through the living room door. Blue light flickered from the talking box.
Poking above the couch in front of it, she could see the backs of three heads. Ma and the two girls were watching a small, yellow boy called Bart scrawl in chalk across a blackboard. The angry
young man had left some time before. Now she had her chance.

Tucked in her pocket, Badmash snoozed, exhausted from his endeavours. Kumari refused to be parted from him, not even to take a bath. It was where she was supposed to be right now, immersed in
the tub Ma had filled for her. Instead, she was here, in Ma’s room, standing before the altar. Holding her breath, she stood before it, feeling her throat tighten and fill. If she could only
call upon the gods to help, they would get her out of here. But she had tried so many times and each time she had failed.

‘OM TARE TUTTARE TURE SOHA

OM TARE TUTTARE TURE SOHA

OM TARE TUTTARE TURE SOHA . . . ’

Once again she was chanting, eyes closed, body swaying. Had it worked on the mountainside or not? She couldn’t tell. She had smelt Mamma’s perfume, seen the royal ring on her finger.
And yet Mamma’s touch had felt
different,
somehow. Colder. Less tender. Of course it would feel different. Mamma was different, for heaven’s sake. Caught halfway between two
states. No longer the Mamma she once was.

Kumari opened her eyes again. The room remained unchanged. No divine presence cast its light upon the heaps of clothes. No holy wind stirred up the dusty air. She was quite alone.

‘Help me, Mamma,’ she whispered, fingering the portrait in her pocket. There was no answering murmur.

Sinking to her knees, Kumari rested her head against the table. Her cheek rubbed on the golden cloth, ruffling it up. As it did so, she spotted something poking out from underneath, the edge of
a wooden chest from which blue satin spilled. She pulled at the satin, revealing a cloak lined in deeper blue, an indigo softness scattered with silver stars that matched a glittering moon on the
front. Kumari stroked the silky fabric, sensing the power steeped in every fibre. As she wrapped the cloak around her, a feathered stick fell from its folds.

Kumari raised it in the air, swishing it backwards and forwards. It made a satisfying sound. She could do some damage with this.

‘Hey! Careful with that!’ said a voice from behind.

That static filled her ears again, like a radio seeking the right station. Kumari whirled round to see Ma standing by the door.

‘You be careful,’ Ma repeated. ‘That’s no ordinary feather duster. And the thing you’re wearing, that’s my ritual cloak. You don’t want to mess with
that.’

The static cleared; Ma’s words began to coalesce and make sense.

‘S-sorry,’ stuttered Kumari.

Ma’s eyes bulged like a bullfrog’s. ‘Say what? You speak English?’

She advanced upon Kumari, seizing her by the shoulders.

‘Come on,’ she commanded. ‘Say something else.’

Kumari gazed at Ma’s mouth, marvelling at the sounds it made. She was still tuning in to this language. Unpractised as she was in the divine arts, Kumari was a goddess, nonetheless. The
Gift of Tongues was her birthright. But understanding was one thing. It was much harder to get the words out. She thought for a moment then a smile broke across her face. She remembered something
from the talking box, from the yellow boy.

‘Eat my shorts,’ she said.

Ma threw back her head and guffawed.

‘You are one of a kind, girl!’

Gently, she freed the feather duster from Kumari’s fingers and unwound the cloak from her shoulders.

‘You don’t want to go playing with things you don’t understand.’

In response, Kumari raised her right hand and extended her little finger. In one swift, chopping motion she sliced the feather duster’s handle in half. It was a simple trick, part magic,
part martial art. Ma let out a yelp.

‘That’s my hoodoo duster you broke!’

Kumari took the two halves, pursed her lips and blew upon them. She handed the duster to Ma. It was back in one piece.

Ma’s eyebrows nearly hit the ceiling.

‘You some kind of witch, girl?’

Kumari smiled and shook her head.

‘I . . . goddess,’ she said.

‘Yeah, goddess. Right.’