Silvern (The Gilded Series) (27 page)

I sprint down the stairs, not bothering to wait for the elevator. I forgo the subway and opt for a taxi. At this time of day, traffic is manageable. I bark out directions to the driver and then sink my head into my hands. I’ve never felt so alone. Marc has left, Komo is dead, Michelle is wrapped up in Kang-dae, and the Council is against me, even Grandfather.

Am I making the right decision? Marc was idiotic to just walk into Kud’s hands. But hadn’t I done the very same thing with Haemosu? Regardless, I can’t give up on Marc, not when there is the bleakest amount of hope.

Back in my apartment, I write Dad a note saying I’m going to hang out at Marc’s tonight. Then I find my bow. Before leaving, though, I open my bow case and run my hand over its smooth surface. A light tingling shoots up my arm, and with it, a spark of hope.

I take out one of the arrows and secure the bronze tip that Marc’s mom gave me. It doesn’t fit perfectly, but with a little pressing, I finally notch it in. I twist the arrow, letting the beam of sunlight glint against the tip. I pocket the other two for good luck. I find Princess Yuhwa’s pin locked away in my bottom drawer and add it to my good-luck collection. Then I spot the three origami animals Dad made for me, taped in a neat row at the top of my laptop screen along with Marc’s drawing of Bora Bora. I peel them off and slip them into the pocket of my jacket, pressing my hand against the outside of the pocket and closing my eyes.

How will Dad feel if I never come back? I’m doing this because I have to keep him safe, but he’ll never know or even understand that.

Whatever happens, I must destroy Kud.

After strapping the bow case to my back and sliding on my boots, I grab a water bottle and granola bar. I’m about to leave when I hear a pounding at the door. I freeze, wondering who it could be.

The door kicks open, slamming against the wall, and light floods the room. I stumble backward, shutting my eyes and fumbling with the zipper of my bow case.

“There is no need for weapons,” a deep, rumbling voice says.

My heart catches in my throat. It’s Haechi. His half-lion, half-dragon form looms large in the doorway, too large to fit. He growls low. I step back. I don’t care if he says he’s my protector, he still scares the heck out of me.

“You bring trouble everywhere you go, little one,” he says.

I decide not to argue that one. Even standing at the other end of the apartment, I hear a crashing at the front door, as if a huge monster is trying to get in. It’s a solid metal door, but based on those sounds, it won’t last long.

“Run,” Haechi says. “I will give you a few moments.”

He swivels and pads toward the front door. I hurry after his massive form, determined not to leave him alone to fight whatever is on the other side.

“For once, do not be stubborn!” Haechi says. “Flee!”

His urgency—or is it fear?—sends me spinning on my heels toward my bedroom, but as I do, a boom cuts the air and the floor shakes. Glancing over my shoulder, I watch the front door break and fly across the couch. I stumble into my bedroom, the front door smashing to the floor at my heels, milliseconds from hitting me. A massive creature hulks in the doorway. Blacker than night.

Strange neon-orange symbols fill its entire form, moving as if ever changing. Its tongue licks out, snakelike, and yet it has hands with gleaming claws, scratching across the ground. Its white eyes jut out and erupt with blinding fire. Haechi dives at the creature, and the two roll across the floor, snarling and biting. I hesitate and reach for the orb. But Haechi, as if sensing my intention, snaps his head my way, a chunk of the monster’s skin dangling from his mouth.

“It’s a trap,” Haechi says. “Run!”

Then I see the symbols skitter over the monster’s skin and clatter to the floor. Like a thousand orange bugs, they scamper across the floor toward me. I rip out the orb, its light flashing brighter than the sun. But the scorpion-like bugs don’t even hesitate.

They must be blind, intent on the hunt by smell.

Sliding open my window, I leap onto the balcony and toss the rope attached to the railing over the edge. Ever since I sneaked out of the apartment this way several months ago, I’ve taken measures to always be ready with an emergency rope in place.

I clip myself into the harness and literally throw myself over the ledge. But not fast enough. As I plummet to the ground, cringing at the snap I’ll feel once the rope cinches tight, I feel one of those strange creatures skittering over my pants. It seeks my skin. I kick at it with my boot, knowing its bite must be lethal.

The rope jerks me up, but I’m already unsnapping my harness, allowing myself to fall the rest of the way to the ground. The scorpion thing clings to me and chews at my pants, frantic for a taste of my skin. Above, I see hundreds of the orange bugs, skittering down the side of the building.

Hunting.

My heart hammers in my chest. I’ll have nightmares for the rest of my life if I survive this.

I pull one of the bronze arrowheads from my pocket and stab the side of the bug. It sizzles and vanishes. I wonder if Marc’s mom really did find an enchanted tip.

I take off in a sprint, tucking the tip back into my pocket as I run and shrugging the bow case on tighter. I’ve no idea where I’m going, but I head toward the subway, hoping to outrun the freak-worthy bugs.

I need to be around people, lots and lots of people. It’s the safest bet. While I jog, I’m continually glancing over my shoulder, desperate to keep my distance from the bugs, yet they are gaining on me. Their bodies clatter across the pavement behind me sounding like pounding rain. I practically fall down the subway’s concrete steps, desperate to get on a train. Once on the platform, I race toward a train prepping to leave, pumping my arms and squeezing through the sliding doors before they shut.

The bugs pour down the steps and onto the platform as our train begins to move. I press my hands to the glass windows, urging the train to move faster. I grit my teeth, imagining how the bugs could latch on to our train and follow me everywhere.

But once they hit the platform, they swarm in circles, perhaps searching for my scent and unable to find it. I let out a long breath and sag into the train’s seat while trying to think of a way to get into North Korea. But my mind comes up blank. Why didn’t I pay more attention or keep Kud’s stupid map?

If I enter the Spirit World through Haemosu’s lands, I cannot pass the Great Divide. Kud made sure of that. I need to physically enter North Korea in order to do this, which is a half day of travel and proper visas.

I get off the train at Myeong-Dong and step into the streets. Couples are strolling, holding hands, laughing. Groups of college students stand around, chatting. I’m still for a moment, drinking in the sight. My heart aches until I don’t think I can stand it anymore. I pull out the picture of Marc and me standing on the mountain cliff. Remembering his lips against mine, soft and yet hungry for more. With his arms wrapped around me, we were one and strong and unshakable.

But now he’s gone off and done this, and he’s never felt so far away. Every other time I’ve had him close to me, knowing he would know what to do. But now I’m just fleeing, and I don’t know how to find him.

The orb heats against my chest. It’s trying to tell me something, I realize. I duck into a dark alley, glancing around. I’m such an idiot. It isn’t called a seeker orb for nothing. Could it seek Marc for me? I slip the orb out, and its silvery glow engulfs the alley. Heat pulses through my palm and rushes through my entire body. I stare into it, waiting for it to tell me something. But it only radiates light. Then I remember the cliffs in the Spirit World with Marc and how the light led me to the pagoda and chest on top of the cliff.

I look up and spot a stream of light trailing down the alley, away from the bustle of the shops and the people. I track the light, slowly at first, but then I break into a light jog. The alley spits me out onto one of the massive streets, with cars jammed in traffic. The sidewalk here is fairly empty, so I continue my jog, hoping I don’t attract any attention.

Soon I gain my bearings. I’m not far from Komo’s house. I run until I’m standing in front of the gate to her house. I stare at the boarded-up windows, the glass never repaired from Haemosu’s attack, and I’m pulled back to the last time I was here—when Haemosu broke in with his boars and injured Grandfather, immobilized me, and kidnapped Komo. I had refused to come back since then, the memories too sharp, too painful.

I take a deep breath and push open the gate. A breeze kicks up around me, rustling the dying trees in her yard, sending fallen leaves skittering. It seizes the gate, slamming it shut. I startle, but as I glance around, I decide it is nothing more than the wind. The silvery light leads up Komo’s steps. The door is locked, but I know the combination to open it. Once inside, I close the door, locking it and pressing my back against its solidness. Not that it would help if I’m still being followed by the bugs. My eyes find the window that Haemosu smashed through. I shiver, trying to shake off that memory. The light falls onto the mat in the middle of the floor. The trap door. The door that leads to the tunnel. The tunnel that supposedly leads to North Korea.

The memories crash over me as rushing waves.

Beneath the trap door is Komo’s secret tunnel. At the end stands an iron gate that blocks off the rest of the passageway. I remember shining my flashlight through the bars into a gaping blackness.

“Where does that go?” I had asked Komo.

“North Korea,” she’d said. “You do not want to go there. Trust me.”

That was then. This is now. Because the place she warned me against, the place I don’t want to seek, is where I must go. Then I remember Sun’s journal, and everything falls into place like a sledgehammer. It’s almost as if Komo knew I would come here to save Marc. He is my heart’s desire, and yet the only way to find him is to enter these secret tunnels. The very same ones that Sun once entered to find Haemosu.

But Sun never returned.

After I toss the mat away, I scamper down the ladder into the tunnel. I don’t bother with a flashlight once I’m below. I’ve got the orb to provide enough light. I take off running, the path familiar after all the times that I’d met Komo down here in her secret room, where we once trained together. When I come to the locked gate I pause, eyeing the lock, then give it a good shake.

I unstrap my backpack and fit Princess Yuhwa’s pin into the lock, hoping it will unsnap. Evidently this lock isn’t magical in any shape or form, because the pin does nothing. Crap.

I race back to Komo’s house, scrounging the kitchen drawers for some type of key, but there’s nothing. Finally, I resort to the hammer I find jammed in the back of a drawer. Back in the tunnel, I slam the hammer on the lock, thrusting with all my force. It bends with each blow, and I’m sweating and cursing at the lock all the while until it shatters.

I toss the hammer aside and tug at the gate. Its aged hinges resist, but it scrapes open enough for me to squeeze through. There’s something different about this side of the gate. I’m not sure what I’m sensing—maybe it’s just the feel of a place that’s been long unused.

I check my watch. It’s already five. I only have two hours left at most if the countdown started from the moment Marc was imprinted. There’s no way I’m going to make it. I can only hope Samshin’s herbs gave Marc a few extra hours. I pull out the orb, warm and soothing, to light my way, and dart down the passageway. The border of North Korea has to be at least thirty miles away.
This is ridiculous
, I think, my feet pounding on the rocky path. There’s no way I can run this, but I keep running because I don’t know what else to do.

The orb illuminates my trail. I’m panting and my sides burn. My heart feels a million pounds right now, so heavy that I’m not sure how much longer I can run.

The walls narrow until I have to slow my sprint to squeeze through sections. Their rock surfaces cut my skin. I step around giant boulders and duck as the ceiling grows lower and lower. This passageway reminds me of the one in the Diamond Mountains in North Korea, almost alive, sinking sharp stalactite teeth into me.

My breath is sharp and raspy. I can’t decide if I’m out of breath or if it’s claustrophobia creeping over my skin. Soon the ceiling hangs so low that I resort to crawling through the rubble on my hands and knees. Rocks slice my palms and tear through my pants.

And then the path disappears completely, and I come face-to-face with a solid wall of rock.

I pause, fear of failure drowning me. All I can think about is how I’m practically buried beneath the earth, helpless while Marc is dying. Then the orb shines into a small crack before me. I’d have to go in on my belly, but I’m not sure if I’m thin enough to squeeze through. I peer into the small space. The floor and ceiling in this section are flat, like two pancakes hugging together. I look behind me, racking my brain for another way.

There is no other way. There are no other options.

I unstrap my bow case and backpack before flattening myself on the ground. I hook my backpack to my ankle and start crawling on my belly, dragging my case along beside me, slapping the cold rocky floor to strain my body forward.