Silvern (The Gilded Series)

by Farley, Christina

  Marc steps closer. “You think this will help you?”

  “I don’t know.” I move to the bed and motion for Marc to sit next to me. “I think this was her place. The whole journal is about how much she loved him. Listen to this:

  I can’t decide if I’m dreaming or awake, but today I have decided never to go back to my old life. I have everything I could possibly want here with Haemosu.

  “So she was in love with Haemosu.”

  “At least in love with the idea of an escape,” I say. “And the worst part is, this was her last entry. He must have killed her right after this.” I gently caress the cover, wishing I could have known my other aunt. “There’s something else in the chest.”

  I retrieve the bundle and set it on my lap, staring at the soft gray cotton. Then I unpeel the ends, revealing two swords and a bunch of leather straps connected together. The swords’ hilts match, a bird etched on each, each eye gleaming purple from the stone lodged inside it. The blades glint sharp silver in the candlelight.

  “Wait. That’s the Bonghwang,” Marc says, snapping his fingers. “It was once the royal emblem of the rulers of Korea. That’s the same bird that showed up at the theater. I thought it was trying to attack you, but maybe it was trying to warn you about Kud.”

  I pick up the swords, one in each hand. As I hold their cold metal handles, a snap of electricity flutters through me. Similar to the power I feel when I hold my dragon bow.

  “I wonder how she got these,” I say, setting them down and trying to untangle the leather straps. “And why she had them.”

  “Maybe your grandfather. You know him and his weapon obsession.” Marc takes the bindings and untangles them. Then he straps them to my back and shows me how the swords are sheathed inside.

  “How did you know how to do that?” I ask.

  “Jung’s classes.” He traces the Bonghwang’s image with his finger. “There is the possibility the Bonghwang itself might have given these to Sun. Perhaps the creature was trying to help her.”

  “There must be something in this journal that Komo wanted me to look at. A clue or something.”

  I set the swords aside, flop backward on the bed, and groan.

  “It’ll come to you.” Marc leans on his side next to me. “It always does.”

  “By then it’ll be too late.”

  “In that case, you’d better kiss me.”

  His lips are warm and soft. He runs his hand over my cheek.

  “I don’t want you to ever leave me,” I whisper.

  He looks away.

  I tug on his shirt. “I want to see how far it has traveled.”

  This is the second day since Kud marked him, and tonight will be his last night. My only hope is that whatever Samshin gave him will give him a few more hours tomorrow night. Marc shrugs the shirt over his shoulders and head, revealing those lean muscles.

  “All that working out,” I say, trying to avoid the reality of the mercury-colored tattoo that has snaked all the way up his arm to his shoulder.

  “I’ve got to keep up with you, Fighter Girl.”

  “I want to kill him,” I blurt out.

  “Yeah, I noticed that last night, even as a half-drunk jerk.”

  “I still do.”

  “No, Jae.” Marc’s eyes are wide now. “No, you don’t. You need to return your orb to the Heavenly Chest and not worry about anything else. That’s what you’re supposed to do.”

  “If I could just get close enough to him in the Spirit World where I’m stronger, I’d attack.” I stare up at the white curtains, waving in the sea breeze. “If I could find a way to reach him.”

  “Don’t forget that he’s stronger in the Spirit World, too. Besides, how do you plan on finding him?”

  “There’s a split in the Spirit World. Kud created the rift, so that North and South Korea are divided in both our world and the Spirit World. I’d have to figure out which of the ancient tombs would lead me to his lands. Probably only the ones in North Korea. I could use the samjoko amulet to enter and find him. Then I could use the orb to kill him.”

  “I don’t like it,” Marc says. “You’re walking right into his plan. Again. You’re basically just handing him the orb, in his lands, where he’s even more powerful. You need to give Palk the orb.”

  “The only way to save you is to kill Kud.”

  “You’re not strong enough to kill him, and you know that.” Marc stands and starts pacing. “It’s a complete suicide mission. If anyone should be doing this mission, it’s me. I’m already doomed to die.”

  Frowning at how right he is, I unstrap the swords from my back. Komo said that this, the swords and journal, would bring me my heart’s desire, but she was wrong. This hasn’t helped me at all.

  “How about a little sword-fighting lesson before we head back?” Marc’s smiling again, spinning a sword in his hand. It’s like he’s in his element holding it.

  “I’d like that.”

  He shows me the overhand back-cut move, as well as how to sweep and jab. I try not to get distracted as his arms wrap around me, or by the way his muscles flex as he slices the air with the swords.

  “I’m impressed,” I say. “You’re really good.”

  After we finish practicing, I hand him the swords. “I want you to have them. They’re not much, but maybe they can help you when he comes to try to take you. Plus, you’re trained in sword fighting, unlike me.”

  “They’re your aunt’s. I can’t take them.”

  “Please. For me?”

  “You know I hate it when you do that.” Marc glares at me but takes the swords. The pressure in my chest lessens, but only for a few seconds. Who am I kidding? There’s no chance in this world that he can fight off a god.

  I don’t want to leave the Spirit World. As much as I hate to admit it, it’s become my private escape. Yet even as I think that, I’m reminded of Sun and how she came to the Spirit World to escape her old life—only to be murdered by Haemosu. Perhaps I’m not so different from her after all. I can’t hide away here forever and live in an alternate reality.

  The weird part is stepping back onto the road outside of the archery center. The air smells different; dew lingers on the ground, and the morning is fresh. I can hear the distant city. It’s as if time held still for us.

  Marc checks his watch. “It stopped working again.” He slips on the leather straps and then slides the swords inside.

  I scrutinize him. “Your dad will ask questions.”

  “Yup. Wish me luck.”

  As we start trudging down the hill, my body tenses up, knowing I need to face Grandfather. When I spot Marc’s dad’s car, my chest twists.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow at school, right?” I ask, lingering in the shadows of the tree line.

  “Sure.” Marc stares over the top of my head, refusing to look at me.

  I step closer to him, taking both his hands. “We’re going to find a solution to this. I know we will.”

  “Don’t do anything stupid.”

  “What makes you say that?” I grin, then reach up on tiptoes and kiss him.

  We hike into the parking lot, holding hands. Grandfather’s arms are crossed, and his face is drawn and pale. I expect him to be full of angry energy, but he is oddly still.

  “I have been trying to get in touch with you,” he says, and then his voice chokes. He presses his lips together and looks away. “Your komo. I got a call from the hospital. She is gone.”

  I know this already, and yet hearing the words from Grandfather sends another wave of grief through me. Maybe it’s that I’ve always separated the Spirit World from this world. Coming back and feeling the reality of her death squeezing at my insides makes it all so final. I clamp my palms over my eyes, shoving back the threatening tears. Marc wraps his arm around me.

  “Are you going to t
ell him you saw her?” Marc whispers into my ear.

  I shake my head. I’m not ready to tell anyone anything. I need more time to think this all over and decide what to do.

  Marc’s dad gets out of the car and calls Marc over. “We don’t have much time,” Dr. Grayson says. “The specialist is waiting.”

  Marc kisses me on the forehead and then eases himself into the car, his face scrunching. I wonder how much he is hurting from the tattoo.

  Grandfather comes over to me then and wraps his arm over my shoulders, drawing me to him. We stand there, watching Marc’s car back up and drive away, crunching on gravel. Fear washes over me, and I almost race after the car to make Marc promise me he’ll never leave me like Mom and Komo did. But that’s silly and impossible, so I just hug my arms over my chest. My only consolation is Kud won’t bother him since he’s already been marked.

  At least until tomorrow.

  “I talked to the Council,” Grandfather says. “They’ve agreed to put off the decision until after Komo’s burial.”

  “When will that be?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

  “In two days.” Grandfather turns me toward the car. “Your father is already at the hospital waiting for you.”

  When we get to the hospital, they’ve already taken Komo’s body away to be prepared for the viewing tomorrow night. I don’t tell Grandfather this, but I don’t want to see her dead body, pale and cold. I want to remember her alive, full of spunk and power. That’s who she was. As we ride up the escalator from the parking garage beneath the hospital, I focus on the memory of her voice calling out to me over the ocean. She seemed happy and ready to move on. I cling to that thought.

  As we step into the lobby, I spot someone who stands out from the rest of the crowd. It’s the spirit girl who confronted us after the weasels attacked. Bari.

  Ghostlike, she glides along, her white iridescent hanbok a sharp contrast to her long black hair. She holds a rope of white lilies. Trailing behind her are the translucent souls of young and old, clutching on to the rope. Their expressions remain unmoved as they shuffle along in shimmering light.

  I freeze at the top of the escalator, watching them, and then I rush and grab Bari’s arm. She turns on me, her dark eyes narrow and pale lips open slightly. She thrusts her spear between us, and I jerk back from its sharp tip and engraved hilt.

  “What do you think you are doing?” she asks.

  “I just . . .” My throat tightens. “Did you take my komo to the heavens?”

  “Is she dead?” Bari lifts her eyebrows. At my nod, she says, “Then yes. But something is wrong with you.”

  “Jae Hwa,” Grandfather says from behind me. He grabs my shoulders and turns me around. “Who are you talking to?”

  “Have you started fading from his sight yet?” Bari asks from over my shoulder. “That’s how I first realized what was happening to me.”

  “I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” I say, pushing away from Grandfather to face Bari. “What happened to you?”

  “Jae Hwa.” Grandfather’s voice is terse. “What is going on?”

  “I used to be human,” Bari says wistfully. “It’s not that bad. After a while. It’s the fading that’s hardest.”

  “What?” I ask. “You and I have nothing in common.”

  “Once you accept your fate, it gets easier.” Then she glides away, and I hear her mutter, “Poor soul. She doesn’t even know.”

  I watch Bari leave, my mouth gaping. Grandfather shakes me, and I focus back on him. His eyebrows are knit together and a vein is popping up on his forehead.

  “Something is going on that you are not telling me.” He lets go of my shoulders. “We are on the brink of something huge, Jae Hwa. For Korea. For the world. And you are in the dead center of it. I hope you know what you are doing.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Good,” he says. I stare at him incredulously. He lets out a long breath and rubs his chest, saying, “A wise person knows their weaknesses.”

  “Bari thinks I’m becoming immortal.”

  “But you are not yet.” He steers me forward. “Remember, the future is in your hands.”

  I want to believe Haraboji, but Bari is right. I don’t understand what’s happening, and I definitely don’t like this idea that my fate is already determined.

  We find Dad in the lobby, sitting on a bench by the tall glass windows. His body is folded over, hands clasped in front of him.

  “Dad!” I run to him.

  He lifts his head at my voice and stands, holding his arms out to me. Tears are streaming down his red face.

  “She was younger than me,” Dad says. “Too young.”

  I nod against his chest as pain slices through me. All this time we were hoping she could be saved. Grandfather comes toward us and rests his hands on Dad’s shoulders. We stand that way, silent and still, remembering her.

  I lift my head, wiping away my tears and sniffing. “She’s in a better place now,” I say. “She’s happy.”

  Dad shakes his head, not really believing me, but Grandfather’s watery eyes focus on mine. I can’t tell if he thinks I’m just saying that or if he suspects something. But right now I don’t care. All I care about is that we are there together.

  “She helped me understand how important family is,” I say. “And that there are ways around impossible situations. She’d want us to stay close and depend on each other.”

  Both Grandfather and Dad nod. For the first time I can remember, we all agree.

  Sunlight creeps through my windows. I rub my eyes and jerk up, panic pounding at my temples. I study my room, inspecting every detail. The sounds and smells from the city waft in through my open window—kimchi mixed with honking taxis. My English essay lies scattered across my floor, strewn about by the wind. Clothes litter my dresser and pile up around the floor of my wardrobe. My wall bears the dents and scars of too many punches and arrow nicks.

  Tossing aside my blanket, I stand on my yo, curling my toes into the mat. My hands prep, my knees bend. I never sleep with an open window. Not since my dokkaebi encounter.

  Something was here. I know it. Feel it.

  Then I remember the orb. I grope for it, digging under my tee until my fingers wrap around the stone’s warm surface. Letting go a sigh of relief, I sink back onto my yo. The orb radiates in my palm, glittering brighter than snow. Its heat soothes my nerves, but I quickly let it go. Between Grandfather’s warnings not to touch it and the effect it had on me in the restaurant, I don’t trust it.

  After I give the room a quick check to make sure no one is there, I shrug into a pair of khakis and a T-shirt. My phone reads 7:30 a.m. Then I notice a text from Marc that he sent around five thirty this morning.

  Hey Fighter Girl! See u at school. I want my last day 2 b normal.

  Then another text at 7:25 a.m. Whatever happens, remember I love you.

  That one must have been what woke me up. I text back: I love u 2.

  There’s no way I’ll make it to school on time. I scramble about on my hands and knees picking up my English papers and stuff them into my backpack, hoping I’ve collected them all.

  I shut the window, slamming it with a definite thud. Once the lock slides into place, I stand still, trying to remember everything I did last night. No matter how hard I think, I can’t for the life of me remember opening the window.

  After I sling my backpack over my shoulder, that unsettled sensation nips at me. I wish I could figure out what is bothering me, but everything appears to be its usual disaster. I turn to leave, when my eye catches the poster I’d made listing ways to stop Kud. My heart stops for a beat and then takes off racing. I don’t know why I hadn’t seen it right away. Probably because I’d been looking for a creature, not words. But they’re there, in big bold Chinese characters.

  The victory is mine.
>
  The words I’d written on the poster, WAYS TO STOP KUD, have been slashed out with a black marker.

  Damn it. He was here. I tighten my grip on my backpack, imagining him watching me while I slept. My eye finds my bow resting against the wall. If only there was a way to take it to school without being sent straight to the principal’s office. I can totally imagine Dr. Baker’s expression if I were to get caught.

  I drag my fingers along the bow’s smooth surface and then tuck it into the bottom of my wardrobe. There’s no way I’m going to risk it getting confiscated, even if I’d feel better armed.

  “Wow. Don’t you look high-class,” I tell Michelle between first and second period. “I must have missed the memo.” She’s wearing a black blazer and pencil skirt. She applies a swipe of lipstick and smacks her lips once before she slams the locker closed.

  “There’s no way I’m getting in front of the school body looking like a hobo.”

  “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a hobo,” I laugh. “If I didn’t know better, I’d have guessed you were presenting for a Fortune 500 company, not our high school student body.” I glance down at my ankle-high boots, casual tan pants, and turquoise crewneck shirt. “Me, on the other hand? Definitely hobo material.”

  “Don’t be silly. You’re like Lara Croft meets Buffy the Vampire Slayer.”

  “Thanks,” I say. “I think. By the way, have you seen Marc? This morning he texted me saying he’d see me later, but he hasn’t responded to any of my texts since.”

  “Really?” Michelle adjusts her books and stares at me, pursing her lips. “That doesn’t sound like him. Still, I can’t blame the guy for sleeping in. Things haven’t exactly been peachy.”

  “He said he’d see me at school.” I recheck my texts just to make sure.

  “Well, there you go. He’ll be here. And as long as he shows up for our presentation today during the pep rally, it doesn’t matter how many classes he misses.”