Vicious Spirits

by Kat Cho

Now she did speak, her back still facing him. “You have one chance to leave.”

  Junu let out a bitter laugh. “You think you’re the one who has a 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 the middle 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 AT her 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.

  “Miyoung?” Somin rushed to her. “What happened?”

  “What?” Miyoung turned, dazed, barely registering Somin frantically dragging her to the high-top chairs around the island.

  “You stepped in glass. You’re bleeding everywhere.” Somin grabbed a towel and knelt in front of Miyoung. “What happened?”

  “I saw her,” Miyoung murmured.

  “Stay here, I’m going to find the first aid kit.”

  No, this isn’t happening, Miyoung thought. Because if this was happening, it meant Junu was right about ghosts coming to this world. That her mother really was haunting her. And her mother must have the bead, which was how she’d been able to visit Miyoung this whole time, using her connection to her bead. Was Yena making the tear wider by coming to Miyoung so often in her dreams? How big was it now that Yena was appearing before Miyoung?

  Somin rushed back with tweezers, ointment, and bandages. Miyoung barely felt it as Somin pulled the glass shards from her feet while chastising her. She might as well have been speaking in a foreign language; Miyoung was barely listening to her lecture.

  “Miyoung!” Somin shouted. “Are you listening to me? What the hell happened here?”

  “I . . . I can’t . . . I don’t . . .” And finally the pressure that had been building in Miyoung’s chest broke free and she burst into sobs.

  Without a word, Somin wrapped Miyoung in her arms. And Miyoung held on, her whole body shaking.

  Junu was right; ghosts shouldn’t linger in this world too long. Miyoung hated admitting it. But she’d been seeing Yena in her dreams for months and she had been ignoring it. No. She was lying to herself. She’d been holding on to it, just like she was somehow holding on to Yena. Her mother had said to set her free, but Miyoung didn’t know how to do that.

  When Miyoung’s sobs had quieted to slow hiccupping tears, Somin pulled away. “Tell me what’s happening. Let me help. Please.”

  Miyoung started to tell Somin. That her mother was haunting her. That her mother was a ghost and must be the reason that her yeowu guseul was in the ghost realm. But she couldn’t bring herself to say it. Because there was nothing to say. No, because Miyoung knew that if Somin knew about Yena, she’d ask Miyoung to give her up. And Miyoung didn’t know if she could do it.

  24

  JIHOON TRIED TO ask Junu questions about the shaman and what she could mean. But Junu ignored him until he finally fell into a sullen silence. Now all Junu could hear was Jihoon’s labored breaths, but he no longer complained about the hike.

  In the woods he could make out shapes moving through the trees. It was so miserably hot today that Junu doubted it was someone out for a leisurely hike. It was more likely a wayward spirit. Though, if they kept to themselves, there was no reason for the ghosts to bother them.

  As Junu stepped past a giant pine, he had a sense of déjà vu. He didn’t recognize anything, not the shape of the rocks beside him or anything else along the path. Yet something inside him knew they were close.

  “Why are we stopping?” It was the first time Jihoon had spoken in hours, and his voice was breathy.

  Junu held a finger to his lips, squinting as he scanned the rock face. Then he saw them, the stacks of rocks. Altars to the sansin. He spun around, searching the trees for the mountain god. If he knew Junu was here, then they were in a lot of trouble. Junu was definitely not a fighter. And he doubted Jihoon, currently bent over and wheezing, would be any help. Then he saw it, the cave opening. He realized the reason things didn’t look familiar was because it had been centuries, and the flora had grown larger than he remembered. But he saw a dark shadow in the rocks beneath the looming branches of a tree. It had been a mere sapling the last time Junu had seen it, but now it stretched high into the sky. And now it practically hid the opening to the cave.

  “You stay out here,” Junu said.

  “No way,” Jihoon said, following him. “I came all this way. I’m not waiting out here as random ghost bait.”

  So he had seen the spirits.

  “Fine,” Junu said. “Come along. But if you get your s
oul sucked out, it’s not my fault.”

  He made his way into the cave and heard the hesitant shuffle of Jihoon behind him.

  “You weren’t serious, right?” Jihoon whispered, nerves clear in his shaky voice.

  “About what?” Junu asked. “You’ll have to be specific because I’m so rarely serious about anything.”

  “Could my soul really get sucked out?”

  Junu chuckled softly. It seemed that despite his bravado, Jihoon’s sense of self-preservation was still healthy. It was a trait Junu could appreciate.

  “I mean,” Jihoon continued nervously, “I wouldn’t normally believe that, but since I literally had a gumiho bead inside of my chest for like three months, I am a bit wary of anything essential leaving or inhabiting me.”

  Junu turned to Jihoon and patted him on the cheek. “Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to your frail human body.”

  Jihoon batted his hand away, and Junu laughed again. Perhaps letting Jihoon come wasn’t all bad. At least the boy provided some entertainment.

  Junu walked deeper into the cave, carefully making his way around rocks jutting from the walls. The deeper they went, the less light there was until Junu was forced to pull out the flashlight he’d packed. He could still see fairly well, but he knew Jihoon’s eyes wouldn’t be able to adjust to the dark. He heard Jihoon grunt as he ran into a low boulder Junu had just skirted, but Junu had no desire to tease Jihoon anymore. The farther they traveled into the cave, the colder it became, like something leached out all the warmth from the air.

  “There’s no sound,” Jihoon whispered. And Junu almost jumped at the echo of his voice.

  But Jihoon was right; even now the only sound was the tap of their footsteps.

  Sinhye, are you in here? Junu said to himself. Can you hear me?

  Junu almost expected to hear a reply in his head. But there was nothing, just a deep, endless silence broken only by their steps.

  The cave sloped lower as they walked and both boys had to crouch to pass through. The top of Junu’s head scraped against something hanging from the ceiling, and he didn’t dare reach up to check what it was. If he was lucky, it was just a stalactite. If he wasn’t . . . What creatures might dwell in such a dark place?

  Suddenly, it felt like the silence was no longer so thick. Instead there was a low hum in the air.

  “Keep behind me,” Junu said. And as if on cue, they stepped into a round cavern. It was tall enough for them to stand straight, barely.

  “Where are we?” Jihoon whispered, the reverent voice of someone who knew he was somewhere sacred. Or somewhere cursed. He stepped out from behind Junu, despite the warning, to see what was inside the cave. He held up his phone flashlight, letting it sweep across the space. It lit up an object in the center of the cavern. “A jar? That’s what all this fuss is about?”

  Junu didn’t reply. He had no time to explain to Jihoon what his weak human eyes couldn’t see. Junu stared at the jar. It looked too new, too shiny. The pattern of branches more blue than black because of the ink used on the pale ceramic. Just as it had been the day he’d had it commissioned. And around the smooth ceramic, there was a shadow. Like the flow of energy that surrounded many supernatural creatures. The energy of a being so strong that she could barely be contained.

  Except by love. Words spoken to him hundreds of years ago. Words that told him only he could truly trap the woman he once professed to love above anything else.

  But the jar was not what he was here for. He turned toward the perimeter of the cave.

  “Can you hear that?” Jihoon asked.

  “What?” Junu asked as he ran his hand over the stone wall.

  “It sounds like . . . a whisper. You can’t hear that?”

  Junu stared at Jihoon, who looked both confused and mesmerized. Was Jihoon really hearing something? Junu willed himself to listen, but all he heard was the echo of his own breathing.

  “It’s probably just the wind,” Junu said, even though he couldn’t feel a breeze on his skin. “Just stay put. I need to concentrate.” He turned to the walls, running his hands over them. The rock was cold to the touch, like it was ice instead of stone. It felt like Sinhye had leached all the energy from the space around her prison. Feeding on anything she could reach.

  He tried to remember the movements of a day that he’d spent hundreds of years trying to forget. How he followed the shaman into this cave. How he scraped his head that time, too. Except he lifted his hand frantically, expecting to find blood, before he realized he no longer bled. And it had fueled his fire. Sinhye had cursed him to this fate, so he would enact his revenge.

  And with this rage running through him, he didn’t even flinch when he saw her lying unconscious in the middle of the cave, surrounded by talismans pasted to the walls. His jar sat beside her. It was to be a wedding gift and instead sat as her future prison.

  What was once made with love would be sealed with hate.

  And the shaman guided him through the process. One that ended with him piercing a large bujeok pasted at the north end of the cave. He’d expected to find the stone resistant, but his bangmangi sliced through the wall like butter.

  He found that spot now. But instead of the knob of his staff, he found a hole the size of his fist. Empty.

  “It’s gone,” he murmured.

  “You really don’t hear that?” Jihoon asked as if he hadn’t heard Junu, and when the dokkaebi turned, Jihoon stood right next to the jar. His hands on the lid. “She says it’s in here.” There was a scrape as he started to lift the lid.

  With a garbled shout, Junu sprinted across the cave and slammed the lid back with a crack. He almost expected the thing to break in half from the pressure, but it held strong.

  “You stupid human. Do you know what you almost did?”

  “What?” Jihoon’s voice shook. And for the first time, he stared at Junu with fear.

  “If she got out and—” Junu couldn’t even finish the thought, his eyes darting around the cave, trying to measure the feel of the space. Was it somehow colder? Was there a strange breeze? Or was that Jihoon’s ragged breath?

  “How did you even move it?” Junu whispered, staring at the jar.

  “Was it supposed to be . . . locked?” Jihoon asked.

  “It wouldn’t be a proper prison if it wasn’t.”

  “A prison?” Jihoon squeaked.

  “Yes, and you don’t want what’s trapped in here to get out.”

  “Why not?”

  “She’s not likely to be a benevolent spirit.”

  “What is she likely to be?” Jihoon asked, and it was clear he wasn’t letting this go.

  “A gumiho.”

  “Why is a gumiho trapped in this jar?” Jihoon’s voice wavered.

  “That’s not important. What’s important is that she was dangerous and I helped trap her,” Junu murmured, remembering that fateful night when his life had changed. How the moonlight flooded the room. Bathed Sinhye in its glow. How she looked like a demon come to take his soul.

  Jihoon’s eyes widened and he took a step back, his hands out as if trying to ward away evil. “And I touched it. I think I’m going to be sick. I feel nauseous. Ugh, my head hurts.” He pinched the bridge of his nose as he leaned his head back.

  “Let’s just get out of here before you have a stroke.”

  Jihoon looked around. “But we came here for your staff. What do we do now?”

  “I guess we start from square one,” Junu said. “But there’s nothing for us to do here anymore. And I’d like to be away from this damned place as soon as possible. But first”—Junu slapped a hand on Jihoon’s back hard enough to make him stumble a step—“we eat.”

  JUNU WOKE WITH a start. His brain foggy, like tendrils of smoke wound through it, trying to form shapes that dissipated before he could make them out. Memories nippi
ng at the edges of his mind and dancing away when he reached for them.

  Then everything cleared. As he remembered, he’d swung out in defense. But it was too late. He’d already died. And the moment of his death was replaying in his head no matter how he tried to push it away.

  The woman he’d loved. The woman he’d trusted. She had revealed herself to be a demon and then killed him.

  He opened his eyes to see a different woman standing in front of him. Not his murderer. Not his Sinhye.

  She was a shaman. And she explained to him that after he died, his beloved hired her to trap his soul in a new form. Because he shunned Sinhye as a demon, she made him one as well: a dokkaebi.

  Though, she could not bring herself to make him hideous, so she gave him a beautiful face and form. This way he would truly know her pain. Because though his face would attract humans, soon they would see his demonic side and they would shun him as he had shunned her.

  Unable to accept this, Junu had run home, desperate to see his family. They did not recognize him. He wore a new face; he walked in a new body. And he stood outside the gates, staring at the signs of mourning on his household, unable to tell them he was still alive. Unsure if he was alive.

  Dejected, penniless, alone, Junu returned to the cave where the shaman awaited him. She told him that he could get his revenge on the gumiho who trapped him in this form. And in return, he merely had to give up his dokkaebi staff.

  Junu hated the thing and what it symbolized to him. He wanted nothing to do with the magic associated with his dokkaebi form. So he readily agreed. Magic had done this to him, and he would use every last bit he’d been cursed with to trap Sinhye forever.

  25

  SOMIN HATED HAVING nothing to do. Especially when people she cared about were out there risking their lives. She wanted to be in the action, to do something other than pacing the gleaming floors of Junu’s apartment. So she went to his library hoping to find a good book to distract herself with. As she ran her fingers over the piano keys, the sound brought memories of the last time she was here, and she blushed.