We Shall Be Monsters - Hardcover

Sim, Tara

 
9780593407424: We Shall Be Monsters
Hardcover
ISBN 10: 0593407423 ISBN 13: 9780593407424
Verlag: Nancy Paulsen Books, 2024

Inhaltsangabe

Frankenstein meets Indian mythology in this twisty, darkly atmospheric fantasy where the real horrors are not the monsters you face, but the ones you create.

“One of the most unique and intelligent books I’ve read. . . Alluring, completely enthralling, and masterfully rendered.” —Axie Oh, New York Times bestselling author of The Girl Who Fell Beneath the Sea

Kajal knows she is not a good person. If she were, she wouldn’t selfishly be risking her sister’s soul in a dangerous bid to bring her back to life. She would let Lasya rest in peace—but Kajal cannot stand the horror of living without her.

As Kajal prepares for the resurrection, the worst happens: Her sister’s soul warps into a bhuta—a murderous, wraith-like spirit—and Kajal gets sentenced to death for her sister’s rampage. There seems little hope of escape until two strangers offer to free her. The catch: She must resurrect the kingdom’s fallen crown prince to aid a growing rebellion against a tyrannical usurper. Desperate, Kajal rushes to complete her end of the deal . . . only to discover that the boy she’s resurrected, Tav, is not the crown prince.

Now Kajal—prickly, proud, admirer of the scientific method—must team up with Tav—stubborn, reticent, and fonder of swords than of books—to find the real crown prince. With only a scalpel and her undead dog, Kutaa, at her side, Kajal must work fast before her mistake is exposed or Lasya’s bhuta turns its murderous fury on the person truly responsible for her death: Kajal herself.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Tara Sim is the author of The Dark Gods trilogy, the Scavenge the Stars duology, and the Timekeeper trilogy. She can typically be found wandering the wilds of the Bay Area, California. When she’s not chasing cats or lurking in bookstores, she writes books about magic, murder, and mayhem.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Chapter Two
Five months later

The sound of a snapping twig forced her head up.

Kajal was elbow-­deep in the dirt, a position she now lamented as she thought of what all could be stalking the countryside at night. Rakshasas and wild animals—­and, worse, other people—­had proven troublesome in recent months.

Especially as more and more of the Usurper King’s soldiers prowled the roadways.

She strained to hear anything in the darkness. Breathing, rustling, the slide of fur or skin over branches. But there was only the faint breeze through the leaves, her own racing pulse. And a strange odor, like murky, stagnant water.

Keep going, she urged herself.

Kajal flexed her sore fingers and grabbed the end of the burlap sack she’d unearthed. Clouds rolled across the sky, casting shadows over the town and the woodland on its outskirts. Perfect conditions in which to dig up the body.

But she’d forgotten how heavy it was. When it was halfway exhumed, she sat on her heels to catch her breath and sigh over the state of her hands. She had a tool this time—­a small, rusty shovel she’d stolen from one of the local farms—­but that hadn’t prevented dirt from digging into every crevice and crease of her brown skin.

She was readying herself for another heave when voices brought her up short, followed by the crunch of boots on detritus.

Who’d be senseless enough to go strolling through the woods at night? she thought. Barring herself, of course.

Kajal searched the trees until she spotted a couple of figures moving amongst the scraggly trunks. A shaft of moonlight broke through the weak edge of a cloud and shone upon the hilts of their swords.

Biting back a curse, Kajal ducked lower. None of the villagers owned swords; these were either strangers passing through or, if she was exceptionally unlucky, soldiers.

She debated slipping away. Her right foot shifted, ready to creep off into the night, a habit she was on her way to perfecting.

Keep going.

Kajal took a fortifying breath. She wasn’t going to abandon her experiment so easily, not when she’d gone through so much trouble for it.

Not when she had so little time to complete it.

The figures stopped and leaned against the trees. The smell of tobacco and betel nut reached her nose before one of them lit a match and ignited a clay chillum.
“How long do we need to stay here?” A man, his voice a weary tenor.

“As long as it takes,” said his companion, her tone cheerier. “What, you’re not liking our tour of the countryside? Take a moment to enjoy the scenery once in a while.”

The man inhaled from his chillum and exhaled a smoky sigh. “I’ll enjoy being done with our search.”

“The good news is I think we’re close.”

“How do you know?”

“I have a feeling.”

“Wonderful,” the man muttered. “Because your feelings have been so reliable in the past.”

The woman scoffed. “We get chased by a chimera one time . . .”

Kajal peered through the foliage to get a better look. Their clothing wasn’t the light kurtas and trousers common in western Dharati or the blue-­and-­marigold uniforms of the Usurper’s highest-­ranking soldiers, but rather the thicker salwar kameezes of the northeast, plain and loose for riding. They both carried curved talwars on their backs over long-­sleeved, skirted cloaks, still dusty from the road.

Whatever they were searching for, they had certainly traveled a long way to find it. But Kajal couldn’t think of anything important enough in this tiny rural northwestern town that would attract people like them.

It was why she’d chosen Kinara in the first place: Far less chance of strangers passing through. Less chance of being interrupted—­or discovered.

The travelers kept smoking and mumbling about inane things like the weather, how uncomfortable their beds were, the bug bites they had collected on their journey. Kajal curled her fingers into the burlap sack and glared in their direction.

Hurry up and leave already if you hate this place so much, she thought. I have work to do.

The breeze came back to tickle her cheek, bringing with it that scent of murky, stagnant water.

“What is that?”

She lifted her head to discover another shadow-­draped figure standing between the trees.

Kajal’s instinct was to call it a rakshasa—­a demon—­but that wasn’t quite right. The creature was both too ordinary and too outlandish for such a word.

It was a buck, tall and strong and pelted in tawny fur. But the antlers growing from its skull were cracked and rust red, its eyes dark and weeping black liquid. That same viscous substance dripped from its lolling mouth. It staggered forward as a guttural keen left its throat, like the scraping of metal.

The travelers immediately reached for their weapons. Kajal reached for the shovel, little to no good it would do her.

“What is it?” the woman demanded. “Demon?”

“No, I think . . . I think it’s blighted.”

The woman swore, and Kajal tried not to echo her. She had never seen the blight infect animals before.

Life and death were always in flux, kept in careful balance so that one could not overpower the other. The blight—­a worsening sickness that spread in unpredictable waves of black rotted fields, now seemingly jumping into any weak living thing that made room for it—­was the cost of imbalance. One that spelled the gradual yet undeniable tilt toward catastrophe.

Kajal did not have time for catastrophe. Her sister’s corpse was waiting for her in the east. If the blight reached Lasya’s body first, like it had this poor creature . . . 

Her throat tightened the way her hand did around the shovel’s handle. Stop it, she told herself, cutting her thoughts off at the root before they could spiral. Fear would only delay her further. What-­ifs won’t solve anything.

The travelers flanked the diseased buck. Its mouth yawned wider, revealing teeth sharpened to fangs. With a quick turn, it made to sink those fangs into one of the traveler’s throats, but the other came in and pushed his sword between its ribs. The creature gave another of those strange dissonant cries before folding toward the earth.

Even in death, its eyes were open. They were the absolute black of the night sky beyond its stars; it felt like tipping into a hole you’d never crawl out of. The dirt soaked with its blood formed dark tendrils, like veins sprouting from a sick heart. Kajal worried about them infecting her half-­buried experiment.

The man cleaned his sword on his sleeve and sheathed it, giving the creature a disgusted yet pitying look. “Let’s burn it before it spreads.”

Kajal frowned and watched one of them gather dry brush and twigs while the other dug a shallow firebreak and coughed over the smell of the buck. Mere travelers wouldn’t carry swords like theirs or remain so calm when facing something as abnormal as a blighted animal.

Unless they weren’t mere travelers, but demon hunters.

They’d mentioned they were searching for something. Maybe they were searching for someone.

Kajal shivered while they lit the kindling before they turned to leave, the man complaining he’d have to burn his shirt....

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Verlag
Nancy Paulsen Books
Erscheinungsdatum
2024
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0593407423
ISBN 13 
9780593407424
Einband
Gebundene Ausgabe
Anzahl der Seiten
400
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
gpsr@libri.de
gpsr@libri.de

Friedensallee 273
Hamburg
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Deutschland