Read Online Gilded by Christina Farley - Free Book Online Page B

too full, but when the second comes, I manage to wedge myself between a lady with a screaming baby and a black-suited businessman.
    Usually I hate crowds. The feelings of claustrophobia and being engulfed in smells of
soju
, lavender, and kimchi overwhelm me. Not tonight. They are a comfort, blanketing me from harm. There’s safety in numbers, I decide as the door clamps shut and the train lurches into motion. I plug in my earphones, hoping Karp will drown out the growing worry gnawing at my chest, and let my body sway with the train. I focus on the little screens above the sliding doors that scroll the names of each stop, first in Korean and then in English.
    Two more stops until Myeong-dong. I text Michelle that I’m almost there, wiggle my way closer to the doors, and wait. The train creaks to a stop, and the doors swish open. I pause before exiting, a sliver of worry edging at my nerves. But if I don’t get off the train right now, I’ll be in a whole different section of the city at the next stop and arrive too late to hear Good Enough.
    I step off, and the doors whoosh behind me. That’s when I realize why I had hesitated. What had bothered me.
    The platform is empty.
    Where are the lines of people? I can’t remember ever being in a subway station completely alone, especially on a Saturday night. The train hurtles away, sending a blast of wind swirling around me reeking of oil and fumes.
    I adjust my bag and dart to the stairs. My boots echo along the platform.
Clomp
,
clomp
,
clomp
. I focus on the posters liningthe walls, studying their colors, each word. Anything other than the fact that I’m sweating. That my heart feels as if I’ve just finished fifty push-ups.
    A burst of bright light flashes over me. Laughter echoes across the platform, a high-pitched screech, sending an ache through my bones. I freeze. The platform falls silent.
    I don’t dare move. The light dissipates. In my peripheral vision a shadow scampers along the pipes in the ceiling. My heart stops, and my ears start ringing.
    I run.
    I’m halfway up the stairs when I’m faced with two black stumps that I assume are legs. The clawed feet aren’t standing on the stairs but hovering over them. The air smells like a goat stable. I grab hold of the cool railing and allow my eyes to trail up the legs, past a cotton loincloth, up its red rippled belly, and into the most gruesome face I’ve ever seen.
    Eyes gleam down at me, and a huge mouth widens into a sick smile to reveal four dagger-like teeth.

 

    I recognize this creature instantly from the Korean fairy tales Mom used to read me. A
dokkaebi.
The Korean version of a leprechaun, except that these guys aren’t the cute, adorable kind you see on St. Patrick’s Day. They’re the kind that use magic for any whim that may cross their minds. And they’re butt ugly. My mind reels. Dokkaebis hate city life. Dokkaebis avoid crowds. Dokkaebis aren’t
real.
    This one’s black hair sticks out as if it’s been electrocuted, the ends fire red. Directly on top of his head sits a single horn. He bangs his thick wooden club on the concrete stairs, and sparks of light shimmer into the air. He stares at me with a trickster’s grin on his face.
    “Hey, pretty girl,” he says, banging the club again. “Haemosu is watching you, wanting you.”
    My back presses against the railing, but I lift my chin. “Really?”
    “Oh, oh, you already know, pretty girl.” He cackles with glee. “I help you. You help me.”
    Dokkaebis are known for helping or harming people depending on their whims. He steps toward me.
    “What do you want?” I wish my voice would stop quivering.
    “More like what you want, is it not, pretty girl? Humans always want.”
    “Well, I
want
you to leave me alone.” I move to dart around him. His massive body blocks me.
    “No, no, no. You must come with me. To special place.” He cocks his head to the side, revealing oozing warts on his neck. “Skilled with the arrow, are