Page 75 of Wicked Fox

“Mother.”

Yena halted her with a glare.

“I don’t explain all of my rules because there are things in this world that are hard to explain, even to people like us.” Yena pulled out the last drawer and let the contents fall, then dropped the wooden drawer as well.

“But everything I do is for you. Everything.” Yena pulled Miyoung’s school blazer off the back of her desk chair and emptied out the pockets. The talisman fluttered to the ground, like a yellow flag marking Miyoung’s guilt. Yena picked it up between her thumb and forefinger, her face contorting with disgust. “And this is how you choose to treat my trust.”

“Please!” Miyoung begged.

It didn’t matter; her mother’s face had closed. With slow, deliberate motions, Yena tore the talisman in half. A spark speared through the golden paper. Miyoung watched the power of the talisman break free and scatter in the air.

Not even a second passed before the shadows rose, bleeding onto the walls.

“What has gotten into you?” Yena said as the shadows behind her stretched and congealed, becoming menacing shapes.

“I’m sorry,” Miyoung stuttered, blinking so hard white lights burst behind her lids.

“Tell me,” Yena said as the looming shapes rose above her, arms reaching out to embrace her.

“Mother!” Miyoung shouted. But the demons moved right through her mother, and Yena didn’t bat an eye.

Miyoung wanted to sob. She’d made a complete mess of her life and had only pretended everything could be righted. After all, lying was Miyoung’s best skill, and it turned out she’d finally learned how to lie to herself.

“I’m sorry,” Miyoung said, and she didn’t know whether she was apologizing to her mother or to the ghostly faces of her victims.

“What have you done?”

Miyoung backed away from her mother’s wrath and the ghosts behind her. A gang of threats she couldn’t handle. The ghosts bared their teeth, hatred clear on their faces. Their eyes black holes, but filled with accusation nonetheless. “Leave me alone.”

“Don’t use that tone with me,” Yena snapped, her nostrils flaring in barely contained rage.

The ghosts danced across the air, like they swayed along to her mother’s fury. They surged forward.

“Get away!” Miyoung screamed, and swung out. Her nails scraped her mother’s cheek. Red slashes welled with beads of blood across Yena’s pale skin.

“Miyoung!” The roar filled the room and cleared the desperatefear from Miyoung’s mind. She blinked as she finally focused on her mother. The ghosts had receded, and she stared down at her hand, smeared in her mother’s blood.

“I didn’t mean to.” Her voice wavered back and forth between distress and apology. “I was trying to fix it, Song Nara said—” She clamped her lips tight, realizing her mistake.

“Song. Nara.” Yena said each word slowly. “The shaman you were speaking to is named Song Nara?”

Miyoung nodded meekly.

Without a word, Yena spun on her heel.

“Wait!” Miyoung called after her. “Where are you going?”

But Yena didn’t reply as she stormed out.

With fumbling fingers, Miyoung dialed Nara’s number.

“Nara, if I give you the bead, can you guarantee you can fix this?”

“Yes, I think I can, Seonbae.”

“Tell me where to meet you.”

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