Death and Night--A Star-Touched Novella by Roshani Chokshi

Author:Roshani Chokshi
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

5

DEATH

She faded with the dawn. One moment, her hand in mine. The next moment, I held nothing. When I finally left the grove, the sun had devoured the last vestiges of night and drenched the whole sky a sticky rose gold. I walked away half full of glee and half full of hurt. The best was feeling the ghost of her touch. The worst was knowing she’d simply touched me from exhaustion.

And then, a mind-numbing idea entered my thoughts. I hadn’t had the chance to ask whether I could visit her tonight. Or what gift she might want. Unease filled me.

This was …

This was awful.

In Naraka, Gupta greeted me with a steaming cup of soma. I downed the goblet in one swallow. My hounds circled my feet, ears raised and muzzles hopeful for some evil soul to chew on for a year.

“Once more, I am empty-handed,” I said to them, holding up my palms. The hounds slinked away, annoyed.

“You sound pitiful,” said Gupta. He crossed his arms. “You look pitiful too.”

“She didn’t say if I could come back.”

I told him what had happened. Gupta stroked his chin. For reasons I can only assume were meant to heighten his cognitive madness, he hovered upside down with his feet crossed and jacket flapping about his ears.

“She never said anything like … until next time? Or later I will see you?”

“No.”

I was pacing. Why was I pacing? It hit me, then, that I was anxious. Like I was hungry but wouldn’t taste the food. Thirsty, but nothing would slake me.

Gupta righted himself and lightly tapped my forehead. I batted away his hand.

“What are you doing?”

“Experimenting.”

“Can you experiment on someone else’s forehead?”

“I could. But I won’t.”

Tap tap tap.

“Gupta. I realize you cannot die. But there are many ways to make—”

“You’re smitten,” he said. Matter of fact. As if he was remarking on the phase of the moon.

“You’re a fool.”

“So are you. Love has made a fool of you,” he said. And then he frowned. “There’s a poem somewhere in there, but I am miserable at structure and rhythm, so I will spare you my attempt.”

“How merciful,” I said, crossing my arms. “And I am not smitten. I simply like order in my universe. And there’s no order because I don’t know where I’m supposed to be this evening.”

“Just go back to whatever it is that you used to do during the evening.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but the words caught in my throat. For a moment, I struggled to remember what it was that I used to do during the evening. But when I closed my eyes, I only saw her face. Day and night. That was the difference she left within me. Every day after that had become a lesson in seeing.

Night fell. I waited. I didn’t know what I expected. A message? Some sign? A flock of eagles attacking me and dragging me to her? But maybe I waited too long. Because when I finally arrived at her grove, it was empty.

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