Nyra Dubey is dead.
Run over by a bus, she lies on a grey road, fuming inside, like the noxious fumes outside. The infamous vigilante—The Delhi Belle—reduced to an accident statistic? Surely, this was not her fate.
A fortnight ago, she would have not only settled for, but embraced a violent death. Today, death is a colossal inconvenience, holding her back from enjoying her newly-acquired fridge-sized boyfriend.
Death hath no fury like a woman dead, she thinks, plotting an explosive vengeance upon death’s ethereal masters for the loss of love. A vengeance delayed, as she’s labelled a Wednesday Soul, carried off by a monstrous Eledactyl (an Elephant-Pterodactyl), and then kidnapped by the biggest, ugliest eagle she has ever seen to the mysterious Big Ball.
Unanswered questions race through her head as Nyra quickly learns that souls are made of light, that she is in the midst of a destructive plot to destroy the life after life, and that the quickest way to escape from an Eledactyl is by rubbing its bum from the inside.
Compared to death, she thinks, life is a breeze.