Gilded (9 page)

This one’s black hair sticks out as if it’s been electrocuted, the ends fire red. Directly on top of his head sits a single horn. He bangs his thick wooden club on the concrete stairs, and sparks of light shimmer into the air. He stares at me with a trickster’s grin on his face.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he says, banging the club again. “Haemosu is watching you, wanting you.”

My back presses against the railing, but I lift my chin. “Really?”

“Oh, oh, you already know, pretty girl.” He cackles with glee. “I help you. You help me.”

Dokkaebis are known for helping or harming people depending on their whims. He steps toward me.

“What do you want?” I wish my voice would stop quivering.

“More like what you want, is it not, pretty girl? Humans always want.”

“Well, I
want
you to leave me alone.” I move to dart around him. His massive body blocks me.

“No, no, no. You must come with me. To special place.” He cocks his head to the side, revealing oozing warts on his neck. “Skilled with the arrow, are you?”

How does he know this? “Did Haemosu send you?”

“Yes, yes, yes. Haemosu beckons you.” His red eyes narrow to slits. “Before we go, we make pact.”

Right
. Like I’m going to make a pact with a monster. “What did you have in mind?” My pulse races as I estimate how much space there is between him and the wall. Can I squeeze through?

“Yes, yes, yes! I give you clue. You give me orb.”

I’ve no idea what he’s talking about, but I attempt a smile as I prepare to duck around him. “Sounds fair.”

“The heart of the moon. Shoot your arrow into it. There your ancestors are. You can free them from their tomb.”

I stop. “What do you mean by freeing my ancestors?”

“Souls of the princesses cry, cry, cry,” he says. “Do you not hear?”

My head is spinning. Grandfather never mentioned anything about this. Is this a trick or for real?

The stories always say never trust a dokkaebi.

He bangs his club onto the concrete. A myriad of colors spark into the air. “Then, then, then! Get me the orb.”

“Heart of the moon? Orb?” I have no idea what he’s talking about.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” With each yes, he pounds his club. “You get. I get.”

The only thing I want right now is to be far, far away.

He lifts his club to twirl it again. I take that moment to duck around him and then sprint up the rest of the stairs. When I reach the main level of the subway station, I’m back in the rush of people scurrying from place to place. I skirt around a group of giggling schoolgirls and glance over my shoulder, hoping the crowds have scared him off. The dokkaebi isn’t following me.

Everything is normal.

Then I stop in my tracks. Because Haechi stands just two feet in front of me. People rush along, talking on their cell phones, totally oblivious to the lionlike creature standing on four legs.

“Trouble?” he asks in a growl.

“How—how,” I swallow hard, “did you know?”

“This is my city. But dokkaebis rarely roam these parts. I did not sense the danger as quickly as I should have. A rift between Kud and Palk in the Spirit World has created recent havoc.”

I lick my lips, completely confused. Why is every creature so determined to talk in riddles? “What do you want?”

“Remember. Palk has commissioned me to protect you. Call my name if you should need my assistance.”

I nod, getting the sense that disagreeing with a creature as fierce and strong as he would not be in my best interests. He vanishes before I have a chance to ask him why Palk even cares about a lowly mortal like me.

Although I have to admit it’s a little comforting to know he’s on my side.

By the time I enter the Coffee Bean, I’m out of breath, and my nerves are fried squid. The paper lanterns dangling from the thick-beamed ceiling and olive-green wallpaper give the coffee shop a cozy atmosphere. The aroma of roasted coffee and cinnamon fills the air. The room’s warmth soaks into me, and I realize how cold I am. Good Enough isn’t playing, but their instruments are laid out on the stage, so they must be on their break.

I stand still and take it all in. It’s all so
normal
. So
safe
. I cling to that feeling, pretending for a moment that Grandfather’s story is just some awful fairy tale. That immortals, Haechi, and dokkaebis are mythical.

If only.

“Jae!”

That’s Michelle’s voice. I catch sight of her waving with both hands from a table at the far end, near a mock-traditional Korean-style oven. She’s wearing a pale-pink cashmere sweater rimmed with pearls, and her hair is pulled back into a sleek-styled ponytail.

Next to her is Lily, with her curly blond hair, beaming a lip gloss smile at me as if this is the best night ever. Lily tends to get overdramatic, but then I see why. Kumar is sitting at their table. She’s been crushing on him since day one of school, and apparently she’s finally gotten his attention. He’s easy to spot, being the only Indian in the room. But it’s Marc, also with them, who stops my steps. He looks totally hot in a dark-blue fleece pullover. What’s he doing here?

His eyes leave the TV where the soccer game is playing to
find mine. For a moment our eyes lock. He raises his eyebrows as if he’s surprised I’m here, and then his mouth curves into a slow smile. My heart flips. Twice.

I order a latte and head over to them. Lily pats a stool next to her for me to sit on.

“You’re back early,” Michelle says.

Kumar glances up from his mini tablet to nod a hello. “Escaped the relatives, huh?”

“Hey, Fighter Girl,” Marc says. “Your trip go well?”

How did he know I went on a trip? As if sensing my question, Michelle whispered into my ear, “Don’t hate me forever. He was asking about you, so I told him you’d be here.”

Still too cold to take off my jacket, I cup my drink between my hands and watch the steam curl up from the mug. I feel my face flush. “Yeah.” I hesitate and then say, “Dad had to come back early for work.” I hate lying, but the truth is too bizarre.

“Perfect!” Michelle says, totally oblivious. “Now we can get back on board with our weekend plans to shop for the ski trip next week.”

“I wouldn’t mind checking out the shops after the next set of songs,” Lily adds.

Ugh. Shopping. Just the thought of it sounds exhausting. Besides, I haven’t had much luck lately in going places, with dokkaebis and Haechis and everything else freak-worthy popping up. I shiver at that thought. “No offense, but I’ll skip the shopping.”

“You hardly hang out with us anymore.” Michelle flattens her napkin nice and neat, looking annoyed. “And now you want to quit NHS. What’s going on?”

Great. All I want is to fit in and be normal. Why does it have to be so hard? I glance over at the guys, both oblivious to our conversation as they discuss something on Kumar’s tablet.

“Nothing is going on,” I lie. “Everything is fine. And I’ve decided not to quit NHS.”

“Really?” Michelle asks. She looks so relieved, I only regret my impulsive decision a little. “Excellent.”

“You should tell her,” Lily says to Michelle.

“Tell me what?” I ask.

Michelle folds the napkin into fourths. “Charlie broke up with me this morning.” She presses her lips together, and I see tears edging the corners of her eyes. “By e-mail.”

“E-mail?” I ask. “What a loser. And a coward. He could’ve at least called you.”

“I guess I’m feeling a little needy lately.”

“I’m so sorry.” I grab her hand. “He’s a moron not to want to be with you.”

“That’s what I told her,” Lily says. “That’s why I suggested shopping. We’ll get her mind off it all.”

“Let’s not talk about Charlie anymore,” Michelle says. “Tell us about your trip to your grandfather’s house. Was it as bad as you thought it would be?”

“Worse.” I give a shaky laugh. If they only knew. “Actually, my grandfather gave me a gift. It’s pretty cool.”

I pull out my cell phone, find the picture I took, and show it to the group.

Kumar sets aside his mini tablet. “Very cool,” he says.

Marc puts on his glasses. “My guess is it’s at least four hundred years old.”

“Wow.” I study Marc, who is staring at the picture. “How do you know that?”

“My parents are archaeologists on their off time. They cart me along for kicks.” He shrugs and takes a swig of his Coke as if it’s no big. So why do I get the feeling he’s not telling me something?

“Kumar was just practicing for his big speech at the college fair tomorrow,” Lily says, as proud as a mother hen.

“Right,” I say, still grappling with the fact that my friends think researching physics is one version of fun. “That’s the one where the Harvard guy is coming to hear you talk about the brain thing?”

Kumar nods, scrolling through his notes. Michelle and Lily slip away for coffee refills while I half listen to Kumar and Marc talk about how humans access different brain parts and half watch the door for strange creatures. My mind keeps flashing back to when I grabbed Yuhwa’s hand and was pulled into the mural. How was that possible? A parallel universe or something?

Kumar is brilliant. So brilliant that Harvard has its eyes on him, even though he’s only a junior. Maybe he might have some answers for me.

“What about different dimensions?” I blurt out. “Is it scientifically possible?”

“Dimensions?” Kumar rubs his chin. “Absolutely. There are all kinds of theories on it. People have been talking about it forever. Since Pythagoras. Nothing proven, though.”

“So what do
you
think?” I ask.

“Well, there’s this mathematician named Dr. Revis over at
North Carolina State University. She’s got this theory that there are actually six dimensions.”

“We discussed this in class earlier.” Marc leans back in his chair. “Where two of the dimensions are time related.”

“That’s the one.” Kumar touches his mini and sketches out a triangular drawing. “What Revis did was bend the uppercase Greek letter
xi
until it looked something like this.”

Kumar shows us the sketch.

“So you’re saying that at any time, any of the six dimensions could intersect.” I lean over the table to get a better look.

Kumar sets his mini on the table. “No, what I’m saying is, at any moment, all or some of the dimensions intersect, but at varying intervals.”

“And according to Dr. Revis,” Marc adds, “the two time-related dimensions may not be running at the same speed.”

Okay, so that is so above my head, but what Marc says makes me wonder. How did Grandfather get to the cave so quickly? Is it possible that our time runs differently from the time in Haemosu’s world?

The mic screeches as a guy announces Good Enough back to the stage. The band saunters up, and within a few beats the room is vibrating with guitar, drums, keyboard, and pretty decent vocals.

Lily and Michelle rush back, deposit their drinks on the table, and join the group of dancers at the foot of the makeshift stage. I sit still, watching them. A sliver of jealousy runs through me. They are having fun, while my world is falling apart. I’m in a room full of people, but I feel so alone.

I’d hoped hanging out with my friends tonight would help me feel normal, but my brain can’t stop rewinding what happened in Grandfather’s cave, thinking about Haechi’s growl and the dokkaebi’s swinging club. I press my hands over my face and push my fingers against my eyes as if that would stop all the nightmares that have become my reality.

What should I do? Ignore everything like Dad suggests and hope it all will magically disappear? Or follow Grandfather’s advice and call Master Kim? I dig into my pocket and pull out the note. Master Kim’s address is here in Myeong-dong. I bite my lip.

No,
I think.
It’s too late.
I’ll call in the morning. “I’m going to get some space,” I announce, standing.

“You just got here,” Marc says, but I’m already walking.

I can’t believe I risked eternal punishment from Dad for this. I could’ve stayed home and been this miserable. I weave my way to the other side of the coffee shop and slip into a booth where it’s quiet and I can think clearer.

After a few minutes, I debate whether to head back to my friends or go home when Marc waltzes over with that lazy grin on his face, holding a plate with cheesecake.

“I come bearing gifts.” He slides across from me. “Will this offering be enough for my forgiveness?”

I frown. Forgiveness for what? Then I remember I’m supposed to be mad at him for teasing me about my dress.

“Depends,” I say. “What flavor of cheesecake?”

“Ah.” His eyebrows rise, pleased. “She gives me a test. I live for tests.”

His delight in academics is almost sickening. I pretend to scrutinize the cake and then pick up the fork, cut out a slice, and taste it. Chocolate. Creamy. Totally delicious.

“Okay. You can stay.”

He smiles.

“You have two minutes,” I say.

“You’re brutal.”

“We all have our specialties.”

He takes the fork from my hand and stabs a bite of cheesecake.

“That fork has my germs on it,” I say, loving the way his hair keeps falling over his eyes.