Year of the Tiger (Changeling Sisters) (6 page)

“I’ll think about it.” The tremor in my voice gave me away.

The vampyre thrust a sealed envelope at me. A white tiger stamp circled the seal. “This is your last invitation. After this, there will be no others. You must present this to your vampyres retainers in Eve, and they will bring you safely to the Court. It’s a right of passage, if you will. We await your answer within a fortnight.”

I accepted the envelope. Suddenly, the vampyre’s hand lashed out to grab my arm. It must have been pretty freakin’ hungry to go after a Were. It gazed at my skin with undisguised longing, seriously considering whether or not to pull me back into the shadows.

I bared my teeth and looked it dead in the eye. “No.”

The vampyre stared up at me insolently and slowly, ever so slowly, lowered its long, gray tongue down to lick my arm.

I grabbed its tongue and jerked it into the circle of dim sunlight. The creature wailed, steam hissing from its motley skin. I held it there for a full minute so it would get the idea.

“Clean the maggots from your ears so you can hear properly this time,” I told it. “Don’t fuckin’ mess with me.”

I heard the vampyre rise up like an enraged tidal wave after I turned my back, but Saja bolted forward. I spun around to see the leech cringing and Saja staring it down with canines fully exposed. I shook my head. Una knew what she was doing when she selected this jindo. Ancient protectors of the people, she’d called them?

“Let’s go, boy.” My eyes hardened as we raced the setting sun back to the subway. “We’re not done hunting yet.”

Chapter 7: Deaf and Blind

I woke to the seventh successive day of blindness.

My world was as dark upon waking as it was when sleeping. If I squinted, I could see shadows sitting on ledges, bending over on chairs, stretched out on beds. Then the pain built up around my temples, and I sank back into inky blackness again.

Maya had not only blinded me, but she’d deafened me as well. Normal conversation bubbled like the low murmur of a creek; high-pitched laughter was the twittering of birds glittering somewhere above me, echoing in and out, always unseen.

Mute, I spent long hours by the open window, where I could feel the wind play against my face and sense the rumble of clouds passing by. One day, I felt a number of human hands caress my shoulders, and then heard an excited rush of whispers:

–Should we do it?–

The fingers pinched my skin with sudden violence; I could feel one pair of hands shaking. Then they pushed me.

No!
I pressed against the bottomless drop of air as if I could fashion it into a wall, and it turned into a solid barrier of wind. Rain slapped the faces of my attackers, buffeting them back. They were astonished.

–What’s happening?–

–Some freak event of Eve–

–You don’t think it’s the princes, trying to protect her?–

–Ridiculous! You don’t think, it’s…Raina?–

My fingers squeezed the wall of wind harder. I knew it would respond to me, even if I didn’t know why. It felt like an old friend. And if I just—concentrated harder—those soft drops of rain could become ice bullets—

I pushed too hard and my fingers broke through the wind wall. The girls rejoiced.

–Push her now!–

“Get away from her!”

Colleen. Hers was the first voice I’d heard clearly in days. The fourteen-year-old Irish girl with flame-red hair was perhaps my only true friend in this hellhole. Even over, I thought grimly, Marisol, my eldest sister. I couldn’t forget how cruelly Marisol had treated Colleen when she’d found out her husband, Duck Young, had selected Colleen to be his next bride.

A tempest of words blew through the room, but the next hands I felt were Colleen’s, pink with warmth.

“Don’t sit near the window, Raina,” I heard her say. “Don’t you know the other brides-to-be want to get rid of the girl Khyber and Donovan are fighting over?”

I said something. My throat told me I was saying “thank you,” but all I heard were the grunts of an animal.

“I’ve had a lot of time to explore the palace. No one will think to look for you up here.”

We were climbing stairs. Colleen was amazingly patient, helping me determine the distance between one step and the next. I stumbled against her like a newborn colt.

“God, who did you piss off?” She helped me down onto a hard cot. I had the impression of magpies peering at me through rosy-tinted glass.

“No way you’re dying and leaving me here all alone. I need you to keep your sister Marisol in line. She really doesn’t like competition for Duck Young, if you couldn’t tell,” Colleen muttered, propping small pillows behind me.

I said, “Thank you.” I heard myself this time.

***

My greatest fear, of course, was that Donovan would find me. Colleen had her hands full with defending me. She spoke with great assurance now, chasing off the other girls with a mixture of sarcasm and intimidation. Only I, who held her hand, knew of the cold sweat that broke out over her fingers whenever she faced them. She was frightened that one day they would call her bluff. Then what would we do? I hadn’t heard so much as a peep from Khyber since the night his mother had blinded and deafened me, although I often thought I saw a shadow that stood stiller and darker than any of the others.

Fuck him,
I thought, standing by helplessly as Colleen shooed off another group of naysayers.
This is real friendship. Standing next to someone when they’re at their worst.

“Why arethey scaredofyou?” My new voice ran low and guttural.

She took my hand and wrapped it around two metal pommels that clicked together. I followed the groves down, and then she pushed my hand away, laughing.

“Careful. You almost hit the latch. This is a
balisong
, a butterfly knife. Prince Duck Young gave it to me. If I throw it, the wind will carry it where it needs to go.” I heard the knife
click
open. “Lady Amrit told me the princes only give such gifts to the forerunners. The girls they fully intend to pursue.”

“Does hestill callyou Dewdrop?” I slurred.

An angry gasp. “Does Khyber call you anything?”

“My name.”

“I’ve been helping the prince track down something important. There’s a softer side to Duck Young, Raina. The side that wants to find his family. To discover what he’s lost. My photo awakened that part in him. But he can’t show it. Don’t you understand, Raina? The princes are prisoners of the Vampyre Queen, just as we are. Prince Duck Young, in particular, is in trouble. The Queen is questioning his competence now that an important object has fallen into enemy hands. If he can’t climb back into the Queen’s favor, then God knows what she will do! If Prince Duck Young goes, then Marisol and I are as good as dead, too!”

I heard a distinct tremor in her tone whenever she spoke of “the Queen.” Not
Maya
, or
that vampyre bitch
. The Queen. The story of what Maya had done to me must have really struck a nerve. Or something worse was going on.

I fumbled for her shoulder. She remained as cold as a statue, giving me no help.

“Colleen, if Duck Young is in danger, then he brought it upon himself. He’s the enemy. You can’t sympathize with him. Remember, vampyres hunt by seduction.”

“Actually, he didn’t bring it upon himself.” Her voice was strangely stiff. “Your other sister, Citlalli, did this to him.”

In an instant, I knew what this was about: Duck Young’s soul. I wondered if she actually expected me to apologize for my sister kicking some ass. Citlalli could burn Duck Young’s soul for all I cared. And then hand the remains over to Khyber to do away with.

“Just be careful, okay, Raina?” Colleen spoke again, and suddenly she was the scared fourteen-year-old again. “Prince Duck Young already did really awful things to Marisol in retaliation. That’s why I’m his right-hand woman now. He’ll be after you next.”

“What if he asks his right-hand woman to bring me to him?”

She didn’t answer.

Chapter 8: Battle Plans

This time, when I texted Rafael, all I wrote was:
I know about the invitation.
My phone beeped within seconds:

Apgujeong Station, Exit 2. Meet me in front of Galleria Department Store
.

“And that’s how it’s done!” I told Saja smugly. His eyes smoldered amber-gold in response.

I spotted the familiar broad-shouldered figure propped up against the Galleria’s pillars, nodding to the group of giggling female shoppers making quite a few trips back and forth. I pursed my lips.

“Hey.” I snapped my fingers in front of his face. “Shop on your own time. You owe me answers.”

“I missed you, too.” Rafael seized me in an unexpected hug, and came away holding my tiger embossed invitation. “What might this be?”

“Just my old friend Maya inviting me over for a cup of tea…in the Vampyre Court. I mean,
shit
! What do I do, Raf? This is the clearest shot I’ll have at rescuing my sister…but there’s no way in hell Maya singled me out to discuss ‘peace treaties’. ”

“No. More likely fashion tips on how to fit into the twenty-first century. The vampyres gave you this invitation and let you just walk away?” Rafael looked me up and down. “This has to be about something only
you
can give her.”

“When were you going to tell me about it?”

“When I figured out how to fake big Citlalli hair and Citlalli loud-mouth to go in your stead.”

I punched him in the shoulder and was surprised when he winced. The light caught his brow, and I gaped at the large eggplant-colored bruise winding its way down his temple, his jaws…

“Who did this to you?” I rolled up his sleeve and saw three distinct slivers of puckered red flesh. Claw marks. “This wasn’t vampyres.”

Rafael shoved his sleeve down. “Keeping you away was for the best,” he said harshly. “That way, they could only blame me for violating pack orders. They think you followed me out of misguided admiration.”

“But it was my idea to go to Eve!”

“No.” Rafael gripped my shoulders. “I was the one who convinced you to go. I was the one who left you alone during the vampyre attack on Hyeon Bin’s house. I was the one who let Khyber hurt you. That’s the story, and if you want to even be considered as the Weres’ representative to the Vampyre Court, then you’ll act like the most innocent calf to ever leave the stables.”

I was speechless. Rafael tugged my hand. “Come on. Let’s go meet the pack. And when did you get a dog?”

“He’s Una’s jindo, Saja.”

“Smells odd.”

We dove into the byzantine alleys of Apgujeong, fast losing ourselves in the neon-bright lights for
bibimbap
restaurants, love motels, and high-tech clubs. It was enough to give an epileptic person a seizure. Rafael led me to a small, tucked-away staircase next to a pulsing night club. Saja inflated like a porcupine at the scent of so many wolves, so I tied him up outside.

The other pack members jumped up when they saw me.

“Hey, Citlalli.” Kaelan wrapped an arm around me. “How is it being the Nine-Fingered Girl?”

“Still trying to let go of my dream of becoming the next Robin Hood.”

“And I, to swim the English Channel.” Kaelan kicked off his boot, and I could see that three of his toes had been blown off.

“Citlalli.” Moon approached with a tray full of bean cakes. “Eat. You don’t look well.”

“Next to Rafael, I’d say I could run for the Miss Seoul Beauty Pageant—”

Rafael shot me a dark glare, and I shut myself up with a bean cake.

“How’s the war going without me?”

“Not well,” Kaelan replied. “As you can imagine, replacing the crazy-eyed black wolf with a flock of goshawks doesn’t exactly send the enemy running for the trees.”

Moon stirred her tea, lips pursed. “We clean them from Suwon. They pop up in Incheon. We clean them from Incheon. They pop up in Myeong-Dong.”

“I saw what happened in Wangsimni,” I said apologetically.

Kaelan gazed off darkly. “That was an evil night. They were waiting for us. We almost didn’t get the kids out in time.”

Rafael kicked his feet up on a bar stool. “Cheer up. I booby-trapped that place. This time tomorrow, the emergency light system will go on exactly at noon, when those monsters are snoozing away in our headquarters. There’ll be quite a mess for you to clean up, Bae,” he called over his shoulder.

Jaehoon strode out from the back room and rested a hand on Rafael’s shoulder. It was both friendly and warning at the same time. I watched the way his old, knotted fingers dug into the fresh scars, and I knew who had beaten Rafael. I tightened my lips and couldn’t look at him.

“Citlalli-
si
.”

“Juin-nim,” I coughed the word up. The silence stretched, and I spent a great deal of time tracing the dried mud rivers on my boots. I knew Jaehoon was my pack leader, but he had hurt Rafael, and that would take one hell of an explanation for me to forgive.

“Come with me.” Jaehoon turned on his heel, and I reluctantly followed, dread growing with every step.

We entered the back study, and Jaehoon handed me an old photo. “Hold this.”

It was a black-and-white photograph from the 1950s. Weary, haggard men and women gripped each other’s shoulders with what strength remained in their bones. Their guns propped them up. I was struck by one girl who looked to be my age. Her thinning black hair was hacked-off like a boy’s, and her clothes buried her. She was missing one eye, but the other bore into me, a feral FUCK YOU to the world, more Were than human.

“Korean War. My old pack. We were many, back in the days when werewolves lived all over Korea. Before the war drove us to Seoul. He was our juin-nim.” I spotted the horse-faced man in the back, who still managed a jovial gap-toothed grin despite the misery surrounding him. I almost didn’t recognize a younger Jaehoon standing seriously beside him, skin prematurely crinkled like a corn husk from the sun. The entire pack unconsciously gravitated toward the pair.