Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There is no such thing as a good demon.

For her whole life, Rumi had lived with that knowledge graven into her bones.  Anything with patterns was evil, cruel, monstrous, and needed to be eradicated at the first opportunity.  Her own patterns, proof of a father she’d never known, were shameful and a stain, to be hidden at all costs.

But then she’d fallen in love with a demon – a demon who, despite his treachery, had died for her in the end.  And now?

She turned her hand over, watching the light play through the patterns that still carved their way across her skin.  They were lavender now, almost silver rather than the deep amethyst they’d once been, but, four months after the rebuilding of the Honmoon, they were still there.  Sometimes, in the depths of the night, she could feel them sparking, as though traces of power lingered within them.  Demonic power?  The Honmoon’s power?  She wanted to think it was the latter, but she feared the former.

“Rumi-nim?”

Rumi jumped.  “Ah…”  She cast a frantic glance at Mira and Zoey, who were seated beside her on the TV studio’s plush couches.

“New songs,” Zoey mouthed.

Rumi gave their interviewer a blinding smile.  “Well, we’re always working on new material!  We don’t have anything ready to show you quite yet, but stay tuned.”

The elegantly coiffed presenter arched an eyebrow.  “Stay tuned, hmm?  Does this mean we may be seeing a new single soon?  I have to say, that’d relieve many fans!  After that, ah, rather public breakup a few months back, some folk are heard speculating that Huntrix may be on its way out.”  He smiled as though to indicate that he, of course, had full faith in them.

Rumi took Mira and Zoey’s hands.  “We’re closer than ever,” she declared.  Which was true – now that she didn’t have to hide her patterns, it felt like they were a whole new group.  Yet they’d been struggling to produce a new song, and she didn’t know why. 

She wasn’t about to admit that on live TV, though.  So she smiled determinedly at the interviewer until he inclined his head.  “I’m glad to hear it,” he told them.  “Hopefully that means you won’t have any trouble talking about that brief breakup, then!  What happened during the Idol Awards?  Why the very public catfight?”

Mira, Zoey, and Rumi traded glances.  Demons masqueraded as us so they could try to take over the world was not, in the grand scheme of things, a great answer, even if it was true.  “We, ah, we’re experimenting with something new?” Zoey offered weakly.

“Are you saying it was a publicity stunt?”

“No, of course not.”  Rumi let her tone sharpen.  “Why would we sabotage ourselves like that?”  She hesitated, looking around for inspiration, and spotted the flick of a blue-furred tail behind a camera stand.  Her heart skipped a beat.  Trying not to look in the demon tiger’s direction, she managed, “I hope you’ll forgive us, but it’s painful to talk about those days.  And I’m sure our fans would much rather hear about…”  Now would be the perfect time to announce a new single, tour, or, hell, piece of merch, but they didn’t have any.  “…the gorgeous new dance moves Mira’s been working on,” she concluded.

Mira, who had no new dance moves as far as Rumi knew, glared at her.  “Sorry!” Rumi mouthed.  Mira rolled her eyes.  “Yes, I’ve been working on some new pieces of choreography.  Borrowing a bit from ballet, actually,” she said flatly.

The presenter perked up.  “Could you give us a demonstration?”

While Mira reluctantly rose to her feet, Rumi peeked back towards the camera stand.  It was, thankfully, demon-free.  But then she spotted two blue ears poking around the wall behind the presenter.  As she watched, a paw crept out, followed by the tip of a black nose.  Carefully, curiously, Derpy prodded the base of a microphone stand.  It wobbled.

“Oh, hey, you know, don’t we have that, ah, thing after this?” she blurted out, interrupting Mira mid-stretch.  “I’m so sorry, but you know how it is, we…”

“Oh, don’t worry, we have plenty of time!” Zoey said cheerfully.  Rumi poked her surreptitiously, and she squeaked.  “I mean, um, no, Rumi’s right!”

Mira eyed them both suspiciously.  Rumi cast a pointed glance towards the tiger, whose entire head was now visible as he continued to paw at the wobbling mic.  Mira’s eyes narrowed.  “Right.  I’m sorry, we’ll have to save the demonstration for next time.”

“But we have so many more questions to cover,” the host protested.  He turned to the live audience, who, by some miracle, seemed oblivious to the demonic tiger hiding backstage.  “Don’t you want to hear the latest news from Huntrix?”

Cheers erupted.  Rumi winced.  “Maybe one more question,” she allowed.  Happy fans, happy Honmoon, right?  And, though they’d rebuilt it, it wasn’t sealed golden – if they wanted to keep the barrier strong, they had to keep their fans enthusiastic.

She flapped her hands at Derpy, trying to shoo him away.  The tiger blinked wide golden eyes at her and pushed at the base of the mic once more.  She glared.  Normally, Derpy was a good name for him, but right now, she was more tempted to call him Asshole.

“Well, if it’s our last question, we’ll make it a good one!”  The interviewer paused for dramatic effect.  Behind him, the mic wobbled even more dangerously.  “When are we going to see Huntrix back on tour?”

Rumi sagged with relief.  This, she had a canned answer for.  “Right now, we’re enjoying a hiatus, but I promise, Bobby is in talks with venues at this very moment!  You can expect…”  The microphone tipped further.  She threw another glare at Derpy.  “Expect an announcement very…”

Before she could finish the sentence, the mic fell.  Hideously expensive electronics crashed to the stage, making the presenter jump.  The audience shrieked, then laughed.  “Oh no, that’s such a pity!” Rumi said, too loudly.  “We’d better get going.”  She threw the words towards an innocent-looking Derpy, whose ears and nose were still clearly visible.  “But expect some tour dates very soon!” she added.  Then, seizing Zoey and Mira’s hands, she fled.

Derpy was waiting for them outside the studio, ears flattened and head ducked in remorse.  Rumi looked around to ensure no one had followed them, but they were, thankfully, alone.  “What were you thinking?” she hissed.  “No appearing in public!”

The demon tiger blinked at her.  She still wasn’t quite sure how much speech he understood – sometimes, it seemed like he could understand her perfectly, but other times, basic words like ‘no’ passed right over his head.  (Sometimes, she suspected that was on purpose.)  “Not in public,” she repeated.

The six-eyed bird perched on his head cawed.  I tried, it seemed to say.  She sighed.  “Why are you two here?”  Normally, they were happy to stay home, or at least entertain themselves in less potentially disastrous places than the middle of a TV studio.

In answer, Derpy let his jaw sag open.  For a second, Rumi’s heart stopped, but it wasn’t a letter that lay on the great pink tongue.  Instead, carefully cradled between the tiger’s fangs was a mangled bipa.

Rumi stared at it.  She didn’t know why it felt like all the air had been squeezed out of her chest – in all likelihood, this was no more than random junk Derpy had picked up somewhere.  But Jinu had spoken of a bipa once, saying it had been his only possession.  And a small, naïve part of her wanted to believe that maybe, somehow, this was connected to him.  That maybe, despite all evidence to the contrary, he wasn’t dead.

“Rumi?”  Zoey laid a hand on her shoulder.  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“It’s nothing.”  Rumi shook her head, trying to dislodge the swell of sadness flowering in her chest.

Mira arched an eyebrow.  “I thought we weren’t lying to each other anymore.”

Rumi winced.  “It’s just, Jinu had a bipa once, he said.  He showed me glimpses of what his life was, back when he was human – the bipa was the only thing he owned.  But there’s no way this is his.”

The bird squawked.  She eyed it.  “I can’t understand you, you know.”

That earned her a disdainful look, particularly powerful when it came from three pairs of eyes.  As they all watched, the bird fluttered down, pecked at the bipa, then looked up at Rumi as if to say, See?

She swallowed.  “Are you telling me it does – did – belong to him?”  Derpy might have had the brains of a typical orange cat (never mind that he was actually blue), but she’d never doubted Sussie’s intelligence.

It bobbed its head.  Rumi’s chest contracted.  She’d known Jinu so briefly, when it all came down to it, but his loss still felt like an unhealed stab wound.  He’d understood her – he’d been the first person to make her think that, maybe, she didn’t need to despise the patterns graven into her skin.  And even if he’d initially gotten close to her on Gwi-Ma’s orders, and had betrayed her at the Idol Awards, he’d sacrificed himself for her in the end.  (She kept seeing his face in her dreams, the moment when he told her she’d given him back his soul.  Somehow, that hurt worse than the actual moment he’d dissolved.)

“Rumi?”  Zoey squeezed her shoulder.  “You okay?”  She laughed awkwardly.  “I mean, you’re probably not, that’s a silly question.  But, you know what I mean.”

Rumi covered Zoey’s hand with hers.  “Thanks.  I’m fine.  I will be fine,” she amended, when Mira glared at her.  She had to be – she had the sneaking suspicion that her mourning was the reason behind their inability to produce a song that hit with all the power of Golden, and that was unacceptable.  They needed new chart-toppers to keep the fans happy, and they needed happy fans to keep the Honmoon going strong.  She didn’t have time for self-pity.

“Why did you bring this to us?”

Rumi looked up, but Mira wasn’t talking to her.  Instead, she was glaring accusingly at Derpy, who purred.  Mira pinched her lips together.  “That’s not an answer, and you know it.”

In response, Derpy stuck his tongue out further, clearly urging her to take the cracked bipa.  When she obeyed, the tiger meowed happily.  Then, with a trill of music, he pawed at the ground, sending out blue ripples of light.

They all stared at him.  Sussie made a sound that was far closer to a sigh than any avian throat should have managed.  Derpy, looking affronted, pawed at the ground again, then began to sink into the concrete.  Rather than vanishing, though, he stopped halfway down, looking up at the band with limpid golden eyes.  “Are you trying to get us to follow you?” Zoey asked curiously.  Sussie cawed.

“Follow you where?” Mira demanded.

Neither animal answered.  But Rumi’s patterns tingled as she stared at the ripples expanding out from the tiger’s body, and she had a sinking feeling she had the answer.  “We can’t go to the demon world.  That’s not possible.”

“The demon world?”  Zoey clapped her hands excitedly, then subsided when the other two looked at her.  “I mean, no, demon world, boo.”

Mira folded her arms.  “There’s no way we’re going to the demon world.  First, because it’s the demon world.  Second, because it’s the demon world.  Third, do I need a third?  No!”

“Can we even go to the demon world?” Zoey asked curiously.  “Not being demons, and all.”

Rumi looked down at her hands, where her patterns shimmered like moonstone.  Mira and Zoey weren’t demons, obviously.  But was that true for her?

Not that she wanted to go to the demon world.  Of course not!  Except, if Jinu was there, trapped and injured and alone… she shook her head.  He was dead, and that was that.  She’d seen him dissolve with her own eyes!  There was no way he was alive, even if Derpy had somehow gotten hold of his bipa.  Who knew why that cat did anything?  Maybe he’d brought it to her for the same reason mortal cats gave their owners dead mice.

The six-eyed bird cawed again, sounding impatient.  Mira gave it a look.  “No.  No demon world, birdie.”

“But…”  Zoey drew out the word.  “What if Jinu is alive?  What if this is a message from him?”

Hearing her put it into words made Rumi’s stomach churn.  “There’s no way,” she said, but it came out weaker than she’d intended.  She stared again at the bipa.  It was cracked down the middle, half its strings snapped and a hole staved into one side of its rounded body.  The neck was splintered, and there were splashes of something disturbingly like blood on the weathered wood.  If it had been Jinu’s, it had gone through a war.  And if it’s a message?

“Even if this did belong to him, why would he send it to you?  Didn’t you say he sent you cards when he wanted to meet?” Mira said.

“Maybe he can’t write!  Maybe he’s locked up by Gwi-Ma and this was the only way he could reach out,” Zoey exclaimed.

Rumi continued to stare at the bipa.  Mira scoffed.  “Didn’t he stab you in the back, anyway?  This is a trap.”

“He wouldn’t,” Rumi started, then sighed.  Her friends might have accepted her own patterns, but they were still highly skeptical of Jinu.  Mira in particular refused to believe that he had any shred of goodness to him, no matter what he’d done at the end.  Rumi had stopped arguing with them – it hurt too much.  “Come on, let’s talk about this at home.  Someone’s going to walk out here and see a demonic tiger in the middle of the parking lot, and no one wants that.”

“Fine.”  Mira shook her head.  “But there’s no way we’re going to the demon world.”

***

“Okay, so we’re going to the demon world.”  Mira heaved a dramatic sigh.  “When we get diced into little Hunter cubes, I get to say I told you so.”

“We’re not going to get diced,” Zoey protested.  “Derpy wouldn’t lead us into any danger, would you?”  She made kissing noises at the demon tiger, who rolled over onto his back and meowed.

Mira rolled her eyes.  “That cat wouldn’t know danger if it bit him on the tail.”

Rumi was pretty sure she agreed with Mira on that one.  But, having finally convinced her friends that they ought to at least check it out, she wasn’t about to say so.  “At the first sign of trouble, we’ll leave,” she promised.

“If we can leave,” Mira retorted.

That was another good point, though, again, Rumi didn’t want to admit it.  In theory, the Honmoon was there to trap demons, but what if it trapped them, too?  What if it trapped Rumi, specifically, because of her demon blood?  What if their passage through it tore a hole in it that would allow a horde of demons into the mortal world?  As far as she knew, no Hunter had ever visited the demon world – this was new territory for all of them.

Derpy butted her side, purring loudly.  She scratched his ears.  “If demons can find their way out, then so can we.”

Mira scowled.  “Maybe we should tell Celine.”

“No.”  It came out too sharply, but Rumi couldn’t call it back.  She hadn’t spoken with her foster mother since that disastrous night under the tree, and she had no intention of starting now.

Zoey reached a tentative hand towards her.  “She’d want to know, I think,” she offered.  “She might have some good advice.”

“No,” Rumi repeated.  Now wasn’t the time to let all her old hurt and anger boil up, but it scorched her throat anyway.  “We’ll be fine on our own.  We’ve got each other, don’t we?”

“Always,” Zoey promised.  She took Rumi’s hand, then reached for Mira.  “Right?”

Mira scowled, but took the offered hand.  “Of course.”

Zoey grinned.  “Then let’s go slay some demons!  Or, um, peacefully visit the demon world!”

“No, we’re definitely slaying some demons,” Mira said.

They all looked at Derpy.  Derpy looked back, eyes wide and inquiring, until Sussie cawed.  “Yes, you,” Rumi laughed.  “Lead the way, master tiger.”

The demon tiger whuffed, flicked his tail, and grinned.  Blue light rippled out from his paws, and he began to sink into the floor as though the hardwood had become pudding.  Rumi grabbed a fistful of thick, cloud-soft fur as a chiming melody rang through the air.  Patterns tingling, she began to sing.  “We are Hunters, voices strong…”

Zoey and Mira chimed in.  “Slaying demons with our song.  Fix the world and make it right…”

Heat raced through Rumi’s patterns.  Her skin began to burn as though someone was shocking her over and over with static electricity, but she kept singing, forcing all the power of her adult voice into her childhood lullaby.  We are Hunters.  We will make this right.  And they’d do it their way, not Celine’s.

The blue glow spread further.  Rumi kept singing, accompanied by Zoey, Mira, and Derpy’s purring, as they sank slowly into a pool of light.

Then, with no warning whatsoever, they were falling through thin air.

Instinctively, Rumi spread her limbs out wide to catch the air currents, calling on her magic as she did so.  But, as she turned land-wards, her breath caught in her throat.  For all that she’d tried to imagine the demon world, she hadn’t imagined anything like the blasted desert that stretched out below her.  Rock outcroppings dotted the sand, their jagged spires stabbing towards an amethyst sky; narrow canyons snaked their way between needle-sharp towers.  Everything was bathed in a magenta light – not bloody, as she’d half expected, but closer to the color that the aurora assumed on rare occasions.  And the landscape, harsh as it was, had a stark beauty to it.  The wind-carved curves of the slot canyons, the desolate towers of rock that looked liable to fall with a single breath, the endless stretches of sand… it might not have been hospitable, but it wasn’t the den of torture that she’d envisioned.

It was also, as far as she could tell, empty.  That was good inasmuch as it meant they hadn’t been spotted yet, but where were all the demons?  She peered through the gloom, but couldn’t spot a single flicker of movement.

“Mrow?”  Derpy bounded through the sky beside her, looking confused as to why she was flying and not, say, on his back.  With a huff of a laugh, she swung a leg over his broad shoulders.  Or, at least, tried to – the black robes she was wearing got tangled around her calves, and she flopped down much less gracefully than she’d intended.  The bird made a sound suspiciously close to a snicker.

She glared at it.  “Need I remind you, you approved of the disguises?”  In the hopes of blending in, all three girls wore traditional black hanbok and gat, the silk hats that the Saja Boys had worn in their demonic forms.  Rumi’s heart had twinged when she’d put hers on – she couldn’t help remembering the way Jinu had looked in his full grim reaper glory.  She’d been so furious with him, but a small part of her had watched him on that stage, seductive and terrifying in equal measure, and it hadn’t been fear she’d felt.

Swallowing, she pushed away the memories.  Now wasn’t the time to get maudlin.

As they descended towards the sandy ground, followed by Mira and Zoey, Rumi called her magic to her fingertips.  She didn’t materialize a blade yet – that would give them away as Hunters like nobody’s business – but she held the threads in her mind, ready.  Beside her, Mira and Zoey scanned the barren wastes, equally alert.  “I thought there’d be, you know, demons,” Zoey whispered.

“Maybe they’re all lying in wait,” Mira muttered. 

Sussie pecked her shoulder, and she swore.  “What was that for?”

“Look!  What’s that?”  Zoey pointed to a rock outcropping directly in front of them. 

At first glance, it looked like any other granite spire, but, when Rumi squinted, she could barely make out a shadow that didn’t quite fit right.  If she hadn’t known better, she would have said it resembled a door, but that was impossible.  Demons didn’t build, didn’t create.  There was no way…

The rock slid open.  A figure, black-clad and skinny as a rake, stepped out of the rectangular opening that was, clearly, door-shaped.  Without being bidden, Derpy angled towards it.

Rumi tugged at his fur.  “What are you doing?” she hissed.  That figure wasn’t Jinu, not unless he’d grown half a foot and lost a good bit of muscle.  But it – he? – was clearly a jeoseung saja.  He wore an all-enveloping black hanbok and a stiff silk gat that shaded his face, making it impossible to read his expression.  All she could see were two yellow eyes, glowing malevolently in the magenta light, and a hint of pattern-streaked skin.

Derpy, ignoring her, bounded towards the ground and the stranger.  “Told you it’s a trap,” Mira grumbled.

Rumi tensed, ready to spring into action if the stranger made the slightest move.  But he remained statue-still, hands hidden by the folds of his robes, as Derpy landed in the dirt and padded forward.  Only the glitter of his eyes was proof that he was alive, or whatever passed for alive with demons.  Did it count as life, living here and feeding off of souls?  Rumi clenched her fists.

When they were five paces away, the grim reaper bowed.  “Welcome, Rumi-nim.  And your friends, also.”

Derpy purred.  Traitor, Rumi thought.  She swung off the cat, boots crunching on crystalline sand, and propped her hands on her hips.  “Who are you?”

Something unreadable passed through the stranger’s gaze.  His lips quirked into a humorless smile.  “Why, daughter, can’t you guess?”

Chapter Text

Daughter.  The word hit Rumi like a sledgehammer, turning her world upside-down in an instant.  In a flash, she had her sword out and leveled at the stranger’s throat.  “No.  Impossible.”

“You look just like her, you know,” the demon commented, as though they were talking about the weather.  As though she wasn’t a breath away from running him through.  “Surely you knew…”  He trailed off, lifting one eyebrow delicately.

Rumi jabbed the point of her glowing blade into his trachea.  “So help me, if you don’t tell us who you are and why you brought us here…”  She didn’t dare take her eyes off him, but she dearly wanted to glare at Derpy.  How had this stranger, this demon, gotten the tiger to go along with it?  Mira had been right all along.

The grim reaper raised his hands.  “I told you who I am.  As for why I brought you here?”  He took a breath.  “I can help you get Jinu back.”

It was, possibly, the only thing he could have said to save himself from immediate impalement.  Her blade wavered just a hair.  “How?” she demanded harshly.  “He’s gone.”

“You know that’s not true.  Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”  He still sounded so infuriatingly calm, and she hated him for it.  First claiming to be her father, and now this?

Once, when she was much younger, she’d dared to ask Celine about the demon who’d sired her.  Her foster mother’s reaction had convinced her to never ask again.  So she’d put the matter out of her mind – she honored her mother’s memory, obeyed Celine, and never, ever let herself wonder how she’d come to be.  What child wants to know that they’re the product of assault, after all?

Now, though, years of suppressed rage and horror bubbled up.  “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right now for what you did to my mom!”  Her grip tightened on her sword.  How dare he stand there, boasting about being her father as though it was something to be proud of?  Maybe the demons celebrated the fact that one of their own had tricked (raped?  Please not that) a Hunter, but she wasn’t about to laud him for it.  Even if he was telling the truth, contributing genetic material didn’t make him her father.

He looked away.  “Is it so hard to believe that you’re not the first Hunter to fall for one of us?”  Light flickered through the purple patterns marring his cheeks.  “We thought we could hide it from Gwi-Ma.  We were wrong.  I didn’t even know she’d had a child until Jinu brought back the news about a Hunter with patterns.”

Fall for one of us.  She shook her head, but her mind leapt to Jinu once more.  Even in his awkwardness, he’d been charming.  She’d trusted him, told him things she’d never told anyone else.  And he’d trusted her, or so she’d thought, until he finally revealed the real truth.  “You tricked her, then,” she whispered.  But, even as she said it, a sliver of doubt crept in.  Maybe Jinu had lied, but, at the end, hadn’t he also sacrificed himself to save her?  What was that if not proof of caring?  And if he could, couldn’t others?

No.  This was too coincidental, too convenient.  It had to be a trap.

The jeoseung saja winced.  Faked, surely, but it looked so real… she bared her teeth as he said, low and sharp, “I did no such thing.  I would never have hurt her.”

In the distance, something roared.  The stranger tensed.  “Let’s continue this inside.  It’s not safe to be out here long.”

Mira’s hands twitched like she was a breath away from summoning her polearm.  “We’re not going anywhere with you until you tell us the truth.”

“I don’t,” the stranger started.  The creature roared again, sounding closer this time, and he stepped back.  “Look.  Do you want to see Jinu again, or don’t you?  If you do, come with me.  If not, feel free to stay and face the bulgasari.”

As the monster roared a third time, Derpy meowed.  With one oversized paw, he nudged Rumi towards the black cave mouth behind the grim reaper.  Go, his limpid golden eyes seemed to say.  You can trust him.

Rumi looked at Sussie.  “Is this what you brought us here for?” she demanded.  A curl of cold fear coiled in her belly.  How much could she trust the strange animals, when it came right down to it?  What agenda did they serve?

Maybe you should have thought of that before following them here, she scolded herself, and the bird cawed as though he could read her mind.  With a flutter of wings turned pink by the eerie light, it soared towards the open door.

Mira, Zoey, and Rumi exchanged glances.  “Come on, guys!” Zoey enthused.  “We’ve come this far, haven’t we?  And if this bastard tries to double-cross us, we’ll have his head off before he can blink!”

Rumi leveled her sword at the grim reaper once more.  Truthfully, if it was a choice between him and the nigh-unkillable, ravenous monster that was the bulgasari, she’d take him and the spooky cave.  “Fine.  Lead on, stranger who still hadn’t given us his name.”

A corner of his mouth quirked.  “Call me Ha-yoon.”  And, with that, he swirled in a flurry of black silk and vanished into the rock spire.

Rumi eyed the tiger and the bird.  “I am going to be very annoyed with you both if this is a trap,” she announced.

Sussie looked back at her with six beady eyes.  Derpy purred. 

Rumi rolled her eyes.  “Fine.  Let’s do this.”

The space beyond the doorway smelled of dust and dry rock.  There were no lanterns or other forms of light, but her sword glowed brightly enough to reveal that they stood at the top of a long, spiraling set of stairs carved from black stone.  The landing was barely big enough for the three of them plus Derpy; Ha-yoon had already disappeared into the depths.  As soon as Mira, the last of the group, stepped inside, the door ground shut behind her.

Mira immediately spun to catch it, but it was too late.  Swearing, she summoned up her spear and tried to lever the heavy stone slab back open.  “We.  Are.  Not.  Getting stuck.  Here,” she panted.

Derpy nosed at her side.  “Mrow?  Mrow?”

She glared at the cat.  “This is all your fault.”

“It’s fine!  Really!”  Zoey stroked Derpy’s ears.  “If we need to leave, we can just return to the human world!”

“Right,” Rumi agreed, and prayed it was true.  Trying to look confident, she began to stride down the steps.  “Come on.  I want to know what that asshole is going to tell us.”

Said asshole was waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs.  He gave Rumi a look that hinted he’d heard her, but said nothing more than, “Follow me,” before turning and striding off down the corridor.

Or, at least, trying to – Mira’s spear jabbed him in the back before he’d gone more than three paces.  “We’re underground now, so talk,” she demanded.

He gave her a withering look.  “Is there anything I could say that would convince you?”  When she hesitated, he smirked.  “That’s what I thought.  So, follow me, and I’ll show you proof you can’t disbelieve.”

Mira glanced back at Rumi.  Rumi grimaced, but nodded.  For now, they’d follow their mysterious guide – if he was telling the truth about Jinu, she didn’t know how she could do anything else.  (And maybe, just maybe, a small part of her wanted to know more about him, too.)

The tunnel was built far better than anything Rumi had expected from the demon realm.  Like the stairs, it was carved from black stone, the floor cross-hatched with scores of tiny lines to provide traction.  As they walked, they passed other tunnels branching off from it, as well as several solid stone doors with no visible handle or hinges.  There were no sources of light, but that didn’t seem to bother Ha-yoon, who walked as though he had eyes in his feet.  She couldn’t tell if he was merely impatient or if he was making a point of staying out of the circle of light cast by their weapons, but he kept ranging ahead, until all they saw was the swish of black robes as he turned corners.

They walked in silence for what felt like hours, though time was impossible to tell in the unchanging gloom.  Several times, Rumi caught glimpses of demons scurrying down adjoining passageways, but none of them approached her group.  She prayed that their makeshift disguises would hold, though their weapons probably put paid to that.  Still, she wasn’t about to go stumbling about in the pitch dark, and the thought of asking Ha-yoon for a light made her stomach churn, so she kept her sword out.  If Gwi-Ma was alerted to their presence, they’d figure something out.

At last Ha-yoon paused beside a set of stairs leading upwards.  “From here on, be very quiet,” he warned in a whisper.

“Where are we going?” Mira demanded.

He gave her a look.  “The court.”

The girls exchanged glances.  Rumi’s patterns burned as though the mere word was enough to invoke some instinctive defense; she squeezed her arm in the futile hope of easing the itch.  It wasn’t painful, not precisely, but she hated the idea that the demon part of her knew something she didn’t.

Ha-yoon looked at her as though he could sense what she was thinking.  “Whatever you see, don’t react,” he told all three of them.  “This is reconnaissance only, understand?”

He waited until all three of them nodded.  Then, with a soft order to Derpy to stay put, he began to climb the narrow stairs.  Rumi, Mira, and Zoey followed.

It took longer to climb than it had to descend – just how far below ground had they traveled?  But at last they reached the surface once more.  With a finger to his lips, Ha-yoon pushed open a thick stone door, and the four of them slipped out onto a broad, flat plateau overlooking a blasted valley full of demons.

Rumi’s chest tightened.  This was what she’d expected from the demon realm – below them, massed in their hundreds, were demons of all shapes and sizes.  Hulking creatures with massive tusks and burning eyes, skinny dokkaebi with green skin and goblin features, jeoseung saja in their black robes and hats… the horde stretched on for miles.  And, in the center, at the top of a pyramid, burned a scarlet flame twice the height of a man.  Malevolence radiated from it, just as it had during the Saja Boys’ concert; the flames twisted around themselves with a feral, sentient hunger.

The sight of it made Rumi’s patterns burn.  A faint whisper echoed in the back of her head, hissing words she couldn’t quite make out.  But the spite in them, shame and rage and bitterness, filled the back of her throat with the taste of blood.  For a moment, she was back on the Idol Awards stage, Takedown playing over the speakers while the demons disguised as her friends circled her, taunting and smirking.  Stripping off her jacket, pushing her, revealing her patterns to the world.

Then she blinked, and she was back in the demon realm, her friends a solid bulwark of support at her sides.  But the metallic taste lingered on her tongue, and her skin ached where her patterns shimmered.

“Gwi-Ma,” Mira hissed.  Her fingers went white where she clutched her polearm.

“I thought we killed him,” Zoey murmured.

“Defeated, yes.  Not killed.”  Ha-yoon stared at the scene below with cold, disgusted eyes.  “You weakened him, but it will take more than that to kill him.”  He took a breath.  “That is not, however, why I brought you here.  Look.”  He gestured towards one side of the pyramid, where a gnarled tree stretched towards the dark sky.  Instead of leaves, iron cages hung from its branches.  And inside one of those cages, hunched over his knees, sat a jeoseung saja.

It was too far away to make out any details – even the color of his hair was obscured by the odd lighting and the broken hat he wore.  But Rumi’s breath hitched nonetheless.  “Is that him?” she whispered.

Ha-yoon nodded grimly.  Zoey gasped.  “But… I thought he died,” she breathed, squinting as though will alone could bring him into greater focus.

The grim reaper laughed without humor.  “There’s only one thing that can kill a demon, girl.”  He nodded at the weapons Rumi and Mira held.  “Anything else can discorporate us, destroy our physical forms, even greatly weaken us, but it won’t end us permanently.  And Gwi-Ma?”  His lip curled as though the name was a lemon.  “He can absorb us, devour us, use us to fuel his power, then spit out the husks when he’s done.  And we’ll survive, oh yes.  We just might not want to.”

The words sent horrified ripples down Rumi’s patterns.  She’d wondered, during the last battle, why it’d looked like parts of the demon horde were dissolving and being sucked back up into Gwi-Ma’s flames, but she’d had far more pressing matters to worry about, and had forgotten it.  Now, though, she remembered the way Jinu had fragmented into sparkling motes, and wondered.  Had his essence been gobbled up by the ravenous demon lord even as he’d shielded her?  When he’d said he was giving her his soul, had he been praying that he’d escaped Gwi-Ma’s control?

“Jinu…”  Unconsciously, she took a step towards the plateau’s edge.  The tree was in the middle of the demon swarm, only steps away from Gwi-Ma’s pyramid.  How would they ever be able to rescue him?  She had faith in her fellow Hunters, her sisters, but the three of them would be cut down long before they reached him if they tried a frontal assault. 

“How do we know it’s really him?”  Mira, ever suspicious, narrowed her eyes at Ha-yoon.  “That could be anyone down there.”

Anger flashed in his golden eyes, the first crack in his façade of calm that Rumi had seen.  “If I wanted you dead, one shout from me would have you surrounded,” he hissed.  “Doubt me all you want, little Hunter, but I have no reason to lie to you.”

“You’re a demon.  That’s reason enough,” Mira spat.

“Um, guys?”  Zoey lifted her hands.  “Maybe here’s not the best…”

“Are all humans alike, miss Hunter?” Ha-yoon interrupted.  “Are you all saints, paragons of virtue and nobility?  No?”  His smile was fanged.  “There are plenty of venal, corrupt, rotten liars among the human race, correct?  Just as there are plenty of kind, good-hearted souls.  Why is it so hard to believe that demons also have a spectrum?”

“Because you’re evil,” Mira snarled.  “Demons are made from the worst of humanity, the ones who give into Gwi-Ma’s whispers and do terrible, unforgivable things!  There is, by definition, no such thing as a good demon.”

Ha-yoon lifted an eyebrow.  “You’re very confident for someone who knows absolutely nothing about us.  Is that something they teach all Hunters?”

“I know how to kill you, and that’s plenty,” Mira growled back.  She leveled her spear at his chest.

“Guys, I really don’t,” Zoey started.

Ha-yoon overrode her.  “So kill me, then.  Because killing your allies when you don’t like what they have to say is definitely the mark of an enlightened, saintly being.”

Mira’s fingers tightened on her weapon.  “If you want to die so badly, then fine!”

“Guys!”  Zoey shoved the polearm aside.  “Look!”  She gestured at the mass of demons below, where Rumi saw, to her horror, pairs upon pairs of eyes staring up at them.  Even as Mira and Ha-yoon fell silent, more demons turned to see what everyone was looking at.  Hundreds of burning gazes fell upon them, hot and hard and hungry.

Rumi’s patterns burned.  “Run?” she suggested.

Ha-yoon threw up his hands.  “Run,” he agreed.

Adrenaline turned Rumi’s blood to lightning as she sprinted away from the cliff’s edge, tap-dancing over rubble and dodging boulders with all the grace she could muster.  Mira and Zoey ran at her sides, weapons drawn and ready, but she prayed they didn’t have to use them.  Skilled as they were, no Hunters could face down the entire demon realm, and that was what, by the sound of it, was on their heels.  Guttural howls dueled with excited canine barks; war cries in everything from the deepest bass to high-pitched soprano filled the air.  The footing was too treacherous to dare a glance back, but the sheer multitude of voices was proof enough of the horde.  She could only pray none of them had ranged weapons, for, here in the desert sands, they would make easy prey.

But no arrows came whistling past her head; no throwing knives split the air around her.  Though her shoulder blades prickled with primal fear, they remained miraculously intact.

Ahead of her, Ha-yoon ran with the fleet-footed grace of a gazelle, unhindered by the scree beneath his feet.  He didn’t bother to look back to see if they followed, but he wasn’t deliberately trying to lose them, either, which Rumi appreciated.  She had no idea where she was going, and she had little faith in her ability to open the Honmoon while running for her life – like it or not, they were at the mercy of the grim reaper who claimed to be her father.

Blue flashed beside her.  She flinched, sword coming up automatically, but it was only Derpy, gamboling along as though this was all a big lark.  Sussie was perched on his head, its tiny hat askew.  When it saw her looking, it cawed, as if to say, What have you gotten yourself into this time?

“I wish I knew, friend,” Rumi muttered, and kicked herself into a higher gear.  Her lungs and legs were both burning – how was she this out of shape?  Sure, maybe she’d skipped a practice here or there over the last four months, but she hadn’t thought she’d fallen apart that badly, had she?

It was scant consolation that Mira and Zoey were both breathing hard, too.  She could hear the harsh echoes of their panting synchronized to their steps, just as Celine had taught all three of them.  Breathe with each motion, and you will never run out of breath, she claimed.  Rumi had long thought it was bullshit, but now, as she struggled to get enough air, she had to wonder if her foster mother had been on to something.

But her breath refused to fall into the rhythm it normally did.  Every time it stabilized, her patterns sparked, making her chest clench and throwing her off her stride.  Something inside her was tugging like a fishhook wrapped around her intestines, just disorienting enough to confuse her without giving her any useful information.  It almost felt like the patterns were trying to tell her something, but, if they were, she had no idea what.

Her foot hit a loose rock, and her ankle twisted.  Mira seized her arm before she could go down, and, for a heartbeat, she heard music.  Not their music, not the pounding beat of Huntrix, but something softer, wilder.  Eerie, yet achingly familiar.

Then Mira dropped her arm, and the music was gone.  Even as she flashed her friend a quick smile, her skin chilled.  What had that been?

Before she could ponder it, though, a fresh wave of howls crashed over them.  Ha-yoon, still in the lead by a few paces, cursed.  “They’re gaining.”

“No shit,” Mira muttered.

For a step or two, Ha-yoon slowed.  Mira looked ready to stab him in the back, but he sped up before she could.  Again, Rumi’s patterns sparked.  The faintest hint of melody tugged at her fingertips, and she could have sworn she felt them sharpen, but, when she looked down, they were as human as ever.  Swallowing, she pushed more strength into her weary legs.  “Tell me you have a plan,” she called to Ha-yoon.

He didn’t bother to look back.  “Working on it!”

“Hey!  Over here!”

“Finally.”  Ha-yoon threw himself towards the voice, which was emanating from a narrow crack in a towering stone spire.  In the blink of an eye, he vanished into the darkness.

Rumi hesitated for a split second, then hurtled after him.  If it was a choice between the mob and her supposed father, she’d take Ha-yoon.

“Hurry, hurry, hurry,” the mysterious voice chanted.  Warm hands seized her wrists and pulled her through the too-thin fracture.  She stumbled forward, trying not to impale her rescuer on her sword, and caught a glimpse of colorful silks before the figure whirled past her.  “Come on, come on, everyone in!”  With strength no human possessed, the stranger caught Zoey and tossed her bodily into Rumi.  Mira followed a second later, and nearly stabbed both of them with her spear before she vanished it.

“There!”  The stranger flicked a wrist, and rock grated.  The fracture vanished as though it had never been, sealing them into a cavern so black, even the light from Rumi’s sword couldn’t penetrate it.  She squinted, but all she could see was the sword itself, Zoey’s glowing daggers, and the orange fire of Derpy’s eyes.  If she hadn’t had Mira’s elbow digging painfully into her ribs, she wouldn’t have even known her band-mate was present.

“Well then!”  The stranger laughed.  “When you said you were going on a reconnaissance mission, darling, I didn’t expect to find you running for your life from the entirety of Gwi-Ma’s hordes.  What on earth happened?”

Ha-yoon sighed.  “Sera…”

“Oh, right, light!”  A golden ball bloomed overhead.

Rumi’s mouth fell open as she took in the gorgeous woman standing before them, arms crossed and eyes alight with mischief.  She’d never seen anyone so stunning – if the woman had been in the mortal world, modeling agencies would have been climbing over themselves to sign her.  But there was a predatory edge to her beauty, an aura of danger as palpable as perfume around her.  Though she wore gloriously embroidered silks, they were cut to allow her full freedom of movement, and she stood with the balance of an experienced fighter.  Her nails might have been lacquered gold, but they were longer and sharper than any human would sport.  And, of course, there were her tails – nine fluffy fox tails, waving behind her with casual nonchalance.

Zoey squeaked.  “You’re a gumiho!”

The stranger smirked, revealing sharpened canines.  “Right in one, sweetheart.”

Mira called her spear back to herself.  “Who are you, and what do you want?”

The gumiho – Sera, apparently – brushed past the spear tip leveled at her face.  “These are the Hunters, huh?  And this one must be your daughter!”  She caught Rumi’s chin in a clawed hand, turning her face back and forth.  “Oh, yep, she’s got your chin, alright.  And that vicious glint you always get in your eyes!”

Mira shoved herself between Rumi and the gumiho.  “Back off,” she snarled, jabbing at Sera’s throat with the tip of her spear.

In the blink of an eye, Sera whirled.  One hand pushed the spear up and away; the other closed around Mira’s wrist with cobra speed.  Before Mira could react, Sera ripped the spear from her grasp, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and took her down to the ground.  The thud of Mira’s back hitting stone hadn’t finished echoing before Sera was atop her, one clawed hand pressed into Mira’s jugular.  “I really wouldn’t do that,” she purred.  Then, to everyone’s astonishment, she’d leaned in and licked Mira’s cheek.  “Now you’re mine.”

Mira gaped up at her.  Ha-yoon pinched the bridge of his nose.  “All of you, behave.”

Sera, tails fluffed and waving, stepped off Mira.  “What?  I was only saying what everyone can see.”  She tapped Rumi’s cheek with a claw.  “The relationship is obvious, sweetheart.”

Rumi pulled away.  She didn’t want to think about sharing anything with a demon, and she certainly didn’t want a fox spirit touching her.  Gumiho were, according to legend, some of the most dangerous demons around, able to beguile humans with a single look.  Kill them from a distance, Celine had taught – otherwise, they’d have you on your knees before you could blink.  (In Sera’s case, possibly in more ways than one.)  “Shouldn’t we be moving?”

Sera shrugged.  “None of the idiots outside could find this place if it fell on their heads.  We’re safe enough for now.”

For now?  Rumi squared her shoulders.  “I think it’s time you told us what you really want,” she said evenly.  “You didn’t bring us here just to show us that we’re powerless to do anything.  Why are we really here?”  She held her breath.  If Ha-yoon truly had summoned her just to taunt her with the sight of Jinu in a cage, she was going to stab him.  And, judging by the stormy look on Mira’s face as she pulled herself off the ground, she would help.

Ha-yoon and Sera exchanged glances.  “Now’s as good a time as any,” Sera told him.

The grim reaper frowned.  “It’s not how I wanted to.  But, very well.”  He faced the three Hunters.  “For centuries, Gwi-Ma has ruled the demon world with an iron fist.  Ever since the first Hunters created the Honmoon, his control over all of us has been absolute, and it has grown ever stricter as the decades wear on.”

“So, what, are we supposed to feel sorry for you?” Mira demanded.

Ha-yoon ignored her.  “Some of us have long chafed under Gwi-Ma’s hand.  Now, with him greatly weakened thanks to the battle in the human world, it is the best chance we are going to have.”

Rumi, Mira, and Zoey looked at each other.  “To do what?” Rumi finally asked, though she had a feeling she knew.

Ha-yoon favored her with the look of a teacher disappointed in a dull student.  “To overthrow him, of course.”

“Right.  Yeah.”  Rumi glanced at her friends once more.  “And we come in…”  She let the sentence trail off.  He’d already told her the answer, hadn’t he?  The only thing that could kill a demon permanently was a Hunter.

And it would free Jinu, a little voice whispered in the back of her head.  Not to mention ridding the world of one of the greatest threats to humanity ever.  To be the Hunters who destroyed Gwi-Ma once and for all… it was a dizzying thought.  As good as turning the Honmoon gold.  No one could say she wasn’t a worthy Hunter if she succeeded in that, could they?

Mira grounded the butt of her spear.  “Not gonna lie, destroying that monster sounds great.  But there’s no way we could get close enough to even attempt it.  Not with that horde outside.”  She gestured at the sealed rock.  “The only reason we could banish him from the human world was because we had all our fans behind us.  We won’t have anything like that here.”

Sera grinned, sharp and hungry.  “Oh, I wouldn’t bet on that.  Plenty of us hate Gwi-Ma, and plenty more will go with whichever side is more persuasive.  You just have to be that side.”  Then, as they stared at her, she started humming Takedown.

Rumi’s patterns burned.  Turning demons into fans… it was the most outrageous, audacious idea she’d ever heard.  There was no way it could work, could it?  But if it did…

She looked at Zoey and Mira.  They stared back at her, her thoughts mirrored on their faces.  If it did, they’d be legends.  “What do you think, girls?” she asked softly.

Zoey grinned.  “Let’s try it!”

Chapter Text

Like all things, it was easier said than done.  “How on earth do we write a song to appeal to demons?” Mira groaned, throwing herself backwards onto the nest of feather-stuffed pillows that substituted for a couch in the demon realm.  “This is impossible.”

Zoey flipped through another notebooks.  “No, no, this won’t work.  Oh!  No, nope, not good enough.”  She tossed another booklet in the pile of discards.  “I wish I had the rest of my notebooks.  I’ve got nothing.”

Rumi ran a hand over her face.  This was worse than their struggle to write Takedown, and that was saying something.  Not only did they have to write a song to appeal to demons, they had to do it while living in the demon world – a world distinctly lacking in light, proper sound studios, and ramyeon.  “You’ll never be able to appeal to us if you don’t know us,” Ha-yoon had said.  And, when they’d balked, he’d pointed out that they weakened the Honmoon every time they traveled through it.  “But of course it is your choice.”

If he hadn’t looked so smug while saying it, Rumi might have fought harder.  But she’d taken one look at his arrogant face, which said clear as daylight that he didn’t expect them to be able to survive in his world, and snapped.  A fact which, two days into their stay, she was starting to regret.  She’d only just learned of the wonders known as bathhouses – right now, she’d give anything to visit one.  It wasn’t that the demon world was filthy, per se, but the air held a perpetual reek of smoke and the dust crept into every available nook and cranny.  Add the lack of decent food, the never-ending twilight, and the hordes who wanted to kill them, and it was currently ranked number one for worst vacation spot ever.

“I would kill for a breath of fresh air,” Mira mumbled.  “Like, seriously, stab someone.”

Sera blinked owlishly.  “I suppose we could always return to the court, there’s plenty of people to stab there.”

All three Hunters threw her a look.  Mira rolled her eyes.  “I didn’t mean it literally.”

Sera rolled her own eyes right back.  “Hey, just trying to help.”

Normally, that would have earned her a sharp retort from Mira, who hated to let anyone have the last word.  But she’d been oddly quiet around the gumiho ever since the face-licking incident during their introduction.  Not ignoring her – no, Rumi had noticed that Mira always positioned herself so she could watch the gumiho, and there was always a carefully measured distance between them.  But quiet, nonetheless.

Now, she merely snorted before turning back to her drafting pad.  “Don’t.”

Before Sera could snarl at that, Rumi said, “Let’s try a different tack.  What have our most popular songs had in common?  What’s attracted fans in the past?”

“You mean our very human fans?” Mira muttered.

Sera flashed her a brilliant smile.  “Oh, sweetheart, don’t you think demons enjoy music too?  The Saja Boys had plenty of fans among our folk, during their brief flash of fame.  And I know more than a few demons who could sing every word of some of your songs, though they’d die before admitting it.  Time to put you in your place cause you’re rotten within… why, that could practically be written by a demon!” 

Mira flushed.  “What are you saying?  We’re nothing like you.”

“Aren’t you?”  Sera smirked.  Ignoring their outraged looks, she leaned sideways to scratch behind Derpy’s ears.  The demon tiger purred ecstatically – in the two days they’d been in the demon realm, he’d fallen in love with the gumiho.  (Rumi told herself she wasn’t jealous.)

Zoey sighed.  “I mean, I guess I can kinda see it.  That’s why we decided not to use Takedown at the Idol Awards, right?  It’s not the nicest song.  But if that’s the sort of thing that appeals to demons…”  She flipped open another notebook.  “What if we rewrite it, target it at Gwi-Ma?  This is a takedown on an epic level, right?”

Rumi hesitated.  “Would that really get the demons on our side?”  She still struggled to believe that any song, no matter how catchy, could do that.  And one as hateful as Takedown?  A demon with no feelings don’t deserve to live… even if they stripped out that line, would its echoes taint the rest of the song?  Would her own memories?  Even now, safe at home with her friends by her side, she only had to close her eyes and she was back on that stage.

Then again, hadn’t Jinu said that demons were nothing but emotion, shame and rage and all the darkest parts of humanity?  Maybe a song filled with pain was exactly what they needed.

Sera rolled onto her stomach, tails waving gently.  “Dunno.  Depends what you do with it.”

“So helpful,” Mira muttered.

Sera propped herself up on her elbows.  “Oh, darling, I can be very helpful under the right circumstances.”

“Alright, alright, let’s table that,” Zoey said hastily.  “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m starving.  Let’s take a break and get some snacks!”

Rumi, grateful for anything to break the tension, rose, but Sera bounded to her feet before any of them could go anywhere.  “Better idea!” she announced.  “Let’s go out!”

“You mean, out to where all the demons want to kill us?” Mira challenged.

Sera laughed.  “I don’t mean go to the court!  Just out.  We’ve been stuck here for two days, and I’m going to chew my own tails off if I stay here any longer.  It’ll be fun!  We’ll whip up some disguises – better than those silly things you three have on – and visit the market.  Don’t you want to see something other than the same three rooms?  Besides, this way you can actually meet some potential fans!”

Rumi hesitated.  “Potential fans who do potentially also want to kill us,” she pointed out.  But she couldn’t deny that the thought of getting out of here was appealing.  Two days stuck in a tiny underground apartment was one day and twenty-three hours too many.

“Won’t your fa…”  Zoey glanced guiltily at Rumi, and edited on the fly.  “I mean, Ha-yoon, won’t he be mad?  He told us to stay put.”

“Right now, I don’t care,” Rumi said crisply.  If he was going to declare himself to be her father, the least he could do was stick around and answer a few questions.  But, after depositing them here with a dire warning about Gwi-Ma growing stronger with every day that passed, he’d vanished.  Important business, Sera had claimed.  Personally, Rumi suspected he’d simply wanted to avoid the three of them.  And, to add insult to injury, he’d left them with a babysitter.

One who, in all likelihood, was going to get them killed.  “Then it’s decided,” Sera cheered.  “Come on, let’s get you looking like proper demons.”

***

Proper jeoseung saja, according to Sera, did not wear the modernized hanbok that the Saja Boys had worn for their final performance.  Instead, they favored far more traditional garb, the same kind of cuts that they might have worn when they were alive.  She took a definite glee in stuffing all three Hunters into multiple layers of stiff robes that shrouded their legs and tangled up their arms.  “The less skin showing, the better,” she insisted.  “And no curvy silhouettes.”

“Why, are there no female grim reapers?” Zoey asked curiously.

Sera waved her hand back and forth.  “They exist, but they’re rare.  Personally, I think Gwi-Ma is just sexist.  Women can make just as good of demons as men, don’t you think?”  She winked at Mira, who scowled.  “But he’s always preferred to send his little whispers after the boys.”

“But you’re here,” Mira pointed out.

“I am, aren’t I?”  Sera spun, showing off her tails.  “No thanks to him, though.”  She turned to the vanity, an antique thing with a massive bronze mirror.  Small ceramic pots, brushes, and sponges were scattered across its surface with no discernible order, but she didn’t hesitate to select a trio of tiny containers.  “Come here, darling,” she ordered Mira.  “You first!”

Mira backed away.  “No.  No way.”

“You don’t even know what I’m planning!”  Sera pouted melodramatically.  “Don’t tell me the big, bad Hunter is scared.”

Mira bristled.  “Fine.  Do your worst.”  And, glaring at Sera like she’d like nothing better than to drive her spear into the gumiho’s heart, she took a seat before the mirror.

Sera turned out to be surprisingly good with makeup – within a space of twenty minutes, she turned Mira into the veritable image of a grim reaper.  Rumi, watching, couldn’t help feeling queasy.  Mira was still visibly Mira, but her skin was now a dusky shade of purple, with electric purple patterns crawling up her face like veins.  A hint of dark paint beneath her eyes made them look sunken; more paint narrowed her gaze and sharpened her eyebrows to a falcon-like intensity.  With the way she was frowning, she truly could have been a demon.  And Rumi couldn’t help but wonder if she’d looked like that when she’d transformed – as though every shred of humanity had evaporated.

Zoey was next, and Sera took longer with her.  “You need to stop smiling so much,” she complained.  “Or at least smile evilly.  You’re too cheerful!”  But, eventually, she managed to coax Zoey’s face into something diabolical.  “Just don’t grin too much,” she ordered, and dotted one last speck of color onto the corner of Zoey’s eye. 

Then she turned to Rumi.  “What are you waiting for?  I’m not wasting paint on you!”

Rumi blinked at her.  “I.  What do you mean?”

Sera reached for a cloth to wipe her hands on.  “You have a demon form, don’t you?  That’ll be way better than anything I can do.”  She sniffed, nose twitching.  “Even the best perfumes can’t conceal the stench of humanity.  Though, speaking of…”  Tossing the cloth aside, she grabbed a spray bottle.  Both Zoey and Mira coughed as she spritzed them.

Rumi glared at her.  “I am not a demon.”

She shrugged.  “Not fully, maybe.”

Of all the insolent, arrogant… Rumi folded her arms across her chest.  “I’m human.  100% human.”  There was no way she was letting herself assume that hideous form she’d involuntarily transformed halfway into four months ago.  She wasn’t even sure she could, and she was very sure she didn’t want to.  Showing her patterns, now that they were pearlescent instead of lurid purple, was one thing.  But allowing the demon within her to take control?  It was unconscionable.

Sera’s expression softened, just a hair, but her words remained blunt.  “You know perfectly well that’s not true.  And that’s nothing to be ashamed of!  Now come on, transform so we can all get out of here.”

Zoey took her hand.  “You know we’re with you, no matter what,” she said softly.

Rumi’s chest tightened.  That was easy enough to say, but she couldn’t forget the way her friends had stared at her when they’d seen her with all her patterns exposed.  The way they’d raised blades – first Mira, then, trembling, Zoey.  And, yes, they were past that – she was past that.  They were best friends, sisters, and they were together for life.  But a cold knot of fear bloomed in her belly and refused to dissipate, no matter how much she pushed it down. 

Mira moved to her other side.  “It’s okay if you don’t want to,” she said, and shot Sera a glare.  “If makeup’s good enough to keep us safe, then it’ll keep you safe too.”

“Oh, did I say it’d keep you safe?”  Sera spritzed her again, then sighed happily.  “Ah, better.  No, sweetheart, it won’t keep you safe.  Just safer.  But she…”  She pointed at Rumi, dramatic as an opera diva.  “She has the ability to blend in perfectly.”

“I.”  Rumi swallowed.  “I can’t.”

Sera tapped her nails on her lower lip.  “A pity.  I guess we can’t go say hi to your boyfriend then.”

“I thought we were just going to this market you mentioned,” Mira said suspiciously, but Rumi barely heard her.  To see Jinu up close, to verify that it was really him… was that truly an option?  It wasn’t that she didn’t believe Ha-yoon, but, well, she didn’t believe Ha-yoon.  Not fully, anyway.  But if she could see Jinu with her own eyes, even speak to him?

She narrowed her eyes at the gumiho.  “Do you really mean it?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die, darling,” Sera purred.

Mira’s hand flexed like she was imagining a weapon.  “Why can’t you paint her like the two of us?  If we’re all…”

“Ah, but you’re not,” Sera interrupted.  “This little disguise will hold fine in the market, especially since you’ll be with me.  In the heart of Gwi-Ma’s court, though?  You’d be sniffed out in seconds.”  She shook her head.  “Nope, if it’s a boyfriend-hunting expedition you want, it’s me and her and no one else.  But I promise I’ll take very, very good care of her,” she added when Mira growled.

With little fanfare, Zoey pulled a knife from the air.  “You’d better,” she declared, tossing the blade with casual nonchalance.  Then she vanished it and beamed.  “First, though, do we get to go to this market of yours?  Because I’m going to be very grumpy if we put all this on for nothing.”

“That depends on Rumi here,” Sera declared.  “What’ll it be, sweetheart?  Transform so you can see lover-boy, or are you going to stay here and sulk while the rest of us go out?”

We’re here to rescue Jinu, Rumi told herself.  This is for him.  But, still, she hesitated.  The hours she’d spent in demonic form had been some of the worst of her life, and she had no desire to revisit them.  But she had no idea how to transform without immersing herself in that toxic sludge of negativity.  And if she did let her body shift, would she ever be able to go back to normal?

Zoey squeezed her hand.  “You don’t have to do this.  We can find another way to talk to him.”

Rumi swallowed hard.  She could already see the response to that brewing in Sera’s electric golden eyes, and it wasn’t promising.  “No,” she said.  “I can do this.”  She drew up all her memories of hurt and betrayal, trying to remind her bones what it’d felt like to be a demon.  Trying to summon the whispers that had filled her, the rage and pain and shame.  Demons are nothing but emotion, Jinu had said.  So she’d be emotion.

But, when she opened her eyes, her reflection was the same as ever.

Sera cocked her head.  “You’re overthinking it.  It’s not like… oh, I don’t know, climbing a mountain or something.  It’s just putting on a new set of clothes.”  With a pop, a human woman stood where the gumiho had been – she had the same eyes as Sera, but her predatory edge was muted.  Rather than layers of silk, she wore a modern sundress.  Then, with another pop, she vanished, and a silver nine-tailed fox sat there, grinning.  “See?”  She flipped back into her original form, spreading her hands.  “Just take a step sideways.”

That was, possibly, the least helpful advice Rumi had ever heard.  “I’m not a demon!  I can’t just step sideways into a whole new body.”  Except, as she said it, she recalled the moment in the arena when she’d switched from half demon to fully human.  How had she done that?  Everything had been a muddle, a fever dream – Gwi-Ma’s whispers and her own despair had overwhelmed her, and she’d been clinging to a single spark of determination to power through.  She barely remembered walking into the stadium and answering the demon lord’s questions – her first clear memory was of snapping back to herself as she started to sing.

But there’d been a moment, no longer than a breath, where she’d been aware of herself but still demonic.  And it’d felt terrifyingly natural.

Closing her eyes again, she envisioned herself the way she’d been then.  Dusky skin, taloned fingers, patterns flickering over her skin – and, beneath them, sizzling power.  Not the light and stardust of Hunter power, but something raw and red and sharp.  Harmonies in a minor key, descants a half step away from the expected notes.  But still beautiful, in an eerie way – she could almost hear those melodies now, lilting with the promise of darkness.

Before she knew it, she was humming.  Tingles ran down her arms and someone – Zoey, maybe – gasped.  “You did it!”

Rumi opened her eyes.  “Oh.”  She flexed her newly sharpened fingers experimentally.  They didn’t feel any different from her regular fingers, even though they were at least half an inch longer and ended in wicked points.  Her skin had darkened to a purple hue that matched Mira and Zoey’s makeup; her patterns now glowed a deep violet.  But her bones, her lungs, her throat?  Those all felt the same.  “Do re mi fa sol,” she sang, and grinned.  Her voice was still hers!

“Wow, that’s spooky.”  Zoey bounced on her toes.  “How’s it feel?”

“Odd,” Rumi decided.  (Odd that it didn’t feel odd, honestly.  But she wasn’t sure she wanted to admit that out loud.)

“Told you you could do it,” Sera crowed.  “Now come on!  First the market, then, if you prove you can stay incognito, you and I will take a little trip to boyfriend town.”

***

Rumi didn’t know what she’d expected from a demon market, but a near-replica of Gwangjang Market wasn’t it.  True, the demon market was nestled in a sprawling underground cavern rather than a massive hall, and the stalls she could see were selling things that would never be found in the human world, but the resemblance was still striking.  There were even lines of flag-shaped objects hanging above one of the main aisles.  The air was redolent with the scents of perfumes, musk, and, surprisingly, frying dough – she hadn’t thought demons ate normal food.

When she mentioned that to Sera, though, the gumiho laughed.  “Of course we do.  We don’t have to, but it’s tasty!  Besides, most of the treats here are infused with soul energy.  Spicy and nourishing!”

Zoey gulped.  “You mean, like actual souls?”  Then, apparently remembering her disguise, she corrected, “I mean, yum, souls!”

Sera snickered.  “You should try some.  You never know, you might like it.”

The Hunters exchanged disgusted looks.  Rumi silently vowed to keep a closer eye on their strange babysitter – she’d clearly let herself become too complacent.  In their claustrophobic underground haven, she’d been able to look past the fact that Sera was a demon, but now it was driven home in full force.  How many people had died to produce the pancakes frying on nearby griddles, or the noodle soups farther on?  Her gorge rose as she caught a whiff of sweet bean paste, but her stomach, oblivious to her dismal thoughts, growled.

“And I was looking forward to a snack,” Mira moaned under her breath.

“I think you’re the snack, sweetheart,” Sera teased, giving the girl a flirtatious wink.  Mira glared, and Sera smirked.  “But don’t worry, we can find you all a treat.  One that won’t offend your sensibilities.  Though,” she added, dropping her voice so the passing demons couldn’t hear, “I don’t know why you’re so bothered.  You eat cows and pigs and things, don’t you?”

“Cows can’t think,” Mira snapped.

“Neither can most humans, you know.  Besides, why does that matter?”

How did you explain to a demon that eating thinking beings was wrong?  Rumi tugged at her sleeve, skin suddenly crawling.  All around them, demons swirled, talking and arguing and haggling just like any crowd in a normal market.  She spotted jeoseung saja in black hanbok and gat, dokkaebi with tusks and multi-colored skin, the water ghosts called mul gwishin, even a few gumiho like Sera – all going about their business like this was any other day.  And, to them, she supposed it was.  But she had a sudden, piercing desire to draw her sword and cut a swathe through the horde.  How many of the stalls here profited from stolen human life?  How many people had that laughing dokkaebi killed?  What about that mul gwishin, strolling arm in arm with a friend like day-tripping schoolgirls?

“Excuse me,” a dokkaebi muttered, squeezing past her.  Automatically, she stepped aside, then clenched her fists.  Her fingernails – claws – dug into her palms, a too-visceral reminder that she currently looked no different from them.  That, if they were monsters, then so was part of her.

She forced her arms to drop back to her sides.  “I think we’ve seen enough,” she said coolly.  “I’d like to visit Jinu now.”  (Jinu, her treacherous mind reminded her, was as much a demon as any of those around her.  He, too, ate souls.  She pushed the thought away.)

Before Sera could answer, a pack of miniature demons came sprinting down the aisle, laughing manically and shoving each other.  Rumi tensed, catching herself a second before drawing her sword; Mira and Zoey both fell into defensive postures.  But the group didn’t seem to notice.  Giggling and shrieking, they careened past, barely slowing to dodge Sera’s tails and an overflowing cart trundling the opposite direction.  Several knocked past a display of odd glass ornaments, sending two to the ground, and the shopkeeper cursed, but didn’t chase them.  “Watch where you’re going, brats!” he yelled.

Sera chuckled softly.  “Kids.  They’ll learn.”

Kids?  Rumi took a closer look at the rapidly disappearing pack.  She’d taken them for small dokkaebi, horns and tusks and all, but she’d never seen goblins half her height before.  Could they truly be… she shook her head.

“Kids?” Zoey asked, sounding half curious and half nauseated.

Sera gave her a look.  “What else would they be?”

“Well, uh…”  Zoey’s hands fluttered.  “But that’s not…”  She cast an awkward look around, searching for help, but none was forthcoming.

Sera sighed.  “You three really don’t know anything, do you?”  She slung her arms over Mira and Zoey’s shoulders, then used a tail to pull Rumi in.  Lowering her voice, she hissed, “Not all demons are humans seduced by Gwi-Ma.  Some – eg, my kind and the dokkaebi – are born, not made.  So, yes, we have kids, and those kids are precious to us.  Try not to act so shocked, alright?”

Rumi glanced after the pack once more, but they’d vanished into the throngs.  Why had Celine never told them that demons could have children?  Her mind was spinning, and, abruptly, she was sick of it.  “I’m going to go find Jinu,” she announcing, ducking away from Sera’s fluffy tail.  “You don’t have to come with me, but I’m going.”  She could process all of this after she’d seen him, after she’d reminded herself why they were there in the first place.

Sera arched a brow.  “You think you could survive the court without me?”

Rumi folded her arms.  “Is that your answer, then?”

Something too edged to be a smile stretched across Sera’s lips.  “Good luck, milady Hunter.  I look forward to hearing how it goes.”

“You can’t…” Mira started, outrage hot in her voice.

Sera pulled both her and Zoey in tighter.  “I think your friend has made it perfectly clear what she wants, sweetheart.  But don’t worry!  I’m sure she’s just as competent as she thinks, and her knowledge gaps aren’t going to bite her one bit.”

A small, sensible voice inside Rumi pointed out that it might not be the best idea to offend her native guide.  The rest of her didn’t care.  “I’ll be fine,” she told her sisters.  “Besides, I think I need to do this alone.”  She could only pray, as she started down the tunnel Sera pointed her towards, that she wasn’t about to be proven wrong.

Chapter Text

Infiltrating Gwi-Ma’s court turned out to be shockingly easy.  None of the demons gave her a second glance as she slowly eased her way through the horde – they were all staring fixedly at the pillar of fire on top of the pyramid.  Why, she didn’t know, for the demon lord didn’t appear to be saying anything.  But the demons watched the flames anyway, the same way people might watch a starving, vicious dog who was, for the moment, keeping its distance.  Several, she noticed, clutched each other’s hands; others stood in hunched, cowering silence.  Here and there, littering the dead sands, she spotted Saja Boys merch.

The sight of the dim, flickering lion emblem made odd, unnameable feelings writhe in her gut.  Sera had told them that demons enjoyed music, but to see the proof of it scattered around like trash was unnerving.  Had they mourned when the Saja Boys were destroyed, and not just for the loss of power?  Did Jinu mourn for his lost band-mates?  She couldn’t imagine how devastated she would have felt to lose Mira and Zoey forever – losing them for a day had been bad enough.

At the thought, her patterns flared hot.  The faintest hint of a sorrowful melody echoed in her ears, only to fade as soon as she took another step.  She grimaced.  Was the demon world playing tricks on her, or was it her imagination?

She snuck a glance up at Gwi-Ma, but the flames remained quiescent.  Had they grown in the last few days?  She could have sworn they had.  They burned with a sullen resentment that made her bones ache even at this distance – she could practically taste the hatred filling them.  But, this close, she could sense exhaustion too.  Some instinct deep within her told her that the flames ought to be taller, hotter, fiercer; the demon lord’s voice ought to fill this barren plain with horrible subliminal echoes.  Had he been at full power, she never could have snuck up on him like this.

Shivering, she slid around a hulking dokkaebi.  They had to finish their song, and fast, if they wanted any chance at all – if he could inspire this much mindless devotion while weakened, how much worse would it be when he was at full strength?

Another trickle of melody, almost too faint to hear, drifted to her ears.  It sounded like a bipa, like the one Derpy had brought them.  She strained, but if there were words accompanying the dirge, she couldn’t make them out.  But her patterns sent another hot shockwave through her, and, somehow, she got the feeling the music was trying to tell her something.

She grimaced.  If you have something to say, say it properly.

The music, as though offended, vanished.  Rumi sighed.  She didn’t have time for whatever strange tricks this land was trying to play – up ahead, separated by a small rise and a ring of clear space, hung the cages.  And, in an iron monstrosity smack in the middle, a huddled figure in black robes lay motionless.

Rumi’s chest seized.  She glanced around, but, still, no one was paying her the slightest shred of attention.  So, squaring her shoulders, she strode over to the base of the tree holding the cages.

Gasps echoed behind her – this was, apparently, not done.  But she pretended to ignore them, projecting I belong here with every stride.  And none of the demons tried to stop her.

Up close, the cages were even worse than they’d seemed from a distance.  They weren’t tall enough to stand up in, nor were they large enough to sit comfortably – the only viable position was a hunched sort of huddle, knees to chest and back against the bars.  But the bars weren’t just metal.  No, with true demonic cruelty, they’d been sculpted into thorns, wickedly sharp and sprouting at odd angles.  There was no way to lean against them without getting stabbed in a dozen places, no matter what position you tried.  Indeed, scraps of fabric dangled from the thorns in many of the empty cages, proof of their efficacy.

Jinu, though, was pressed against the bars of his own cage, seemingly ignoring their barbs.  His robe was shredded, exposing lacerations all up and down his back, but he didn’t bleed.  Rumi wasn’t sure demons could.  But she knew, without knowing how she knew, that they could feel pain.  Their bodies might be malleable, they might dissolve into dust when killed, but they still felt the agony of metal slicing into skin.  Jinu, sitting there with his forehead on his knees, had to be feeling each and every stab.  But he gave no sign of it.

“Jinu?”  She reached out, then aborted the movement.  “Jinu?  Can you hear me?”

Slowly, he lifted his head.  His eyes were coals in their last minutes of life, grey ash with the tiniest speck of orange fire at their center; the patterns streaking his face had bloomed like bruises.  There was little humanity left in his gaze, and no recognition.  Just exhaustion and despair.  “No, milord,” he mumbled through cracked lips.  “You won’t… I won’t…”

“Jinu, it’s me.  Rumi.”  She wanted desperately to take his hand, but she didn’t know how the crowd behind her would react. 

He shook his head, a minuscule movement that still sent waves of pain washing over his expression.  “No.  It can’t…”

Behind her, the murmurs were growing louder.  How long did she have until Gwi-Ma noticed her?  “I swear it’s true,” she said swiftly.  “You said you gave me your soul, remember?  I’m here to give it back to you.”

Something sparked in his eyes.  He took another look at her, deep and searching, then squeezed his eyes shut.  “A good trick, milord,” he breathed.  “A very good trick.”

“Oh, for…”  She glanced behind her, but the demons were still maintaining a careful distance from the tree.  She leaned in.  “What do you need to hear, Jinu?  Should I tell you about the old woman selling bracelets, the one who told me to find a better man?  About the picture that little girl gave you at the signing?  The way I killed a mannequin at our first meeting?”

His eyes narrowed.  “Wearing what?”

She flushed to remember it.  “Pajama pants with teddy bears and trains.  Which, I may point out, are very comfortable!”

The tiniest hint of a smile tugged at his lips.  “Very adorable,” he murmured.  Then, as if recalling himself, he stiffened.  “How the hell are you here?  You shouldn’t be here!”

“I’m here to rescue you,” she snapped, leaving obviously unsaid.  “Derpy brought us your bipa, and, well…”  She gestured vaguely, not wanting to get into the whole story.  “How are you here?  I thought you’d died!”

“So did I.”  He closed his eyes.  “But Gwi-Ma doesn’t like to let go of his toys.”  His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and she wished she’d thought to bring water.  “You have to go, Rumi.  You can’t stay here. You don’t…”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she interrupted.  “We have a plan.”

“We?”  He shook his head.  “No.  Whatever it is, it’s too risky.  I’m not worth it.”

“You’re worth everything,” she said fiercely.

His lips twitched again, but there was no humor in it this time.  “Even after I betrayed you, you’d say that?  No, sweetheart.  I’m a demon.  Let me rot.”

The word, said so casually, ricocheted through her.  He probably didn’t mean it, she told herself – didn’t Sera call everyone, particularly Mira, sweetheart?  But a small, optimistic part of her wanted to dance anyway.  “No,” she said firmly.  “Not happening.”

Something akin to anger flashed in his eyes, briefly lightening the ashy darkness.  “You don’t know what you’re saying,” he snarled, then gasped in pain.  Softer, he went on, “You’re a fool if you think you can get me out, and doubly a fool if you think you should.  You really want to free me?  Stab me right now.”

“What?  No!”

His smile was ghastly.  “Then leave me here to rot.  But that’s the only way I’m getting out of here, believe me.”

***

Stab me right now.  The horrific words echoed through Rumi’s head as she made her way out of Gwi-Ma’s court, playing over and over in an endless loop.  In the back of her mind, she could have sworn someone was laughing.  But the demons parted for her like waves around a stone, still locked in their eerie staring contest with the flames, and no one tried to stop her.  She didn’t know what she would have done if they had.

The tunnels, dark and quiet as they were, provided no relief from her spiraling thoughts.  She walked them in a daze, sand crunching beneath her feet, and only realized she was lost when Derpy’s glowing orange eyes materialized out of the gloom.  “Hey, kitty,” she mumbled.  “I don’t suppose you know where we are?”

He meowed softly, padding forward so he could nudge her side with his fluffy head.  With a sigh, she climbed onto his back, and let him take her back to the cave that was a very poor substitute for home.

Lost in dreams of hot showers and couch food, she didn’t notice Ha-Yoon standing just inside the common area until he spoke.  “So.  Have you convinced yourself now that I am telling the truth?”

She jerked upright, and only Derpy’s skip sideways kept her seated on his broad back.  She glared at the demon.  “Have you been spying on me?”

Ha-yoon moved into the light, studying her with an intensity stronger than an x-ray.  “Sera told me where you went.  I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised – your mother was always impulsive too.  Not to mention stubborn.”

“Don’t talk about my mother.” 

He lifted an eyebrow.  “As you wish.”

The easy acquiescence made her stomach churn.  “You may have told the truth about Jinu being imprisoned,” she snapped.  “But that doesn’t mean I trust you.”

“I would be disappointed if you did.”  He chuckled humorlessly at her look of surprise.  “As you have taken pains to point out, I am a demon, and you have trained your whole life to dispatch us.  Though I must say, it does seem as though you’ve embraced your heritage rapidly.”

There was a hint of approval in his tone, even a touch of warmth.  Rumi dug her nails into her palms and flinched at the sting.  Somehow, she’d managed to forget her current form – how could she have let herself do that?  She squeezed her eyes shut, reaching for memories of her human body, but a hand on her wrist stopped her.  “Come with me,” Ha-yoon told her.  “There are things you ought to know.”

She yanked her arm back, but he’d already let go.  “I will not harm you,” he promised, and there was something hard and uncompromising in his voice.  “Like it or not, you are my daughter.”

Derpy took a step towards him, cocking his head as though to say, it can’t hurt to follow.  Yes, it can, Rumi wanted to tell the tiger.  But her curiosity got the better of her.  “Fine.  I’ll listen, just this once.”

Ha-yoon led her to a spacious cavern with sand piled deep along the floor.  Racks of weapons stood along one wall, with benches scattered on the others.  Lanterns burned bright overhead – Rumi wasn’t sure what was burning within them, but it certainly wasn’t fire she recognized.  “What is this?” she asked, sliding off Derpy’s back to land with a puff of dirt in the sand.  The great cat, purring happily, gamboled off to play in a corner.

Ha-yoon slid a sword from the rack.  “Defend yourself,” he ordered, and attacked.

Rumi dodged out of the way, hands instinctively coming up to call her own sword out of the ether.  But, before a single note could leave her mouth, Ha-yoon snapped, “No.”  He swung at her, a lazy arc she dodged easily.  “No Hunter magic.  Show me what else you know.”

“I am a Hunter, in case you’ve forgotten,” Rumi snarled, dodging another blow.

“Believe me, you make it impossible to forget.  But you are only half Hunter,” he told her, sounding far too patient for a man actively swinging a sword at her.  “Use the other half.”  And, as though that was sufficient instruction, he sped up.

She backpedaled furiously, kicking up sand as she scrambled to avoid his blows.  Celine had taught them all unarmed combat – you never knew when a demon might get a lucky shot in – but few demons were martial masters.  They might fight fiercely with claw and fang, they might even improvise with whatever came to hand, but they didn’t wield blades.  Rumi had, she realized, assumed they couldn’t.

But Ha-yoon fought with all the skill of a kumdo master, precision and power marking every move.  He was better than the man Celine had hired to tutor Rumi when she chose the sword as her weapon, and that was saying something – her former tutor had won every tournament he’d ever entered.  Ha-yoon, however, had been practicing for centuries, and it showed.  If he’d wanted to, he could have killed her a dozen times over, and she couldn’t have stopped him.

But he limited himself to taps, scratches that stung but didn’t wound.  Each one made her temper spike, but she gripped it with iron will as she dodged and ducked and weaved.  Fast, then faster, then blurringly fast – faster than she could ever remember moving as a human.  But, though she was panting, she wasn’t dying, not like she’d been when fleeing from the demon court on their first day here.  Her demonic body moved with such liquid, easy grace that she wanted to cry.  It shouldn’t have felt like this, being a demon.  It shouldn’t have been so good.

“Come, daughter.  Surely this isn’t all you can do?”  Ha-yoon threw a blinding series of strikes at her, forcing her to skip backwards to avoid him.  “You will never win with defense alone.”

She bared her teeth.  “Let me use my sword, then.”

“No.”

Spitting fury, she spun and grabbed a sword off the nearest rack.  It was heavier than her blade of song and light, unwieldy in her grip, but she launched herself at her so-called father anyway.  Maybe she didn’t have centuries of practice like he did, but she was still going to make him sweat, dammit.

He blocked her with contemptuous ease.  “Really?  A practice sword?”

A note burst from her lips before she could stop herself.  A shockwave of pure power crashed over Ha-yoon, sending him skidding backwards even as he braced himself with his blade.  Sand flew in great gouts, making Derpy hiss from his corner; the smell of charred earth filled the air.

Slowly, Ha-yoon lowered his sword.  “Better.”  He nodded.  “Uncontrolled, but we can work on that.”

Rumi lifted a hand to her throat.  It tingled, skin sparking with static electricity beneath her clawed fingertips, and she sucked in a breath.  Celine had never taught her how to do that.  “Was that…” she started.

“Yes.”  Ha-yoon hefted his blade once more.  “Repeat it.”

She backed away from him as he advanced.  She could have sworn her patterns were humming, wild and eager, but she forced the sensation away.  “Why?  Why do you care so much how I do or don’t fight?”

He paused mid-blow.  “Your mother would not forgive me should I let her daughter die.”

Rumi’s hands tightened on the hilt of the practice blade.  “My mother is dead.”

His golden eyes darkened.  “Yes.  But that does not mean she is gone.”

More sparks raced down Rumi’s patterns.  “What do you mean?”  She pivoted, blade held in a guarding stance as Ha-yoon prowled in a circle.  “She’s not here.  She’s not a demon.”

“No,” Ha-yoon agreed.  Was it her imagination, or did he sound wistful?  “She was too strong-willed for that.”

“Then what are you talking about?”  His light-footed stalking was getting on her nerves.  She feinted left, then struck to his right, an overhand blow that would have sliced him in two if he hadn’t blocked with inhuman quickness.  Growling, she used the momentum to cut sideways, then up.

Ha-yoon blocked the blows, but didn’t return fire.  “Do you believe in an afterlife, Miyeong’s daughter?”

The sound of her mom’s name on his lips made her falter.  Ha-yoon’s sword nipped her collarbone, and she hissed.  “That’s none of your business.”

He shrugged, brushing that off.  “Then let us say I am honoring her memory.”

It was like he’d actually loved her.  Rumi still didn’t want to believe it – why would her mother, the best Hunter in generations, ever consort with a demon?  And, even if some tiny fraction of demons retained enough humanity to love, was Ha-yoon truly one of them?  She couldn’t imagine the cold, rigid grim reaper ever unbending enough to allow affection to flourish.

As though he could read her thoughts, he sighed.  “You do not need to believe me.  However, you must surely see that I mean you no harm?”

She folded her arms.  “Maybe not right now.”

“Oh, for…”  He grounded his sword in the sand and threw up his hands.  “Can you not sense the power within you?  Do you not wish to seize every advantage you can?”

“I don’t need any demon powers.  I’m a Hunter,” she retorted.

Ha-yoon visibly snarled.  “Fine.  Fight with one hand tied behind your back.  When Gwi-Ma slaughters all three of you, I would claim the privilege to point out your folly, except we will all be dead then, so the point will be moot.”

Well, wasn’t that just the nicest way of saying I told you so?  A reluctant huff of amusement escaped her.  “Why do you care so much about this fight, anyway?”  As far as she could tell, he was living a fine life for a demon.

He eyed her like a teacher presented with a particularly stubborn pupil.  “What does any living, thinking being desire?”  Then, as she opened her mouth, he held up a hand.  “Grant me the living part, please.  It may be a different form of life, but it is close enough for this purpose.”

Since she’d been about to argue that exact point, she shut her mouth.  What did demons want, anyway?  Devouring souls was not, she suspected, the answer he was looking for.  “Food?” she asked.  “Shelter?  Family?  Safety?”

“Safety.”  He nodded once.  “Freedom, at least to some limited extent, though most would trade freedom for safety if forced to make the choice.  But no being thrives in a cage, and no being desires to live in constant fear.  Is it any wonder that I and others wish to overthrow the tyrant who has gifted us both?”  He hesitated, fingers dancing on the hilt of his sword.  “And, yes, family.  Maybe even some semblance of meaning to life.  I realize you think that is impossible for us, but some, at least, find comfort in the families they build.  But that, too, is dangerous under Gwi-Ma’s rule.”

She thought of the dokkaebi children, who’d run so freely through the market.  “Does he not approve?”

Ha-yoon grimaced.  “If you know your history, you would know that rulers have many ways to use their subjects’ relatives against them.  Few are pleasant.”

It was her turn to hesitate.  “Is that why you and my mother…”  She couldn’t finish the sentence.

He looked away.  “We tried to conceal it.  I was, then, one of Gwi-Ma’s most trusted lieutenants, one of those who he sent out into the world to tempt and corrupt humans into accepting his whispers.  Even if a human does not become a demon, their anguish and rage and shame feeds us, and thus whisperers like me ensure that we will have a plentiful supply of such emotions. It was a job I was very good at.”  He said it with no pride, just flat honesty.  “When I met your mother, she did not immediately realize what I was.  And I, in my hubris, thought I could score the ultimate coup by corrupting a Hunter.”  A huff escaped him.  “As you can guess, it did not turn out that way.”

Patterns heated up and down Rumi’s arms.  “So you did trick her.”

Ha-yoon gave her a flat look.  “At first, yes.  Not in the end.”  His gaze grew distant.  “When I told her the truth of who I was, I expected her to strike me down.  But she said she’d already guessed – she was just waiting for me to tell her.”

Rumi couldn’t reconcile that with the picture Celine had painted of her mother, that of a woman determined to do her duty at all costs.  But, then, Celine had had a vested interest in lionizing Miyeong, hadn’t she?  Rumi had never been able to fill the dead woman’s shoes.

She scanned the grim reaper’s face, hunting for any trace of a lie.  “What happened, then?”

Ha-yoon’s hand clenched around the hilt of his sword.  “Gwi-Ma found out, of course.  And, when I finally was free of those cursed cages, I learned that Miyeong had long since returned to dust.”  His golden eyes burned like coals as he pulled the sword from the sand.  “I swore then that I would repay Gwi-Ma for that, and much more besides.”  He leveled the blade at Rumi, who stepped back.  “I have never been a good man, daughter.  Do not make the mistake of assuming benevolence or charity where there is none.  But I keep my promises.”

She tensed, waiting for the next attack, but it never came.  Instead, with a flick of his wrist, Ha-yoon tossed the blade back onto one of the weapon racks.  Then he spun on his heel and stalked away, never giving her a backwards glance.

“I guess practice is over then,” she muttered, letting herself relax only when she was sure he was gone.  “Fine.  Fine!”  Demons wanted safety, huh?  Safety, freedom, family, and, what had he said, something about meaning in life?  She scoffed.  What was the meaning of life to a demon?

What was the meaning of life to a demon?  Notes began to trickle through her head.  It felt absurd, but, if this was the way to a demon’s heart… she bared her teeth.  “We’ll try it.”

Chapter Text

Locked in his cage of thorns, Jinu dreamed.

Demons did not, as a rule, dream, but there was no better word for the hazy images that surrounded his half-conscious form, clustering in the space between the cage bars and the horde beyond.  Abby, lips quirked in a sardonic smile; Mystery with his face shielded like always.  Romance, grinning emptily, and Baby, with the most sardonic look on his face Jinu had ever seen.  All four wore the tight black hanbok they’d worn in their final performance, the one that was supposed to be a triumph and devolved into a nightmare.  But they had their human faces on, inhuman features hidden behind masks of flesh and blood.

Baby broke the silence first.  “You betrayed us, you know,” he murmured, almost conversationally.

Jinu looked away.  What could he say?  It was true, and it had condemned his friends to death.

Friends… could a demon truly have friends?  The Hunters would surely claim it was impossible, a violation of a demon’s nature.  But they’d been friends, nonetheless.  Abby and Mystery, Romance and Baby… not their real names, of course, but they’d declared that, if they were going to be a boy band, they were going to go all in.  And now he couldn’t look at their human faces without thinking of those names, so foolish and yet so perfect for the masks they’d chosen.

“You could have fought with us.  But you chose her, instead.”  Abby shook his head.  “Was it worth it?”

Jinu swallowed hard.  He hadn’t had anything to drink in weeks, and the desert air had long since sucked the last drops of moisture from his body.  Yet that didn’t stop his eyes from stinging.  Was it?  He’d saved Rumi, and she’d defeated Gwi-Ma, but that monster wasn’t dead.  And he was here, trapped by thorns and iron and magic, surrounded by memories.  Ghosts.

Were they ghosts, though?  His vision was blurry, his mind full of fog after so long in the cage.  “Are you here?” he whispered.  Had they somehow, against all odds, survived?

“Do you want us to be here?”  Baby’s lips curled.  “You turned your back on us, just like you did with your family.  Is that all you know how to do?”

Echoes of long-ago wails struck his ears.  When he blinked, he saw his mother’s tear-streaked face, skin pulled tight over sharp cheekbones.  His sister’s sobs carved through his chest like knives.

He forced the images away – that, at least, he’d had many years to practice.  “I didn’t…”  His voice cracked.

Romance blinked like a cat.  “Yes, you did.”

Jinu’s patterns burned.  He never should have brought his friends into his scheme, never should have promised them that everything would work out.  They’d been so skeptical at first, but he’d won them over, and now look.  Him in a cage, them… well, maybe they’d survived, but he doubted it.  No, they’d surely died a final death at the blades of the Hunters, disappearing into a dust not even Gwi-Ma could reciscutate.

Was it wrong for him to envy them?

Mystery drew closer to the cage.  “It doesn’t have to be like this, you know,” he said quietly.  For a second, as he touched a thorn, his fingernail sharpened to a claw.  “You could change it.”

“How?”  Half of him wanted to laugh; the other half was a breath away from crying.  There was only one way out of this cage, and Rumi had already refused to grant him that relief.

Mystery shook his head.  “That’s up to you.”

Why did he have to be cryptic even as a hallucination?  He’d been a con artist in life, an astrologer at an ancient court who’d taken bribes from councilors to steer the king towards ruinous decisions that benefited the nobility and caused famines for the peasants.  Vague pronouncements and invented prophecies had been his stock in trade then, and he’d retained a love for that kind of wordplay as a demon.  Poison-tongued, Gwi-Ma had called him, and had sent him on any number of recruitment missions.

Now, though, there was something off in his golden eyes, something desperate.  Jinu squeezed his own eyes shut.  “You’re not here.  You’re not real.”

A very real-seeming hand touched his shoulder.  “Maybe not,” Abby breathed in his ear.  “But maybe we are.  If Gwi-Ma brought you back, why not us?”

“We fought for him, after all,” Baby murmured.  “Unlike you.”

You fought for yourselves, Jinu wanted to say.  But he wasn’t sure it was true.  They’d fought for him, as much as anything.  And he’d led them to their final deaths.

Hells, he wished he could join them.

“That’s one way out, I suppose,” Mystery said, as though he could read Jinu’s thoughts.

Jinu tried to turn away, but the cage was too small.  Thorns slashed through his skin as he lurched sideways, and pain flared up his back.  Abby hissed, half mockery and half sympathy.  “Was it worth it?” he asked again.  A clawed finger traced one of the cuts.  “All this?”

For a second, Jinu leaned into the touch.  It stung, yes, but it was the only contact he’d had in months.  The demons surrounding him were too wary to get close to him, as though treachery was a flu, and even Rumi hadn’t touched him.  He’d forgotten how necessary skin to skin contact was – some days, it was the only thing that could stave off the memories, the shame and despair and hate.  And it was rare, here.  No one wanted to get close to anyone, no one wanted to be vulnerable.  Demons became demons for many reasons, but they all bore scars, and Gwi-Ma’s court was not a safe place to let those scars show.  Yet, somehow, he’d found friends, a momentary relief from the pain.

And now, he reminded himself, they’re gone.  Dead, because of you.  Maybe Baby was right, and betrayal was the pattern he was condemned to repeat over and over and over.  First his family, then Rumi, then his only friends… it was burned into his skin, his soul.

But, if he could only convince Rumi to stab him… his head swam.  She’d been real, hadn’t she?  She’d known things that Gwi-Ma couldn’t have known.  If he could convince her to free him, then he could never hurt anyone again.

Abby dug the tip of his claw into the edge of one of his lacerations, carving it deeper.  “Was it?” he hissed.

It was sick and stupid, but Jinu relished the pain.  “Yes.  No.  I don’t know.”  If he’d died as he’d planned, then yes, it would have been.  Now?

Now, he just wished Abby would keep touching him.  If he was going to wear a fresh set of scars, better that they come from the people he’d hurt, right?  Even if said people were figments of his imagination.

But Abby pulled away, and the pain sank back to a dull roar.  “Maybe you should figure that out.”

Jinu watched, eyes dry and burning, as his old friend stepped back from the cage.  For a second, Abby’s mouth twisted, as though he was about to speak, but no words came out.  Instead, with a shake of his head, he rejoined the other three.  All four regarded Jinu with cold, empty eyes for a long moment.  Then, at no visible signal, they turned away.

When Jinu blinked, they were gone.