Fic: Wolfsbane (3/5) [TVXQ RPS | AU]
Yunho gets home to find a familiar silver-blue Mercedes roadster parked outside his apartment block. Changmin is leaning against the hood, booted feet crossed at the ankle, his long grey woollen coat unbuttoned to display faded jeans and a white t-shirt and a purple scarf looped several times around his neck. He’s attracting almost as much attention as the car. Yunho can see crazy old Mr Park peering down from the third floor, and a couple of kids with skateboards are gawping from the street corner.
Changmin takes off his sunglasses and straightens as Yunho comes towards him. “I wanted to see how you were.”
“As you see.” Yunho lifts his plastered arm. He feels too drained to deal with any further drama. “Thank you for your concern, but I’ve had a hell of a day and I’d just like to go to bed.”
Changmin raises an eyebrow. “Want some company?”
The response is unexpected and so fundamentally wrong in this situation that Yunho laughs. He doesn’t know if he’s annoyed or impressed. “You’re sure of yourself.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.” Changmin gives him a wicked smile.
“No, there’s not, but...” Yunho shrugs and goes past him towards the main door, “I told you-”
Changmin follows alongside him. “You don’t like cocky guys. I remember.”
Yunho fumbles his keys out of his jacket pocket. It’s a difficult operation, because they’re in his right pocket and he has to reach around with his left hand. Just as he thinks he’s got them, the fob slips out his grasp and his keys drop to the ground. “Crap.”
“Allow me.” Changmin leans down and retrieves them. He studies the lock and sorts through the keys, selects the right one, and opens the door. He tucks the keys into Yunho’s left pocket and smiles. They’re standing way too close.
Yunho’s heart is racing. Heat crawls through him. He tries to ignore it. “Thanks. My wrist...”
“I can take the pain away,” Changmin says softly. His eyes are black, their depths promising only pleasure.
Yunho stares at him. He’s tempted. Oh God, how he’s tempted. He drops his gaze to Changmin’s mouth, so full and luscious. Yunho wonders how he’ll taste. After everything he’s been through in the past twenty-four hours, he deserves some fun. Although maybe ‘fun’ isn’t the right description, not with Changmin. Whatever it is, he knows it’ll be amazing. Yunho isn’t certain how much good he’s going to be with an injured arm, but-
Changmin moves closer, his breath sweet and warm. “I’ll be gentle.”
Yunho exhales a laugh. “Can you read my mind or something?”
“I don’t need to read your mind. You have such an expressive face.”
Not just his face. Yunho edges away, embarrassed that his body is reacting so eagerly in such a public place. His anger at Siwon is fading fast, replaced by the heavy, coursing beat of arousal.
Changmin raises his eyebrows. His smile is full of sin. “Want me to help you unlock your apartment door?”
Yunho smiles back at him. “Yes.”
They go inside. The lift isn’t working-it seems to break down at least once a week-and they take the stairs. Changmin follows close on Yunho’s heels. Yunho is aware that he’s being watched, his sense of excitement increasing along with a certain nervousness. He hasn’t been with anyone since university. He’s never been with someone as gorgeous as Changmin. Not even Siwon is-
Yunho shuts down that thought. He doesn’t want to think about Siwon, doesn’t want to reawaken the deep surge of rage and betrayal and misery. He knows he’s about to use Changmin to blot out the day’s revelations, but he doesn’t think Changmin will mind. It seems wrong to feed his lust for Changmin from his anger at Siwon, but Yunho is beyond caring. He just wants to be held, wants Changmin to fuck away all the pain.
By the time they reach the second floor, Yunho realises he has to tell Changmin about his toxic state. Maybe if they don’t kiss too much and if they use condoms, Changmin won’t end up in hospital like his university lovers. Or maybe, if he tells the truth, Changmin will walk out of the door and leave him alone, and Yunho doesn’t think he could bear that. He can’t lose Siwon and Changmin on the same day. Okay, he’ll settle for a compromise: he won’t say anything this time and he’ll give Changmin a blowjob but do himself by hand somehow, and he’ll take one kiss, just one kiss, because he’s been craving Changmin’s mouth from the moment he first set eyes on him.
Yunho is absolutely certain of his decision by the time they reach his apartment. He gives Changmin the key. Heavy silence weighs around them. The afternoon light has faded from this part of the building and they’re standing in shadows. Changmin looks at him for a long moment, then inserts the key into the lock. He turns it. Pushes at the door.
Yunho’s breathing comes clipped and fast. He wants to drag Changmin into the hallway and have him right there, but he keeps hold of his sanity and steps inside, then bends down to take off his shoes.
Changmin stands outside, his arms braced against either side of the doorframe. His gaze is burning, his face taut with expectation and... hope, Yunho realises; Changmin is looking at him with a kind of desperate hope.
Yunho smiles, beckons. “Come in.”
Changmin crosses the threshold. He stops to take off his coat and scarf and boots. His t-shirt clings nice and tight, and Yunho wriggles out of his own jacket and slings it over the back of a chair. Squirms of anticipation coil and quiver inside him. It’s been so damn long, and he just wants to enjoy this feeling, the knowledge of desiring and being desired.
Aware of his duties as host, he moves into the kitchenette and takes down a couple of glasses. “Do you want a drink?”
“No.” Changmin stalks towards him with a hot, feral smile. “I want you.”
Yunho turns to face him, allowing himself to be trapped against the bench. The air ripples between them, the atmosphere thickening. Changmin pins him, his touch gentle but brooking no resistance. Yunho thinks he might just take off right there, he’s so turned on.
Changmin leans closer, almost-brushes his lips from Yunho’s forehead down to his chin. They’re not touching except for where Changmin is holding him, and the infinitesimal space between them feels molten with desire.
On the bench behind him, a glass tumbles and breaks. Yunho starts in shock, his heart pounding, a lick of fear flashing cold through him. Turning his head, he realises it’s nothing sinister-he must have bumped against the glass just now and knocked it over. It’s a normal accident, nothing more. He tries to laugh it off. “I’m so clumsy.”
“Forget it.” Changmin’s voice is dark and rich. He feathers his lips against Yunho’s throat, not a caress but a tease.
Yunho can’t bear it any longer. He turns back and kisses Changmin.
The power of it takes his breath away. It’s like he’s never been kissed before, as if it’s his every first time wrapped into one. Changmin tastes incredible, heat and the drugging-sweet offer of oblivion. Yunho wants more. He moans into Changmin’s mouth and deepens the embrace, the tether of his good intentions worn straight through and snapped. Changmin lifts his hands to cradle Yunho’s head; and then there’s blood on Yunho’s tongue, blood filling his mouth, and it’s hot and bitter and it’s burning.
Yunho jerks away in horror. Changmin’s skin is bubbling, starting to char. The stink of roasting flesh fills the air. Yunho can see bone, actual bone beneath the blackening flesh, and there’s so much blood, it’s oozing like syrup, a thick wash of deep, deep red all around Changmin’s mouth, all down what’s left of his chin.
Changmin staggers back, staring at him in utter disbelief.
“I’m sorry.” Yunho can barely get the words out. Remorse and anguish claw at him. “Oh God, I’m so sorry.”
“No,” Changmin whispers through the bloodied mess of his mouth. He looks devastated, then furious. “No!”
* * *
Yunho clears up the broken glass after Changmin’s abrupt exit. He finds himself cleaning the kitchen bench long after the last shard has been swept away; the repetitive action numbs his mind, stops him from thinking too many wild thoughts.
Eventually he gives up and goes to sit on the couch. He stares at the wall. Thinks about what just happened. Guilt clenches tight and he screws his eyes shut. He should have told Changmin. He was greedy and selfish and his actions are unforgiveable. The doctor never said the aconite in his system could act that fast, but everyone’s different. He should have stayed in hospital. He’s dangerous. Poisonous. Toxic.
His mind skips to his job. A new wave of despair comes over him. He’ll have to tell his boss about his fractured wrist. Not just that; now he knows how toxic he is, he’ll have to quit. He can’t be around that many people; can’t risk contaminating someone just because he touched them.
Then logic kicks in and reminds him that he’s been working there for a while without a single problem, and if anyone had become ill from him handling cups and plates and serving food, they’d have made a complaint by now. Likewise he’s touched plenty of people in a friendly way and he’s kissed his mother’s cheek every time he’s visited his parents, and no one has started melting right in front of him.
He leans forward and puts his elbows on his knees. He stares at the floor, thinking. The symptoms of aconite poisoning didn’t include scorched flesh and gouts of blood. But Siwon had said something about that. He’d mentioned it when he was babbling on about his stupid vampire-killing theory. What was it again?
Yunho rubs at his temples, trying to drag rational thought from the mess of confusion. That was it-something about how his blood would harm the vampire, how just one drop would hurt it, and Siwon’s whole plan was based on the fact that Yunho’s toxicity would make the vampire burn up and turn into a blackened skeleton.
Completely fucking crazy.
Or was it?
Yunho remembers the kiss, remembers the moment when blood filled his mouth, when Changmin’s skin started to burn, the smell of it so vile it makes him feel sick even to recall it now. He remembers the sight of Changmin’s sexy mouth blistering, his flesh curling and peeling in blackened bits. He remembers he could see bone.
That was not a normal reaction. Therefore, the only logical explanation is...
Yunho looks up. “Vampires don’t exist,” he says out loud.
The apartment gives him back silence.
He tries again. “Vampires aren’t real.”
This time, distantly, he hears the fluttering of wings.
“Stupid,” Yunho says, getting up and pacing around the room. “Stupid and crazy and...” He stops, gazing at the photograph of his parents that’s propped up on a bookshelf. There were ghosts in Siwon’s house, ghosts his mother felt and acknowledged, ghosts that he’d seen for himself. If ghosts exist, then why not vampires?
Yunho shakes his head, not willing to believe it. Ghosts are not the same as vampires. He stares at the photo and thinks instead about what Siwon said about his bloodline. Maybe he should call his mother and ask for her advice.
He dismisses the idea straight away. She’s never liked talking about ghosts, not even when he was very young and he’d asked her about them. She’d told him it was just a phase and he wouldn’t be able to see them once he was grown-up. He’d believed her. He’s never mentioned the subject again, so the idea of starting a conversation about vampires and how Siwon believes he’s some kind of vampire catnip is sure to upset her.
Plus there’s the fact that Siwon dotes on her, and she loves Siwon as dearly as if he were her own, and while Yunho doesn’t want to see Siwon for a very long time, he doesn’t want to rob him of the only mother-figure he has.
Sitting back down, he tries to think who else he could talk to about this. There’s no one who’d believe him. “Stupid,” he mutters again. He rubs his eyes with his good hand. He’s tired and confused and the nagging pain in his wrist is getting really unpleasant. Maybe if he lies down for a moment.
Yunho stretches out on the couch and falls asleep.
He dreams about snow and cherry trees, and wakes to the throaty roar of a motorbike engine. He’s only been asleep a few hours. Evening is creeping on, the sky starting to darken, the temperature starting to drop. His head is still jumbled, but at least the pain has receded. Yunho gets up, opens the balcony doors, and goes outside. The air is still warm here, busy with the scent of exhaust fumes and the deep sweetness of roses on Mr Park’s balcony below him. He can hear the steady drone of the traffic and the cheeping of the finches in the cage hanging from the balcony of the next-door apartment.
In that moment he feels free and safe, and then he remembers his dreams. The park in the snow. Christmas Eve. He was sitting on the swings with Siwon, and Siwon was complaining about his sister, and there was a crow, and a cherry tree, and then a man came into the park-no, Changmin came into the park, and he had blood around his mouth and Yunho wanted to help him, and then-and then...
Yunho frowns, trying to drag the dream back, but it resists him, like it’s a thread caught around a thorn, and he pulls and pulls, summons it from wherever it’s hiding, and in a shock like iced water he remembers everything.
I just killed your family. All of them. Merry Christmas, Siwon.
It wasn’t a dream. It was real. This happened; it actually happened.
Why did you do that?
Because I can.
Nausea hits him so fast that Yunho feels dizzy with it. He turns, walks into the door and chokes on a yelp as he bangs his injured wrist. The sudden pain cuts through the muffling panic. He shoves at the balcony door, runs into the apartment and makes it to the bathroom before he throws up.
Are you going to kill me, too?
No. I’m going to wait until you’re older.
He doesn’t want these memories. He’d give anything to forget them again.
Are you going to kill me?
Yunho turns on the tap and splashes cold water over his face one-handed.
I’m going to-
He looks up, stares at his reflection in the mirror.
-wait until you’re older.
Dear God. He can’t deal with this. Not any of it. Siwon was right. Siwon was telling the truth. Vampires exist.
This is so fucked-up.
Yunho usually prides himself on finding the best even in bad situations, but he’s hard-pressed to think of anything good about today.
He’s still alive. He doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or not.
Exhausted, his voided stomach aching as much as his fractured wrist, he pushes away from the sink and goes out of the bathroom.
Changmin is standing on the balcony. The sun is setting behind him, grey clouds streaking through a pink and gold sky. He’s wearing bike leathers and gloves. His face is whole and perfect, and he looks at Yunho with wary curiosity. Incongruously, he’s barefoot.
Yunho doesn’t know if he wants to laugh at the idea of such a polite mass murderer. There’s no point in asking how Changmin managed to get onto his balcony four floors up. Yunho is only surprised that he’s not surprised.
“You’re a vampire,” Yunho says. It sounds just as crazy as every other time he’s said it aloud.
Changmin comes inside. “I’m a vampire. Look, fangs.” He opens his mouth and unsheathes his canines, neat and curved and wickedly pointed. He tosses his head and clicks his tongue and his fangs shrink, become normal teeth.
Yunho refuses to be impressed or intimidated or anything else by this little display. “You killed Siwon’s family.”
“I did.”
“His entire family.”
Changmin smiles without humour. “I’m an impulsive kind of guy.”
“So,” Yunho says, amazed that he’s actually having this conversation and not throwing himself from the balcony or running out of the apartment screaming, “why didn’t you kill Siwon?”
The smile darkens into annoyance. “Because I can’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I can’t.” Changmin sighs and wanders across the room, then flops into an armchair and crosses his legs. He makes himself right at home but doesn’t remove his gloves. Brushing at his hair, he says as if by rote, “It’s forbidden for me to kill the last surviving member of that branch of the Choi family.”
Yunho stares. “Forbidden?”
Changmin taps the fingers of one hand on the armrest. “A few centuries ago, a group of people got together and placed a binding spell upon me.” His smile is one of supreme self-mockery. “The thing with binding spells is they’re hard to break... but sometimes there’s a loophole. I like loopholes. I always exploit loopholes. I exploited it when it came to the spell. I killed every one of the people who tried to bind me with it, with one exception.”
“Siwon’s ancestor,” Yunho guesses.
Changmin nods, the bitter smile still in place. “The Choi who cast the spell upon me wasn’t as stupid as his colleagues. He knew I would come after them and their families, so he ensured that the balance of power was kept in check. If I kill the last surviving member of his family, I’ll become a shade. I’ll never be able to feed, never be able to die, never be able to live. I’ll be a perpetual shadow, constantly tormented by hunger and the desire for rest. I don’t want that-so Siwon lives.”
Yunho considers this. “What if he dies of natural causes?”
“Then the binding spell dies with him, and I’ll be free.” Changmin stops tapping his fingers and leans forward, his gaze very bright. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for the last Choi to walk off a cliff or under a bus? About three hundred years. They have an over-abundance of good fortune on their side. Also, they breed like rabbits. Which means I just have to wait for a few generations and then I can hunt them down and slaughter the lot-except one, who has to be male, below the age of twenty, and healthy enough to sire a child.”
Changmin’s expression turns hard-edged. “The original Choi was a Jesuit. Tricky little bastards, those. Always so clever with words. Selfish, too. It wouldn’t have taken much for him to add a few words to the spell to protect his unfortunate colleagues. But he didn’t.”
“And you killed them.”
“Snuffed them out one by one. Completely extinguished their lines forever.” Now Changmin smiles with satisfaction. “Like I said-I have impulse issues.”
Yunho breathes through his fear, detaches himself from it. Maybe if he keeps Changmin talking, he can buy some time to figure out what to do. He should call Siwon, but his phone is in his jacket pocket on the other side of the room.
He tries to remember what he knows of vampire lore from books and TV shows. Obviously he already screwed up the rule about not inviting strange men into his home. “But surely you don’t need to keep killing the Choi family. Why don’t you just leave them alone? If you’re really a vampire, then the world is big enough. You can go somewhere else and start again. You don’t have to stay here and keep taking revenge every few generations. It’s not like Korea is an island. You’re not trapped by the sea-there’s all of Asia and India and Russia and Europe...”
“I’ve done all that. The Grand Tour-very enlightening. Good for wasting a hundred years or so.” Changmin wrinkles his nose and makes a dismissive gesture. “But I always come back home. You see, the Choi family has something that belongs to me, and I want it back.”
“What is it?” Yunho asks.
Changmin hesitates. For a moment, there’s uncertainty in his expression. Then he smiles and waves a hand at the couch. “Why don’t you sit down?”
“I’d rather stand.” Yunho flicks a look at the front door.
“There’s no use in running. You can’t get away from me.” Changmin pauses. “I’m not saying that to sound sinister, by the way. It’s just a fact. From the moment you came over to me that day in the park, so sweet and concerned and just a little boy-”
“I was nine.”
Changmin leans his head to one side and gives Yunho a very thorough once-over. “You were a little boy. And now you’re all grown-up.” He bites his lower lip, eyes black with sudden desire, then he breathes in and relaxes, smiling again. “As I was saying: From the moment we first encountered one another, your fate was sealed. I was never going to let you go. So don’t think you can get away from me now-not after I’ve waited sixteen years for this glorious reunion.”
“Am I meant to be flattered?” Yunho snaps before he can think better of it.
“Yes.” The smile fades. “You should be very flattered. I am not known for my patience. You do know what you are, don’t you?”
Yunho snorts. “Oh, yes. I’m special. I’m unique. Go on, tell me.”
Changmin is hemming him in before Yunho can even register that he’s moved from the armchair. Changmin puts both hands against the wall just above Yunho’s shoulders, trapping him in place. Yunho freezes, trying not to show any fear.
“You’re a witch,” Changmin says, a look of absolute triumph on his face. “Or, more correctly, a shaman.”
Yunho stares at him in consternation. “But-”
Changmin grins, a joyous sight. “Yes, I know. Shamans are almost always women. But...” and his grin widens, becomes infectious, inviting Yunho to marvel at the wonder that is his own self, “sometimes, just sometimes, a male shaman is born, and he has a unique gift.”
Yunho has the suspicion that the gift is his blood. This is probably not an ideal topic of conversation. He tries to deflect it. “I’m not a shaman. I don’t have special powers. I’ve never even won anything on a scratch-card. And shamans talk to dead people. I don’t do that. I can’t do that.”
Changmin tilts his head. “You’re talking to me.”
“You’re a vampire!”
“And you could, if you wanted. Talk to the dead, I mean.” Changmin looks around as if he can hear-or see-something else in the room. He shrugs, turns back to smile at Yunho. “There’s at least a dozen of them here right now, and they’re very upset with me for intruding like this. But that’s not what I was talking about. Any shaman can call up some dead ancestors for a chat. What you’ve got is so much better.”
Yunho swallows. “Siwon told me I’m vampire catnip.”
“An uncouth way of putting it, but yes.” Now the smile is inviting, seductive. “Essentially,” Changmin says, drawing one gloved finger down Yunho’s cheek, “you were bred as vampire bait. You were born for me.” Gently, he tilts Yunho’s head to one side, exposing the vulnerable curve of his neck.
Lips parting, fangs unsheathing, Changmin moves closer. His breath whispers over Yunho’s skin. Closer still, and Yunho struggles against a surge of desire, wing-beats in his head and the world closing down around him. He doesn’t know what he wants, but he knows he can’t allow this to happen. With a huge effort he pushes through the pall of arousal and blurts out: “I have wolfsbane in my blood.”
Changmin jerks back. He looks offended, then intrigued, and then he sighs. “So that’s what it was.” He gives Yunho a twisted smile. “Not just in your blood. It was in your kiss, too.”
Yunho puts his good hand to his head, shaking off the echoes of desire. “Siwon and his family have been feeding me aconite for the past twenty years.”
“Why did you tell me?” Changmin’s gaze is sharp with curiosity. “Twenty years of poison inside you would have all but finished me. You saw the damage a single kiss did. An amazing kiss, I’ll admit, but not one I care to repeat knowing what I do now.” He exhales on a laugh. “If I’d actually tasted your blood...”
“I’m catnip,” Yunho says, remembering Siwon’s comment. “You wouldn’t have been able to stop.”
“That amount of wolfsbane would be fatal to a younger vampire,” Changmin says softly. “For me, it would take perhaps a century or more before I could regenerate. During that time I’d be completely helpless to anyone who wanted to kill me.” He tilts his head, gives Yunho a wondering look. “Thank you for warning me.”
Yunho brushes off his gratitude. “Yeah, well, I don’t regenerate at all. I don’t want to die for Siwon, and no matter how hot you are, I don’t fancy the thought of you sucking my blood all night.”
Changmin laughs properly this time. “I can’t even suck anything else all night. Any fluid from your body will be tainted by wolfsbane.”
Yunho gives him a quelling look. “What a shame we won’t ever be lovers.”
“Oh, we will,” Changmin says. “You may be assured of that. I’ve been patient for sixteen years. I can wait a little longer. I know you’ll be worth every second.”
* * *
Siwon keeps his word and makes no attempt at contact. Yunho hopes for a call, then wonders what he’d say. Nothing that would make any sense, that’s for sure. He feels trapped in an unenviable position between his best friend and-and... He’s not sure what Changmin is, apart from a vampire. Before all this, maybe Changmin could have been his boyfriend. Except that sounds ridiculous, given that he’s a vampire and centuries old. Lover, then. They could’ve been lovers.
If things had happened differently, Yunho wonders if and when Changmin would have mentioned the whole vampire thing. At least this way he knows what he’s getting into. Unlike the situation with Siwon, who’d had twenty years to tell him about the aconite and why it was important, yet hadn’t said a word.
Yunho spends most of Sunday veering between wishing he’d never met either of them and trying to accept it. He can’t change who or what he is, and chances are, because of his vampire catnip blood, if it hadn’t been Changmin then some other vampire would have found him eventually. The outcome surely would have been the same. Happy vampire, dead Yunho.
He reminds himself that death is an inevitable part of life. If it’s his fate to feed a vampire then he’d rather it be Changmin. Better the devil you know and all that.
His thoughts are driving him crazy. Yunho calls his boss and explains about the attempted mugging and his fractured wrist. He asks about the company’s medical insurance policy and his boss tells him not to worry, it’ll be sorted out. Yunho feels relieved. He’ll be able to pay Siwon back for the medical bills.
At lunchtime he gets up off the couch and stands in the kitchenette looking at the contents of the fridge and cupboards. Yunho knows he should eat something. He hasn’t eaten since the pizza Siwon bought for him yesterday. It seems like a week ago. He should eat so he can heal faster, but he’s not hungry.
His gaze stops on the yellow pill bottle. It’s stuffed full of aconite tablets. He should throw it away. Dispose of it carefully so no one will become ill and die. He wouldn’t even want a rat to eat one of those pills. Then he remembers what the doctor said about the king who took all the poisons. Maybe he should keep taking the aconite. If he stops, he might get sick. He can’t rely on his oh-so-special shamanic blood to keep him alive.
Maybe he can decrease the dosage and wean himself off the wolfsbane instead. But doing that will eventually mean that Changmin will be able to drink from him.
What a choice. Death by poison or death by vampire.
It’s not a choice he’s going to make today. Yunho takes the pills.
*
Changmin comes through the balcony doors at four o’clock. “Enough wallowing. I’m taking you out.”
Yunho glowers at him. “Are all vampires as cocky as you?”
“Some of them are worse.” Changmin seems less intimidating now the truth is out in the open; less intimidating and more flirtatious. Yunho isn’t sure which he prefers. “Come on,” Changmin says. “Where’s your jacket? Let me help you.”
“How many vampires are there in Seoul, anyway?”
“I don’t know.” Changmin snags the jacket from a wall-hook and holds it so Yunho can slide his arms through the sleeves. “We don’t hang out together in a secret club or anything. There can’t be too many, though, because otherwise one of them would have found you by now.”
Yunho wrinkles his nose. “Can you... smell my blood or...”
“Only if I’m standing this close.” Changmin tugs at the sleeves of the jacket so the back lies flat. He slides his hands around Yunho’s waist, rests them on the buckle of Yunho’s belt. His voice is a soft purr in Yunho’s ear. “It’s your pulse that gives you away. It beats a different rhythm. Like a song.” He hesitates for a long moment, still holding Yunho, then he lets go and moves away. He’s almost smiling, his hair flicked forward into his eyes. “It’s hard to explain. Anyway. Come on.”
“Why?”
Changmin looks at him, surprised. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m courting you.”
Yunho stares. “But why?”
The question seems to throw Changmin even more. He blinks, is silent for a moment, then answers, “Because I can.”
*
They go to a tea house in Insadong, a small place with a somnolent atmosphere heady with the fragrant scent of infusions and tisanes. They’re shown to a private room with a low table and plush bench-seats. The view of the street outside is partially obscured by a fretwork screen. After a brief look at the menu, Yunho orders persimmon tea. Changmin selects chrysanthemum. The waitress brings the usual snacks with the teas and leaves the room, drawing the door shut as she goes.
Yunho drinks his first cup too fast. He’s nervous, he realises. He’s afraid to be on this weird date. Not because he might get drained of blood-Yunho knows that won’t happen-but because he doesn’t know how he feels about Changmin. He’s attracted, of course he is, and now there’s this whole vampire catnip issue that’s brought them together, but neither of these things is the basis for any kind of meaningful relationship. And it seems like that’s what Changmin intends-for them to have a relationship. Otherwise why go to the effort of courting him?
Changmin takes a sip of his tea. He’s been quiet since they got here. He doesn’t seem to be in a rush to make small talk, and while the silence isn’t uncomfortable, Yunho feels awkward. He has to have some sort of conversation, even if it’s about the weather or the traffic or the really hideous dress a girl is wearing on the street outside. He opens his mouth to comment on the dress and says instead, “How did you become a vampire?”
Changmin sets down his cup. He sits back and looks at Yunho from beneath his lashes. “It’s a long story.”
Yunho wiggles the fingers of his injured arm. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“No, you’re not.” Changmin crosses his legs. Smoothes his hair. He’s nervous, too, Yunho realises. “I haven’t spoken of it for over a century.”
Despite his curiosity, Yunho isn’t going to pry if Changmin doesn’t want to talk. Years of Siwon keeping silent on the subject of his family and burying his misery deep have made Yunho the perfect listener. He’s lost count of the number of times he’s sat quietly beside Siwon and offered sympathy and understanding. But Siwon never spoke about the murders. Changmin is not like Siwon; by his own admission he’s more impulsive, and Yunho can see that he wants to talk but perhaps doesn’t know how to begin.
Yunho stays quiet. He pours another cup of tea and munches on a handful of pumpkin seeds.
Changmin stares out of the window at the people passing by. Finally he says, “I was made three hundred and seventy years ago during the reign of King Injo. Back then I was a captain in the royal guard. His Majesty was not popular.” He smiles, snorts. “Two wars with the Manchus, two sons sent as hostages to China. Korea had just become a vassal state to the Qing, which was two years away from overthrowing the Ming dynasty.”
Yunho tries a sesame seed snack glued together with honey. “History wasn’t my strongest subject at school. I’ve seen some ancient dramas on TV, though.”
Changmin gazes at him, apparently caught off-guard. “Ancient dramas.”
“Ones set in Joseon. Some are pretty good. I liked-” Yunho physically has to stop himself from completing the sentence. He takes a big gulp of tea. He’s a moron, an absolute moron. He finishes the tea and pours more. His good hand is shaking. “I’m sorry. You were saying.”
A smile curves Changmin’s mouth. He snorts, shakes his head. “Thank you. I have the habit of taking myself too seriously.”
Yunho winces. “I didn’t mean...”
Changmin waves away Yunho’s embarrassment. He picks up his tea and looks into the cup, the fragrant steam curling around him. “I was in love with one of the King’s concubines. Her name was Lady An. I thought she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Through her maidservant I learned that she favoured me, and I considered myself the most fortunate of men. With the assistance of her maid, we found ways to be together in secret. All was well until Lady An became pregnant.”
Yunho stills in the act of taking another sesame seed snack. He hadn’t expected that. Intrigued, he tries to imagine Changmin as a father, holding a child.
“She was afraid,” Changmin says. “She begged me to help her flee the palace before her deception was discovered. With all the in-fighting between the pro-Qing faction and those ministers who believed we could regain our freedom if we joined with Ming forces, it was an uncertain time. Everyone was looking to see what the Great Ministers would do; I didn’t think anyone would pay attention to me. So I stole coin from the treasury, took small, portable items of worth and exchanged them in the city for money, and I made plans to get Lady An and our unborn child to freedom.”
Changmin smiles without amusement. “Then I was caught.” He takes a sip of tea; sets the cup down on the table. He interlaces his fingers. “They arrested me. Imprisoned me. Tortured me. I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t going to betray her. I knew what they’d do to her and my baby, so I let them believe I was just greedy. I was stripped of my rank, but told that I would be spared execution if only I named my fellow conspirators. And that’s when I realised something had gone very wrong.”
Yunho touches his fingertips to his teacup. “Conspirators?”
“The Minister of Justice, Lord Jeong himself, came to question me.” Changmin sits back in his seat, shoulders rigid. “I was accused of financing an anti-Qing coup against the King. Never mind that I’d stolen only a small amount-enough for a family to start a new life away from the capital, but not enough to grease the palms of men of influence. I was a thief, therefore I was a liar. When I protested my innocence, Lord Jeong said he had evidence against me, and when I demanded proof of this evidence, he brought in Lady An.”
Yunho sits silent.
Changmin seems lost in his memories, his features darkening as he continues, “She came into that foul prison without her maid to support her. She looked terrified. The whole time she kept her hands protectively over her belly. She wouldn’t look at me. When Lord Jeong prompted her, she said that her maid had been my lover and that I’d bragged to the girl about my part in the coup. She began to cry, sobbed that her maid had been taken out and strangled for her disloyalty.
“I didn’t know what to do. What to believe. She looked so afraid. I knew she’d been forced to lie just so Lord Jeong could pursue his political enemies. We were both puppets, in the wrong place at the wrong time. She was doing what any woman would do in those circumstances-she was protecting our baby. I couldn’t blame her for that. I couldn’t save them, so she was saving herself. I knew that, but it was so unfair, and so I shouted that she was a liar. And then...”
He pauses. Stares out of the window again at the world going by outside. “And then,” Changmin says, softly, “Lord Jeong said that Lady An wouldn’t lie. Not when she was carrying a future Prince in her womb. I wanted to tell him that the baby was mine, but I stayed silent. For once I knew I couldn’t be rash.” He stops, smiles slightly at Yunho. “Perhaps that was the last time I ever curbed my impulsive tendencies.”
Yunho can’t bring himself to smile back. He fiddles with a snack of sweet puffed rice, crumbling it into pieces.
“Lord Jeong ordered the guards to increase the torture. He wanted the names of the conspirators within three days. In all honesty,” Changmin pauses again, looks down at his hands, “if I’d known which names he wanted me to say, I’d have said them, just to make the pain stop. But it didn’t, and they broke me, and the only thing that kept me holding on was the thought of my woman giving birth to my child; the knowledge that my son or daughter would become a member of the royal family because of this deception.”
He lifts his head, eyes bright with emotion. “I should have been pleased with this thought, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted to be free. I wanted to live. I wanted to raise my child somewhere far away from the court and its politics.” Changmin laughs as if mocking his younger self. “I was very simple back then, prone to the most basic of desires. I loved Lady An; I wanted to provide for my family. There was nothing else in my mind.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Yunho says, moved to defend a young man he knows has been dead for almost four hundred years. “You can’t be angry for being human.”
“Yes, I can.” Changmin drops his gaze. He fishes a bedraggled chrysanthemum flower from his tea and drops it onto the table. “Aside from the guards, the prison was tended by commoners who cleaned the cells and brought food and water. Lord Jeong had decreed that I was to be given water but no food, but one of the commoners, a woman of the Mu people, disobeyed this order. She brought me scraps of food and fed me.”
He looks up again. “They crushed my fingers and broke my arms. This woman kept me alive. Before my imprisonment, I was like anyone else at the palace. I shunned social outcasts. Now I saw the Mu woman as my saviour. The other commoners were afraid of her. I didn’t care. When I asked why she was helping me when my situation was so hopeless, she said, ‘A man like you shouldn’t suffer.’
“I thought she meant that I was too noble to be tortured, but one of the other commoners told me not to listen to her. ‘She plans to use you,’ he said, but I ignored him. I was half dead, in no fit state to be of use to anyone.”
Yunho remembers his drink. He draws the cup towards him, curves his hands around it and lets the warmth of the tea soak through the porcelain.
Changmin takes a sip of his own tea. His voice still conversational, as if they’re discussing the weather, he continues, “It happened on the third night. Lord Jeong was disappointed with my stubbornness; I still had no names for him. I was to be executed with the sunrise. The Mu woman came to me and asked me only one question: ‘Do you want to live?’ And I said yes, because I believed I had so much to live for.
“She left my cell and came back with four cups. The first was a drink to quench my yang, the second a drink to strengthen my yin. Then she drew a circle upon the earthen floor of the cell and conjured fire from sticks of wood. Into the flames she dropped an ancient silver vase-coin. The fire burned hotter, melting the silver. The stench of it was like nothing I’d ever smelled before- worse than the palace middens in the height of summer, worse than my own burning flesh when they tortured me. The stink of it went to my head. And then she gave me another drink-human blood, fresh, still warm.”
Changmin swirls the tea in his cup. “I tried to spit it out. Gagged on it. ‘What is this?’ I asked. ‘Why?’ She didn’t answer. She started to chant in a language I didn’t recognise. Just hearing the shape of the words terrified me. The fire burned hotter. I had blood in my mouth. I felt sick and strange. And then she drew out a knife and passed it through the flames, touched it to the melted silver. I heard the wing-beats of a thousand birds. She took up the fourth cup and doused the fire with water.” Changmin looks up, smiling. “And then she slit my throat.”
The room is absolutely silent for a long moment. Yunho can barely breathe. He feels stifled, his skin prickling with heat. Sweat rolls, ticklish, down his underarms.
Changmin sets down his teacup with a bang that makes Yunho jump.
“I woke in a mass grave with earth in my mouth and the taste of death everywhere.” Changmin grimaces at the memory. “I dug myself out, panicking, thinking I’d been buried alive. It was daylight. The commoners tending the area ran away from me, screaming. Then I remembered. My crushed hands, my broken bones, my throat-all healed. I was whole. I didn’t understand. Had I been dreaming? I was hungry, starving. You wouldn’t think a man would be hungry after waking up amongst the dead, but I was ravenous.”
Yunho feels ill. He pushes the tray of snacks away.
“I wandered around, headed for the palace,” Changmin says. “Soldiers came at me. I killed them. It was easy, as if they were paper dolls. And then the hunger became too much, and there was a sharp, agonising pain in my skull-my fangs unsheathed,” Changmin pauses, snarls just enough to demonstrate the quicksilver change between normal canines and fangs, “and I picked up the nearest body and drained it of blood. I did the same to the next. And the next, and the one after that, until I came to my senses. I had no word for myself, no way to describe what I had become.
“I went looking for the Mu woman who had done this to me. I broke into the prison, slaughtered all the guards. The commoners tried to run, but I was faster. They told me the Mu woman was dead, destroyed by the same spell that gave me this new life. Her body had been thrown into the same mass grave as mine. ‘What am I?’ I asked the commoners, thinking they might know.”
Changmin smiles. “‘A monster,’ they said. ‘You are a monster.’ The man who’d tried to warn me told me that the Mu woman had wanted to create a weapon for her vengeance. The King’s soldiers had destroyed her village and killed her family. She blamed Lord Jeong for everything and wanted him to suffer horrible torments. I was a convenient puppet for her plan. I was just a means to an end.
“But she was dead, and I didn’t know what I was except I was faster, stronger, and so much angrier than before. If I was wounded, I could heal in a matter of moments. I felt invincible. And I realised that now I could rescue Lady An and we could be together again. We could leave the capital and make a new life with our child.”
Changmin falls silent, staring into his tea. Yunho doesn’t want to disturb him for more of the story when he’s related so much suffering already, but at the same time Yunho needs to know how it ended-for already he knows it must have ended badly.
“Changmin,” he says softly, “did you find her?”
“Yes. Oh yes, I found her.” Changmin gives a harsh laugh and looks up. “She tried to kill me.” He runs a hand through his hair, disordering it. For the first time in his narrative, he looks agonised. “I didn’t want to frighten her, so I crept past the guards and the eunuchs in the side-palace without spilling any blood or breaking any necks. I hurried to her chambers, but when she saw me, she almost fainted. Of course she thought I was dead. I caught her before she could fall. ‘I came back for you,’ I told her. ‘I love you. Let’s run away. Let’s go far from here and be happy!’”
Changmin closes his eyes. “She wrenched herself free and looked at me with such scorn. ‘You poor stupid boy,’ she said, her beautiful voice full of mockery. ‘I don’t love you. I never loved you. A dear friend asked a particular favour of me-he wanted to ensure his own position at court by engineering the downfall of his rivals. For his plans to succeed, he needed a traitor. He asked me to find one, and I knew you were so besotted that you’d do anything I wanted.’
“I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I protested. What about the baby? She put a hand to her stomach and told me the child wasn’t mine. She laughed at me. Boasted that I was not her only lover. She said that she’d had another three men from my squadron alone; in addition she had another, far more well-connected lover, a man who was in the position to give her jewels and perfumed robes and everything I couldn’t offer. I was the only man malleable and foolish enough to fall in love with her. I was the only one who’d died for her.”
Changmin looks up, his smile brief. “She screamed then, screamed and ran at me with a knife, stabbed me over and over. ‘You should be dead!’ she shrieked. ‘Why aren’t you dead?’ And in that moment I wanted to die. I wished the Mu woman’s spell would undo itself so I could become a lifeless corpse. I had never known such anguish. I fled when maidservants and eunuchs came running in answer to her screams. I ran and hid in the city and nursed my broken heart and my humiliation until the one thing that consumed me was the desire for revenge.”
Yunho puts his good hand over his mouth, wishing he could say something to take away the pain he can see in front of him. Changmin looks raw and vulnerable, still wounded by this ancient betrayal. “What did you do?” Yunho asks in a whisper. “Did you kill her?”
Changmin’s smile is cold. “No. For once I wasn’t impulsive. I waited. I terrorised her. Every night, no matter where she was or who she was with, I went to the palace and stood over her bed. Every night, she woke and saw me. She screamed, night after night, for four years. No one else ever saw me. Only her. I drove her insane until, finally, she hanged herself.”
Horror trickles down Yunho’s spine. “What about the baby?”
“It lived.” Changmin’s features shutter, blanking out all expression. “A girl. Princess Sukhwi.” He’s silent for a moment, then says quietly, “She wasn’t mine, but I loved her anyway. She was beautiful, like her mother. She died of water-fever when she was seventeen. Her death...” His voice breaks. “I was not the same afterwards.”
Yunho reaches out across the table and takes Changmin’s hands. Their tea has gone cold.
* * *
Part 4 >>
Changmin takes off his sunglasses and straightens as Yunho comes towards him. “I wanted to see how you were.”
“As you see.” Yunho lifts his plastered arm. He feels too drained to deal with any further drama. “Thank you for your concern, but I’ve had a hell of a day and I’d just like to go to bed.”
Changmin raises an eyebrow. “Want some company?”
The response is unexpected and so fundamentally wrong in this situation that Yunho laughs. He doesn’t know if he’s annoyed or impressed. “You’re sure of yourself.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.” Changmin gives him a wicked smile.
“No, there’s not, but...” Yunho shrugs and goes past him towards the main door, “I told you-”
Changmin follows alongside him. “You don’t like cocky guys. I remember.”
Yunho fumbles his keys out of his jacket pocket. It’s a difficult operation, because they’re in his right pocket and he has to reach around with his left hand. Just as he thinks he’s got them, the fob slips out his grasp and his keys drop to the ground. “Crap.”
“Allow me.” Changmin leans down and retrieves them. He studies the lock and sorts through the keys, selects the right one, and opens the door. He tucks the keys into Yunho’s left pocket and smiles. They’re standing way too close.
Yunho’s heart is racing. Heat crawls through him. He tries to ignore it. “Thanks. My wrist...”
“I can take the pain away,” Changmin says softly. His eyes are black, their depths promising only pleasure.
Yunho stares at him. He’s tempted. Oh God, how he’s tempted. He drops his gaze to Changmin’s mouth, so full and luscious. Yunho wonders how he’ll taste. After everything he’s been through in the past twenty-four hours, he deserves some fun. Although maybe ‘fun’ isn’t the right description, not with Changmin. Whatever it is, he knows it’ll be amazing. Yunho isn’t certain how much good he’s going to be with an injured arm, but-
Changmin moves closer, his breath sweet and warm. “I’ll be gentle.”
Yunho exhales a laugh. “Can you read my mind or something?”
“I don’t need to read your mind. You have such an expressive face.”
Not just his face. Yunho edges away, embarrassed that his body is reacting so eagerly in such a public place. His anger at Siwon is fading fast, replaced by the heavy, coursing beat of arousal.
Changmin raises his eyebrows. His smile is full of sin. “Want me to help you unlock your apartment door?”
Yunho smiles back at him. “Yes.”
They go inside. The lift isn’t working-it seems to break down at least once a week-and they take the stairs. Changmin follows close on Yunho’s heels. Yunho is aware that he’s being watched, his sense of excitement increasing along with a certain nervousness. He hasn’t been with anyone since university. He’s never been with someone as gorgeous as Changmin. Not even Siwon is-
Yunho shuts down that thought. He doesn’t want to think about Siwon, doesn’t want to reawaken the deep surge of rage and betrayal and misery. He knows he’s about to use Changmin to blot out the day’s revelations, but he doesn’t think Changmin will mind. It seems wrong to feed his lust for Changmin from his anger at Siwon, but Yunho is beyond caring. He just wants to be held, wants Changmin to fuck away all the pain.
By the time they reach the second floor, Yunho realises he has to tell Changmin about his toxic state. Maybe if they don’t kiss too much and if they use condoms, Changmin won’t end up in hospital like his university lovers. Or maybe, if he tells the truth, Changmin will walk out of the door and leave him alone, and Yunho doesn’t think he could bear that. He can’t lose Siwon and Changmin on the same day. Okay, he’ll settle for a compromise: he won’t say anything this time and he’ll give Changmin a blowjob but do himself by hand somehow, and he’ll take one kiss, just one kiss, because he’s been craving Changmin’s mouth from the moment he first set eyes on him.
Yunho is absolutely certain of his decision by the time they reach his apartment. He gives Changmin the key. Heavy silence weighs around them. The afternoon light has faded from this part of the building and they’re standing in shadows. Changmin looks at him for a long moment, then inserts the key into the lock. He turns it. Pushes at the door.
Yunho’s breathing comes clipped and fast. He wants to drag Changmin into the hallway and have him right there, but he keeps hold of his sanity and steps inside, then bends down to take off his shoes.
Changmin stands outside, his arms braced against either side of the doorframe. His gaze is burning, his face taut with expectation and... hope, Yunho realises; Changmin is looking at him with a kind of desperate hope.
Yunho smiles, beckons. “Come in.”
Changmin crosses the threshold. He stops to take off his coat and scarf and boots. His t-shirt clings nice and tight, and Yunho wriggles out of his own jacket and slings it over the back of a chair. Squirms of anticipation coil and quiver inside him. It’s been so damn long, and he just wants to enjoy this feeling, the knowledge of desiring and being desired.
Aware of his duties as host, he moves into the kitchenette and takes down a couple of glasses. “Do you want a drink?”
“No.” Changmin stalks towards him with a hot, feral smile. “I want you.”
Yunho turns to face him, allowing himself to be trapped against the bench. The air ripples between them, the atmosphere thickening. Changmin pins him, his touch gentle but brooking no resistance. Yunho thinks he might just take off right there, he’s so turned on.
Changmin leans closer, almost-brushes his lips from Yunho’s forehead down to his chin. They’re not touching except for where Changmin is holding him, and the infinitesimal space between them feels molten with desire.
On the bench behind him, a glass tumbles and breaks. Yunho starts in shock, his heart pounding, a lick of fear flashing cold through him. Turning his head, he realises it’s nothing sinister-he must have bumped against the glass just now and knocked it over. It’s a normal accident, nothing more. He tries to laugh it off. “I’m so clumsy.”
“Forget it.” Changmin’s voice is dark and rich. He feathers his lips against Yunho’s throat, not a caress but a tease.
Yunho can’t bear it any longer. He turns back and kisses Changmin.
The power of it takes his breath away. It’s like he’s never been kissed before, as if it’s his every first time wrapped into one. Changmin tastes incredible, heat and the drugging-sweet offer of oblivion. Yunho wants more. He moans into Changmin’s mouth and deepens the embrace, the tether of his good intentions worn straight through and snapped. Changmin lifts his hands to cradle Yunho’s head; and then there’s blood on Yunho’s tongue, blood filling his mouth, and it’s hot and bitter and it’s burning.
Yunho jerks away in horror. Changmin’s skin is bubbling, starting to char. The stink of roasting flesh fills the air. Yunho can see bone, actual bone beneath the blackening flesh, and there’s so much blood, it’s oozing like syrup, a thick wash of deep, deep red all around Changmin’s mouth, all down what’s left of his chin.
Changmin staggers back, staring at him in utter disbelief.
“I’m sorry.” Yunho can barely get the words out. Remorse and anguish claw at him. “Oh God, I’m so sorry.”
“No,” Changmin whispers through the bloodied mess of his mouth. He looks devastated, then furious. “No!”
* * *
Yunho clears up the broken glass after Changmin’s abrupt exit. He finds himself cleaning the kitchen bench long after the last shard has been swept away; the repetitive action numbs his mind, stops him from thinking too many wild thoughts.
Eventually he gives up and goes to sit on the couch. He stares at the wall. Thinks about what just happened. Guilt clenches tight and he screws his eyes shut. He should have told Changmin. He was greedy and selfish and his actions are unforgiveable. The doctor never said the aconite in his system could act that fast, but everyone’s different. He should have stayed in hospital. He’s dangerous. Poisonous. Toxic.
His mind skips to his job. A new wave of despair comes over him. He’ll have to tell his boss about his fractured wrist. Not just that; now he knows how toxic he is, he’ll have to quit. He can’t be around that many people; can’t risk contaminating someone just because he touched them.
Then logic kicks in and reminds him that he’s been working there for a while without a single problem, and if anyone had become ill from him handling cups and plates and serving food, they’d have made a complaint by now. Likewise he’s touched plenty of people in a friendly way and he’s kissed his mother’s cheek every time he’s visited his parents, and no one has started melting right in front of him.
He leans forward and puts his elbows on his knees. He stares at the floor, thinking. The symptoms of aconite poisoning didn’t include scorched flesh and gouts of blood. But Siwon had said something about that. He’d mentioned it when he was babbling on about his stupid vampire-killing theory. What was it again?
Yunho rubs at his temples, trying to drag rational thought from the mess of confusion. That was it-something about how his blood would harm the vampire, how just one drop would hurt it, and Siwon’s whole plan was based on the fact that Yunho’s toxicity would make the vampire burn up and turn into a blackened skeleton.
Completely fucking crazy.
Or was it?
Yunho remembers the kiss, remembers the moment when blood filled his mouth, when Changmin’s skin started to burn, the smell of it so vile it makes him feel sick even to recall it now. He remembers the sight of Changmin’s sexy mouth blistering, his flesh curling and peeling in blackened bits. He remembers he could see bone.
That was not a normal reaction. Therefore, the only logical explanation is...
Yunho looks up. “Vampires don’t exist,” he says out loud.
The apartment gives him back silence.
He tries again. “Vampires aren’t real.”
This time, distantly, he hears the fluttering of wings.
“Stupid,” Yunho says, getting up and pacing around the room. “Stupid and crazy and...” He stops, gazing at the photograph of his parents that’s propped up on a bookshelf. There were ghosts in Siwon’s house, ghosts his mother felt and acknowledged, ghosts that he’d seen for himself. If ghosts exist, then why not vampires?
Yunho shakes his head, not willing to believe it. Ghosts are not the same as vampires. He stares at the photo and thinks instead about what Siwon said about his bloodline. Maybe he should call his mother and ask for her advice.
He dismisses the idea straight away. She’s never liked talking about ghosts, not even when he was very young and he’d asked her about them. She’d told him it was just a phase and he wouldn’t be able to see them once he was grown-up. He’d believed her. He’s never mentioned the subject again, so the idea of starting a conversation about vampires and how Siwon believes he’s some kind of vampire catnip is sure to upset her.
Plus there’s the fact that Siwon dotes on her, and she loves Siwon as dearly as if he were her own, and while Yunho doesn’t want to see Siwon for a very long time, he doesn’t want to rob him of the only mother-figure he has.
Sitting back down, he tries to think who else he could talk to about this. There’s no one who’d believe him. “Stupid,” he mutters again. He rubs his eyes with his good hand. He’s tired and confused and the nagging pain in his wrist is getting really unpleasant. Maybe if he lies down for a moment.
Yunho stretches out on the couch and falls asleep.
He dreams about snow and cherry trees, and wakes to the throaty roar of a motorbike engine. He’s only been asleep a few hours. Evening is creeping on, the sky starting to darken, the temperature starting to drop. His head is still jumbled, but at least the pain has receded. Yunho gets up, opens the balcony doors, and goes outside. The air is still warm here, busy with the scent of exhaust fumes and the deep sweetness of roses on Mr Park’s balcony below him. He can hear the steady drone of the traffic and the cheeping of the finches in the cage hanging from the balcony of the next-door apartment.
In that moment he feels free and safe, and then he remembers his dreams. The park in the snow. Christmas Eve. He was sitting on the swings with Siwon, and Siwon was complaining about his sister, and there was a crow, and a cherry tree, and then a man came into the park-no, Changmin came into the park, and he had blood around his mouth and Yunho wanted to help him, and then-and then...
Yunho frowns, trying to drag the dream back, but it resists him, like it’s a thread caught around a thorn, and he pulls and pulls, summons it from wherever it’s hiding, and in a shock like iced water he remembers everything.
I just killed your family. All of them. Merry Christmas, Siwon.
It wasn’t a dream. It was real. This happened; it actually happened.
Why did you do that?
Because I can.
Nausea hits him so fast that Yunho feels dizzy with it. He turns, walks into the door and chokes on a yelp as he bangs his injured wrist. The sudden pain cuts through the muffling panic. He shoves at the balcony door, runs into the apartment and makes it to the bathroom before he throws up.
Are you going to kill me, too?
No. I’m going to wait until you’re older.
He doesn’t want these memories. He’d give anything to forget them again.
Are you going to kill me?
Yunho turns on the tap and splashes cold water over his face one-handed.
I’m going to-
He looks up, stares at his reflection in the mirror.
-wait until you’re older.
Dear God. He can’t deal with this. Not any of it. Siwon was right. Siwon was telling the truth. Vampires exist.
This is so fucked-up.
Yunho usually prides himself on finding the best even in bad situations, but he’s hard-pressed to think of anything good about today.
He’s still alive. He doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or not.
Exhausted, his voided stomach aching as much as his fractured wrist, he pushes away from the sink and goes out of the bathroom.
Changmin is standing on the balcony. The sun is setting behind him, grey clouds streaking through a pink and gold sky. He’s wearing bike leathers and gloves. His face is whole and perfect, and he looks at Yunho with wary curiosity. Incongruously, he’s barefoot.
Yunho doesn’t know if he wants to laugh at the idea of such a polite mass murderer. There’s no point in asking how Changmin managed to get onto his balcony four floors up. Yunho is only surprised that he’s not surprised.
“You’re a vampire,” Yunho says. It sounds just as crazy as every other time he’s said it aloud.
Changmin comes inside. “I’m a vampire. Look, fangs.” He opens his mouth and unsheathes his canines, neat and curved and wickedly pointed. He tosses his head and clicks his tongue and his fangs shrink, become normal teeth.
Yunho refuses to be impressed or intimidated or anything else by this little display. “You killed Siwon’s family.”
“I did.”
“His entire family.”
Changmin smiles without humour. “I’m an impulsive kind of guy.”
“So,” Yunho says, amazed that he’s actually having this conversation and not throwing himself from the balcony or running out of the apartment screaming, “why didn’t you kill Siwon?”
The smile darkens into annoyance. “Because I can’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I can’t.” Changmin sighs and wanders across the room, then flops into an armchair and crosses his legs. He makes himself right at home but doesn’t remove his gloves. Brushing at his hair, he says as if by rote, “It’s forbidden for me to kill the last surviving member of that branch of the Choi family.”
Yunho stares. “Forbidden?”
Changmin taps the fingers of one hand on the armrest. “A few centuries ago, a group of people got together and placed a binding spell upon me.” His smile is one of supreme self-mockery. “The thing with binding spells is they’re hard to break... but sometimes there’s a loophole. I like loopholes. I always exploit loopholes. I exploited it when it came to the spell. I killed every one of the people who tried to bind me with it, with one exception.”
“Siwon’s ancestor,” Yunho guesses.
Changmin nods, the bitter smile still in place. “The Choi who cast the spell upon me wasn’t as stupid as his colleagues. He knew I would come after them and their families, so he ensured that the balance of power was kept in check. If I kill the last surviving member of his family, I’ll become a shade. I’ll never be able to feed, never be able to die, never be able to live. I’ll be a perpetual shadow, constantly tormented by hunger and the desire for rest. I don’t want that-so Siwon lives.”
Yunho considers this. “What if he dies of natural causes?”
“Then the binding spell dies with him, and I’ll be free.” Changmin stops tapping his fingers and leans forward, his gaze very bright. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for the last Choi to walk off a cliff or under a bus? About three hundred years. They have an over-abundance of good fortune on their side. Also, they breed like rabbits. Which means I just have to wait for a few generations and then I can hunt them down and slaughter the lot-except one, who has to be male, below the age of twenty, and healthy enough to sire a child.”
Changmin’s expression turns hard-edged. “The original Choi was a Jesuit. Tricky little bastards, those. Always so clever with words. Selfish, too. It wouldn’t have taken much for him to add a few words to the spell to protect his unfortunate colleagues. But he didn’t.”
“And you killed them.”
“Snuffed them out one by one. Completely extinguished their lines forever.” Now Changmin smiles with satisfaction. “Like I said-I have impulse issues.”
Yunho breathes through his fear, detaches himself from it. Maybe if he keeps Changmin talking, he can buy some time to figure out what to do. He should call Siwon, but his phone is in his jacket pocket on the other side of the room.
He tries to remember what he knows of vampire lore from books and TV shows. Obviously he already screwed up the rule about not inviting strange men into his home. “But surely you don’t need to keep killing the Choi family. Why don’t you just leave them alone? If you’re really a vampire, then the world is big enough. You can go somewhere else and start again. You don’t have to stay here and keep taking revenge every few generations. It’s not like Korea is an island. You’re not trapped by the sea-there’s all of Asia and India and Russia and Europe...”
“I’ve done all that. The Grand Tour-very enlightening. Good for wasting a hundred years or so.” Changmin wrinkles his nose and makes a dismissive gesture. “But I always come back home. You see, the Choi family has something that belongs to me, and I want it back.”
“What is it?” Yunho asks.
Changmin hesitates. For a moment, there’s uncertainty in his expression. Then he smiles and waves a hand at the couch. “Why don’t you sit down?”
“I’d rather stand.” Yunho flicks a look at the front door.
“There’s no use in running. You can’t get away from me.” Changmin pauses. “I’m not saying that to sound sinister, by the way. It’s just a fact. From the moment you came over to me that day in the park, so sweet and concerned and just a little boy-”
“I was nine.”
Changmin leans his head to one side and gives Yunho a very thorough once-over. “You were a little boy. And now you’re all grown-up.” He bites his lower lip, eyes black with sudden desire, then he breathes in and relaxes, smiling again. “As I was saying: From the moment we first encountered one another, your fate was sealed. I was never going to let you go. So don’t think you can get away from me now-not after I’ve waited sixteen years for this glorious reunion.”
“Am I meant to be flattered?” Yunho snaps before he can think better of it.
“Yes.” The smile fades. “You should be very flattered. I am not known for my patience. You do know what you are, don’t you?”
Yunho snorts. “Oh, yes. I’m special. I’m unique. Go on, tell me.”
Changmin is hemming him in before Yunho can even register that he’s moved from the armchair. Changmin puts both hands against the wall just above Yunho’s shoulders, trapping him in place. Yunho freezes, trying not to show any fear.
“You’re a witch,” Changmin says, a look of absolute triumph on his face. “Or, more correctly, a shaman.”
Yunho stares at him in consternation. “But-”
Changmin grins, a joyous sight. “Yes, I know. Shamans are almost always women. But...” and his grin widens, becomes infectious, inviting Yunho to marvel at the wonder that is his own self, “sometimes, just sometimes, a male shaman is born, and he has a unique gift.”
Yunho has the suspicion that the gift is his blood. This is probably not an ideal topic of conversation. He tries to deflect it. “I’m not a shaman. I don’t have special powers. I’ve never even won anything on a scratch-card. And shamans talk to dead people. I don’t do that. I can’t do that.”
Changmin tilts his head. “You’re talking to me.”
“You’re a vampire!”
“And you could, if you wanted. Talk to the dead, I mean.” Changmin looks around as if he can hear-or see-something else in the room. He shrugs, turns back to smile at Yunho. “There’s at least a dozen of them here right now, and they’re very upset with me for intruding like this. But that’s not what I was talking about. Any shaman can call up some dead ancestors for a chat. What you’ve got is so much better.”
Yunho swallows. “Siwon told me I’m vampire catnip.”
“An uncouth way of putting it, but yes.” Now the smile is inviting, seductive. “Essentially,” Changmin says, drawing one gloved finger down Yunho’s cheek, “you were bred as vampire bait. You were born for me.” Gently, he tilts Yunho’s head to one side, exposing the vulnerable curve of his neck.
Lips parting, fangs unsheathing, Changmin moves closer. His breath whispers over Yunho’s skin. Closer still, and Yunho struggles against a surge of desire, wing-beats in his head and the world closing down around him. He doesn’t know what he wants, but he knows he can’t allow this to happen. With a huge effort he pushes through the pall of arousal and blurts out: “I have wolfsbane in my blood.”
Changmin jerks back. He looks offended, then intrigued, and then he sighs. “So that’s what it was.” He gives Yunho a twisted smile. “Not just in your blood. It was in your kiss, too.”
Yunho puts his good hand to his head, shaking off the echoes of desire. “Siwon and his family have been feeding me aconite for the past twenty years.”
“Why did you tell me?” Changmin’s gaze is sharp with curiosity. “Twenty years of poison inside you would have all but finished me. You saw the damage a single kiss did. An amazing kiss, I’ll admit, but not one I care to repeat knowing what I do now.” He exhales on a laugh. “If I’d actually tasted your blood...”
“I’m catnip,” Yunho says, remembering Siwon’s comment. “You wouldn’t have been able to stop.”
“That amount of wolfsbane would be fatal to a younger vampire,” Changmin says softly. “For me, it would take perhaps a century or more before I could regenerate. During that time I’d be completely helpless to anyone who wanted to kill me.” He tilts his head, gives Yunho a wondering look. “Thank you for warning me.”
Yunho brushes off his gratitude. “Yeah, well, I don’t regenerate at all. I don’t want to die for Siwon, and no matter how hot you are, I don’t fancy the thought of you sucking my blood all night.”
Changmin laughs properly this time. “I can’t even suck anything else all night. Any fluid from your body will be tainted by wolfsbane.”
Yunho gives him a quelling look. “What a shame we won’t ever be lovers.”
“Oh, we will,” Changmin says. “You may be assured of that. I’ve been patient for sixteen years. I can wait a little longer. I know you’ll be worth every second.”
* * *
Siwon keeps his word and makes no attempt at contact. Yunho hopes for a call, then wonders what he’d say. Nothing that would make any sense, that’s for sure. He feels trapped in an unenviable position between his best friend and-and... He’s not sure what Changmin is, apart from a vampire. Before all this, maybe Changmin could have been his boyfriend. Except that sounds ridiculous, given that he’s a vampire and centuries old. Lover, then. They could’ve been lovers.
If things had happened differently, Yunho wonders if and when Changmin would have mentioned the whole vampire thing. At least this way he knows what he’s getting into. Unlike the situation with Siwon, who’d had twenty years to tell him about the aconite and why it was important, yet hadn’t said a word.
Yunho spends most of Sunday veering between wishing he’d never met either of them and trying to accept it. He can’t change who or what he is, and chances are, because of his vampire catnip blood, if it hadn’t been Changmin then some other vampire would have found him eventually. The outcome surely would have been the same. Happy vampire, dead Yunho.
He reminds himself that death is an inevitable part of life. If it’s his fate to feed a vampire then he’d rather it be Changmin. Better the devil you know and all that.
His thoughts are driving him crazy. Yunho calls his boss and explains about the attempted mugging and his fractured wrist. He asks about the company’s medical insurance policy and his boss tells him not to worry, it’ll be sorted out. Yunho feels relieved. He’ll be able to pay Siwon back for the medical bills.
At lunchtime he gets up off the couch and stands in the kitchenette looking at the contents of the fridge and cupboards. Yunho knows he should eat something. He hasn’t eaten since the pizza Siwon bought for him yesterday. It seems like a week ago. He should eat so he can heal faster, but he’s not hungry.
His gaze stops on the yellow pill bottle. It’s stuffed full of aconite tablets. He should throw it away. Dispose of it carefully so no one will become ill and die. He wouldn’t even want a rat to eat one of those pills. Then he remembers what the doctor said about the king who took all the poisons. Maybe he should keep taking the aconite. If he stops, he might get sick. He can’t rely on his oh-so-special shamanic blood to keep him alive.
Maybe he can decrease the dosage and wean himself off the wolfsbane instead. But doing that will eventually mean that Changmin will be able to drink from him.
What a choice. Death by poison or death by vampire.
It’s not a choice he’s going to make today. Yunho takes the pills.
*
Changmin comes through the balcony doors at four o’clock. “Enough wallowing. I’m taking you out.”
Yunho glowers at him. “Are all vampires as cocky as you?”
“Some of them are worse.” Changmin seems less intimidating now the truth is out in the open; less intimidating and more flirtatious. Yunho isn’t sure which he prefers. “Come on,” Changmin says. “Where’s your jacket? Let me help you.”
“How many vampires are there in Seoul, anyway?”
“I don’t know.” Changmin snags the jacket from a wall-hook and holds it so Yunho can slide his arms through the sleeves. “We don’t hang out together in a secret club or anything. There can’t be too many, though, because otherwise one of them would have found you by now.”
Yunho wrinkles his nose. “Can you... smell my blood or...”
“Only if I’m standing this close.” Changmin tugs at the sleeves of the jacket so the back lies flat. He slides his hands around Yunho’s waist, rests them on the buckle of Yunho’s belt. His voice is a soft purr in Yunho’s ear. “It’s your pulse that gives you away. It beats a different rhythm. Like a song.” He hesitates for a long moment, still holding Yunho, then he lets go and moves away. He’s almost smiling, his hair flicked forward into his eyes. “It’s hard to explain. Anyway. Come on.”
“Why?”
Changmin looks at him, surprised. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m courting you.”
Yunho stares. “But why?”
The question seems to throw Changmin even more. He blinks, is silent for a moment, then answers, “Because I can.”
*
They go to a tea house in Insadong, a small place with a somnolent atmosphere heady with the fragrant scent of infusions and tisanes. They’re shown to a private room with a low table and plush bench-seats. The view of the street outside is partially obscured by a fretwork screen. After a brief look at the menu, Yunho orders persimmon tea. Changmin selects chrysanthemum. The waitress brings the usual snacks with the teas and leaves the room, drawing the door shut as she goes.
Yunho drinks his first cup too fast. He’s nervous, he realises. He’s afraid to be on this weird date. Not because he might get drained of blood-Yunho knows that won’t happen-but because he doesn’t know how he feels about Changmin. He’s attracted, of course he is, and now there’s this whole vampire catnip issue that’s brought them together, but neither of these things is the basis for any kind of meaningful relationship. And it seems like that’s what Changmin intends-for them to have a relationship. Otherwise why go to the effort of courting him?
Changmin takes a sip of his tea. He’s been quiet since they got here. He doesn’t seem to be in a rush to make small talk, and while the silence isn’t uncomfortable, Yunho feels awkward. He has to have some sort of conversation, even if it’s about the weather or the traffic or the really hideous dress a girl is wearing on the street outside. He opens his mouth to comment on the dress and says instead, “How did you become a vampire?”
Changmin sets down his cup. He sits back and looks at Yunho from beneath his lashes. “It’s a long story.”
Yunho wiggles the fingers of his injured arm. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“No, you’re not.” Changmin crosses his legs. Smoothes his hair. He’s nervous, too, Yunho realises. “I haven’t spoken of it for over a century.”
Despite his curiosity, Yunho isn’t going to pry if Changmin doesn’t want to talk. Years of Siwon keeping silent on the subject of his family and burying his misery deep have made Yunho the perfect listener. He’s lost count of the number of times he’s sat quietly beside Siwon and offered sympathy and understanding. But Siwon never spoke about the murders. Changmin is not like Siwon; by his own admission he’s more impulsive, and Yunho can see that he wants to talk but perhaps doesn’t know how to begin.
Yunho stays quiet. He pours another cup of tea and munches on a handful of pumpkin seeds.
Changmin stares out of the window at the people passing by. Finally he says, “I was made three hundred and seventy years ago during the reign of King Injo. Back then I was a captain in the royal guard. His Majesty was not popular.” He smiles, snorts. “Two wars with the Manchus, two sons sent as hostages to China. Korea had just become a vassal state to the Qing, which was two years away from overthrowing the Ming dynasty.”
Yunho tries a sesame seed snack glued together with honey. “History wasn’t my strongest subject at school. I’ve seen some ancient dramas on TV, though.”
Changmin gazes at him, apparently caught off-guard. “Ancient dramas.”
“Ones set in Joseon. Some are pretty good. I liked-” Yunho physically has to stop himself from completing the sentence. He takes a big gulp of tea. He’s a moron, an absolute moron. He finishes the tea and pours more. His good hand is shaking. “I’m sorry. You were saying.”
A smile curves Changmin’s mouth. He snorts, shakes his head. “Thank you. I have the habit of taking myself too seriously.”
Yunho winces. “I didn’t mean...”
Changmin waves away Yunho’s embarrassment. He picks up his tea and looks into the cup, the fragrant steam curling around him. “I was in love with one of the King’s concubines. Her name was Lady An. I thought she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Through her maidservant I learned that she favoured me, and I considered myself the most fortunate of men. With the assistance of her maid, we found ways to be together in secret. All was well until Lady An became pregnant.”
Yunho stills in the act of taking another sesame seed snack. He hadn’t expected that. Intrigued, he tries to imagine Changmin as a father, holding a child.
“She was afraid,” Changmin says. “She begged me to help her flee the palace before her deception was discovered. With all the in-fighting between the pro-Qing faction and those ministers who believed we could regain our freedom if we joined with Ming forces, it was an uncertain time. Everyone was looking to see what the Great Ministers would do; I didn’t think anyone would pay attention to me. So I stole coin from the treasury, took small, portable items of worth and exchanged them in the city for money, and I made plans to get Lady An and our unborn child to freedom.”
Changmin smiles without amusement. “Then I was caught.” He takes a sip of tea; sets the cup down on the table. He interlaces his fingers. “They arrested me. Imprisoned me. Tortured me. I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t going to betray her. I knew what they’d do to her and my baby, so I let them believe I was just greedy. I was stripped of my rank, but told that I would be spared execution if only I named my fellow conspirators. And that’s when I realised something had gone very wrong.”
Yunho touches his fingertips to his teacup. “Conspirators?”
“The Minister of Justice, Lord Jeong himself, came to question me.” Changmin sits back in his seat, shoulders rigid. “I was accused of financing an anti-Qing coup against the King. Never mind that I’d stolen only a small amount-enough for a family to start a new life away from the capital, but not enough to grease the palms of men of influence. I was a thief, therefore I was a liar. When I protested my innocence, Lord Jeong said he had evidence against me, and when I demanded proof of this evidence, he brought in Lady An.”
Yunho sits silent.
Changmin seems lost in his memories, his features darkening as he continues, “She came into that foul prison without her maid to support her. She looked terrified. The whole time she kept her hands protectively over her belly. She wouldn’t look at me. When Lord Jeong prompted her, she said that her maid had been my lover and that I’d bragged to the girl about my part in the coup. She began to cry, sobbed that her maid had been taken out and strangled for her disloyalty.
“I didn’t know what to do. What to believe. She looked so afraid. I knew she’d been forced to lie just so Lord Jeong could pursue his political enemies. We were both puppets, in the wrong place at the wrong time. She was doing what any woman would do in those circumstances-she was protecting our baby. I couldn’t blame her for that. I couldn’t save them, so she was saving herself. I knew that, but it was so unfair, and so I shouted that she was a liar. And then...”
He pauses. Stares out of the window again at the world going by outside. “And then,” Changmin says, softly, “Lord Jeong said that Lady An wouldn’t lie. Not when she was carrying a future Prince in her womb. I wanted to tell him that the baby was mine, but I stayed silent. For once I knew I couldn’t be rash.” He stops, smiles slightly at Yunho. “Perhaps that was the last time I ever curbed my impulsive tendencies.”
Yunho can’t bring himself to smile back. He fiddles with a snack of sweet puffed rice, crumbling it into pieces.
“Lord Jeong ordered the guards to increase the torture. He wanted the names of the conspirators within three days. In all honesty,” Changmin pauses again, looks down at his hands, “if I’d known which names he wanted me to say, I’d have said them, just to make the pain stop. But it didn’t, and they broke me, and the only thing that kept me holding on was the thought of my woman giving birth to my child; the knowledge that my son or daughter would become a member of the royal family because of this deception.”
He lifts his head, eyes bright with emotion. “I should have been pleased with this thought, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted to be free. I wanted to live. I wanted to raise my child somewhere far away from the court and its politics.” Changmin laughs as if mocking his younger self. “I was very simple back then, prone to the most basic of desires. I loved Lady An; I wanted to provide for my family. There was nothing else in my mind.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Yunho says, moved to defend a young man he knows has been dead for almost four hundred years. “You can’t be angry for being human.”
“Yes, I can.” Changmin drops his gaze. He fishes a bedraggled chrysanthemum flower from his tea and drops it onto the table. “Aside from the guards, the prison was tended by commoners who cleaned the cells and brought food and water. Lord Jeong had decreed that I was to be given water but no food, but one of the commoners, a woman of the Mu people, disobeyed this order. She brought me scraps of food and fed me.”
He looks up again. “They crushed my fingers and broke my arms. This woman kept me alive. Before my imprisonment, I was like anyone else at the palace. I shunned social outcasts. Now I saw the Mu woman as my saviour. The other commoners were afraid of her. I didn’t care. When I asked why she was helping me when my situation was so hopeless, she said, ‘A man like you shouldn’t suffer.’
“I thought she meant that I was too noble to be tortured, but one of the other commoners told me not to listen to her. ‘She plans to use you,’ he said, but I ignored him. I was half dead, in no fit state to be of use to anyone.”
Yunho remembers his drink. He draws the cup towards him, curves his hands around it and lets the warmth of the tea soak through the porcelain.
Changmin takes a sip of his own tea. His voice still conversational, as if they’re discussing the weather, he continues, “It happened on the third night. Lord Jeong was disappointed with my stubbornness; I still had no names for him. I was to be executed with the sunrise. The Mu woman came to me and asked me only one question: ‘Do you want to live?’ And I said yes, because I believed I had so much to live for.
“She left my cell and came back with four cups. The first was a drink to quench my yang, the second a drink to strengthen my yin. Then she drew a circle upon the earthen floor of the cell and conjured fire from sticks of wood. Into the flames she dropped an ancient silver vase-coin. The fire burned hotter, melting the silver. The stench of it was like nothing I’d ever smelled before- worse than the palace middens in the height of summer, worse than my own burning flesh when they tortured me. The stink of it went to my head. And then she gave me another drink-human blood, fresh, still warm.”
Changmin swirls the tea in his cup. “I tried to spit it out. Gagged on it. ‘What is this?’ I asked. ‘Why?’ She didn’t answer. She started to chant in a language I didn’t recognise. Just hearing the shape of the words terrified me. The fire burned hotter. I had blood in my mouth. I felt sick and strange. And then she drew out a knife and passed it through the flames, touched it to the melted silver. I heard the wing-beats of a thousand birds. She took up the fourth cup and doused the fire with water.” Changmin looks up, smiling. “And then she slit my throat.”
The room is absolutely silent for a long moment. Yunho can barely breathe. He feels stifled, his skin prickling with heat. Sweat rolls, ticklish, down his underarms.
Changmin sets down his teacup with a bang that makes Yunho jump.
“I woke in a mass grave with earth in my mouth and the taste of death everywhere.” Changmin grimaces at the memory. “I dug myself out, panicking, thinking I’d been buried alive. It was daylight. The commoners tending the area ran away from me, screaming. Then I remembered. My crushed hands, my broken bones, my throat-all healed. I was whole. I didn’t understand. Had I been dreaming? I was hungry, starving. You wouldn’t think a man would be hungry after waking up amongst the dead, but I was ravenous.”
Yunho feels ill. He pushes the tray of snacks away.
“I wandered around, headed for the palace,” Changmin says. “Soldiers came at me. I killed them. It was easy, as if they were paper dolls. And then the hunger became too much, and there was a sharp, agonising pain in my skull-my fangs unsheathed,” Changmin pauses, snarls just enough to demonstrate the quicksilver change between normal canines and fangs, “and I picked up the nearest body and drained it of blood. I did the same to the next. And the next, and the one after that, until I came to my senses. I had no word for myself, no way to describe what I had become.
“I went looking for the Mu woman who had done this to me. I broke into the prison, slaughtered all the guards. The commoners tried to run, but I was faster. They told me the Mu woman was dead, destroyed by the same spell that gave me this new life. Her body had been thrown into the same mass grave as mine. ‘What am I?’ I asked the commoners, thinking they might know.”
Changmin smiles. “‘A monster,’ they said. ‘You are a monster.’ The man who’d tried to warn me told me that the Mu woman had wanted to create a weapon for her vengeance. The King’s soldiers had destroyed her village and killed her family. She blamed Lord Jeong for everything and wanted him to suffer horrible torments. I was a convenient puppet for her plan. I was just a means to an end.
“But she was dead, and I didn’t know what I was except I was faster, stronger, and so much angrier than before. If I was wounded, I could heal in a matter of moments. I felt invincible. And I realised that now I could rescue Lady An and we could be together again. We could leave the capital and make a new life with our child.”
Changmin falls silent, staring into his tea. Yunho doesn’t want to disturb him for more of the story when he’s related so much suffering already, but at the same time Yunho needs to know how it ended-for already he knows it must have ended badly.
“Changmin,” he says softly, “did you find her?”
“Yes. Oh yes, I found her.” Changmin gives a harsh laugh and looks up. “She tried to kill me.” He runs a hand through his hair, disordering it. For the first time in his narrative, he looks agonised. “I didn’t want to frighten her, so I crept past the guards and the eunuchs in the side-palace without spilling any blood or breaking any necks. I hurried to her chambers, but when she saw me, she almost fainted. Of course she thought I was dead. I caught her before she could fall. ‘I came back for you,’ I told her. ‘I love you. Let’s run away. Let’s go far from here and be happy!’”
Changmin closes his eyes. “She wrenched herself free and looked at me with such scorn. ‘You poor stupid boy,’ she said, her beautiful voice full of mockery. ‘I don’t love you. I never loved you. A dear friend asked a particular favour of me-he wanted to ensure his own position at court by engineering the downfall of his rivals. For his plans to succeed, he needed a traitor. He asked me to find one, and I knew you were so besotted that you’d do anything I wanted.’
“I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I protested. What about the baby? She put a hand to her stomach and told me the child wasn’t mine. She laughed at me. Boasted that I was not her only lover. She said that she’d had another three men from my squadron alone; in addition she had another, far more well-connected lover, a man who was in the position to give her jewels and perfumed robes and everything I couldn’t offer. I was the only man malleable and foolish enough to fall in love with her. I was the only one who’d died for her.”
Changmin looks up, his smile brief. “She screamed then, screamed and ran at me with a knife, stabbed me over and over. ‘You should be dead!’ she shrieked. ‘Why aren’t you dead?’ And in that moment I wanted to die. I wished the Mu woman’s spell would undo itself so I could become a lifeless corpse. I had never known such anguish. I fled when maidservants and eunuchs came running in answer to her screams. I ran and hid in the city and nursed my broken heart and my humiliation until the one thing that consumed me was the desire for revenge.”
Yunho puts his good hand over his mouth, wishing he could say something to take away the pain he can see in front of him. Changmin looks raw and vulnerable, still wounded by this ancient betrayal. “What did you do?” Yunho asks in a whisper. “Did you kill her?”
Changmin’s smile is cold. “No. For once I wasn’t impulsive. I waited. I terrorised her. Every night, no matter where she was or who she was with, I went to the palace and stood over her bed. Every night, she woke and saw me. She screamed, night after night, for four years. No one else ever saw me. Only her. I drove her insane until, finally, she hanged herself.”
Horror trickles down Yunho’s spine. “What about the baby?”
“It lived.” Changmin’s features shutter, blanking out all expression. “A girl. Princess Sukhwi.” He’s silent for a moment, then says quietly, “She wasn’t mine, but I loved her anyway. She was beautiful, like her mother. She died of water-fever when she was seventeen. Her death...” His voice breaks. “I was not the same afterwards.”
Yunho reaches out across the table and takes Changmin’s hands. Their tea has gone cold.
* * *
Part 4 >>