“Great. Let me grab a couple more things.” I need animal protein. Full-fat milk, the last two hot dogs spinning in the machine, and a fistful of Slim Jims should do.Shit. I almost forgot the liquor. That would’ve been a disaster. When I unload my provisions next to his at the cashier stand, Ethan cringes for a millisecond. I know exactly what he’s thinking.Gross.“I won’t judge if you don’t.”
“Why would you judge me?” His eyebrows hike up in surprise.
“Protein bars and trail mix? You’re so watching your figure.” Even though I sink a lot of snark into my words, I can’t stop my eyes from roaming over the biceps stretching out the sleeves of his T-shirt and the ridges and grooves of his muscular forearms. I catch myself and glance at him from underneath my lashes. He’s looking at me with a knowing smirk.Cocky bastard.Irritation overshadows whatever I was feeling.
“I’ll get this,” I mumble, digging out some crumpled bills from my pocket.
“I need to see your driver’s license,” the cashier says, stifling a yawn.
“Are you kidding me?” While I remembered to grab some emergency cash on my way out, I left my wallet and driver’s license in my apartment. Ethan shakes with silent laughter beside me. I dig an elbow into his side, hoping he feels some discomfort through his ridiculously hard obliques, and mutter, “Youcan pay.”
Back outside, Ethan opens the passenger door for me, and I hesitate. “You must be exhausted. Should I drive the rest of the way?”
“You got stabbed in the shoulder,” he says, his voice rough. “I think I can manage driving a bit further.”
Not bothering with an answer, I climb into the passenger seat. He’s right. My wound is closed, but my range of motion isn’t fully restored. And the trip to the restroom and minimart drained me enough to make me dizzy. It might be safer for him to drive until I’m fully recovered. That reminds me. I’m famished. I need to get some protein in me if I want to heal properly. I rip open a Slim Jim and wolf it down.
I move on to my next one as Ethan pulls out of the gas station. When I’m on my fourth stick of dried meat, I notice the silence in the car and his sideways glances. “What?”
“Are you going to wash that down with some milk?” he asks with a grimace. “Or with a couple shots of Johnnie Walker?”
“The liquor isn’t for me,” I snap, pulling out one of my shriveled hot dogs. “It’s for someone else.”
“Where exactly are we going?” He stares at the hot dog with horrified fascination.
I roll my eyes as I rip off some of the dry meat and stale bread with my hands and teeth. Ethan holds back a shudder. He can judge all he wants. I can’t be a woozy mess for what lies ahead.
“Just outside Monterey.” We aren’t headed for the famous Lone Cypress in Pebble Beach. The cypress I seek lives on a secluded cliffside on an outcropping a long way down from the road.
“And you know someone who can help us there?” With a sharp shake of his head, he tears his gaze away from my progress on the hot dog and focuses his attention on the road. “Someone who’s fond of Johnnie Walker?”
“Yes.” I don’t elaborate. I’m too busy masticating rubbery meat.
The Johnnie Walker is an offering for the Seonangshin. I can’t show up empty handed. It would be disrespectful. Why booze? Beats me. Sometimes tradition is just tradition. In Korea, humans offer food and liquor to their dead ancestors in an elaborate memorial ceremony calledjesa. When they visit an ancestor’s burial site, they bring a truncatedversion of jesa food and liquor, which is poured on the grassy mound of the grave. Maybe the Seonangshin developed a taste for the liquid fire soaked up by the earth. Whatever the case, one never visits the Seonangshin without an alcoholic offering.
“Will I get to meet your friend?” His head moves as though he’s turning toward me again, but he jerks it back to keep looking straight. He can’t face the horror of my gas station hot dog again.
“No, my ... friend doesn’t like meeting strangers.” I can’t risk bringing a human along. The Seonangshin might snuff his life out if he so much as blinks wrong. Besides, all he would see is a cypress tree. He won’t be able to hear the Seonangshin or feel their presence. “Look, I know you have questions. I appreciate you not bombarding me with them right now. I promise I’ll tell you more once I figure some things out.”
His hands clench and unclench around the steering wheel, then he nods once. I release my breath. I bought myself some time, but not much. He needs an explanation. I can’t blame him. He sure as hell deserves one.
I munch on my hot dog in silence. It’s like gnawing on a leather belt, but I can’t be picky, considering the amount of blood I lost. I open up the carton of milk to help wash it down. I feel some of my strength returning. Good. I’m going to need it for my audience with the Seonangshin.
Ethan’s Jeep eats up the road, and I grow more anxious by the mile. I’m walking back into the world that I turned my back on over a hundred years ago—the world I’ve been hiding from all this time. Once I go back, there will be no hiding from my past. There will be no hiding from myself.
We make good time to Monterey as night descends around us. My stomach lurches with nerves. Or it could be the hot dogs. I wipe my damp palms on my jean-clad thighs and blow out a long breath. A part of me wants to bolt ... but I know there’s no running from the dark magic after us. At least, not for long. So back to the Shingae I go.
“Turn onto that dirt road,” I say in a resigned voice. Ethan maneuvers the car into the shadows of the woods. “Okay. You can stop here.”
“Where are we?” He peers out the windshield, but the headlights are swallowed up by the dense fog.
“Get out of the car,” I tell him. He swivels his head around so fast I’m sure he gave himself whiplash. “I’m not ditching you. We’re switching seats. I need to drive the rest of the way.”
He nods and gets out of the driver’s seat without any questions. Ethan is handling this strange day much better than I ever would have in his shoes. I feel unworthy of his patience and trust. Our eyes meet as we pass each other at the front of the car, but I look away first. Once I’m in the driver’s seat, I move it closer to the steering wheel to compensate for my shorter legs. My barely five-feet-tall human body can be annoying as hell sometimes.
“Buckle in.” I shift the gear into drive and close my eyes. “Here we go.”
I need my spirit eyes to find the Seonangshin. My physical eyes will only get in the way, making me doubt and second-guess what my spirit senses. We’re getting close. I can feel the Seonangshin’s power pulsating around us, and the magic within me strains to answer. I grit my teeth and fight the primal call to transform into my spirit form—gumiho, the nine-tailed fox.
