The next morning I drag my feet down the school hallway, hoping the cream and saline has erased the puffiness from around my eyes. I even used powder to hide the flush on my face. Too many tears. Too little sleep. My only motivation for crawling out of bed was the hope that I’d encounter Haemosu.
Tonight I’m supposed to meet Grandfather at the museum at 7 p.m. to steal the amulet. Which means I’ve got to figure out a way to get the amulet before then. There’s no way I’m letting Grandfather face Haemosu for me. Komo had. And now she’s gone.
I stop short, swallowing the lump in my throat. The hallway fades, the light blurs like the headlights of a car, and Komo’s face fills my vision.
Her words rush to me: “Take control of your mind; harness your strength.”
“I can’t,” I whisper.
“You can,” she says.
Then she’s gone as if someone has clicked off the headlights. I’m sandwiched between streams of kids, shoving their way to lockers and classes. My stomach knots up, and there’s a tugging at my chest; but I will my feet to move. Komo isn’t the only person haunting me. Haemosu dangles in the forefront of my mind. And every time I look at the bracelet I am reminded of him.
“I brought you a gift.” Michelle hands me a coffee cup as she falls in stride with me. “Vanilla latte. Extra hot and extra whipped cream.”
I take a sip. It tastes like hot water.
“Did he give that to you?” Michelle asks, pointing to my bracelet.
“What?” How does she know about Haemosu?
“You know. Marc. He’s totally crushing on you.”
“Oh. Right. Yeah.” The lies keep piling up. I’ve reached my locker and stare at it. I haven’t touched the door since yesterday’s episode with Haemosu. The thought of it sends my pulse racing. But I need my Chinese textbook.
My translation of the legend of Haemosu and Princess Yuhwa is tucked away in that Chinese textbook. I want to work on it some more, look for clues I haven’t seen before. If only I wasn’t so hopeless when it came to Chinese.
Michelle touches the gold bracelet before I can stop her. She immediately jerks her hand back. “Ouch!” she cries. “What’s up with your bracelet?”
Just Haemosu’s little way of saying “Hands off!” I want to say, but I don’t and instead pull my sleeve over my wrist. “Nothing. Probably static electricity.”
“Oh.” And to my surprise I think she buys my outrageous lie. “Don’t forget about our movie night,” Michelle says. “Lily is coming, too.”
“Crap. I totally forgot about that. Can we do it another time? I need to see my grandfather.”
“You can’t be serious.”
I grimace. “I’m sorry.”
“This is getting old, Jae. You promise you’ll hang out, but you never do. It’s always one excuse or another.”
“I know.” I close my eyes, my head pounding even louder than before. My life sucks.
“So why are you staring at your locker? Did you forget your combination or something?”
“No. I’m just reviewing my Chinese symbols in my head before class.” And although it isn’t true, I really should be since IB Korean is kicking my butt. Yep. I’m going to fail. All those times I’d hated studying. Now it’s all I wish I could do. Curled up on my yo with my textbook, drinking a cup of hot chocolate, not a care in the world.
I spin the combination for my locker. My hands shake.
“I don’t know why you torture yourself like that by taking advanced Korean,” she says, leaning against the locker next to mine. “If you didn’t spend so much time on that class, you could be hanging out with us.”
“Tell me about it.”
Komo and I hoped to find a clue in the ancient texts to save me. How am I supposed to get help now that she’s gone? She had become the closest person to a mom for me. It was Komo who was looking out for me. Protecting me.
I can’t wait to see Haemosu again. I’ll show him how my punch feels, how nice my foot looks imprinted on his handsome face.
“Listen, if you don’t want to be friends, I get it,” Michelle says. “But I’m tired of tiptoeing around you. I helped hook you up with Marc, and now you’re too busy for me. Or were you just using me to get Marc?”
My eyes widen. “That’s not it at all.”
“Then what’s your problem? You’ve got a great guy who has the hots for you, and you’re acting like the world has ended.”
“Sorry to disappoint. Maybe my life isn’t as flipping fantastic as it appears.”
“Testy, are we?” Michelle shifts her books and eyes our classroom door. “Are you going to open your locker already or what? We’ve got like fifty-five seconds until the late bell rings.”
A hand reaches over my shoulder, pushing to keep my locker door closed. “You sure that’s a good idea?”
It’s Marc.
My heart skips, and his touch melts the tension in my shoulders. We haven’t talked since yesterday; and on so many levels I wish we were two normal kids falling in love, without immortals, magic lands, and excess baggage from a thousand years ago. I say, “No. But I should.”
Our eyes meet. Mine saying “I need this.” His saying “Bad idea.”
I pull the metal lever up and swing the door open, holding my breath.
There’s no golden light. No hidden world. Just my books sprawled on the shelf with a plastic container of half-eaten kim and Tae Kwon Do pictures taped to the door. Marc runs his hands through his hair and lets out a chuckle. “You sure know how to start a day, Fighter Girl.”
I breathe again, snatch up my books—all of them—and stuff them into my backpack. It’s full, so I decide to carry my bio and Korean textbooks.
Michelle stops studying her split ends. “You’re moving back to L.A., aren’t you? Is that what this is all about?”
“No.” I swing my backpack over my shoulder. It’s heavy. “I just think it’s best to be prepared and study for all my classes each night.”
“Fine. I’ll talk to you later,” Michelle says. “Or not. You decide.”
“Michelle,” I say to her retreating back. She’s upset, and I don’t know how to fix it. “It’s not what you think.”
“She’ll get over it,” Marc says.
“What if she doesn’t?” I ask. What if that’s the last time we ever talk again, and I’ve completely ruined our friendship because I couldn’t tell her the truth?
“Let me help you,” Marc says, his gaze as tight as a drawn arrow, and I realize he’s not just talking about the books.
The bell rings. We’re late.
I open my mouth to say yes but find myself shaking my head. No. How selfish am I even to think of risking his life? Marc, Grandfather, and Dad. I must keep them safe from Haemosu.
Now it’s Marc’s turn to shake his head, but I leave him and race down the hallway toward class.
“I’m fluent in Chinese!” he yells over the rush of everyone dashing into class.
I freeze. What can that boy not do? He must have overheard us talking. I glance back at him before stepping into English. He’s still staring at me, the hallway now empty, with his lips in a half smile. Impossible.
“After school?” I say.
“Coffee shop. At the bottom of the hill.”
I nod and slip inside class, promising myself this will be nothing more than a quick Chinese lesson. I definitely, absolutely won’t let him get involved.
The strong scent of ground coffee greets me as I enter the coffee shop after school. The cozy atmosphere of cafés is one of the things I love about Korea. That and the subway system. I hate being tied down to the school bus. There’s a lot I’m starting to like, I realize as I move to the marble counter to order. If Haemosu hadn’t shown up to ruin my life, I might actually come to enjoy Korea. I order a chai tea, hoping it will calm my nerves, and scan the crowded café. Most of the tables are filled with coffee mugs and laptops, surrounded by students.
I spot Marc in a soft evergreen-colored c
hair in the back corner, a pile of books resting on a small coffee table nearby. He hasn’t seen me yet; but his glasses are on, and his forehead is scrunched like he’s reading something really good. I smile.
“Hey, Brainiac.” I thread my way to him.
He looks up and motions to the empty chair. “Glad you showed up, slowpoke. I had to beat up half the soccer team to keep your seat reserved.”
“Impressive.” I sink into the cushiony seat and push aside a stack of books to make room for my mug. “Got enough books?”
“You can never have enough books,” he says, but his voice doesn’t have that usual playfulness to it. He sounds tired, and there are dark circles under his eyes. “How are you doing?”
“I should be asking you that. How are your eyes?”
“Never better,” he says nonchalantly; but he won’t look at me, and I get the feeling he’s lying. “But you avoided my question. How are you?”
I cup my hands around my mug and soak in its warmth. He deserves to know the truth. No more jokes. No more pretending everything is fine. Because it isn’t.
I need to tell him everything. I’m desperate, and there’s no one else to talk to about this. Images of Komo spin through my head. I say, “Not good. He took my aunt.”
“What?”
“Yeah. She’s—she’s—” I wave my hand through the air, not trusting my voice, which is full of unshed tears. “Haemosu took her,” I finally manage.
His jaw drops. “You’re serious.”
I nod. Silence hovers over us, and finally Marc leans back and blows out a long stream of air.
“God. I’m sorry, Jae.”
“Yeah. But I’m going to find her. Bring her back. He isn’t going to win this fight.” I had promised myself I wouldn’t get him involved any further, but one request couldn’t hurt him, right? “I need your help.”
I set my mug between two stacks of books, dig through my bag until I find Mom’s Samguk Yusa and my unfinished translation of the legend of Haemosu. “I’m hoping we might find a clue here. But my Chinese kind of sucks.”
Marc takes the book with such reverence that I know he understands its value. Barely touching the pages, he flips through it, scanning the contents. “This is old,” he says. “I shouldn’t even be touching this book without gloves.” He takes my translation next. “Looks like the myth of Princess Yuhwa and Haemosu.”
My insides wiggle. Since Mom died, I’d promised myself I wouldn’t let anything hurt me like it had when I’d felt her hand grow cold in mine. I had always tried to be smartest, strongest, and toughest, never relying on other people for help. But here I am, practically pleading with Marc to help me deal with the biggest problem I’ve ever faced. And that scares me. Big-time.
Marc starts reading through the myth, pointing out each Chinese character. Our heads nearly touch as we lean over the text. It’s hard to focus on anything other than his scent and the sharp lines of his profile. I jot down notes in my notebook, hoping that will keep me focused.
“There’s nothing new here,” I say once we’re finished. “Haemosu kidnaps Princess Yuhwa, takes her in his chariot, she escapes using her hairpin, and he never stops looking for her.” I toss my notepad on the table.
“If I remember correctly, there’s another legend somewhere here about Haemosu.” He takes off his glasses and starts rummaging through his pile. “Here it is. It says that Haemosu, a demigod, wanted to become as great as the immortals.” Marc chuckles. “This worried the immortals, so they asked the Guardian of the East, the Blue Dragon, to create a bow that could kill Haemosu. Just having this weapon kept Haemosu in check, because it was a reminder to him of his mortality.”
“Wait a second. I remember you mentioning this the night Good Enough played.”
He nods, his brows pulling together as I dig through my backpack for my phone. I scroll through my pictures until I come to the one with the bow Grandfather had given me. The one that survived the fire.
“You think you own the Blue Dragon’s weapon? That’s a big deal. It’s not like you can just go down the street and pick one up.”
“I think we should take this myth as fact,” I say.
“It’s a stretch. A crazy stretch.”
“When Grandfather gave me the bow, he seemed to think it was special because it didn’t burn in the fire.”
“It does have the Blue Dragon’s image carved in it….”
I skim my fingers over the engraving as an idea forms. “What if my bow really is from the Blue Dragon? What if the next time I see Haemosu, I pierce him with an arrow from that bow and kill him? Without him in power over his land, my ancestors would be free, and so would Komo. And even if this isn’t really the bow of the Blue Dragon, Haemosu doesn’t know that. I could use it as leverage.”
“Now you’re thinking.”
“It’s a long shot.” I grin. “No pun intended.”
Marc studies my bracelet. “Listen, you have only two more chances before the last of the five eyes turns red. What if you fail? It’s a huge risk.”
“You sound like Komo. She wanted me to leave the country. I just need to be ready for him the next time he comes. But I can’t go around carrying a bow all the time.”
I pull up the Sejong Center website on my phone and scroll down to the exhibit items from the Koguryo kingdom. Sure enough, the amulet Grandfather was talking about is displayed, the samjoko resting in the bronze circle, touching the eight ball points around the edge. My pulse races as I show it to Marc.
“The samjoko,” he says. “Considered to be more powerful than the dragon or the phoenix.”
“That’s what the plaque at the museum says.” I stare at the photo for a moment. “Remember when you found me in the forest at the ski trip?” He nods. “That was right after the first time I entered the Spirit World. When I was there, there was a palace filled with—”
My throat tightens, and my eyes fill. Marc slides his hand over mine, his fingers warm compared to the cold memory.
“I think they were the souls of my ancestors. They called after me. ‘Princess,’ they said.”
“So they think you’re his next Princess Yuhwa? That’s creepy.”
“Yeah, I guess it is. The thought of my female relatives throughout the generations locked up in that awful place. I can’t stand it. And now Komo, too. I have to get them out. Grandfather wants to steal the amulet because he believes it’s a key into the Spirit World. He plans to go and kill Haemosu himself. I can’t let him do that. Haemosu will kill him.”
“No.” Marc crosses his arms, shaking his head. “I know what you’re thinking, and it’s a bad idea. You should leave the country like your aunt suggested. Nothing good comes from messing around with the supernatural. Trust me.”
“It’s the only way. There’s something about Haemosu’s world that connects with me, like I’m a part of it in some way. And every time I enter his world, I get stronger.” I shudder, thinking of the real reason. I’m slowly becoming more a part of that world than this one. “I think I can stop him.”
“I don’t like it. My vote is for you to move back to the U.S.”
“Convince my dad of that,” I say. “Besides, it’s probably too late anyway. Haemosu always seems to be one step ahead of me.”
I stare out the window, where a fog has settled, heavy and thick as if it’s about to rain. “And after he took Komo, he threatened to do the same thing to everyone else I love. I have no choice.”
“No one is asking you to be the heroine.” Marc pushes away his coffee mug and leans so close I can see golden specks in his eyes. “You don’t have to be the one to save the day. Besides, we’re all here for you. You don’t have to do anything alone.”
“My aunt believed we make our own destinies. I’ve been making this my destiny my whole life. Which is why I should attack first. He’ll never expect me to come on my own.”
“One problem, Fighter Girl. The museum will never lend you that in a thousand years.”
I smile. “I wasn’t planning on asking.”
“No,” I tell Marc. “You’ve been a huge help, but I need to do the rest of this on my own.”
He crosses his arms. “There’s no way I’m going to let you do this by yourself.”
“And I can’t let you get kicked out of school. Or watch you get hurt like everyone else who gets within ten feet of me. So no.” I start shoving books into my backpack.
“You need to think this through.”
This is the problem with brainiacs. They want to plan, analyze, and speculate. “There isn’t time. I have two hours to do what I need to do.” I sling my backpack over my shoulder and head for the door.
“Jae Hwa!” Marc calls through the coffee shop. He runs, sliding past me as I’m pulling open the door, and blocks the exit.
Unbelievable. He’s going to force me to knock him flat on the ground. “Last chance to move.”
“What if I’ve already got a plan?” He stretches his arm across the doorway so I can’t exit. Cold air rushes into the coffee shop from outside.
“That’d be interesting if there was a plan,” I tell Marc, “but there isn’t.”
“Listen. I’m going to help you, whether you like it or not. I have connections from the times I worked there. And a season pass to the museum.”
“A season pass to jail, you mean.”
“Funny.” He isn’t laughing. “I know where they keep their keys. I know where the back door is. And I know where the power box is.”
Power box? I tap my foot, thinking, and bite my lip as the reality sinks in. I can’t do this theft alone. I’ve got no plan. No experience. I need his help, and I’m desperate to rescue Komo.
What if I could make it so Marc is out of sight, away from me when I take the amulet? Then Haemosu wouldn’t even know Marc was a part of this.
“Fine,” I finally say. “You can come.”
Marc grins, but it quickly turns into a frown as his eyes center on something behind me.
“What?” I follow his gaze.
“Let’s get out of here.” He grabs my arm, practically pushing me out the doorway.
Gilded (The Gilded Series, Book One) Page 17