“Those are definitely the audition stages,” said Rudy, glaring at the other contestants. “We gotta crush the competition.”
Just then, a boulder rolled up to them. It paused twenty feet away from Rudy. Craggy hollows opened in the middle of its surface, making what looked like a glowering face.
“Most of the competition,” amended Rudy.
The boulder slowly rolled away.
“Forget the competition,” said Brynne, pointing at the glass stage about a hundred feet away. “That’s our goal.”
Hovering above it, like a spotlight angling down, loomed the violet portal. Aru felt a lump in her throat when she looked at it. If they were lucky, it would be the last boundary between them and the labyrinth.
Aru stared at her empty hands. They were so close to the entrance, and yet Aru was no closer to getting her powers back.
“Those things do not look friendly,” said Rudy.
Aru snapped back to attention. The yaksha had said that the stage was well protected, but it hadn’t looked like it when they were standing in line. Now that they were past the threshold, she could see huge jaguars stalking around the stage. Were these the “living hurricanes”? Their eyes were nothing more than points of light, and their long teeth were as bright as polished knives.
“I could take them,” said Brynne, her wind-mace choker glowing.
“But the rest of us can’t,” said Mini sullenly. “And that’s not to mention who or whatever else around here might attack us if we try to make a run for the portal. Which means we’ve got to get through the audition round and onto that stage.”
“Rudy Rocks, Rudy Rocks, Rudy Rocks,” chanted Rudy happily until he caught Mini’s glare. “Rudy Rocks…but for the common good?”
Mini did not look amused.
“Except we don’t have any musical talent,” said Aru.
“Yet,” said Aiden, but he muttered it mostly to himself, his fingers tapping nervously against the strap of his backpack.
Brynne looked highly affronted. “I play the harp.”
True, thought Aru. But not well!
She did not express that thought telepathically, but Brynne scowled at her anyway.
“I tried violin once,” said Mini, frowning. “It gave me a nosebleed.”
Aru was on the verge of asking how in the world that was even possible when she heard a commotion behind them. Three important-looking yakshas stalked past them, followed by an entourage of a dozen assorted Otherworld creatures.
“YOU’LL GET YOUR TURN! MAKE WAY!” shouted one of the entourage members. “JUDGES COMING THROUGH!”
Judges? Uh-oh, thought Aru.
The yakshas’ padded-shoulder suits were identical except for the colors: one was bright gold, another a glowing silver, the third a dazzling array of glitter. All three judges wore sunglasses with elaborate frames that covered most of their dark-skinned faces. Some of the performers on the field tried to draw closer to them, but the entourage batted them away.
The judge in the silver suit shouted, “HOW IS LADY MOONLIGHT SUPPOSED TO JUDGE WITHOUT HER LUCKY TOE RING? HAS ANYONE SEEN IT?”
Half the entourage scattered across the field, dropping onto their bellies to inspect the grass.
The yaksha judge in the gold suit yelled, “THE LORD OF THE AFTERNOON DEMANDS THAT HIS ROOM BE SET AT SIXTY-SEVEN DEGREES PRECISELY, WITH A BOWL OF ONLY YELLOW STARBURSTS WAITING FOR HIM POST-JUDGMENT.”
Aru made a face. Only yellow Starbursts? Gross. Truly the worst flavor in existence.
“THE ARTIST FORMERLY KNOWN AS STARLIGHT DEMANDS TO KNOW WHY THEY CAN’T REMEMBER THE THING THEY WERE JUST THINKING OF!” hollered the glittery yaksha. “DID SOMEONE STEAL THEIR LAST THOUGHT?”
“You must be Rudy Rocks,” said a new voice.
Aru nearly jumped out of her skin when someone popped out of the ground. She was a petite milk-skinned yakshini with dark, liquid eyes framed by long lashes. She had a pert nose and an unsmiling mouth, and her black hair was cut in a severe bob around her chin. A pair of raven wings folded neatly on top of the sleeves of her red velvet suit and transformed into an embroidered feather pattern. An ID card on a lanyard around her neck read:
NATALIE D.
PROGRAM COORDINATOR, FINAL STAGE
“Yup, that’s us!” said Rudy proudly as he shouldered his way to the front of the group.
Natalie didn’t smile. Despite being shorter than all of them, she managed to look down her nose at the Potatoes. “The judges are very interested in your performance,” she said before pivoting on her heel. “Follow me to your tent, please.”
Natalie led them across the field. Soon they arrived at an unmarked tent on the eastern side. It was far larger on the inside than it was on the outside, and it reminded Aru of Brynne’s penthouse living room. Except it had very few furnishings. There was only a bathroom stall, a tall mirror, a closet, a couple of chairs, and a coffee table.
“Meals will arrive three times a day,” said Natalie, dropping a bunch of folders onto the coffee table. “If you have any dietary restrictions, please note that we do not care.”
She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a pen. “By signing this agreement, you acknowledge that you are willing to submit to the rules and the decision of the yaksha judges for the opportunity to perform on the Final Stage, the only talent show in the multiverse dedicated to marking the apocalypse with the performance of a lifetime to, well, end all lifetimes,” said Natalie calmly. “You hereby accept all risks inherent to performing in a doom-laden arena and release us from all liability in the event that you are—including but not limited to—maimed, transfigured, or reduced to ash.”
Aru, Brynne, and Mini wore matching looks of horror.
“Uh, maybe we can discuss—” Aiden started to say before Rudy grabbed the pen.
“YES,” he said.
“Never mind, then,” said Aiden.
Natalie pulled back her sleeve to examine her watch. “Your audition will be in approximately twelve hours.”
“Twelve?!” said Brynne. “But we’re running out of time!”
Natalie pinned them with an icy look that even Nikita would’ve admired. “We all are, contestant.”
The moment they were alone, Aiden plopped onto the couch and dropped his backpack between his feet. He tugged at his hair, his eyes wide and frantic. “We are so—”
“FORTUNATE!” said Rudy, hauling out all his crystals and setting them delicately on the table. “Okay, so I know you guys were just joking about not having any musical talent. What can you really do?”
“Well, I can play—”
“Aru, do not say nose guitar,” said Brynne.
Aru harrumphed.
The look of joy on Rudy’s face faded. “You really can’t play anything?”
Brynne opened her mouth.
“Bee, do not say harp,” said Mini.
Brynne closed her mouth. The three sisters glared at one another.
“If you don’t have talent, they’re going to throw us off the audition platform and we’ll never get to the Final Stage!” said Rudy.
“Don’t you think we know that?” demanded Aru. “Maybe we can do something else, like…interpretive dance?”