My dad breathed in through his nose, collecting himself. “You weren’t… ” His words came out in a croak. “You weren’t supposed to get this far. You weren’t supposed to put yourself in harm’s way like that, Jain. We never… I never thought you’d—” He stopped at the look on my face.
The words felt like he’d practically reached into my heart and squeezed it dry. “What,” I said, voice shaking. “the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“I didn’t think you’d try, Jain, much less pass the first trial,” my dad said, frustrated. “Even if you made sense of the books in the RV… it was supposed to be nonsense. There was no teacher for you. No guide. No knowledge, no practice. We didn’t think… ”
When I didn’t say anything, he looked my way. One glance at my face, and he looked away. It took an eternity for him to say something.
“I didn’t mean for things to end up like this.”
It sounded like a lie.
We stayed that way a while. My dad looking at the floor. The plague doctor’s wheezing. Wol, tense. Hwari somehow managing to look melancholy while floating in the air behind my dad.
And my breathing. Horrible gasping breaths because I’d just yelled, screamed, and cried at the same time.
My dad straightened himself, looking composed again. But his voice was wet with barely contained… something. “…I came here to ask something of you,” he said.
I already knew what it was. “What?”
“It’s about your Sister. What I said before. This whole thing, it started because we’re trying to save her, Jain. We’re doing everything we can to keep her alive, but it’s… nothing’s working.”
“That’s not my problem.”
“She’s family. You’re little sister. We’re blood, Jain,” my dad snapped.
I bit back my response.
“I get that you’re angry, Son. I really do. But right now? Not the time to let your feelings get the better of you,” he said gently. “Please believe me when I say this, Jain. We didn’t think you’d be in any danger. All the preparations, when we moved them for your sister, it wasn’t to hurt you. It wasn’t supposed to even affect you. We—”
“The point, Dad.” I was looking down at the sheets now, no longer meeting his eyes.
I heard him take a breath. “I need you to abdicate your claim on the Shin inheritance.”
A small laugh escaped me. Joyless. Empty.
“What does that mean?” I asked. I was too tired to get angry. Angrier.
“Everything you gained in this trial will be gone, Practitioner,” Wol said softly. “Books. Knowledge. Karma.” He paused. “Everything related to Miru will be severed from you.”
“Be more specific please,” I said. “What’s everything?”
‘Everything,’ Hwari muttered. ‘Connections, boons.’
“Connections?”
“…us, Practitioner. We’re part of the Shin Inheritance, after all,” Wol said evenly.
“No. Fuck that,” I shook my head, clenching my blankets again. “The answer’s no, Dad.”
“Jain. Hear me out. Your mom—”
“The boy said no, William,” Wol said, stepping in between us.
“Wol, I wouldn’t ask this if Jain only summoned one of you. But he summoned two out of the five. That’s… that’s too much.”
“Five?” I asked, confused.
“There were five of us,” Wol answered. “The Shin Familiars, passed down from parent to child.”
My dad pressed the issue again. “Miru is asking you for your help, Wol. You too, Hwari.”
And my heart began to race again. He wasn’t asking me. He was asking them. Even if I kept everything, without them… What if they decided to go? Could I hold onto them knowing they didn’t want to stay? Could familiars break off contracts like that? Obviously, they could, if my mom were still alive and she no longer had any familiars.
…Could I stop it?
No. Even if I could, I didn’t want to. Not like that. Not now. Not ever.
“No.” Wol shook his head. “My answer is no. William… I… whatever Miru did, I barely remember my time with her.”
My dad clenched his fist, then unfurled it. “Hwari?”
‘Jain promised to show me movies.’
My dad frowned.
Hwari floated over to my side of the room. ‘Miru never showed me such things.’ She swam over to my cheek. The murky ghost fish felt cold as she pressed herself against my face. ‘I enjoy them.”
My dad turned back to me. “Son, your sister will die.”
I couldn’t help it. “There are worse things than death. Isn’t that right?”
I’m not going to lie and say it didn’t feel good to say that line. It was sickening, but there was a visceral pleasure in throwing that back in his face and watching his face twist with something ugly.
“She’s blood.”
“I know,” I whispered. “Trust me. I know.”
“Son, this isn’t the time for a tantrum. You’re eighteen, and your sister is dying. Do you not get this? She could die. It would kill your mother. It would—AGH!” For the first time since he entered the room, real worry and anger entered his voice. “You are being selfish, Jain.”
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“Me?” I laughed again. “Selfish?”
“After everything your mom and I did for you—”
That was the last straw.
“Dad,” I said. It was the way I said it. The lack of emotion, the lack of caring.
He stopped talking, looking at me in the eyes. The rush of emotions between us paused long enough for me to take a good look at him.
He looked old. Scratch that. He was old. Wrinkles. Mussed hair. Older than the William Hallow I remembered in my head.
I burned that sight into my memories.
“I need time,” I said.
“Time we don’t have,” he pressed.
Something in me snapped. “Then the answer’s no, Dad. Wait, let me correct that. Fuck no.”
And my dad’s eyes smoldered with an emotion that I’d never seen him display before.
Rage.
“Don’t force our hand, it won’t end well.” he said quietly. “Think carefully. You’re saying this because you’re drunk on power. You think that because you won one measly trial, this inheritance is yours? Nothing is yours, Son. Nothing. Everything you have, it was given to you by us. You think your mom and I can’t simply take it back?”
I leaned in close, my voice cracking with emotion. “Do it, Dad. I dare you. I double-dog dare you.”
He glared at me, closed his eyes in an attempt to calm himself. It worked somewhat, because when he opened them again, the rage had abated. “We’re getting nowhere like this,” he said.
“We got somewhere. You just didn’t like the destination.”
He smiled, showing bits of his teeth. “You know what? This was just bad timing. I’m going to come back when you’re calmer. Better.” Then he got up, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket.
I immediately had my knife out, pointed towards him. The Eldritch-shade within vibrated with hostility, the barely contained madness practically pressing upon the psyche of everyone in the room.
The plague-doctor-daevil thingie stepped forward immediately, his hand outstretched in my direction.
My dad’s voice was steel. “Everyone, stop.”
And everyone did.
He retrieved an envelope from inside his jacket. “This was in the mail for you.” He placed it on the nightstand, moving slowly.
“You dropped by the apartment?”
“Yes,” he said.
I couldn’t help but ask, “Why?”
“I moved all my stuff out, Jain,” he said sheepishly.
“…And my stuff?”
“The boxes were sent to the RV,” he answered. “Are you planning to stay there? For the time being?”
There were so many things I could’ve said regarding this nonchalant attitude about vacating our apartment, which had been my home as well.
Instead, I looked down at my hands. “Yeah,” I answered.
He turned to leave.
Before he could open the door, I called out to him. “Wait.”
I wasn’t angry anymore. But I wasn’t calm either. The anger was still there, barely restrained, but when I spoke, it wasn’t fire and fury like before. The words came out quieter than I wanted them to, but I knew that William Hallow heard them.
I lifted my head.
“…Did she ask about me?”
He paused, something like pity touching his eyes. “No. She did not.”
“You can show yourself out now, William.”
I’ve seen strangers on the New York subway with warmer looks than the one my dad showed when I called him by his name.
He left.
When he left, I tore open the envelope. Hwari and Wol crowded around the piece of paper.
“Careful, Practitioner,” Wol hissed. “It could be a trick.”
‘Or a movie,’ Hwari said hopefully.
“It’s not a trick. It’s a college acceptance letter. I—” I tried to slow down the beating in my heart. But it was impossible. It swelled with hope. “It’s a college program I can actually afford. Meaning it’s free. If I don’t get into this… It’s going to be need and merit-based scholarships. Which aren’t guaranteed. But this one is guaranteed, as long as you’re accepted.”
I unfolded the envelope. I read the first line, my hands shaking.
Thank you for your application to the Macaulay Honors College at—
I skipped ahead to the next couple of lines.
While we had a highly competitive application pool this year, we regret to inform you that—
I closed the letter.
“What does this mean?” Wol asked.
Hwari didn’t say anything.
And I turned around, put the blankets over my head, and sank into the dark where no one could hear me weep.
***
I got discharged.
Dr. Nightingale didn’t like it, but didn’t stop me. I’ve heard some horror stories about hospitals ordering unnecessary tests to squeeze your insurance for all it was worth. Claims that, of course, get denied by the insurance company. Who’s stuck with the bill? You are. And when you try to deny these tests and walk out… you’re forced to sign a slip of paper called an AMA waiver. Good doctors use it so they don’t get sued by stubborn patients. Evil healthcare corporations use it to threaten you into staying, because signing an AMA waiver is basically kissing any chance of your insurance company coughing up money for the hospitalization goodbye.
Welcome to my lecture on United States Healthcare 101, where it costs money to die. Or the insurance company comes after your family after you’re dead. Either-or, I guess.
Regardless, she couldn’t stop me. Dealing with insurance is for mortals. I wasn’t checked in as a mortal. I was checked in as a favor to the Table. She had to respect that position.
I don’t remember getting to the RV.
The beginning of January was met with clear skies. No snow. No Arctic winds blowing over the melting glaciers and tricking people into thinking there’s no global warming. Just cool, crisp winter mornings.
Charter Academy’s fire made the news. The government (or the Table—I’m definitely turning into a conspiracy theorist after all this) covered it up. Some nonsense about a freak accident in the chemistry lab causing a small fire, which hit the gas lines. One would think that a private prep school where New York’s wealthiest attend would have better sense than to place gas lines near the Chemistry Lab. Fire hazard is literally part of the definition.
Abigail never visited me. In fact, neither did Mina. Radio silence from the Table, Rosefinch, Yokocho, Geistheilers, Sana… nothing. No letters. No magical writings on the snow. Nothing.
So I studied. I made trinkets. I finally set about working on my staff. I started experimenting. I read books about the most obscure things. I threw myself into becoming a practitioner.
Well, that’s what I wanted to do.
But I couldn’t focus. I found myself zoning out, looking out the window and replaying the hospital scene with my dad. I kept asking myself the question: Had I made the right choice? Was it okay? Did I want to go no-contact with my family like that?
It wasn’t like I didn’t understand where they were coming from. This… Sister of mine. If she was really in danger, I could understand their reasoning. I could also understand their surprise at how events unfolded.
If they were right, I wasn’t supposed to be here, sitting in this RV. I was supposed to be in Charter, still getting bullied, going home and popping TV tray dinners in the microwave, and eating while watching the nature channel.
Alone.
“Jain?” Wol asked.
“Yeah?”
“You’ve been on the same page for the last half hour,” he said dryly.
“Right,” I muttered and returned to the book.
“I know that the symbology is not the most entertaining of subjects,” Wol said from his spot on the window where the sun hit him just right. “But it’s a must. When crafting your own raiments, the shape they take as well as the natural elements you incorporate into them will—”
There was a knock at my door, cutting him off.
I froze, shared a look with Wol and Hwari.
“Who is it?” Even while yelling out, I was approaching my work desk and grabbing my knife.
“I’m here for Jain Shin Hallow, rightful keeper of the Shin Inheritance.” The voice was female.
“Wol, can you look out the window? Can you tell—”
Wol immediately got to his paws, alarm raising his fur to pinpoint ends. “Practitioner, it’s finally here.”
“What is?”
“Open the door,” Wol said without explaining.
I waited for an answer, but Wol didn’t give any. He was trembling, though, whether from excitement or fear, I couldn’t tell. Grumbling something rude under my breath, I grabbed my knife off the desk. I reached the door, ready to fight, and was greeted with nothing.
Just a cardboard box. And it wasn’t my stuff from the old apartment. That box had been waiting for me the day I got discharged.
I bent down and picked it up. It was heavy.
“Books,” I said, once I got back inside the RV and opened the box. I took out a thin notebook, bound in leather. The pages inside were tattered, and the writing was in Korean. I flicked through it. “These are handwritten,” I observed.
“Diaries,” Wol said. He leapt down from the desk and prowled over. He stuck his head into the box, taking a whiff of the leatherbound journals. “Journals of your ancestors.”
Countless jitters traveled up my spine.
I picked another one up, also in Korean, except for the name on the spine.
Miru Shin - 47th Shin Shaman
Something fell out from between the pages. It was a brass medallion, small enough to fit in the palm of my hand. I turned it over, studying it. It had a small hole on the top so that it could be attached to a keyring. It was engraved with three horses in the middle, overlapping each other. On the other side of the medallion was a symbol I’d never seen before.
A smiling mask that was undoubtedly female.
I swallowed and looked to Wol.
“A Map’ae.”
“What is it?”
“An identification. The three horses mean it came from the King himself.” Wol sat, his eyes boring holes into the medallion. “They began to give it out during the Joseon era…” he trailed off.
“And the face?”
“The mark of the Shin Shamans,” he said.
I swallowed. “What does it mean?”
“It means,” he said quietly. “Your training begins.”