book from my pocket and flipped to the right page:
Petni, Shakchunni, and Other Ghosts of the Female Persuasion
Residence: Tamarind or similar trees. Unless died by drowning, in which case, live in bodies of water like lakes or ponds.
Desire: To capture a woman or girl’s soul and trap it in a tree trunk. Then to live in her body and take over her life. Souls are forfeit for the taking when a victim turns at the sound of their name. Also, to eat a lot of fish, but avoid paying for said fish. Plus, bizarre interest in riddles and logical puzzles. Riddles are the only thing ghosts treat with honor. Also, they cannot resist a challenge.
Anatomy: Feet often face backward. Additionally, have extendible and/or flammable arms and legs. Often caught out when they use said extendible arms to pluck a lemon from a tree instead of walking out to the tree. Alternately, when they light their feet on fire to cook the morning rice, having been too lazy to obtain proper firewood in a timely and humanlike manner.
Vulnerabilities: Can only call a human being up to two times. Also, iron and steel are terrifying to them. They’re not terribly bright, and so have been tricked into being trapped into small containers and the like.
As I closed the book, I heard a chilling, nasal voice. I was right—it was a lady ghost. “Should we drink your blood or catch your soul, child? Maybe both! Let’s live! Be wild!”
I froze in place, my eyes squeezed shut. Because I knew perfectly well that looking at a ghost face-to-face while it was calling me would make my soul forfeit for the taking. I turned around, my back toward the direction of the ghostly voices.
“Kiranmala! Come! Why do you loiter here in a land not your own?” a ghost cackled, making annoying kissy noises in the air.
A different voice screeched, “Seeing Lal is her only wish! But listen, yo, we need some fish!”
Ugh, this nonsense about Lal again. I wanted to scream at them to shut up, but I knew not to fall for the bait. The voices were coming from all around, it seemed. Each ghost only had two tries to get me to turn around, but how could I know which one of them had called how many times?
But wait a minute, I had some backstage help. “Neel?” I hissed under my breath. “Are you still there? Can you see the ghost ladies? Can you tell me which one’s called me how many times?”
When Neel didn’t answer, I hissed out his name again. One of the petni must have heard me, because she shrieked, “Who do you whisper to, oh princess dear? Just turn and tell me! Have no fear!”
I felt the panic rising in me. I couldn’t hear Neel’s voice anymore, so he wasn’t going to be any help. I peered into the pond to see if I could see his reflection. But in the dim evening light, all I could vaguely see was my own pinched face. But also … wait … I could see the wispy shadows of six, no, seven ghosts behind me—their scrawny, sari-clad bodies, their balding heads, their hunched backs, their backward feet, the radish-like front teeth dangling from their mouths.
The sight of the scary ghost ladies freaked me out so much, I didn’t even think twice. I, like every other kid in the multiverse, had read the story about the kid who killed Medusa by looking in a reflective surface. Looking ahead of me, I aimed my bow up and back. Using only the reflection in the pond as a guide, I took aim at the shadowy figures, firing my arrows over and over. Unfortunately, I was no Perseus. Not only did I not seem to be able to kill the ghosts, my arrows seemed to be tickling them!
“That’s so nice, where your arrow hit! Aim another at my armpit!”
“Princess! Princess! Hit me here! I’m super ticklish by my ear!” they taunted, giggling and laughing.
I fired over my shoulder like that again and again, my moon-magicked quiver refilling with arrows so I could never run out. But what good was it if all I was doing was tickling some obnoxious ghost ladies? Oh, how was I going to get through this test already?
“A riddle!” I blurted out, remembering what K. P. Das wrote about ghosts loving riddles. “If I can solve a riddle, will you go away?”
I heard the ghostly ladies whispering among themselves, debating this option.
“If