He doesn’t respond. Instead, he speeds down the dark, deserted road leading off the highway before screeching into the parking lot of a run-down diner. Other than a few semis, the lot is empty.
“There had to be a restaurant nearby,” he says, killing the engine. “You’re so pale, your lips look almost blue. You need a steak.”
That is about the last thing I expect him to say, but my stomach growls loudly in agreement. “It’s the blood loss. I need animal protein to recover.”
“I figured as much from your gas station haul.” The very evenness of his voice sends a spike of fear down my spine.
He gets out of the car, and I follow suit. Sure, there’s a homicidal megalomaniac after us, but my instinct is screaming that Ethan is the person I don’t want to cross right now. It makes no sense, but he is vibrating with a tightly controlled strength I don’t want to see unleashed.
I look down at my legs to make sure the T-shirt is long enough to hide my hwando. Only the tip of the sheath peeks out. That’s good enough. I can’t risk being weaponless even for a short while.
I have to skip to keep up with Ethan’s long strides. He notices with a frown and slows down, and we walk into the diner together. A tired-looking waitress meets my eyes and waves around a half-full pot of coffee. I assume she means we can choose any of the many empty booths to park our asses in.
Roxy’s Diner is run down but brightly tacky. This diner is just run down and morose. A pang of homesickness hits me. I pick a booth near the back of the restaurant—it’s close to a side exit in case we need to make a run for it—and I sit down facing the main entrance. Ethan slides in next to me. For a second, I feel trapped, but I realize it’s a protective gesture. I can feel the heat emanating from his body, and I want to press myself against him. Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with me? I scoot a few inches away. He won’t appreciate me rubbing up against him after everything I told him.
We order our food after a cursory glance at the sticky laminated menu. When the waitress brings us our coffee, I cradle my mug between my cold hands and stare down at it. The black coffee looks as dark as my soul. I hold back a nervous cackle. My stupid humor, I can handle. My newfound lasciviousness, not so much. I jump a little when Ethan finally speaks.
“You knew the note was for you, and you knew a poison from the Shingae killed Ben.” He stares down at his coffee too. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
“I wasn’t sure about anything. That note ... it didn’t make any sense. It could only have been someone from my old life, but that wasn’t possible. Everyone I knew was ... was dead,” I stammer, blood rushing to my cheeks. I know I’m making excuses. “I needed to know what we were up against before I told you.”
I leave out the part that I was afraid he’d hate me. And I didn’t want him to—Idon’twant him to—hate me. As selfish as it sounds, I don’t want him to leave. I can’t do this alone. I don’t want tobealone. But I can’t tell him any of that. I don’t even want to admit it to myself.
“We’re up against a dark mudang,” he says, working out the facts. “A mudang’s assassin came after you, and a mudang’s poisoned dagger killed Ben.”
“Yes.” I’m impressed he can think straight under the circumstances. I’m not sure I can. “But it’s a little more complicated than that. There’s a faction of dark mudangs called the Jaenanpa. Their primary purpose is to steal magic from beings of the Shingae by any means necessary, including torture and murder.”
“So you needed to know whether we were up against a rogue dark mudang or an entire bloodthirsty faction.” He sums up my thoughts neatly. “What did your alcohol-loving friend have to say about that?”
“I was seeking guidance from the Seonangshin, the god of Mountains.”
“You went to have a drink with agod?” He gapes at me.
Is it wrong of me to feel a tiny bit satisfied that I finally made him lose his cool? Probably. But I like this Ethan so much more than the icy, distant version.
“The Johnnie Walker was anofferingfor them,” I say primly. “The Seonangshin is more powerful than we can fathom, and I had to show them proper respect.”
“So?” He arches a brow at me, lingering frustration sparking in his eyes. “Was it worth risking your life to go see this god?”
“I’m not sure if it wasworth it, but I did get some answers. Unfortunately, what I now know makes facing the whole Jaenanpa sound appealing.” I take a scalding sip of coffee, wishing I could’ve spared him from the helpless fear on top of that cliff. Hell, I wish I could spare him from this whole fucking nightmare, but he needs to know all the facts before he makes his decision. “But it’s not the Jaenanpa at all. We have something much worse on our hands. Daeseong, the most powerful dark mudang who ever lived, came back from the dead.”
“Came back from ...” He cradles his forehead in his hand. “Should I even ask how that works?”
“To resurrect someone, a bloody ritual has to be performed to awaken the powers of the Amheuk, an ancient darkness.” I don’t soften the truth because, despite my worries, I know he can handle it. “Five thousand of Daeseong’s followers committed mass suicide to bring him back from the dead. They ... they even killed a newborn baby.”
Ethan curses under his breath. “And why is this one mudang the worst thing that could happen to us?”
“Other than the fact that he’s an unhinged megalomaniac?” A shiver of dread travels down my spine. “He was resurrected by the Amheuk, which means some of its powers passed on to him. Who knows how much. My guess is that he has grown immeasurably powerful and he’s going to be nearly impossible to defeat.”
“Heisthe worst,” Ethan says dryly.
There’s an edge of hysteria to my laughter. “But there might still be a way to stop him. The Seonangshin showed me a path ...”
If we go our separate ways, it might be better if he doesn’t know the details of my plan. Besides, I’m winging it as I go. I don’t even know how to get from point A to point B, yet. Maybe going to Vegas is a bad idea, but I need a reminder that I still have a home to protect. That I still have things in my life worth fighting for—worth dying for. Like Roxy’s Diner. I smirk down at my mug.
“Is Daeseong your old enemy?” Ethan asks, a muscle twitching in his jaw. I understand his unspoken question.
“Yes.” My voice breaks on the single word. “And one of his undead assassins killed Ben.”
