Wicked Fox (Gumiho #1)(11)

“Actually, there’s something I need to tell you.”

“I know what you’re so worked up about and it’s fine.” Yena waved away Miyoung’s concern. Not the reaction she was expecting.

“It’s fine?” Miyoung couldn’t stop the gallop of her heart. Was it not that bad, revealing her identity to a human and losing her bead in the process?

“I didn’t mean to—” Miyoung began.

“Don’t lie to me, daughter. I know you siphoned your last victim again. You still can’t go for the quick kill.”

Miyoung almost let out a sigh of relief. So Yena didn’t know about the boy or her bead.

“I don’t mind doing it the slow way.” Miyoung could have given a dozen excuses. Her way there was less mess, less screaming, less blood. But she knew those weren’t the real reasons and so did Yena.

“Your desire for human approval is why you’re weak.” There it was, her mother’s disapproval of the half of Miyoung that was human. The half that came from her father.

“It’s hard to live among them and not care,” Miyoung muttered.

“Living among humans is a necessary evil. If we want to feed every month, then we must be where the food is.”

Miyoung winced at her mother’s choice of words, but she nodded. “And if one of them knew what we were?”

“Then we’d take care of them, of course. Their mortal lives are so easily ended.” Yena said it so flippantly that Miyoung’s heart stuttered. Could she have killed that boy? Snapped his neck and left his remains to rot? The thought made her shiver. But maybe that was her problem. She wasn’t ruthless enough.

“What is it?” Yena asked, her eyes shrewd.

“I’m just feeling off,” Miyoung said. “This place is so unfamiliar and having to hunt so soon after moving.”

“It couldn’t be avoided,” Yena said sharply. “You refuse to hunt without the moon.”

“I know.” Miyoung wondered how to broach the subject she really wanted to ask about. “Actually, I noticed a few books while I was unpacking. One of them was about fox beads.”

Yena gave a short laugh. “Those fairy tales? Things humans made up to tell their children. There’s no such thing as a fox bead.”

Miyoung frowned, her hand clenching in the pocket of her robe where that mythical object rested. Could it be that in her mother’s hundreds of years she’d never actually seen or felt her own bead?

“Miyoung-ah, I’m tired. It’s been a long night. No more talk of fantasies and what-ifs.”

“Yes, Mother.” Miyoung felt defeated.

“I worry sometimes that I let you have too much freedom with your dramas and shows.” Miyoung’s heart sank, fearing a new rule or restriction about to be declared. “Don’t let those fantasies warp your brain. You have to stay alert always. We must protect each other. It’s only the two of us against the rest of the world.”

Miyoung nodded. The words were something Yena often said, as easy as any other parent would offer a comforting hug. But Yena didn’t hug. In fact, she rarely touched Miyoung at all.

“Mother?”

“Yes?”

Miyoung tried to screw up the courage to tell her mother about her bead and the strange boy in the forest. But she couldn’t push out the words.

“Good night.”

“Good night, Miyoung.”





5





JIHOON OVERSLEPT, WHICH wouldn’t usually bother him, except it was Saturday and he was supposed to help in the restaurant.

He shuffled down the hall to look in on Dubu. She lay curled in her small bed. With a low whimper, she tried to limp over.

“Oh, you brave girl,” Jihoon crooned, giving her a gentle hug. He still wasn’t sure if he was mad at Dubu or relieved she was okay. Probably an even mix.

He’d been up half the night with thoughts of goblins and gumiho. Halmeoni used to tell Jihoon stories about dokkaebi tricking humans and nine-tailed foxes eating the livers of men. Horror stories camouflaged as fables to teach lessons. But those types of stories were supposed to stay in books, not come to life and almost choke him to death.

He’d tried to convince himself last night had been a vivid hallucination. But he couldn’t ignore the bruise on his temple, a reminder of the girl’s head coming into contact with his. And the strange stone that had come out of her. His fingers still tingled from it, like it had sucked out his very energy.

When Jihoon shuffled down the rear staircase, the sound of the bustling restaurant greeted him.

Voices drifted up from the back room, but he ignored them until the words animal attack stopped him in his tracks.

“Thank you for coming to let us know, Officer Hae,” Halmeoni said.

“Detective.”

“Sorry, Detective Hae.”

“We’re letting the neighboring apartments and businesses know so they can be on the lookout. It seemed like a wolf or a wild dog came down from the mountain, so be careful.”

Jihoon froze, absorbing the words. Animal attack? Like a fox?

“We’ll let our customers know,” Halmeoni said as the door opened. “Come by anytime if you’re in the mood for a good home-cooked meal.”