Silvern (The Gilded Series) (23 page)

“Don’t eat this, Marc,” I say. “I don’t trust anyone who can’t be up front about who they are and what they’re about.”

“The Seocheon flower?” Marc taps the spoon against his palm, scrutinizing the hag. “Such a plant really exists? I’ve read about it in the myths. Who are you, really?”

“So many questions for such undeserving,” the woman chuckles. “I have dabbled with flowers from time to time to suit my purposes. Even won a special contest or two.”

“Samshin,” Marc says. “That’s your name, isn’t it? The goddess of life. You won the flower bloom contest against the Yongway’s daughter.”

“Ah yes. Those were the days.” The woman utters a distressed sigh, rips the bowl from my hands, and shoves it back into Marc’s. “Until I was cast out in shame by the master who put that mark on you. Eat.”

Then Samshin ambles to the shelf behind her herbs and starts rummaging through them.

“Here’s to nothing.” Marc scoops up the herb slop mixture and, with a shrug, shovels it into his mouth. He grimaces and swallows. “Blech.”

“Well, if you die,” I say, unable to mask my annoyance, “don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Hello. That’s it?” Michelle stomps over to Samshin. “A few more hours? If luck finds us? What a waste of a day. Come on. We’re leaving.”

As we leave, the lady seizes my arm. I startle. Her face is so close, I can make out each crevice and mole on her skin. “How strong are you?” she whispers in my ear.

“I defeated Haemosu.”

“Well, well. That is something.” She studies me intently, as if reading my thoughts. “But Kud is stronger. Far stronger. Still, it would please me greatly to see him writhe in agony, put in his proper place.”

Then Samshin presses something hard and cold into my hand. As she pulls away, I inspect the object. It’s a hollow sphere created by twisted platinum strands dangling from a chain.

“I know the object you bear.” Her breath smells of garlic. “Favored, you are.”

I unravel the chain, so the sphere suspends from my fingers. “Um, thanks.” I can’t hide the questioning tone at the edge of my words. Why is she giving me gifts?

“I know what you carry, so let’s stop pretending. The orb fits inside the sphere. The necklace was created for such. Go on. Try.”

With tentative fingers, I withdraw the orb hidden within Grandfather’s pouch and undo the latch of the sphere. Samshin is right. The orb slips into its folds so easily they were obviously made for each other. I snap the sphere closed, mesmerized even now by the orb’s shimmer, a Milky Way of brilliance in my palm.

“There. Now put it on, and don’t be giving that little treasure away anytime soon. You’ll need it. Haemosu was child’s play compared to what you’re dealing with. These things I know.” She moves away, muttering again and shaking her head. “Yes, I know.”

I watch Marc and Michelle head down the path, thinking about Madame Shin’s words. She’s right, of course. Haemosu was nothing compared to Kud.

“With your little token, the right weapon, years of training, maybe you could put that brat into his place.” She taps her fingers over her mouth, deep in thought. “But probably not. No, probably not.”

“You don’t think I have a chance, do you?” Panic tumbles through me, and I grip both her arms, too tightly I’m sure, but I don’t care because she knows more than she’s telling me. I’m sure of it.

“The power runs strong through you,” she says. “But it won’t be enough. No, indeed. Not enough. You have to make the choice.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Immortality or mortality, my dear girl. Yes, that is it. The choice. But are you willing to pay the price?”

“So I lose him either way,” I say, dropping my hands.

“I was right about you. I always am.” She pats my hand. “You are smart, that you are.”

I want to collapse at these words. If there isn’t any hope, then why continue? If I sacrifice myself, I can still have him from afar, but is that enough? To wander eternity without him? Without feeling his lips brush mine or his warm arms holding me tight?

It will have to be, because this is my curse. I won’t have him suffer the consequences of it.

For once, he doesn’t get a say.

We ride in silence the entire taxi ride back. I snuggle closer to Marc, breathing in his smell, memorizing his profile. Even still, the taxi’s lulling movement does nothing for my battered nerves. Outside, the rice fields roll by, endless lime-green oceans. Samshin’s words rattle through my brain. Could I really just choose? How is that possible?

I press my hand to my chest where the orb hangs beneath my shirt.

Neither choice is a good one. If I choose mortality, I won’t be strong enough to fight Kud. If I choose immortality, I might win, but then I’d be separated from my family and friends, stuck living in Haemosu’s lands. Or, according to Palk, my lands.

“I can’t let Kud do this to you,” I tell Marc.

He kisses the top of my head. “Nothing can separate us. We’ll figure something out.”

I will
, I vow
.
I should feel guilt for keeping Samshin’s revelation a secret, but I don’t. I rest my head on his chest, his heartbeat strong against my skin. My determination melds into iron.

When the taxi drops us off at the subway station on the outskirts of Seoul, my feet drag me to the ticket booth. Each of us will have to take a different line to head home, and I don’t like the thought of leaving Marc. Besides, I’ve gotten five messages from Grandfather panicking about my whereabouts and a bunch of texts from Dad. I’m just not ready to face anyone right now.

Michelle is chatting on her phone with Lily and then hangs up suddenly. “A bunch of kids from school are meeting up at a club in Gangnam in about an hour. What do you say we go? We need a little cheering up after everything that has happened.”

“We don’t need cheering up,” I say, scowling. “We need a cure. Besides, we don’t even have fake IDs.”

“Tara’s boyfriend is the bouncer tonight,” she says, waving her hand as if it’s no biggie. “We’re good.”

“We’re supposed to meet my grandfather,” I tell Marc. “They’re waiting for us.”

Marc checks his phone and then pockets it as if, just like me, he doesn’t want to deal with the messages. “You know,” he says to Michelle, pursing his lips, “that might not be a bad idea.”

“You can’t be serious,” I say. “You want to waste a whole night drinking and dancing when we could be finding solutions? Besides, that herb lady didn’t give you those herbs to buy you more time to get drunk.”

“We spent the whole afternoon finding out that there are no solutions,” Marc says. His jaw is tight, and I catch anger mixed with pain in his eyes. “I’ve got two nights tops before this poison makes it way to my heart. I’ll be damned if I don’t enjoy my last moments and have some fun.”

Michelle lifts her eyebrows and grins. “Marc’s finally living a little.”

I want to physically hurt her for throwing out this possibility. It’s an idiotic plan. But that look in Marc’s eyes tells me he’s determined to do this.

“Fine.” I cross my arms. “I’ll go, but only to keep an eye on you.”

Marc chuckles, and I scowl even more, but he seems better. Maybe Samshin wasn’t a complete flake. I clench my fists as we step onto the train bound for Gangnam, deciding nothing good will come of this.

Darkness has settled over the city when we scramble up the stairs of the subway and find ourselves spit into mobs of people. Shop signs blare neon, vendors have set up tables of goods everywhere, and as we shove our way through the crowd, I spot a guitar player and a juggler.

Bright lights scream the name of the club: Trance. Michelle hooks arms with me and drags me to the entrance. The bouncer is a heavyweight with a buzz cut and two earrings in his left ear. Tattoos crawl up both arms, highlighting the cut of his muscles.

Michelle whispers something into his ear, he nods once, and she tows me inside with her. I glance over my shoulder to make sure Marc is following, but he hasn’t moved. Instead, he’s got his back to us, scanning the crowd. I’m about to ask him if he’s changed his mind when he spins on his heels and waves for us to continue.

It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust. Except for the neon laser beams cutting across the room and flashes of light illuminating random walls and the stage, the room is darker than pitch. Techno music blares from speakers. Even though the night is young, crowds of people are already shoving their way to the dance floor.

Michelle yells something that sounds like, “Let’s get a drink.”

There is no way to respond, so instead, I clutch an end of her jacket so we won’t get separated and shuffle after her. At the bar, Marc and Michelle each order a drink. I muster up the nerve to text Haraboji and Dad. They’re both going to be beyond ticked.

The next hour goes by in a pounding blur. Grandfather tries to call, but I can’t hear a word he says. He finally answers my text saying the Council is “very disappointed” in both Marc and me. A quick glance over at Marc tells me he’s beyond caring. Between the throbbing music, flashing lights, and Grandfather’s messages, I acquire a headache to match the music. After much prodding, Michelle finally manages to drag me out to the dance floor.

“You coming?” I ask Marc.

He shakes his head no and takes another swig. I bite my lips, hating the look of hopelessness filling his eyes.

“Drinking isn’t going to solve any of your problems,” I yell over the music.

“Right now,” Marc says, “I don’t care.”

“If you were in my shoes right now, what would you do?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, all right?”

“Fine,” I say, and stomp off to dance with Michelle. Even while I’m with her, I keep one eye on Marc. I’ve never seen him act this way, and it scares me. He’s never been one to lose hope. The crowd presses around me, sweat flinging from bodies. The air reeks of body odor and alcohol. Then, during one of the flashes of darkness caused by the strobe lights, I lose track of Michelle. Panic rushes through me. I start pushing, searching for her. She can’t have gotten far.

One of the guys I push shoves me back, and I find myself tumbling backward, lost in a sea of bodies, arms flailing and blocking my vision. I try calling Michelle’s name, but the drum of music drowns my voice. It takes forever to maneuver myself back to the bar. When I arrive, Marc’s chair is empty.

Numbly, I run my fingers over the empty seat, scanning the club for signs of either of my friends.

“You sitting here?” a guy asks, a girl hanging on his arm.

I’m on the edge of panic. I shake my head and take off down one of the dark corridors. The music throbs in time with my heartbeat. I duck in and out of groups, focusing on the light of the pulsing beams to guide my next step. The bathroom comes into view, and I storm through the doors. A group of girls hover together by the squat toilets, smoking in secret.

But Michelle isn’t here either, so I run back out, down another corridor, passing by room after room. All I find are groups lounging on couches near game boards and couples pressed together in the shadows.

Soon, I find myself back out by the dance floor, but on the other end of it. I’ve come full circle. I notice a staircase to my right that I hadn’t seen before. My eyes follow it up, and I see there’s a second floor to this club. It’s worth trying.

I shove two dancers aside and squeeze my way up the stairs. It’s quieter up here, and tables are scattered about with small lanterns emitting a blue glow. I’m about to run forward, but then I freeze.

Marc is sitting at a table against the far wall, tipping back his chair like he does. Across from him on the long couch is Michelle, head tipped back in a laugh, her drink spilling over her shirt. But that isn’t what has turned my heart to ice.

Kang-dae is there, his arm wrapped around Michelle. He’s staring at her as if completely riveted. With his thumb, he trails the length of her jaw and then moves to her lips. Her mouth opens in either shock or fascination, I’m not sure which, but she drops her glass.

It bounces over the aluminum flooring, breaking the shock of the moment. I jerk back as if waking from a dream and march over to the table.

I slap Kang-dae across the face.

“Get your arm off her,” I bark.

Slowly, he removes his arm, but he hardly looks angered. If anything, an amused expression crosses his face as he rubs his cheek. “Touchy, aren’t we?” Kang-dae says.

“What is wrong with you, Jae?” Michelle asks. “It’s Kang-dae. He was just explaining to us that Kud used him to get to us. It was all a trick.”

“A trick.”
Good one
, I think as I glare at Kang-dae.

“Kud captured him,” Michelle explains, “but Kang-dae escaped and now he’s back and safe with us.”

“How convenient,” I say.

“This is just what I was saying,” Marc says, his words slurring.

“Jae Hwa,” Kang-dae says. “You really know how to put a damper on a good time.”

“Thank you,” I say, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

I grab Michelle’s arm and pull her up, but Kang-dae wraps his arm around her waist.

“Don’t be so eager to leave, my love,” he tells Michelle.

She rips her arm from my grip and smiles at Kang-dae. My stomach twists in horror, and I let my hold fall away. He somehow has her under his spell.

“Don’t touch her,” I tell Kang-dae. “Whatever you wish to talk to me about is between the two of us. You don’t need to bring my friends into this.”

“It’s a pity we aren’t working together,” Kang-dae says, stretching out his legs and running his fingers around the rim of his glass. “We’d make a great team, you know.”

“Um. Let’s see.” I pretend to think about it. “No. We wouldn’t.”

“He says he wants to talk to us,” Marc interjects and then lifts his eyebrows meaningfully at me. Is Marc trying to tell me something? “We should at least listen to what he has to say.”

“Yes, a proposition, if you will.” Kang-dae motions to the seat next to him, indicating for me to sit.

I grind my teeth together but stalk over and sit on the seat’s edge, not trusting him for a millisecond.

“There, isn’t that better?” He grins, but I can’t take my eyes off his hand rubbing Michelle’s knee. “Jealous?”

I cock my head to the side. “If you don’t stop touching her, our conversation is over.”

He lifts both hands into the air as if to surrender. Then he digs through his jacket pocket and withdraws a slip of paper. It shimmers in the blue glow.

“What is that?” Marc leans forward.

“It’s a map to my house, if you will,” Kang-dae says to me. “You can still save him. Hand over the orb and your boyfriend lives.”

I glance over at Michelle. She gazes at Kang-dae, oblivious to our conversation either from some spell he’s put on her or from the drink.

“How do I know I can trust you?” I ask. “Besides, what will stop you from doing something else horrible once I hand over the one object you want?”

He says nothing, but his eyes harden, so I know I’m close to the truth.

“I’ll pass on your offer,” I say.

“I thought you’d squander this opportunity,” Kang-dae says, and then slides the map to me. “That is why I created this for you. In case you change your mind.”

I pick up the map. It tingles beneath my fingers, and I can feel it aching to speak its contents to me. My fingers hesitate only briefly before I begin ripping the map into halves, quarters, eighths.

Kang-dae’s mouth draws into a straight line. Cupping the scraps of paper, I toss them over my head, not letting my eyes leave Kang-dae’s.

“A touch pathetic, don’t you think?” Kang-dae says. “You are nothing compared to me. You cannot withstand my power or wrath.”

“Leave us,” I say, gripping the edge of the table.

“Until next time.” Kang-dae rises, still holding Michelle. With a gallant swoop he leans down and kisses her hand. She giggles, and then he strides away.

I let out a long, relieved breath and lean my head against the back of the chair. The music of the club isn’t as loud up here, but I rub my temples, trying to ease the battering headache I have.

“I can’t believe he has to leave already,” Michelle says, interrupting my worries.

“We should go,” I say, eyeing her bloodshot eyes. Beside me, Marc is oddly quiet.

We head to the stairs, but as we begin heading down, Marc says, “I’ll meet you at the entrance. I forgot something.”

Michelle leans against me, practically passing out, so I don’t argue, but I don’t like the thought of us separating again. By the time Michelle and I reach the exit, he’s caught up, looking pale once more and panting as if he’d run ten miles.

“You okay?” I ask as we step outside, breathing in cool air.

“Yeah.” A smile creeps over his face. “Surprisingly so.”