Vicious Spirits Read online

  The dokkaebi let out an angry roar, and she blinked hard, finally clearing her vision. The dokkaebi still held Junu pinned to the wall, a meaty fist slamming into his stomach. Junu doubled over but didn’t fall as the dokkaebi dragged him up and shoved him against the wall again.

  He was going to die if she didn’t do something.

  She picked up the club. It had splintered from the fall. With a deep breath, she sprinted forward and thrust the jagged end of the club into the dokkaebi’s shoulder. He let out a roar and reared back, throwing her across the room. Somin heard a loud crack as her head connected with the gleaming wall. The sound was so loud, she wondered if her skull had split open. She watched in a daze as the dokkaebi turned and leapt at her. She lifted her hands, which somehow still held the splintered staff. And as the dokkaebi fell on her, she felt the staff pierce his hide.

  The dokkaebi’s face was centimeters from hers, and even with her blurring vision, she could see his eyes widen in surprise. Then he let out a roar just as he burst into dust.

  A whistling sound rang in her ears. Was it coming from the dokkaebi? No, he’d turned into dust and air. She’d killed it. Him, she corrected herself.

  Though the dokkaebi had been a beast, he had still been a living thing. And Somin had killed him. This wasn’t like when she swatted a fly or a mosquito.

  She’d killed someone. She was a killer.

  The whistling grew, so high that she pressed her palms against her ears. And then, suddenly, it stopped. And the world seemed completely quiet.

  “Somin-ah.” The word was whispered into her ear, and she jerked her head up. She saw nothing but darkness. Where was she? Had she died, too? Was she being judged and punished so quickly?

  Then she saw something, a blur of light in the dark. It became opaque, forming a shape that looked strange and familiar at the same time. She squinted to make it out, then blinked hard to clear her vision. Because she must have been hallucinating. Standing before her was Jihoon’s halmeoni.

  “Somin-ah,” Halmeoni said with a kind smile. “You cannot blame yourself.”

  “What are you doing here?” she asked. “Am I seeing things? Or am I . . . am I dead?”

  “You’re not dead. And I don’t know how much time I have. I am not meant to be here, but I could feel that you needed me.”

  “Did you . . . did you see what I did?” Her words came out in a hiccupping sob as tears pooled in her eyes. She wiped them away with the back of her hand. Even if Halmeoni was a hallucination or a dream, Somin wanted to see her this one last time.

  “I did, and you had no choice. Do not blame yourself. If you hadn’t stopped him, he would have killed you both.”

  “This isn’t who I am,” Somin said, holding out her hands. The hands of someone who’d taken a life. “I don’t want to be like this.”

  Halmeoni took them between hers. And her palms were warm and comforting, just how Somin remembered them. She lifted their joined hands to her cheek and felt Halmeoni’s papery-thin skin against hers. “I’m sorry, my child. But this world we’ve stumbled into is not an easy place to exist. You must realign your morals if you’re going to protect the ones you care about. Including my grandson.”

  “Have you seen Jihoon? Are you watching over him, too?”

  Halmeoni gave a sad smile. “I’ve seen him, but right now, you are the one who is in need.”

  “He hasn’t been the same since you . . . left,” Somin said. “I’m worried about him.”

  “Yes, I know. That is why I know he is in good hands. You are a protector. You will make sure my Jihoonie stays safe.”

  “I will,” Somin said.

  “Good, but first, you must wake up.”

  “What?”

  “Wake up.” Halmeoni’s voice faded into an echo. Then the pain came. A throbbing in the back of Somin’s skull. She let out a low groan as she opened her eyes. And as her vision cleared, she made out Junu’s foyer.

  She was sprawled across the tile floor. And when she lifted her hand to the back of her head, she felt a lump that throbbed as she pressed it.

  Somin stood slowly and saw Junu’s unconscious form. Was he still breathing?

  She leaned over him, and before she could check his pulse, Junu’s eyes flew open. He reached out, lightning quick, pulling her head down until her face was centimeters from his.

  “You saved my life,” he mumbled. “My hero.” Then he planted a hard kiss on her. Before she could react, he fell back to the floor with a thud, unconscious.

  Somin stood, warily nudging at his ribs with her toe.

  “Ya,” she said with another nudge. He didn’t move.

  She nudged him again, so hard it could be called a soft kick. His head wobbled a bit, but he didn’t wake. She saw his swollen eye and winced, admitting to herself that he probably wasn’t faking it.

  Not seeing any other choice, she hoisted Junu up, flopping his weight over her, piggyback style. His limbs were so long that his hands batted at her legs as she walked. She heard his feet dragging on the floor behind her. But it was the best she could do. He’d probably be pissed at her when he woke up. Claim that she scratched his floor or something. But it was really his fault for growing so tall.

  When Junu was unceremoniously delivered onto his bed, Somin gave a grunt of discomfort and bent over to stretch her back. What should she do now? Probably just leave. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not because she cared about Junu, she told herself. But he had put himself in harm’s way to protect her. She owed it to him to stick around. At least until she could assure herself he was going to be okay.

  But first she needed something to help with her throbbing headache. She found medicine in the bathroom and took twice the dosage suggestion. She winced as she poked tenderly at the lump on the back of her head and went in search of ice.

  When she returned to the bedroom, Junu lay flat on his back, his hands crossed over his belly. It should have made him look stiff, like a body being prepared for eternal rest. But instead, he looked calm and peaceful. Young, like he truly was a high school or college student. Not for the first time, Somin wondered how Junu had come to exist. The stories said that dokkaebi were made from things. Like vases or pots. But Somin had a hard time believing the lively, sarcastic, often infuriating being that was Junu had come from anything as cold and lifeless as a vase.

  “Stop staring, byeontae,” Junu said without opening his eyes.

  Somin jumped, her fist clutched against her heart. “I was just checking on the patient. And I’ve confirmed he’s just as annoying as when I left him. So I’ll be going now.”

  “Stay,” Junu said, opening his eyes now. He watched her earnestly.

  “Why?”

  He smiled. “Would you believe me if I said I’m afraid of monsters?”

  She didn’t answer, but she dragged the armchair from the corner of the room closer. There was no way she’d sit on his bed. Knowing Junu, he’d take that as an invitation for something.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked, watching her intently.

  “I was actually just thinking about how dangerous you are. A boy who’s never been told no.”

  That pulled a laugh out of Junu, but oddly, it had a bite of bitterness to it.

  “Am I wrong?” she asked.

  “Does it bother you?” Junu said instead of answering. “The idea that I get whatever I want. Or—” He paused with a suggestive grin. “Is it the fact that you know you want to give me everything I want?”

  “I don’t want or need to give you anything,” Somin retorted, standing, finally ready to storm out of this place.

  “Thank you,” he said, and it stopped her. “For saving my life.”

  She turned back toward him. “You said that already.”

  Junu smiled. It wasn’t like the mocking grins he usually gave her. It was small and
thoughtful. “Sorry about that. I think my whole life was flashing before my eyes. I was delirious.”

  “Now, that I can believe,” Somin said, and sat on the edge of the bed before she realized what she was doing. She started to stand again, but Junu’s hand came to rest over hers.

  “I’m sorry that you had to do that,” he said, his eyes sober and steady.

  Somin looked at their joined hands. She realized she wanted to lace their fingers together. But instead she pulled away. “I did what I had to do.” She thought of Halmeoni’s words. She still wasn’t certain Jihoon’s halmeoni had truly come to her. It could have been a dream, but if it was, then these were her words anyway. “In this world, things are harsher. We have to move our moral lines in order to survive.”

  “But I don’t want that for you,” Junu murmured as if he were talking more to himself than to her.

  “You can’t decide what’s best for me. Only I can.”

  Junu chuckled. “Well, I sure know that. You’re not one to let others make decisions for you. Though, you do make so many of your decisions because of others.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Junu shook his head, and she knew he had no intention of answering.

  Now Somin did stand. She shouldn’t stay, she told herself again. But something held her in place. An unfinished thought. Something that had been nagging at her all day.

  “I know why it’s happening,” Somin finally said. “It’s because I hate you.”

  “Well, you’re not the first human to do things because of hatred for my kind. Still, I’m curious to know where you’re going with this.” He folded his hands patiently, waiting for her to continue.

  “I know I should stay away from you. I know you’re bad for me. It’s like when I was little and my mom told me not to touch the flame of a candle. But the more I watched it, the more I had to know what it was like to touch it,” Somin said. “My mother always said she was worried one day my curiosity would get me into trouble.”

  “Did you touch the candle?”

  She didn’t want to answer. She was afraid of how he’d take it, but she’d come this far. “Yes.”

  Junu’s lips spread into a slow smile. “So what’s stopping you from . . . touching the candle now?”

  Somin frowned at how he made that sound so sensual. “You’re missing the point.”

  “No, I get it. You say that it’s because you hate me? The reason you kissed me . . . twice.” Junu held up two fingers and wiggled them playfully. “You sure have a funny way of showing your hatred.”

  “It’s because I feel something whenever you’re around,” Somin snapped. Only he could make this ten times harder for her. She was trying to explain something to him, and he continuously insisted on misunderstanding. “I wish I could feel nothing about you. But for some reason you make me react.”

  Junu stopped at that. He seemed to be pondering something, and then he said, with surprising sobriety, “I’m not sorry that I get reactions out of you. I’d much rather you notice me. I like it when you notice me. But a rational person doesn’t kiss a person they hate.”

  “I know,” Somin said, frustrated.

  “So you ever consider that maybe you don’t actually hate me?”

  “I have to,” Somin whispered, her throat tight.

  “Why?”

  “Because otherwise I’d have to be worried that I kissed you. Twice.”

  “True,” Junu said, lying back again and letting his eyes closed.

  She started to go when he spoke again. “Will you stay tonight?”

  She hesitated; there was nothing keeping her here. But she found herself saying, “Yes.”

  13

  THE FOREST WAS quiet. So still that Miyoung knew immediately it was a dream.

  She walked down the path, her eyes moving back and forth, watching for any shifting shapes.

  She thought she saw movement to her left and edged away.

  “Does it frighten you so much? The idea of me being here?”

  Miyoung spun around to face Yena. A sharp pang ripped through her chest. Whether it was born from fear or anticipation, she wasn’t sure.

  “You don’t frighten me, Mother.” Miyoung knew the reedy sound of her voice gave away her lie.

  “Why do you fear me?” Yena asked. “I am only here to help you.”

  “But all you’ve done is talk in riddles and threaten me.”

  “Threaten?” Yena’s eyes widened as her voice rose. “I only want the best for you.”

  Miyoung cringed away, lifting her hands as a shield.

  Yena’s face fell as she moved back, her hands coming up in apology. “I’m sorry. I’m not . . . stable.”

  “What are you?” Miyoung asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Yena said, and her form seemed to fade a bit with the uncertainty.

  “You’re really here,” Miyoung said, confident of that. “But how?”

  “I don’t know. Something holds me here.”

  “What?” Miyoung asked, heat settling in her stomach.

  “Perhaps . . .” Yena’s eyes shifted down.

  Miyoung followed her gaze and saw a golden thread between them.

  Yena smiled. “Do you feel it, Daughter? That we are still connected?”

  A hope bloomed in Miyoung like a flower on a maehwa tree, fighting its way into the world in the cold of winter.

  “Help me, Daughter. Help me find you again,” Yena said.

  Miyoung reached for the thread. She worried it would pass right through her hands, but it was warm as she wrapped her fingers around it. Yena’s smile widened, became bright with anticipation. And Miyoung pulled.

  The string tightened, became so bright it blinded her. Then it blinked out. Disappearing into the night and leaving her in total darkness.

  She tried to move but couldn’t see even two centimeters in front of her nose.

  The ground shook as something heavy fell beside her.

  It felt like the world was falling away. Crumbling pieces crashing around her.

  “What’s happening?” Miyoung yelled around the thunderous noise. A chill started to seep into her, so deep it took root in her bones. And she knew something was wrong.

  14

  JUNU WOKE THE next morning with a headache and a mouth so dry it felt like his tongue was made of sand. Rolling over, he noticed a full glass of water on his nightstand. Somin. She was a saint. He gulped the whole thing down.

  Feeling slightly revived, he wandered out to find her. He planned to show his gratitude, and he had a few ideas of how he could do so. But as he made his way toward the kitchen, he heard a suspicious thud from the opposite direction. He followed the noise and then watched Somin try, and fail, to open the many drawers of his ancient chest. The one where he kept his very delicate and very hard-to-procure wares.

  “Lee Somin, shame on you for snooping,” Junu said with a click of his tongue.

  “I thought maybe there’d be medicine or something in here to help you,” Somin said.

  Junu almost laughed. “You’re not a great liar. You should work on that.”

  “This is where you keep it, isn’t it?” Somin asked, not even bothering to look contrite. “All that magic stuff.”

  “Magic stuff?” Now Junu couldn’t help but laugh. She made him sound like a second-rate magician.

  “Should it all just be sitting out here like this?” Somin stared intently at the chest like it was a thing that had greatly offended her.

  “I know what I’m doing.”

  “Do you? Why was that dokkaebi so mad last night? You sold him something bad, didn’t you?” Somin shook her head, judgment in every movement. “And it’s one thing when you put your own life at risk with your business, but what about the other people you’ve hurt?”

  “Are you sayi
ng you regret last night?” Junu asked quietly.

  “What part of last night?”

  He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the uncomfortable fire that rolled through his chest. “I guess I’m asking if you regret coming here last night.”

  Somin chewed on her lip. Giving the question far too much thought. The answer wasn’t an easy one for her, and Junu had wanted it to be.

  “I’m sorry that you seem to have been forced to do things you regret,” he said, unable to stop his voice from becoming ice cold.

  “Can’t you just give me a minute?” she asked. “I killed someone last night.”

  “You protected us from a monster that wanted to kill us.”

  “A monster?” Somin asked, her eyes dark as they watched him. “You mean a dokkaebi. Like you.”

  Junu shook his head, but the words to deny it didn’t come out. “He would have killed me. And then he’d have killed you, too, just for fun.”

  “I know that,” Somin whispered. “Doesn’t make it any easier.”

  “So why are you still here, then?” Junu asked, frustration biting at him. “Why did you stay all night if you feel that way?”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted, turning back toward the chest.

  “You think so little of me. I didn’t mind when I thought it was part of a game we were playing. But if I truly disgust you so much, then perhaps we should just call an end to all of this. Whatever it was.” You don’t want that, a voice inside him said. But he’d always moved on when things got too complicated. And things with Somin were like trying to make his way through a minefield. He told himself it was time to walk away.

  “Maybe you’re right,” Somin said, though she didn’t quite meet his eyes when she said it.

  Say something, dammit. Stop her, that voice inside him said. But he didn’t. He watched as she jerked the door open. Was that a pause? Or was she just getting her bearings as the bright sunlight flooded the foyer? Before he could come up with an answer, she was gone.

  He clenched his fists. Partly to direct his frustration somewhere and partly to stop himself from going after her. What had he wanted her to say? That she believed in him? That he was worth crossing a moral line for? It was better this way. She didn’t belong in his world. Ending it now would save them both time and heartache.