Wicked Fox (Gumiho #1)(44)

The shock of the moment blended with the realization Jihoon held her so close that his body heat permeated her skin.

Miyoung sensed his gi below the surface. The feel of it was warmth and weight and comfort. And her hunger reached for it. She yearned to absorb it, to fill herself with it.

She jerked away, pushing Jihoon so hard he stumbled back four steps. Rain plastered her hair to her face but did nothing to cool her heated skin.

“Don’t come closer,” she said when Jihoon made to step toward her. “Stay away from me.”

“Okay.” Jihoon held up his hands as if to prove he wasn’t a threat. She almost laughed at how ludicrous that was.

“Being around me puts your life at risk.”

“So you always say.”

She scowled at his flippant tone. “Then why aren’t you running?”

“Running takes way too much effort.” He gave a cheeky grin.

Miyoung didn’t want to feel the tight grip on her heart. The one that told her how important this boy had become to her despite her efforts to reject him. “You said you don’t lie, but you’re lying now.”

“Maybe,” he began, low and uncharacteristically serious. “I’m not running because I’ve had people run away from me.”

“You mean like your mother?” It was unnecessarily cruel, but did the job, as Jihoon’s eyes darkened and he took a step away. Finally retreating. It was what she wanted, she told herself as she left him alone on the dark sidewalk.

Cold leached into her skin. He body ached. Like the chilled rain sapped all of her energy. But that wasn’t the cause of her exhaustion. It was wanting something so badly that walking away took all of her strength.





NOT ALL PREDATORS are monsters. But if you beat them enough, they’ll bite.

This was a lesson learned by a small village in the late nineteenth century.

Empress Myeongseong, known as Queen Min, sought to bring modernization to Joseon.

During that time lived a gumiho. She chose to reside in a small town that climbed one of the craggy mountains scattered across the country. Though most gumiho lived a nomadic life, she’d fallen in love with her isolated village and the people in it. So she made it her permanent home.

She learned the name of every neighbor. She played with their children. She helped harvest crops.

She never chose her victims from the humans she lived among, for she’d learned to love them. Instead she traveled far each full moon to feed.

Queen Min embraced the progressive movement. She sought to open Joseon to new ideals, new technology, and new religions.

The gumiho saw hope in this movement. Perhaps, without the dark superstitions previously woven through gumiho myths, she could trust those she loved with her secrets. After all, those that told tales of the evils of her kind also told of the power of love.

And one day, she decided to tell the people her true identity.

She chose to tell the most respected elder first, hoping he would influence the town.

When he turned her away, the village did as well. They came to her home that night with sword and stone. They ripped her small hanok apart. But their blades did not kill her.

She fled, crazed from betrayal and pain. They hunted her, combing the mountains and fields for days before giving her up for dead and returning to their lives. The gumiho was alone and abandoned and broken. And the village went back to harvesting their crops and raising their children. Nothing changed for them after they chased her away, and seeing this, the gumiho’s rage consumed her heart.

The next full moon, she came back and visited every home. With a swipe of claw and rip of flesh, she pulled the liver from every villager.

The final hanok was the home of the elder who’d turned on her. As she tore at his front door, shamans emerged, cutting her down with their magic, ripping her soul from her body. And she was cast into the afterlife chased by her own bitterness.





18





THE FULL MOON brought with it a tension that pressed on Miyoung’s chest. One that came with anticipation and anxiety. She needed tonight to go well. She needed to find her balance again and she’d convinced herself she would when the bead was back in place.

She trotted down the stairs, not wanting to be late meeting Nara. But she came up short when she saw her mother in the foyer with a suitcase.

“You’re going somewhere? Tonight?” At the full moon?

“Yes, I have an important trip I can’t avoid any longer.”

“But I need . . .” Miyoung trailed off. She didn’t know what she wanted from Yena, only that she felt better when her mother was around. And tonight was so important.

“I’ll be away for a few days, a week at most,” Yena said.

“Why?” Miyoung asked before she could stop herself.

“Business.” Yena’s cold tone was proof that Miyoung had misstepped. Miyoung actually had no idea what her mother’s business was, only that Yena had lived long enough to make a lot of money and that Miyoung had never wanted for any material things. That was why, as a child, she’d wondered why her mother still needed to work at all. So one day, she asked Yena why she went away so often, and her mother had replied that she was looking for something. The vague answer was patented Yena. She never gave up anything she didn’t want to.