Vicious Spirits Page 8

  Jihoon sighed. “Well, I’m always in the mood for that. I just . . . are you sure you’re okay?”

  He knew her so well. Too well at times. And in this moment, Miyoung hated him for that.

  “I’m fine. I’m just tired.”

  “Okay, maybe you should rest before dinner.” He stood, and without his body heat beside her, she was suddenly cold. “Miyoung-ah.”

  She didn’t reply, just stared resolutely at the blank television screen in front of her.

  “I love you,” he whispered. There was a beat of silence where she knew he was waiting for her to reply. It was a strange routine, Jihoon saying those words that made her heart swell and soar, but Miyoung unable to return them. He left, and she heard the clatter of dishes in the kitchen as he joined Somin.

  Miyoung didn’t mean to close her eyes, but she felt completely drained. And soon she fell into sleep and dreams, where her mother waited for her.

  12

  DUSK WAS FALLING when Somin walked down the road. She shouldn’t have come here, Somin thought for maybe the hundredth time. But still she made her way down the narrow alleyway that led to Junu’s apartment. Somin practiced what she wanted to say in her head again. It was silly, this need to figure out her words first. She never had a problem telling people exactly what she was thinking. But Junu flustered her. It was annoying.

  Somin had stewed over that kiss all evening. Well . . . stewed might be the wrong word. Worried over. Stressed over. But Miyoung had said that Junu had more layers than they knew. That maybe, underneath it all, he was something . . . more. What it was, Somin wasn’t sure. But knowing about the supernatural world had shown Somin that there was so much more that she couldn’t understand on this earth. So perhaps there was more about Junu that she didn’t know. Still, she did know that she should nip this—whatever this was—in the bud before it grew out of control.

  So, after dinner, she’d told her mother that she wanted to go to the study room where most seniors rented a cubicle. During the short summer break, it would be packed with third-year high school students preparing for the suneung exam in November. Somin had claimed that she’d fallen behind on her study schedule after everything that had happened today, carefully omitting the fact that she’d set aside the whole day long ago to help Jihoon move. Her mother didn’t need to know that. And if Miyoung had sent Somin a curious look when she’d left, she could take solace in the fact that Miyoung was not one to gossip about other people’s business.

  Somin’s shoulder banged into a pipe bolted to the stained concrete wall beside her. She hissed in pain, rubbing her arm and cursing herself for being distracted. She hated this narrow alley. It seemed like a deterrent, telling people that nothing worthwhile was down this way. Which, Somin supposed, was the point. Junu lived in a world that hid in plain sight. Beings that lived in legends, ones that no one truly believed in anymore. Except those superstitious enough to be wary.

  A whisper of wind blew down the alley. Strange, as it always felt like the air down here was so stagnant. Any good breeze was shut away by the tall, narrow buildings. But her hair fluttered against her ears, and with it she could hear something. A whisper. It slowly formed syllables until she was almost certain it was her name. A soft hiss of sound that called to her.

  She picked up the faint scent of licorice.

  There was a tickle along her neck. A feeling like she was being watched.

  Don’t turn around, she told herself. Just keep walking. You’re almost at the door.

  But like a girl in a horror film, she ignored her inner voice and turned her head slowly to the side. Out of the corner of her eye she could make out a form. It was less than two steps behind her. Its face so pale it was almost translucent. Dark hair peppered with silver. Cheeks sunken in. And a cap low over its eyes.

  “Who—?” she started to say, but before the words were free, the figure was gone. And so was the wind. The summer air suddenly weighed on her despite the setting sun. Like it pressed all of the humidity of Seoul onto her chest. Somin felt light-headed, her vision wavering as her ears began to ring. She thumped her fist against her chest as her lungs struggled to fill. She coughed, and it seemed to help as she sucked in a breath.

  “Get yourself together, Lee Somin,” she told herself, taking two huge gulps of air. It helped.

  Somin pushed away the strange feeling that still shivered down her spine and rang Junu’s doorbell. She counted out her breaths and had only gotten to thirteen when the door opened and Junu stood in front of her. He wore a simple outfit of jeans and a T-shirt. He’d changed after the hospital, and his hair was a bit damp, like he’d taken a shower. A bead of water clung to a strand of hair. She watched it drip onto his shoulder. Had she ever noticed how broad his shoulders were before? Not too big, but they showed he had strength under his wiry frame.

  “Somin-ah?” Junu said, and she realized they’d been standing in silence as she stared at him.

  “Oh, sorry.” She cleared her throat, ready to launch into her monologue. “I just—”

  “Do you want to come in?” Junu asked, and ruined her carefully practiced flow.

  “What?”

  “Why don’t you come in. I just started a kettle for tea.” He walked back inside. The door swung shut behind him, and Somin just caught it before it slammed in her face.

  Had he done that on purpose? No, she wouldn’t dwell on this. She needed to be clearheaded, get her speech out, and leave once he agreed that the kiss had been a mistake. A lapse in judgment. It had been like an unspoken dare. One of Junu’s many games. And Somin was here to tell him the game had ended on a draw.

  She made her way into the apartment, toeing off her shoes in the foyer. It was gleaming and spotless. The floors were cool under her feet. It felt nice and refreshing after the heat of outside.

  As she walked down the hall, searching for the kitchen, a side room caught her eye. Inside was a giant, gleaming grand piano and shelves and shelves of books. She gaped at how many there were as she realized that every wall was covered in shelves.

  Somin selected a book at random. It was a cookbook. The second was a collection of old European fairy tales. She flipped the pages to find elaborately illustrated pictures of fairies, mermaids, and witches.

  The next book was about a boy wizard. It was written in English, so when she flipped it open, she couldn’t read it. But she recognized the cover art; any kid born in the last thirty years would know this story.

  “That’s a first edition.”

  She spun around, hugging the book tightly to her chest.

  Junu stood in the doorway with two cups of steaming tea.

  He set them on a table next to an armchair Somin hadn’t noticed. It looked well-used, like a person could spend hours in it without moving an inch.

  “This room is so . . . cozy,” she said. “Different from what I’d imagine from you.”

  “I like comfort, too,” Junu said with a shrug.

  “I’ve always dreamed of having a library at home,” Somin said, glancing around at the towering shelves. “It just needs a fireplace and it would be perfect.”

  “No fireplace,” Junu said firmly. “I hate fire.”

  Such a strange fact. Especially for a dokkaebi. Somin remembered the stories of how a tall blue flame called dokkaebi fire heralded the arrival of some. Was that just a myth?

  “I didn’t know you liked to read,” Somin said, placing the book back on the shelf.

  “Who says I do?” Junu asked. “Many of these are collector’s editions, worth a lot of money.”

  Somin tried to read him and failed. Then reached behind her and took out a battered secondhand edition of Howl’s Moving Castle. “And how much is this worth?” she asked, glancing at the heavily dog-eared pages. “Five hundred won?”

  Junu grinned, comfortable in being caught in his lie. “I do enjoy a good book now
and then. After all, I lived in a time before television. But you’re not here to inquire about my favorite ways to pass the time, are you?” Junu took a step toward her. If he took another one, he would be entering uncomfortably close territory. She could just smell his scent, a mix of shampoo and aftershave.

  Somin knew she better get talking or else she’d forget her whole reason for coming here. “I came over because—” She cut off because she couldn’t remember the rest of her carefully cultivated speech.

  “Yes, please tell me what you came over for,” Junu said with a grin as he took another step toward her. She took a step back and held up a hand. It stopped him. Thank God. She didn’t know what she’d do if he touched her. She felt like a bundle of live wires, sparking at just the presence of him.

  “I came over to discuss what happened.” Somin almost winced. When she wanted to sound more self-assured, she ended up sounding like a kid playing office. But it was too late now.

  Junu let out an amused chuckle. “Discuss it? Is that all?”

  “Yes, as it seems like we have a misunderstanding about what . . . transpired, I’m glad I came over.” There it was again, a child pretending to be an adult.

  “I’m glad you came over, too.” Junu’s grin became a full smile, but it was too wicked to be called friendly.

  “Stop it,” Somin said sternly, and Junu finally moved back.

  She realized that whenever she told him she didn’t like something, he actually listened to her. As if, when it came down to it, he really did care about her comfort. It was hard to reconcile that with the contemptible flirt and con she’d labeled him as.

  “That kiss was . . .” She trailed off again as she latched on to the memory. She didn’t want it to be so fresh in her mind. Or to have a part of her want to try the taste of him again. Like a dessert she knew she shouldn’t eat. One that she should be allergic to. That would probably give her hives.

  “Yes?” Junu asked, expectantly watching her with a patient look on his face. It was just a mask, she knew. He was waiting for a good moment to break her resolve.

  “It can’t happen again,” she finally said.

  “And why is that?” Junu asked pleasantly. Too pleasantly.

  “Because we don’t . . . we can’t. It’s just not going to happen . . . it can’t happen again.” She stumbled over words like she was just learning to talk. She couldn’t seem to string a convincing sentence together.

  “I see,” Junu said. “Well, I can’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do. So, if that’s it.” He started back toward the foyer.

  Somin couldn’t believe this had been so easy. And she worried that there was still some kind of misunderstanding. She needed to make him understand why the kiss meant less than nothing. It was important he know that. Because she was starting to doubt it herself.

  “Hold on.” She grabbed his hand, but she must have yanked a little too hard (she tended to use her strength too much when she was anxious). And the momentum hauled him into her. They would have fallen to the ground if he hadn’t grabbed her arms, somehow keeping their balance for them.

  A part of her wanted to shrug out of his embrace. But a stronger part of her wanted to step into it. Somin was a girl who followed her own rules. And her rules strictly forbid her from starting anything with a guy like Junu. But she was also one who took something if she wanted it. And she wanted Junu right now.

  So she lifted onto her toes. That alone wouldn’t have reached him; she was so short and he was so tall. But in the same moment, he leaned into her and their lips connected.

  They clung to each other, and Somin stumbled back, pulling him with her. Something hard dug into her hip. A clash of sound echoed into the room. She didn’t care as she reached up to loop her hands behind Junu’s neck, to hold him securely to her.

  She loved the feel of his mouth on hers. It drove all logical thought out of her mind. It made her feel weightless. And she hadn’t realized how tense she was before until she felt all the pressure leave her temples and her shoulders. She let out a satisfied hum and felt his grin against her lips.

  He shifted the kiss to be deeper. They met each other like two hurricanes crashing in the middle of the ocean. Feelings battered into her, but they were too strong and too varied for her to sort through. And she didn’t want to think. She just wanted to experience and touch and feel. It was good to just feel.

  Then Junu broke free, desperately dragging in air. Somin clung to him, her legs too shaky to stand on her own.

  She finally realized what the source of the jarring noise had been. The grand piano was wedged into her back.

  Her eyes slid to Junu, whose breaths were matching her rapid puffs. She wanted him to kiss her again. She wanted him to keep going. His gaze glinted as he read her unspoken request, and his hands went to her hips. He lifted her so effortlessly, she felt like smoke and vapor instead of solid flesh. As if she would drift away. Maybe she would—her body vibrated with anticipation—maybe she would shatter into a million particles. Then she was plopped unceremoniously onto the top of the polished wood, her sock-covered toes pressing into the piano keys, causing another cacophony of noise. She could feel the vibration of it through the top of the piano beneath her.

  Junu moved in, his legs pressing against the keys. So the sound of their movement became a clash of notes. His hand wrapped around the nape of her neck. She held on to him as if he were an anchor. And his mouth claimed hers.

  She felt like she was burning up, like she would evaporate into steam. Her clothes felt too tight, and she tugged at her shirt, trying to yank it off. Junu pushed her hands down.

  “Don’t be so rushed,” he said with a smile that somehow didn’t annoy the living daylights out of her. In fact, she kind of thought it was cute. “We have plenty of time.”

  “I feel like maybe I’m going to start overthinking this soon if you don’t keep kissing me,” Somin gasped out. She tried to kiss him again, but a pounding echoed down the hall. At first, Somin thought it was a figment of her imagination. Or maybe the loud echo of her own heart. But it came again, and this time a bellowing voice joined.

  “Junu, gaesaekki-ya! Get out here!”

  Somin lifted a brow. “Friend of yours?”

  Junu seemed to realize who it could be and let out a groan as he rested his forehead against hers. His hands gripped her waist, like he was reluctant to let go.

  “So more of an acquaintance?” Somin asked.

  “Stay in here,” Junu said before he stomped down the hall.

  Somin considered ignoring him and following after, but figured it was best to stay out of whatever shady business Junu was involved in. She took stock of herself. Her hair had fallen out of its tie. And her shirt was rumpled and pulled halfway up. She jerked it down. This was probably for the best. She would definitely hate herself in the morning if things had gone any further.

  A loud crash echoed down the hall, followed by a heavy thump. Somin ignored Junu’s command to stay and ran into the foyer, her mouth dropping open in shock.

  If she hadn’t learned that one of her close friends was really a mythical nine-tailed fox, she wouldn’t believe what she saw with her own eyes. Except, she still didn’t think she believed it.

  The man standing in the foyer looked like a hulking beast with a bulbous nose and dark, glaring eyes. His hair was coarse and tangled. His clothing was torn and frayed. He was at least two hundred centimeters tall. And in front of him sprawled Junu, the vase that used to sit in the entryway shattered beneath him. There were lines of cuts along his arms and one across his chin. But Somin stared in bewilderment as she realized there was no blood.

  The creature above Junu pulled something out of his disgusting coat. It looked like a narrow club. And suddenly it came to her. A dokkaebi. Or at least what she and millions of Korean kids had been taught dokkaebi looked like.

  At fi
rst, she hadn’t believed Junu was a dokkaebi because he’d looked too smooth. Too perfect. Too beautiful. But this creature was exactly how she’d imagined them.

  And this perfect model of a dokkaebi was about to smash his club into Junu’s face.

  “Ya!” Somin yelled, instinct taking over. The creature paused mid-swing, glancing up in bewilderment. It was all Somin needed. She snatched the club before he could use it.

  “Give that back,” the dokkaebi rumbled, lurching forward.

  Somin danced away and hoped the giant beast wouldn’t trample Junu as he tried to lumber after her.

  “It’s rude to come into someone’s house and assault them,” Somin said.

  “Somin, drop that and get out of here,” Junu said, gaining his feet. His voice was so serious that Somin almost did what he said. She’d never heard Junu sound scared. But he seemed terrified, and as his eyes latched on to hers, she realized with a flash that he was scared for her.

  The dokkaebi let out a guttural yell as he charged toward Somin. But Junu launched himself into the larger goblin. Together they stumbled to the side. The beast flung out an arm, smacking Junu in the gut and throwing him back. He had to have known he wouldn’t have any effect on this hulking thing.

  He’d done it to distract the dokkaebi from Somin. And she watched in wide-eyed horror as the goblin slammed Junu against the wall.

  “Stop it!” Somin shouted, jumping onto the dokkaebi’s back. She tried to use the club to batter at his thick skull. He easily dislodged her, and Somin crashed into the marble floor.

  Her vision spun and a loud ringing filled her ears. For a second the world was a blur, and she could only make out colorful shapes around her.

  A figure loomed over her. Not the dokkaebi. And not Junu. But someone who looked eerily familiar, except she couldn’t quite focus on their face.

  “Somin-ah,” they whispered in a raspy voice, and it itched at her memory. She started to reach for them, but her fingers passed through nothing but cold air.