“No,” he replies, “but I plan on knocking each door down until I find her.” He pulls his hand back, fully prepared to make a ruckus until the gumiho shows herself.

“No need,” a familiar voice snorts. “I’m right behind you.”

Chapter Twelve

Kisa

Nam Somi looks bored as she glances between Kisa, Seokga, and the babbling Hwanin. “Well,” she says, “I see that you two got really busy, really quickly.” She takes a step closer to Kisa, staring at the baby. “Aw, cute. He has your nose,” she says to Seokga, “and her smile.”

Kisa swallows hard. Despite her adamance the fox lacks a motive, she has to admit that there is a chance that Somi killed Hwanin. She steps back, hugging the child protectively as Seokga joins her side.

“I didn’t kill him,” Somi says a moment later underneath the trickster’s death glare. The intensity of it frightens Kisa—she’s not seen him look at her that way before, and never wants to. “But okay, I’ve been following you two since you came up on Deck 10, where I was…” Somi winces. “Where I was, um…Where I was.”

“And we’re just supposed to take your word for it?” hisses Seokga, and with a snap, his cane transforms into a sword. “I think not.”

“Seokga, no. I think I saw her,” Kisa quickly cuts in, remembering what had caught her gaze over Seokga’s shoulder. A huddled woman on a sun lounger, crying. “Where exactly on the deck were you?” she asks the other woman.

“On a pool chair,” Somi mutters. “One in the corner of the deck.”

“And what were you doing?” she tests.

“Sitting.”

Kisa waits.

Somi sighs. “I was crying,” she admits. “Like this.” Glaring at Seokga, she sits on the ground, draws her knees up to her chin, lowers her head, and starts to sniffle. Everything, down to the shaking shoulders, is accurate.

Kisa turns to Seokga, who looks distinctly unamused. “She’s telling the truth,” she informs him as Hwanin sleepily claws at her shirt. “I saw a woman behind you, covered in shadow. She matches the figure. But why follow us?” She turns to Somi suspiciously.

The gumiho rises to her feet with as much dignity as one can after pretending to cry on the floor to avoid being a murder suspect. Kisa carefully watches her face for flaring nostrils, lip biting, blinking, or nervous perspiration. It’s well-documented, after all, that even the best liars have tells—as subtle as they may be. She watches as Somi looks at her and notes how her face crumples for a moment. (Grief? Guilt? A combination of the two, mixed with something else, like love gone sour?)