Vicious Spirits Page 6

  Somin’s brows lifted into her bangs. She was shocked that there was actually something they agreed on. “Wow, you surprise me.”

  “Why? Does it not bother you how Changwan’s father talks to him? How he belittles him?” Junu asked, and from the vitriol in his voice, Somin wondered if there was more going on here than just indignation about Mr. Oh’s rudeness.

  “Of course I hate how he talks to Changwan, but what am I supposed to do about that? He’s his father.”

  “Just because someone’s a father doesn’t mean he knows what’s best for his children,” Junu muttered.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Somin asked, genuinely curious about the dokkaebi for the first time. It seemed that perhaps his waters didn’t run as shallow as she’d assumed. The cup of coffee still in Junu’s hand started to bubble and steam.

  “Um, Junu?” Somin said. “Your coffee is . . . boiling.”

  Junu glanced down, then pulled it behind his back. “I’m going to take a walk.” He turned on his heel, throwing the steaming cup in the trash before turning down a random hallway.

  Somin almost went after him. There was an odd feeling in her gut. Junu was definitely hurting even if he wasn’t admitting it. But that wasn’t the part that worried Somin. What worried her was that she had a strange need to comfort him.

  Snap out of it, she told herself. She started to go to the waiting area, but a chill raced down her spine. And she turned toward the hallway Junu had just gone down. A figure stood there. Salt-and-pepper hair sticking out from under a baseball cap that shaded his eyes. That same strange man from the street.

  “Excuse me,” she said. The man started down the hall and she went after him. “Hey! I just wanted to ask you something.” There was something so familiar about the figure, and she had to find out what it was.

  She walked until she was in a completely different wing. It was quiet. And it looked like most of the rooms down here weren’t being used. Without the beeps of machines and the chatter of nurses, Somin felt like she could hear strange noises. Like whispers in the air.

  “Hello?” she called, wondering where the man could have gone. She strained to hear his footsteps, but all she heard was the whoosh of the air-conditioning.

  Somin was about to give up and go back when she noticed an old man. He stood with his face practically pressed against a door. He wore the outfit of a patient, and Somin wondered if maybe he’d gotten locked out of his room. Could the rooms even lock in a hospital?

  “Sir, are you okay?” Somin asked, looking around for a nurse or someone to help.

  He turned, and she jerked back, letting out an involuntary yelp.

  His eyes were white as snow, and she could see right through him to the doorway beyond.

  Somin slapped her hands over her mouth, worried the sound might agitate the man. But he just turned down the hall. He didn’t walk; his feet didn’t even touch the ground. He just floated gently down the corridor.

  Then, at the end of the hall, he faded into the beige wall.

  Somin blinked so hard that lights bloomed in her vision. She had to be seeing things. This couldn’t be real. She just had delayed heat stroke or something.

  Hands came down on her shoulders, and she let out another yelp. She spun around, swinging out. But instead of a ghostly figure, she saw Junu.

  “Whoa, I come in peace. I’m not here to fight.” Junu lifted his hands, palms out.

  Somin closed her eyes and crossed her fists over her speeding heart. “Don’t sneak up on people like that.”

  “I was calling your name. I thought you heard me.”

  She took a deep, steadying breath. “No, I was . . . I was distracted.”

  “By this completely empty hallway?” Junu asked, glancing behind her.

  “By none of your business.” Somin started down the hall, then thought twice. If this was where that . . . man had gone, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be here anymore. At least not alone. She turned back and considered Junu. Trying to decide what was better: his company, or ghosts.

  “I can practically hear the thoughts churning in your head.”

  “No, you can’t,” Somin said, but a part of her wondered whether he could somehow read her mind.

  “Well, I can tell you’re spooked. Let’s get out of here.”

  She nodded and let Junu lead the way back toward the main hospital wing.

  “Were you trying to follow me?” Junu asked.

  Somin let out a laugh. “Of course not. You’re the last person I’d want to voluntarily spend time with. I just got lost.”

  Junu stopped, and Somin had to stop, too, or else run into him. He turned and tilted his head to the side as if contemplating her.

  “Isn’t it tiring to hate me so much, Lee Somin?” Junu asked.

  It was annoying how smooth he sounded. How his confident words were almost purred. “Obviously, it’s my defense mechanism against my intense attraction to you.”

  Surprise creased Junu’s brow. “Really?”

  “No.” Somin shook her head. “I hate you. You really should learn to trust your instincts.”

  His smile returned but with a razor-sharp edge. “Do you actually hate me or are you scared?”

  Somin scoffed. “You think I’m scared of you?”

  He leaned in suggestively. “Maybe you’re scared of what you feel.”

  There was that flush of competitiveness again, rising in her like steam in a pressure cooker. She could feel the dare hovering over her, and she didn’t want to lose.

  Letting out a harsh laugh, Somin reached out and grabbed his collar. For the first time ever, Junu looked shocked. She reveled in the wide-eyed surprise before she crushed her lips against his.

  It only took ten seconds for her to regret her decision. Not because of the kiss. Well, yes, because of the kiss. Because it was doing things to her that she’d never felt before. It was as if every nerve in her body was suddenly ten times more sensitive. She could feel her heartbeat racing. And her limbs felt restless. Made her want to hold on. So she let go of his collar and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  She felt his hands come around her, hesitant at first. Then his palms flattened against her back, pulling her into him. And as their bodies collided, he changed the angle, deepened it.

  Somin hadn’t thought it was possible for the kiss to get . . . more. But it did. He let out a moan of satisfaction, and it echoed through her. Made her want even more of him.

  Then, as if a switch flicked in her brain, she realized what she was doing and pushed away. They’d been holding on to each other so tightly a second ago, but as soon as she pulled away, he released her. Like he knew she needed space or she wouldn’t be able to breathe anymore. Or at least, that’s what it felt like as she gulped in air.

  She didn’t want to look at him but couldn’t tear her gaze away from his face. His eyes were blurry, like he was still lost in what had just happened. Like he didn’t know what to do or say next.

  That made two of them, as Somin couldn’t figure out how to get words out of her mouth.

  And then thinking of her mouth made her think of her lips. And then about his lips. And then about what they’d just done, and she wanted to melt into a puddle and just slide into the floor drain behind them.

  “I guess you proved me wrong,” he said.

  And Somin couldn’t even recall what they’d been arguing about. She only knew she had to get away from him. She couldn’t stand to be close to him right now. Or, if she was being honest, she wanted to be closer to him again, and she couldn’t stand that fact.

  “I’m going to check on Miyoung,” she said, and hurried down the hallway, desperate to escape with what was left of her pride intact.

  9

  THE SMELL OF antiseptic and the vinegary tinge of cleanser filled Miyoung’s nostrils as she woke. So, bef
ore she even opened her eyes, she guessed she must be in the hospital. She hated the hospital. The only times she’d ever been here were when Jihoon was hurt and when his halmeoni had been dying. To Miyoung, the hospital was not a place people came to heal.

  When she opened her eyes, she saw Jihoon pacing the room, his hands clenched into tight fists.

  “You didn’t have to stay,” she croaked out.

  “Miyoung-ah.” Jihoon was by her side in two quick strides. “You scared me,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. His body heat felt good against her side.

  She looped her arms around his waist. Now she could smell him, the last vestiges of laundry detergent that clung to his shirt, and beneath that, his skin smelled almost sweet, like cream. Jihoon stroked Miyoung’s hair, his fingers working through her strands. It felt good, like a gentle massage of her scalp.

  She wanted to stay like this forever. Just feeling him close to her. The silence sitting comfortably between them. She tasted his gi, sweet and effervescent like cider, but underneath it was a bitter anxiousness.

  “You’re tired and worried,” Miyoung said. “I can taste it on you.”

  “Hey, didn’t we make a deal that you don’t use your residual fox powers on me, and I won’t force you to listen to me talk about L-o-L anymore?” Jihoon said.

  Miyoung scooted back. “Here, lie down with me.”

  Jihoon smiled. “Well, if you wanted to get me into bed, you just needed to ask.”

  She tried to hold back her smile, but it didn’t work. Jihoon knew how to make her laugh despite herself.

  “Did the doctors say anything?” she asked as they lay face-to-face on the small hospital bed.

  “They think you’re just overtired and dehydrated.”

  “When can I leave?” she asked.

  “Are you uncomfortable?” Jihoon frowned.

  Miyoung remembered what he’d told her about the three months he was in and out of the hospital. How much he’d hated it. How the feeling of being sick had weighed on his heart as much as his body.

  “No, I’m fine. I’m just sorry if I scared you,” Miyoung said, running her hands down his cheek. She felt a bit of stubble, scratchy against her palm.

  “I love you,” Jihoon whispered.

  And Miyoung’s heart squeezed, but she couldn’t say it back. For some reason she could never say those words. Instead she leaned forward and kissed him. He let out a sound of surprise and appreciation. She felt a warmth move over her skin. And suddenly she wasn’t as tired anymore. Miyoung started to scoot closer, but he pulled back.

  “Why don’t you try to get some sleep?” Jihoon said, clearing his throat, obviously affected by the kiss.

  “I can’t,” Miyoung said.

  “I can tell you about the latest RPG I bought. That always puts you to sleep quickly,” Jihoon said with a grin.

  Miyoung rolled her eyes and punched him lightly. “No, it’s not that. I just . . . I don’t want to sleep. I don’t want to dream.”

  “Why not?” Jihoon asked, and she could taste his concern growing, like the acidity of citrus in his energy.

  “It’s not safe in my dreams.” The idea of going to that dark place with Yena made her heart hammer. Not because she feared Yena, but because she worried the yearning to be with her mother would cause her to linger in her dreams until she forsook the waking world.

  “But if you don’t sleep, you can’t get better. I’m no doctor, but that’s pretty commonsense.”

  Miyoung’s laugh was interrupted by a yawn. She felt her eyes weighing down, exhaustion coming over her. And with Jihoon there, she was the most relaxed she’d felt in a week.

  “I’m afraid to see her again,” Miyoung admitted.

  “Who?” She felt Jihoon brush her hair back gently.

  “My mother,” Miyoung murmured as she started to drift off. She tried to keep her eyes open, but they refused to obey. And despite herself, she fell asleep.

  10

  JUNU STOOD OUTSIDE of Miyoung’s room. Somin had finally convinced Jihoon to grab food in the cafeteria. It was hours past lunchtime, and none of them had eaten. Junu figured if he was going to check on Miyoung, it should be now, but he wasn’t sure if it would help her to see him. Still, he had to check on her. After his conversation with Hyuk, this accident couldn’t be a coincidence. If Miyoung was somehow connected to the Between, then it would explain why she hadn’t gotten better after her mother died. And if Miyoung was the reason for the tear between the ghost realm and the mortal realm, then it meant Hyuk was going to come for her sooner or later. He needed to know if his suspicions were true.

  He found Miyoung sitting up in bed.

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  Her dismissive tone made his stomach drop, but Junu was skilled at hiding when he was hurt. “I’m just checking on the patient. Do you need your pillows fluffed? I’m pretty good at that. I was around when they were invented, after all.”

  “I’d love to stuff a pillow over your face until you stop breathing,” Miyoung muttered under her breath. But Junu heard it loud and clear.

  “Oh, come on.” Junu tried his brightest smile. But it felt tight and made his cheeks hurt. “You can’t hate me that badly. I do provide a bit of comic relief to your serious, angsty life.”

  “Why are you still here?” Miyoung asked.

  That made his smile dim a bit. “I told you, I wanted to check on the patient.”

  Miyoung sneered. “No, why are you still in Seoul, bothering me? I don’t understand why you don’t just leave. You’ve done your damage, made your money. You have to know there’s no way I’d use your services for anything, so why are you still here?”

  Junu supposed he deserved that. Didn’t mean the words hurt any less. To buy himself time, he turned to pour a cup of water and find a good response. He held out the cup, and when Miyoung refused to take it, he gulped down the water himself.

  “I’m not one to admit when I’m wrong,” Junu began. “But I feel bad about the part I played in everything.”

  “You act like you accidentally slipped and let Yena kidnap Jihoon.”

  “I thought she was doing it to protect you. How was I to know that your father was manipulating things so he could kill you?”

  “Isn’t it your job to know things?” Miyoung lifted a brow.

  She had him there. And if Junu was being honest, he hadn’t trusted Miyoung’s father from the moment he’d heard the man was sniffing around. But it hadn’t been his business to have suspicions. It was his business to do what Yena paid him for. “Look, I’ve survived a very long time by choosing the winning team. And Yena seemed like the sure winner. I could never have anticipated your father. I could never have predicted how much your love for Jihoon would affect things.”

  Miyoung crossed her arms, her expression cold as winter. He could see why the kids at her school gave her the nickname Ice Queen. “So, what? You want to apologize to me? It’d be a waste of breath. I won’t accept it. I won’t forgive you.”

  “I know,” Junu said. “Maybe that’s why I haven’t apologized.”

  Miyoung scoffed. “What a weak excuse. If you really cared, you’d say you’re sorry every day.”

  She was right, and yet Junu still couldn’t say the words. Some might call it pride. But what do you call it when that feeling has been compounded by centuries of needing to be above everyone, to the point that their judgment couldn’t touch him? Couldn’t hurt him?

  “I’m not used to being wrong,” Junu said.

  Miyoung snorted at that.

  “Fine, I’m not used to admitting when I’m wrong,” Junu said. “But I do feel I owe you a debt. Which is horribly inconvenient for me. And until I feel like it’s paid, here I’ll be.”

  “Don’t try to be something you’re not,” Miyoung said. “I tried to do that for a long time, and it
didn’t work out. I lost almost everything because I tried to hide who I really am.”

  Junu scowled. “And the person you think I really am is a selfish, callous goblin?”

  Miyoung shrugged. “More or less.”

  “Well, maybe I don’t want to be like that anymore.” The words were out before Junu could measure them.

  “I don’t believe you,” Miyoung said. So blunt that it should have been shocking, but Junu was used to Miyoung’s brusque nature.

  “It’s true. Sometimes . . .” Junu let the word trail into silence, not sure how to finish. No, that was a lie. He knew exactly what he wanted to say. And nothing he’d tried to gain Miyoung’s forgiveness in the past four months had worked. So why not a little honesty? He’d never tried it before. “Sometimes I think I want the chance to show that I’m more than a fairy-tale monster. Humans make up these stories that paint us as things to blame all their sins on. We should get a chance to defend ourselves. Don’t you feel the same way?”

  “I don’t think about that anymore. That life is behind me now.”

  That was a failure. Miyoung still looked at him with suspicious eyes, trying to figure out if he had some alternative motive.

  “Well, I do hope you feel better. I know you don’t believe anything I say. But it’s true.”

  He left before she could throw another barbed gibe.

  Closing the door, Junu wondered if he really was wasting his time on all of this. He had better things to do. He’d been neglecting the business. And though he was comfortably well-off, he shouldn’t let his business slide for too long.

  Then something caught his eye. It shouldn’t have. There were half a dozen people moving through the hallway, nurses and patients, doctors and family members. But this swatch of black grabbed his attention, like something had tickled at his skin. And his eyes met Hyuk’s before the jeoseung saja disappeared down a side hallway.

  Junu didn’t run. The reaper obviously wanted Junu to come after him. And as Junu turned the corner, he caught sight of a door slowly closing down the hall.