He heads off to the kitchen for drinks. There’s a stack of newspapers and magazines scattered about on the antique coffee table. I pick up a magazine; but I’m not careful enough, and the vase in the center of the coffee table wobbles. I grab for its base, righting it before it falls, and let out a long breath.
Marc saunters in carrying two glasses of lemonade. “That’s from Beijing. Xia Dynasty.”
I snatch my hands away, tucking them in my lap. “Leave it to me to break something thousands of years old.”
“Just messing with you.” Marc hands me my glass, cool beneath my sweating palms. “Most of the really valuable stuff is in museums or in the glass cases along the back wall.” He rattles off a couple of artifacts that are his favorites: a ram’s horn from Bethlehem, a boomerang from the Outback, a carved elephant from Java, a mask from Africa, a tea set from Pakistan. My head swims just thinking about all those places.
He points to the vase. “I’m pretty sure that’s a knockoff.”
“What a relief.” I sip my lemonade. “Do you ever travel with your parents?”
“Sometimes. If I can get out of school. Summers we usually go somewhere for research or to a dig.”
“I’m completely jealous.”
“Everyone in my family has discovered something huge.” He leans back and stares out the massive window. The sun is setting, washing the skyscrapers with liquidy pinks and reds. “My parents never let me forget that.”
“So they expect you to discover something?”
His jaw tightens. He sets his glass on the table a little too roughly and moves to stand at the glass wall, his back to me. “I speak and write six languages fluently, been on the honor roll practically my entire life, and even know some judo moves. But here’s the kicker. I don’t want my parents’ lives. What I want is something completely different.”
I follow him and lightly rest my hand on his arm.
“And what’s that?”
“I don’t know yet.” He reaches out and runs his fingers along my jaw. “Or maybe I do. Have you ever felt as if you were meant for something in particular, but you don’t know what it is?”
I nod.
“That’s exactly how I feel. Like I’m ready and waiting, but it’s not here yet. Sometimes I don’t know if I’ll ever figure it out.”
Electricity from his touch sparks along my skin. The memory of his kiss from earlier haunts me. I want more. I reach to pull him closer. But Marc cries out, leaning back.
My sleeve must have slipped up my arm, exposing Haemosu’s little gift and touching his neck.
“Oh my gosh!” I say. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“Man.” He rubs his neck. “That thing has a bite to it, doesn’t it?”
Looking down, I see the two dragons’ eyes are glowing, as if the creatures are watching us. I yank down my sleeve, covering the bracelet.
“Let’s get some ice on it,” I say.
After he’s got the ice pack pressed to his neck, he says, “Remember what I told you after the NHS meeting today about that bracelet of yours?”
“A sign of enslavement. How could I forget?”
“Come here.” He grabs my hand and leads me down the hall. “I’ll show you what I found.”
When I realize we’re about to enter his bedroom, I stop. “Your parents don’t mind?”
“They’re still at work. Don’t worry.” He laughs. “You’re safe with me.”
There are books everywhere, piled in stacks on the floor and loaded on shelves. He’s got a wide desk cluttered with scrolls, a globe, and more books. A long shelf rests above his desk, running the full length of the window, with mounds of artifacts teetering on it.
I sink into a large futon chair and point to his shelf. “Did you find those?”
“Yeah. I guess I have a trophy wall of my own.” He rummages through a few books on his desk until he pulls out one. “Here it is.”
He hands me the opened book. I study the illustration of a glowing man pulling a long chain. A straggling line of weeping girls with bowed heads is attached to the chain. It’s obvious they’re being dragged into slavery.
“Look at the bonds that keep them chained.” Marc hands me a magnifying glass.
I don’t want to look, because the pain on these girls’ faces is all too familiar. I recognize that desperation, that hopelessness, in my own reflection in the mirror. But I straighten my back. There’s no way I’ll be able to defeat Haemosu by allowing myself to be sucked into the pit of despair. I take the magnifying glass and hold it over the page.
He’s right. Though the ink on the page has faded, the golden luster of the girls’ bonds remains. And a strange pattern. I lean closer. No, not strange at all; a sickeningly familiar design comes into focus. The twisted curl of the dragon’s body.
I drop the magnifying glass.
“This book was written about a hundred years ago,” Marc says. “It’s obviously a reprint, but I think the stories have some truth to them.”
I push the book away and cross my arms, wanting to hide my own shackle. Pretend it doesn’t exist. “Yeah, they do.”
“Maybe it was a bad idea to show you.” He clamps the book shut and shoves it into his bookshelf. “I seem to be making a mess of things rather than fixing anything.”
I press my fingers to my temples, willing my brain to stay focused. Panic threatens to crawl up my throat, cinching it so tight I won’t be able to breathe.
“Hey.” Marc pulls me up and into his arms. “We’re going to figure this out. Together. You aren’t alone in this.”
He drags his fingers through my hair, and then his hand trails down my neck. I don’t stop him. He tilts my chin so I’m looking into those forever-green eyes of his, and I believe that he’ll do whatever he can to help me.
He presses me to him, and my arms wrap around his neck, loving how perfect his body feels. His lips kiss my forehead, breath hot as fire, and drag along my cheeks to my lips.
I’m lost. Between earth and sky.
It’s as if we’ve entered our own realm that belongs only to the two of us. I could live here forever.
A knock on the door.
We push apart. For a moment I can’t remember where I am.
“Marc,” a man’s voice says from the doorway. I look over to see his dad. Frowning.
“Dad.” Marc’s voice comes out clipped, angry. “This is Jae.”
“Hello, Jae Hwa.” He smiles and reaches his hand out to shake mine. Once again I’m reminded of how much Marc looks like his dad. Same broad shoulders, square jaw, and shaggy hair. The only difference is, his dad’s eyes are blue. “We met at the museum. I’m good friends with your grandfather. How are you holding up?”
“I’m okay.” I study him, confused, and unsure what to say. It seems he knows more about my situation than I thought. I peek over at Marc. Did he tell his dad? But Marc just shakes his head and rolls his eyes.
“Can I talk to you?” Dr. Grayson asks Marc.
“I’ll be back in a minute.” Marc squeezes my hand and follows his dad into the hall.
I bite my lip. Dr. Grayson seemed ticked off that I was here. I slide out the doorway into the hall, listening.
“What are you doing, kissing her?” Dr. Grayson asks Marc as they enter another room at the end of the hall. “You are disregarding protocol and breaking the rules.”
The door slams shut, and with it my heart. Disregarding protocol? Breaking the rules? The truth hits me like a mass of concrete. His parents don’t approve of him dating me. Is it because I’m Korean? Maybe I’m not smart enough. Or maybe his parents need him to find that special artifact, and I’m distracting him from achieving his destiny.
I lean against the wall, my bracelet and heart weighing me down like a brick in water.
CHAPTER 23