Vicious Spirits Page 5

  That did not sound good. “So, like a ghost realm? What could be connecting it to the world of the living?”

  “That’s what I’m here to find out. It’s already affecting things. Ghosts are appearing in this world. And my abilities are not working the way they should. Earlier today, I was following one of these ghosts that slipped through and a mortal was able to see me when I should have been cloaked.”

  “Ghosts have been able to come to the mortal realm before,” Junu pointed out.

  “Yes, temporarily, and in places where the boundaries between the world of the living and the world Between are thin. But if a ghost spends significant time in the mortal world, they could have negative effects on the living.”

  “So they have a little fun in the mortal realm, haunt a few people they hold grudges against. Why is that so bad?”

  “If they stay too long, they could have undue influence on the psyche of the living. They could cause those in the mortal realm to go slowly mad, with fatal consequences,” Hyuk said. “It would upset the balance of life and death.”

  Junu didn’t like the ominous sound of Hyuk’s words, but still, he had no idea what this had to do with him. “Why are you coming to me with this?”

  “I don’t know much, but I can tell that the source of the tear is currently coming from near here. It’s like a thread of energy connecting the two worlds.”

  A thread of energy near here. One that had ties to someone who might have recently entered the ghost realm. Junu’s heart dropped as his mind went to a certain former gumiho who’d recently lost her mother and her fox bead in a horrific incident. But he kept it to himself and just shrugged. “Sorry, I haven’t seen any thread of energy lately.”

  “You forget, I know you better than most. I can tell you know something.”

  Hyuk had never played along with Junu’s games. Something he’d never really liked about the reaper.

  “I suppose I could offer my services. After all, I’ve been living in Seoul for a few years now and it’s my business to find out information.”

  “You should of course tell me anything you hear,” Hyuk said. “But in the meantime, you should be careful. There are things in the Between other than ghosts and restless spirits. Supernatural souls that are trapped.”

  Junu’s heart skipped a beat. He sucked in a sharp breath. “She’s trapped by multiple forms of magic. There’s no way for her to get free.”

  “If there’s a way into a trap, there’s always a way out. No matter how completely you believe you’ve sealed it.”

  “She won’t get free,” Junu insisted. “I was promised.”

  “I hope so, for your sake. I’d hate to have someone like that free, knowing they’d come after me the way she’ll most definitely come after you.”

  “I’ll handle my own problems,” Junu said. “I don’t need your advice.”

  “You didn’t use to think that.”

  “Well, times change, as you well know.”

  Hyuk nodded, accepting Junu’s rejection in stride. Something that was equal parts admirable and frustrating about the reaper. “I hope you take this as I meant it. For old times’ sake.”

  “Sure,” Junu said before turning away. “Do you really think—” he started to say, turning back again, but the reaper was gone. He was talking to no one. Junu ran his hands roughly over his face, like he was trying to rub away the conversation.

  He hadn’t seen Hyuk in over a century. But the jeoseung saja had tied his feelings into a complicated knot. He knew that the reaper did not present himself to those in the mortal world lightly. That’s why the jeoseung saja’s warnings worried Junu so much.

  Slowly, he started back to the apartment and stopped halfway up the steps as Miyoung descended the stairs carrying a bag of trash. Despite the thousands of concerns winding through his thoughts, he noticed that she looked worn out. Junu didn’t like the pale pallor of her cheeks.

  “I can take that,” he said, reaching for the trash bag, but she pulled back.

  “Kkeojyeo,” she said through gritted teeth. But the threat was tempered by the fatigue in her voice.

  This close, he saw the bags under her eyes that he hadn’t noticed before. She was stuck in some limbo state that he’d never heard of in his centuries of existence. A gumiho who’d lost her fox bead and had gone over a hundred days without feeding on human energy, yet still walked the earth. He wouldn’t have believed it if Miyoung wasn’t standing in front of him. Pale and disheveled, sweat beading her brow, but definitely whole and alive. One thing was for sure: Junu knew that Miyoung wasn’t fully human. She was still tied to the supernatural world.

  Sometimes he wanted to ask her why she did it. Why did she sacrifice her bead to save her dying mother? And now Yena was dead anyway, and the bead was gone with her. Was it worth it?

  Then Junu remembered what Hyuk had told him and studied Miyoung more closely. Was there anything about her, any aura that might be a sign that she was somehow connected to the Between? Would Junu even recognize the sign if he saw it?

  “How are you feeling?” Junu ventured.

  “Like there’s an annoying bug that keeps buzzing around me. And no matter how much I swat at him, he doesn’t go away.”

  “Ha-ha,” Junu said dryly. “You’re spending too much time around Somin. Your insults are getting very barbed.”

  “You’re insufferable.”

  “Miyoung-ah,” he started. “Let me help you.” He wasn’t sure if he was just talking about the trash bags now.

  “No,” Miyoung said, her voice hard. “I don’t understand why you’re still here. You pretended like you cared if I got my bead back, but the whole time you were only looking at your bottom line. Well, you got paid, and all you had to do was betray me and keep me from finding Jihoon and my mother until it was too late and my father already had them both.”

  “That’s not fair,” Junu said. “I was only doing what Yena asked me to do. I had no idea that your father wanted to hurt either of you.” He started to reach out, but she gave a low warning growl in the back of her throat, a habit she hadn’t lost from her more predatory days, and swatted his hand away.

  Then she paused. “What have you been up to?”

  “What?” Junu asked, unsure how to react to the suspicion on her face.

  “You have the energy of death on you,” she said quietly. “Like gi that’s rotted.”

  “You can still taste gi?” Junu asked.

  “Just answer my question,” Miyoung said.

  “I don’t know,” Junu said, shrugging. He didn’t want to reveal his conversation with Hyuk just yet, not until he’d done more research on his own. “I don’t always interact with the most savory clients. Maybe you’re tasting one of them.”

  Miyoung stared at Junu another second before she turned away. “Whatever,” she said. But as she started down the steps, she stumbled. Her ankle rolled. She cried out in surprise, and the bag went flying from her hands as she tumbled down the rest of the stairs. Junu raced forward as she came to a jarring stop at the base of the stairs.

  Bruises mottled her arms, and the skin of her palms was torn where she’d tried to stop her downward momentum.

  It was unsettling to see. A girl who used to be an immortal now lying in a pile of bruises and cuts.

  All this pain just so she didn’t have to feel the guilt of devouring a few souls.

  Was it worth it? Junu wondered again.

  7

  AS MIYOUNG WALKED through the forest, she knew it was happening again. Another lucid dream. She stood beside the maehwa tree where she’d placed a plaque in memory of her mother. The tree was missing its leaves, and the air felt cold with winter even though Miyoung knew that in the real world the heat of summer cooked the city.

  She started looking for her mother before she heard the movement in the trees. The rustle of lea
ves echoed through her ears like thunder.

  “Eomma?” Her voice shook. “Eomma, if you’re here, then say something.”

  There was a snap of a twig, a flash of shapes, and Miyoung spun to face whoever emerged from the forest. There was nothing there. And when a hand dropped onto her shoulder, she jumped with a scream.

  “Why do you keep coming back?” Yena asked, concern lacing the question.

  “I don’t mean to,” Miyoung said, breathy from the scare. “Where are we? In a dream?”

  “Not entirely.” Yena hummed and didn’t continue.

  “Then where?” Miyoung asked, frustration pushing away the fear that had filled her.

  “You cannot keep coming here,” Yena said instead. “It’s not safe. They know.”

  “Who knows?” Miyoung surveyed the area for this mysterious they.

  “Leave.” Yena stepped away, her form becoming transparent, bleeding into the maehwa tree behind her. “Don’t come back.”

  “Eomma, wait.” Miyoung stepped forward, but it felt like she was walking through molasses and she couldn’t reach her mother in time. “Don’t leave. Tell me what you mean. Who knows?”

  Yena didn’t reply. Her skin became pale, then gray, as her form joined the tree. And then she wasn’t there at all.

  “Eomma!” Miyoung called, trying to will her mother back.

  Her voice echoed into the forest. A place that was a dream but wasn’t at the same time. She felt cold down to her bones, like she was somewhere she wasn’t supposed to be. Like it was rejecting her, and if she didn’t leave, she had no idea what would become of her.

  8

  SOMIN HATED WAITING, but it’s all they could do once they’d rushed Miyoung to the hospital. The doctors had let Jihoon sit with her, mostly because he stubbornly refused to budge. But Somin and Junu had been relegated to the large waiting area where dozens of chairs sat in rows facing a large television tuned to a news channel.

  She pretended to watch the screen but absorbed nothing that the news anchors were discussing.

  The anxious monotony of waiting was broken as Changwan hurried in, ran to the desk. Probably babbled some nonsensical question.

  He was directed to the waiting area and rushed over. “Somin-ah, Hyeong, what happened?”

  “They’re still waiting for some blood work to come back,” Somin said. She could practically feel the waves of nervous energy emanating off Changwan. He didn’t deal with crisis well.

  “Changwan-ah, why don’t you sit and wait with us?” Junu said. His voice was soft and calm. One might even call it comforting, if one weren’t Somin.

  “I’d rather do something,” Changwan said. “Do you want coffee?”

  “No,” Somin said at the same time Junu said, “Sure.”

  Junu gave her a hard look that seemed to imply she was being difficult. She wanted to stubbornly hold her ground, but as Changwan looked nervously between them, she realized it wasn’t about the coffee to her friend. It was about being able to do something instead of sitting and waiting. The very thing she had been lamenting two minutes earlier.

  “Sure,” Somin said. “I could use something to drink.”

  “On it.” Changwan took off in search of the caffeine he obviously did not need.

  “Look, I know you’re worried—” Junu started to say.

  “Then you should leave me alone, because you’re not going to help with my nerves,” Somin said, turning to find another section to sit in.

  “I get it that you don’t like me, but I’m worried about Miyoung, too. I have a right to be here.”

  “Oh yeah?” Somin asked, spinning on him. “You have a right to be around a person whose life you upended with your secrets and lies not four months ago?”

  “That’s not fair. I thought I was helping her. There were more players in that game than I’d anticipated,” Junu said, running his hands through his hair. It stood on end, and for the first time, Somin realized he didn’t look perfectly done up. His shirt was untucked, his hair now mussed, and there was a line of worry that sat between his brows.

  Still, Somin refused to soften toward him. “I find it hard to believe a guy who claims to be able to find out anything had no idea that Miyoung’s father was back and what he intended. You could have warned her. You could have protected them both.”

  “Just because I can find things out doesn’t mean I go looking for information that is none of my business. I just do what I get paid to do.”

  Somin shook her head. “Whatever. Do what you want, just don’t bother me.”

  “What exactly have I done to you to make you hate me so much?” Junu asked, throwing his hands in the air.

  Somin let out a derisive laugh. “Didn’t I just tell you?”

  “No, you were like this to me way before anything really happened with Miyoung. You’ve had it out for me since the moment you laid eyes on me.” Junu took a step closer, his eyes focused, like he was piecing parts of her together.

  “I just don’t like people like you.”

  “People like me?” Junu let his lips quirk in an amused smile, and Somin wanted nothing more than to wipe it from his face. “You mean the devilishly handsome kind?”

  “Well, the devilish kind at least,” Somin said.

  “You have to admit that we’d have fun,” Junu said with a cajoling grin.

  Somin made a gagging noise. “Trust me. I don’t go for your type.”

  “What type is that?”

  “The type that’s all smoke and no substance. You want people to think you’re so hot and mysterious, but I bet behind all of your shine and smiles, there’s nothing to back up your big talk.”

  Somin was used to her words hitting home. They were how she kept bullies in line at school. After all, she knew Junu was like the kids who stole lunch money from first-years, someone who was so insecure that he buried it in bravado. But one poke and they deflated like an old balloon.

  Instead of the effect she was hoping for, Junu’s smile spread as he leaned a little closer. “You should just admit that you’re intrigued by what could be behind the smoke. Or are you afraid of getting burned?”

  “I’m afraid of getting emphysema,” Somin said, crossing her arms. Refusing to let him see how he affected her even as her pulse raced.

  Changwan came around the corner, carefully balancing three overfilled cups of coffee, and Somin latched on to the excuse to turn her back on Junu’s unflinching grin. Changwan must have gotten the coffee from one of the vending machines, because none of them had lids, which was a huge mistake, as she could see some of the coffee had already splashed and stained his shirt.

  “Changwan-ah,” Somin said. “You shouldn’t walk so fast while carrying these.”

  “I didn’t want them to get cold,” he said, wincing as more hot coffee splashed onto his bare hand, already pink from previous spills.

  Before Somin could reach out, Junu had deftly plucked two cups from Changwan’s hands and held one out to her. She debated not taking it. Or better yet, upending it on him. But she knew it would be a childish move, so she took it, being careful to make sure her hand never came in contact with his.

  She blew on it, but even so, when she sipped it, the coffee was a bit too hot and she let out a hiss as it went down.

  “Careful, you don’t want to get burned,” Junu said, watching her over the rim of his own cup. The way he said it, with that smug tone, Somin knew that he meant more than the coffee.

  A booming voice echoed across the hospital waiting room: “Changwan!” It wasn’t a shout, but it was deep and authoritative. “How dare you leave your study session.” Changwan’s father came over to jab his finger in his son’s chest to emphasize his displeasure. He was tall, like his son. But where Changwan was all gangly limbs and awkward angles, his father had a filled-out frame that Somin knew came from regular wor
kouts with a trainer. Changwan had once been forced to train with them for a week. He’d been so sore that he could barely walk and claimed he had bruises in places he’d never knew existed before. Soon, his father had given up on getting his son to build up muscle, just like he’d given up on so many things when it came to Changwan.

  “But, Abeoji, my friend was—”

  Changwan was cut off as his father slapped him on the back of the head, the thwack of his palm against Changwan’s skull loud and jarring. Somin wanted to intervene somehow. But instead, it was Junu who acted.

  Somin watched, openmouthed, as the dokkaebi planted himself like a living shield between Changwan and his seething father.

  “Sir, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Junu,” he said, but his voice was cold and he didn’t give a respectful bow of greeting. Instead he just slightly inclined his head. Something that definitely wouldn’t be lost on Changwan’s father.

  Mr. Oh’s jaw clenched. “I don’t have time to make small talk with your friends, Changwan. Get in the car.”

  “Yes, Abeoji.”

  “Surely, he can visit a sick friend,” Junu said.

  “Is she dying?” Mr. Oh asked.

  “Not that I’m aware of,” Junu said, and Somin realized the dokkaebi’s fist was clenched tightly at his side, like he held it there instead of letting it slam into Mr. Oh’s face.

  “Then he can see her when she gets out of the hospital. Changwan!” Mr. Oh boomed as he turned toward the exit. He didn’t even look back to ensure his son followed him, so complete was his confidence in his authority.

  “I’ll see you later, Hyeong. Somin-ah,” Changwan mumbled, his eyes lowered with embarrassment. Somin started to reach out, thinking to comfort Changwan. But he darted after his father with his shoulders hunched.

  “What was that?” Somin asked, turning to Junu.

  “Nothing.”

  “You looked like you wanted to punch Changwan’s father in the face.”

  “I just hate men like that,” Junu said. “They push everyone down, crushing them into nothing so they can feel superior. That man’s a coward and a bully.”