Page 52 of Vicious Spirits

Junu let out a bitter laugh. “You think you’re the one who hasa right to make demands? I am the one who holds your life in my hands.”

Now she rose and turned to face him, and as she did, a roar shook the trees.

A tiger, so giant he reached the woman’s shoulders in height, leapt from the forest. He pinned Junu to the ground, teeth gnashing centimeters from his face.

Junu tried to lash out with his knife when a sudden pain lanced through his whole body as if fire raced through his veins.

“What is this? What magic do you wield?” Junu cried.

“You will not threaten one of my loyal shamans.” An old man emerged from the forest.

His hair was white as the moon. A beard trailed down across his silk robes. He wore the garb of a noble.

Junu knew immediately that this was no mortal. Call it his new dokkaebi senses, but he knew without asking that this was a god.

“Please, make it stop,” Junu cried. His body felt like it might tear apart.

Slowly the fire abated, but the tiger still sat on his chest, compressing his lungs.

“You will leave my mountain. You will never come back. Or you will pay for the slight with your life,” the sansin said.

“Of course,” Junu grunted out, his voice reedy as the tiger still pressed on his chest.

“If I see you again, your life is forfeit.”

The tiger stepped back, and Junu scrambled up, gasping in breaths. He reached for his fallen knife, but a spark slashed across his palm and Junu screamed. There was a gash in themiddle of his hand, but no blood spilled. He gaped at the sight, proof that he was truly a monster. Like his father had shouted at him with his final breaths.

“Leave it and go,” the sansin roared, and the sound boomed through Junu’s head so loudly his ears rang.

Junu bowed and stuttered out an apology before he turned and fled.

23

MIYOUNG GLARED ATher phone. Jihoon wasn’t picking up. Junu wasn’t picking up. Were they ignoring her calls? Jihoon had snuck out so early that morning to do the exact opposite of what she’d asked. Was he ignoring her because he was afraid of what she’d say? He’d be right, because she was planning to tear into him as soon as she saw him again. But was she a hypocrite for being upset? After all, she’d gone months lying to Jihoon, thinking she knew what was best for him last winter. But that had been different. Miyoung hadn’t wanted to upset Jihoon because he’d held her fox bead inside of him. It had weakened him; she’d had no idea if he could handle the strain of knowing his life was in danger because of her.

Still lost in her thoughts, she went into the kitchen for a glass of water and stopped short when she saw Somin at the fridge.

“Somin-ah, what are you doing in here with all the lights off?” she asked, shuffling to the cabinets for a glass. “Can you pass me the water?”

Then she blinked, thinking perhaps she was just tired from stress. That’s why she thought she could see the fridge through Somin.

Then the figure turned. The glass fell from Miyoung’s hand, crashing against the tile at her feet.

“Mother?” she whispered.

Free me, Daughter.

“What are you doing here?”

Don’t you want me to visit you? Don’t you call me to you?

“No, I’m not doing anything. I promise,” Miyoung said.

Yena held out her palm, and in it she held a thread, which shone bright and gold and sliced through the air to connect to Miyoung.

We are connected. It’s how I can come to you. Back and forth. Back and forth.

“Mother?” Miyoung sobbed, stepping forward. But Yena faded into nothing before Miyoung could reach her.

---