Gilded (The Gilded Series, Book One)

by Christina Farley

  “Wait,” I say. “What about your stuff?”

  “I got my backpack. I’ll get the rest later.”

  His jaw tightens, which sends my own pulse racing, and then he breaks into a jog down the cobblestone sidewalk. I peer over my shoulder, and that’s when I see him.

  The same dokkaebi that met me in the subway station, coming out of the coffee shop, his red, bulging eyes focused on me. He saunters after us, so slowly that it seems he’d never catch us; but as I turn back around, he’s suddenly ahead of us, standing by the bus stop and twirling his club. Both Marc and I jerk to a stop. No one in the bus line notices the troll.

  “Don’t look at him,” Marc whispers into my ear. “He’s been stalking you at school all day.”

  “What? How are you able to see him? I know for a fact that the dokkaebi isn’t interested in you.”

  “Let’s just say my eyes don’t hurt, but I’m seeing things in a whole new light.”

  I can’t stop my mouth from hanging open. “What are you saying?”

  Marc slides his hand in mine. I don’t pull away. “I’m saying I can see things. You know, supernatural stuff. Whatever happened to me back at the locker did something to my sight.”

  “No. Tell me you’re lying.”

  “I wish.”

  “Pretty girl,” the dokkaebi says. I can hear him perfectly from ten feet away even with the traffic buzzing by us. “Haemosu wants pretty girl now. Before we go, remember our deal?”

  “You made a deal with him?” Marc gapes at me like I’m insane.

  “Absolutely not!”

  “The belly of the moon, pretty girl,” the dokkaebi says. “Belly of moon. You get my treasure.”

  The dokkaebi reaches out his oozing arm to grab me. A growl cuts the air as Haechi dives over my head and pounces on the dokkaebi. The dokkaebi shrieks, and in a torrent of colors, he disappears.

  The bus screeches to a stop at our curb, slush spewing. There, painted on the side of the bus, is a giant picture of Haechi that the tourism office has been plastering across the city.

  If they only knew.

  “Get on!” Haechi tells wide-eyed Marc and me.

  Marc is the first to break free of his stupor. He pulls me forward, cutting in front of everyone else in line, and the two of us clamber onto the bus.

  “What the hell just happened back there?” Marc says. “That was Haechi helping us, wasn’t it?”

  I nod in a slight daze. The gremlin’s words echo through my mind: the belly of the moon, belly of the moon. What is he talking about? And what has happened to Marc?

  “Why is the Haechi helping you? And why does the dokkaebi think you made a deal with him?” Marc whispers over my shoulder as we work our way to the back of the bus.

  “Who knows?” I plop into a seat, distracted by the furniture shop across the street. Its door disappears, and instead of there being furniture inside, there’s a beach with a traditional Korean temple on a cliff. I press my palms against the cold window and stare at the temple as the bus rolls away. What was that? Was that where the dokkaebi was going to take me?

  “Jae,” Marc says, wrapping his arms around me. “You okay?”

  “Um—yeah.” I shake my head. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if Haechi didn’t show up.”

  “The dokkaebi didn’t hurt you, did he?”

  “No. He’s more interested in some orb thing.”

  Marc’s head jerks up. “What did you say?”

  As the bus lumbers down the street through the city, I tell him about the time I encountered the dokkaebi in the subway.

  “You know that dokkaebis can’t be trusted.” Marc twists his golden ring around his finger. He looks off into space as if mulling over something. “All they want is treasure. I’m surprised Haemosu would even trust the creature.”

  I rub my forehead, a headache pounding my temples. I can’t deal with Haemosu and dokkaebis and break-ins and weird places popping up. One thing at a time. “Tell me more about this sight of yours.”

  “Let’s just say the past twenty-four hours have totally sucked.” He slides on a pair of sunglasses even though it’s cloudy and overcast. He nods at me. “Seems to make the Others fade away. Plus, if I’ve got the glasses on, they don’t seem to notice me noticing them.”

  I suck in a deep breath. “Marc, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

  “No, it’s not, Fighter Girl. Besides, my parents have been helping me. Apparently my gift might become useful.” Marc snorts. “That’s what my dad called it, you know. A gift.”

  I cringe at the bitterness in his voice, but then how many times had I heard that same tone come out of my own mouth? “I get how you’re feeling,” I say. “At least your dad didn’t freak out.”

  Then I remember how Grandfather and Komo said Marc’s dad was a part of the same order as they were. Which is probably why Dr. Grayson took it all in stride, unlike my dad.

  “So why does your dad think seeing strange creatures can be useful?” I ask.

  “It’s a long story.” Marc sighs. “The sunglasses were my dad’s idea. I bet you a million dollars all he’s been doing today is researching this whole thing. You have no idea how excited he is.”

  “At least he’s being supportive.” I think about how my dad is in total denial over Haemosu. “Maybe it’s temporary. Maybe it will go away if we can kill Haemosu.”

  “Yeah, that’s a possibility. I’m crossing my fingers. I know this sounds weird, but I’m actually glad. Maybe my dad is right. Maybe this will be useful in helping you out.”

  “Nothing good can come out of Haemosu’s sick tactics.”

  “Forget I even mentioned it. My problems are nothing compared to what you’re going through.” Then he lifts his sunglasses, raising his eyebrows, and gives me a devious smile. “So, are you ready to hear what I’ve got to say?”

  “Spill. I’m dying to know the details of this cryptic plan.”

  Marc whispers it into my ear so no one overhears us. He’s so close that if I turn my head our lips would touch. A warmth spreads through me just thinking about it.

  When he finishes, I almost smile. We actually might be able to pull this off.

  At the next stop we part ways. Me heading to the museum to get a feel for the place while Marc heads to his house to pick up a couple of things.

  Unease churns through my stomach at the thought of Marc being involved after what happened to him yesterday. But I’m so desperate to get Komo back that I can’t even think straight. This plan has got to work.

  It’s five p.m., the time of our planned break-in, and Marc is late. I press my face against the frosty glass door of the museum and scan the plaza for him. Outside, a preschool group lines up in a neat row beneath the dragon flags of the Illumination exhibit. When they march away, the plaza’s concrete slab lies empty, nearly matching the gray sky above.

  I flip open my phone and speed-dial Marc. If all goes well, Marc and I will get the amulet before Grandfather does, and I can still meet Michelle at the movies.

  He answers on the first ring, saying, “Almost there.”

  “The place is dead like you expected.”

  “Good. Got my pliers ready.”

  A minute later I spy Marc coming up the stairs and across the pavement. He’s got his hands in his pockets, strolling toward the front doors, acting as if he hasn’t a care in the world. As if he’s not about to assist with a theft. My heart quickens at the thought of what he’s doing.

  For me.

  He pushes open the glass door and my chest aches, wishing this could be an innocent date, where we look at boring old stuff and maybe kiss in dark corners. But today is nothing like that.

  Marc gives me a slight nod as he passes me in the entryway before continuing inside. That’s my signal. But before I turn I see him.

  Haemosu.

  Standing alone in the center of the plaza, his crimson cloak whipping in the wind, in sharp contrast to the washed-out world around him. He looks
at me with those dark-pooled eyes. His eyebrows rise an inch. Another school group passes by, oblivious to the man wearing a traditional Korean tunic and a circlet crown across his brow. One step, then another, he comes.

  I back away, pulse throbbing in my ears, across the museum lobby and into the weapons exhibit. Should I call off the plan? Or go ahead with it?

  I squeeze behind a panoramic silk screen and duck inside one of the traditional Korean houses in the next room. I drop to the dusty floor and crawl to a window slit to catch sight of Haemosu striding into the weapons exhibit. Perfect. He doesn’t realize I’m not there anymore.

  The Koguryo kingdom exhibit lies directly in front of me. After a few minutes I skirt directly to the amulet encased in the glass cabinet. The samjoko stretched out in the center of the bronze disk pulls at me.

  I stop for a moment. What if taking the amulet is exactly what Haemosu wants me to do? What if we get caught and sent to jail? What if—

  Laughter fills the room. I swivel around, thinking I’ll be face-to-face with Haemosu, but it’s only a bunch of middle school girls flirting with a museum tour guide.

  “You are so smart,” one of them tells the guide in Korean. She flashes him a coy smile. “My school project would have been just awful without your help.”

  I’m ready to gag when Marc comes up behind me.

  “Stay focused, Jae,” he whispers in my ear as he slides a hammer into my palm. “I’ve unlocked the rear exit.”

  I peer over my shoulder and catch him heading down the stairs to the basement. A map of the museum now rests on the glass display next to me. I pick it up. Marc has circled the back stairwell as a reminder. That will be my escape route. I scan the room for Haemosu. He’s still nowhere in sight. I will Marc to hurry.

  “Oh!” one of the girls screeches, loud enough, I’m sure, for the passengers on the buses outside to hear. “Is it gold? But it must be. Look at the shine, the color, the way it sparkles under the lights. If only I could try it on.”

  Whatever the guard mumbles under his breath as he glances around doesn’t seem to be to the girl’s liking. She pouts her lips and bats her eyelashes. “But don’t you think it would look perfect on me? Please, please, please open it.”

  Her whiny voice grates on my nerves, but it doesn’t seem to bother the guard. He starts apologizing profusely that he cannot open the case for her. I duck behind another glass case that holds a mannequin replica of Princess Yuhwa wearing her wedding dress.

  The lights blink out. The museum falls into darkness. Marc has cut off the power. I flick on my flashlight in time to see the girl clinging to the guard and screaming as if her life depended on it.

  I race to the glass cabinet, and in one swoop I smash the hammer down onto the glass, shattering the glass into a thousand pieces, setting off alarms. I grope through the glass for the amulet, a slice of gold against the darkness. The sharp glass edge cuts my fingers. The amulet slips through my hands, and it drops with a clatter to the marble floor. My flashlight beam skitters across the floor until I find it, but before I can grab it, a hand reaches out and picks it up.

  My tongue feels thick and dry as I slowly lift my head. The girl smiles at me.

  “You have no need for bronze, my princess, when I can deck you in gold.” And then her body twists and her skin pulls until the girl has been replaced by Haemosu.

  I can’t move. Right now my crazy hunt-down-Haemosu-and-kill-him sounds like the stupidest idea on the planet. Problem is, I have no other ideas.

  Guards shout from the far end of the exhibit, and beams from flashlights roam a few feet away.

  “Come,” Haemosu says. “These men are of annoyance.”

  Footsteps pound the marble floor toward us. It’s Marc, careening around the corner, sprinting toward us.

  “Jae!” Marc says, waving his flashlight. “Run! It’s a trap!”

  Haemosu’s eyes narrow, and his mouth dips into a frown. “You!” he says to Marc. “You are supposed to be dead. You will pay for your interference.”

  No! I leap on Haemosu’s back and wrap my arm around his neck, choking him. Haemosu gags, but grabs hold of my braceleted arm and pulls. The electric shock from the bracelet sears me, and I scream in agony. Still I fight against him. There’s no doubt I’m stronger than he in our world, and I taste victory.

  But then the bracelet begins to glow. Wind surges around me, and my hair whips at my face.

  Marc picks up the hammer and raises it over Haemosu’s’ head.

  And an explosion shatters all the glass cases in the room.

  I scream through the darkness but manage to kick the amulet out of Haemosu’s hands. Marc cries out my name, but a void tears at my lungs and sucks away all sound before I can respond. The floor vanishes, and I’m falling. The guard’s flashlights become stars, and they churn around me as if I’m in a vortex. I grope empty air, searching for the amulet. Something! But it’s gone.

  And with it my hopes.

  The wind dies. The stars fade. My feet find solid ground amid the nothingness, and the darkness pulls away like a curtain, allowing light to pour through. It washes over me, and I’m blinded. I cover my eyes as heat penetrates my skin, warming me—such a contrast to the bitter cold of Seoul. The sweet tang of tangerines fills the air.

  I move my hand away from my eyes and squint against the brightness. I’m in a great hall, and it looks vaguely familiar. The floor and walls are lined with shimmering gold, etched with battle scenes. Eight red pillars create a line from the throne to a wood-beamed ceiling. Rice paper lanterns are attached to the pillars, glowing even in the daylight. The ceiling is painted in traditional green, red, and yellow vertical stripes, with chrysanthemums at either end of the design just as in the palaces in Seoul. A golden pedestal with the impression of the samjoko in its center stands in the center of the room. I eye it, wondering if the amulet would fit inside it. Was that the portal?

  And then I catch sight of Haemosu, lounging on a bright, golden throne on the red platform before me. Massive red pillars rise up on either side of the platform, holding a pagoda-style roof. He’s resting his arms on the dragon’s head armrests, and his feet are propped up on the dragon’s tail footstool.

  “This place is far more romantic than that musty old museum, do you not think?” Haemosu says, rolling my flashlight across his palm. “And plastic?” He shakes the flashlight in the air. “I have prepared a beautiful palace for when you become my queen. You deserve more than this rubbish you have been given. You deserve gold.”

  “What I deserve is freedom,” I practically growl, holding up my gilded arm. “Where is my aunt?”

  “Now, dearest, do not be terribly boring.” Haemosu tosses the flashlight, and it smashes into a celadon vase, shattering it. “Your aunt is tucked away in a safe place. Let us not worry over her.”

  If only I had the dragon bow. I could pierce his heart with an arrow in seconds. I look around me and notice I’m standing next to two wooden racks where long-handled fans are stored. The long stick part of the fan reminds me of those European lances. Useful.

  Casually I stroll toward the racks, but something pricks me in the hip. I glance down and realize I’m no longer in jeans and my black hoodie but wearing Princess Yuhwa’s dress from the museum. My stance wavers as I grab a handful of silk. It’s slick against my rough hands. A dress? I glower at Haemosu, but he only smiles.

  I lift my hand and touch twisted braids and loops. Moving my fingers farther, I realize I must be wearing a crown, too. I squirm my hips, hoping to dislodge whatever is stabbing me, but moving only makes it worse. There must be a needle stuck in the skirt.

  “Something wrong, my princess?” He grins as if reading my mind. “A dress like so is far more appropriate than the rubbish you were wearing.”

  I have about a million things I’d really like to say to the creep, but I bite my tongue.

  “You have a point,” I say, putting on a princess smile, all the while imagining him as my punching bag. I slip
a fan out of its holder. “We got off on the wrong track. Why don’t you come down and show me the queen’s palace you were talking about?”

  He raises his eyebrows as if wary but then flashes me a movie star–worthy smile. “I am pleased you have finally decided to see things my way. You must wish to see what soon will be yours. Everything is easy. Perfect. You will be so happy here.”

  Happy when you’re dead, that is.

  “You know, you are my favorite,” he says. “Far more interesting than any of the others.”

  He slides off his throne, and as he reaches for me, I leap at him and ram the long handle end of the fan into his chest. He totters back, surprise lighting his face. I twirl the stick again and smack him across the temple.

  But when I raise the stick to whack him again, my gilded arm freezes in the air like stone. He snatches the long-handled fan away and snaps the handle in half, tossing it to the side.

  “Really, Jae Hwa,” he says. “How are we supposed to live a life of bliss if you are always trying to kill me?”

  “Seriously? How about you tell me where my aunt is and then we can discuss bliss.”

  “Your aunt was poison to your soul, Jae Hwa. You needed to be free of her influence.”

  “You know”—I’m shaking I’m so angry—“I can’t take your crap anymore. I wish I was good at playing games or conniving enough to outwit you at them. But I’m not. I haven’t forgotten how you tried to gouge my eyes out as a bird. I haven’t forgotten what you did to my aunt and Marc. And I remember this place as it really is: a stinking vision of hell. So this is what you’re going to do. You’re going to take me to the queen’s palace and let Komo and my ancestors go.”

  I spin on my heels. My gold belt clinks as I march across the hall. I keep my chin high, trying to ignore the pricking feeling under my dress, and head toward the double wooden doors that span higher than a two-story house.

  A snarl cuts the air.

  “Where do you think you are going?” Haemosu growls.

  I glance back. Haemosu’s glamour has disappeared, and I can see him for the wasted creature that he is. His sunken eyes glow red like the eyes on my bracelet, and all his tongues flick out of his mouth like hungry snakes.