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First things first: Bobby was kidnapped by a demon.
How the demon made it through the new honmoon didn’t matter. (even if it was maddening and confusing and stupid) And it also didn’t matter if Bobby knew demons were real or not anymore, because Rumi didn’t really have a choice in the matter when an eight-foot-tall blue horned monstrosity hoiked him over his back, made eye contact with her while she was on stage, winked at her (the audacity!?) and poofed away in a cloud of pink smoke.
“In the middle of rehearsal?!” shrieked Zoey. “That’s disrespectful!”
The music cut as the crew looked around in confusion at Zoey’s outburst. Bobby had been at the back of the venue, checking acoustics out of view of anyone but the three women on stage.
The demon wanted to be seen. He was taunting them.
Rage flashed through Rumi’s patterns and she pressed it down into her gut before she could explode into a furious light show in front of all the stage hands. Claws pricked at her palm, and she squeezed her fist even tighter. First things first.
She glanced at Mira who was already pulling her phone from her pocket. “Track his phone.” Rumi ran her hand across the honmoon, hoping against the odds that something could tell her where the demon jumped, but even with the patterns exposed on her hand, the demonic world was a mystery to her.
“Got him.” Mira turned her phone around to show his location. “He’s across the street. The pin isn’t moving.”
Zoey’s eyes lit as her mind made a dozen connections at once. “The 7-11 that’s been closed for weeks! There’s empty chip wrappers taped over the windows instead of newspapers or posters or something normal!” She snarled at the realization. “Those stupid demons probably didn’t even eat the snacks!”
“Everyone take ten!” shouted Rumi. She was already out of her mic and pulling on the racing jacket that had been ignored for hours at the foot of the stage.
“Make it twenty.” Mira followed her, hand already tracing over the honmoon as she sauntered through the crew. “Good work, everybody.”
Rumi pressed a hand to her heart to ground herself, stay in the moment, don’t let rage win. She had to get Bobby back. The three of them pushed through the doors exiting the studio and broke into a sprint.
“You okay, Rumi?” asked Zoey
“I’m gonna kill that fucking demon,” she growled, and clamped her mouth tight over lengthening teeth.
“We’re gonna kill that fucking demon,” assured Mira. Her gok-do manifested in her hand as they skidded to a halt in front of the convenience store. “How do we want to do this?”
“It’s just one guy,” said Zoey. “I bet we can take him out with a cover! Let’s make him pay.” She pounded a fist into her palm, and withdrew her shin-kal as she pulled her hands back.
“It’s a trap.” Rumi glared at the covered windows, the shiny wrappers mocking her. She should have seen it. Who would use greasy plastic over newspaper? Or posters? “How long has this been closed?”
“Three weeks, four days.” Zoey’s mouth is tight in displeasure. “I wanted shrimp crackers when we were checking the studio. It was three pm. What kind of jank-ass seven eleven is closed in prime snacking hour?!”
“That demon wanted us to see him take Bobby, which means there’s an unknown number waiting in ambush,” said Rumi.
“But it’s unlikely they expected us to track him so quickly, so we can still get the jump on them,” said Mira.
“Good thinking.” A shrill cry from inside made Rumi’s ears perk. “Zoey’s right. Let’s do a cover: Strategy.”
Her counterparts grinned with the anticipation of revenge as Rumi cued the music on her phone.
Step one- do my highlight:
Mira slashed through the locks on the door and kicked it open, flinging the door wide to a dark and empty store. Clearly they had time here. Weeks, if Zoey’s snack calculations were correct, and they always were. Rumi strummed the honmoon and grasped her saingeom, then stepped into the store.
Step two- silhouette tight:
A dozen demons dropped from the ceiling, right on schedule, and Zoey took lead on the first verse. They were a team, ranks unbroken, but Rumi’s ears parked at Bobby’s cry from behind the door to the store’s back room. It was haphazardly barricaded with a mountain of soda boxes. Probably locked, if they thought far enough ahead to construct a barricade.
“Can you teleport?” asked Mira without dropping the beat as she feinted right and levered a growling demon into the ceiling where it shattered through several fluorescent bulbs.
Rumi nodded. She could teleport. It was only one little jump behind the door. She’d practiced this in the apartment, controlled jumps, small ones, which only got more accurate as her anger boiled.
It was raging now, lighting her patterns in a pink fire that matched the remains of demons they were banishing all around them. And each time she jumped, the demon was harder to hide. Her claws were already out, her vision was sharp, shining gold in a single slit eye. Whatever picture she might paint with a jump beyond that door wouldn’t look pretty, but Bobby needed her.
And that demon had insulted her. Taken something precious. She didn’t want it to be pretty.
Mira whirled through another two demons and paused her movement just long enough to look at Rumi in question as she took up the verse from Zoey.
Rumi let the demon in her blood take her, and disappeared into pink smoke.
Step three- make you look my way:
Smoke cleared from her vision and her eyes met with the blue demon that had taken their manager. The music was muffled in the store room, muffled again through the rage clouding her mind. The demon looked up from where he was tying Bobby to a shitty rolling chair behind a shitty metal desk. Rumi leapt onto the desk and rammed her sword through his face. He poofed into glittering pink dust around her blade, before she could even have the satisfaction of his weight falling away, and she roared in frustration.
Below her, Bobby whined into a makeshift gag. He was looking up at her with fear in his eyes, and even through the gag she could recognize her muffled name.
“Rmi?”
It was a question because she didn’t look like herself. She’d leaned too far into her demon side. Her teeth, god her horrible teeth were cold because they could no longer fit inside her mouth.
A demon yelped in fear behind her and she dropped her sword to turn on the creature and rend it apart with her claws, but the demon dodged backward and vanished into smoke. The door splintered under her claws.
“Hlp!” cried Bobby.
She turned and snapped the zip ties around his hand with her extended claws. “Don’t be scared,” she slurred around the fangs and tusks. “We’ll explain everything, I promise. Just give me a minute.” She grabbed her sword, then held up her empty hand to him, the patterns dark and angry, purple like an ugly bruise. “If you see anyone else with patterns like these, don’t trust them.”
Bobby nodded solemnly, and she vanished again.
Step Four- got you on the floor:
Mira and Zoey had made quick work of the horde of demons in the storefront. The air glittered with the traces of them. Only the coward from the storeroom was left, squealing in fear as he dodged the shin-kal that Zoey was chucking. She was missing on purpose, leading him to a corner where Mira waited to impale him on her blade.
Rumi leapt across the aisles and her claws clamped down on the demon’s shoulder. She threw him to the floor. Zoey and Mira flanked her, weapons ready at the demon, but they let her have this: her sword at his throat.
She wished so badly that demons could bleed.
“If you—if any of you demons ever comes for Bobby again, I will follow you into hell and make sure there is nothing left of you to come back.”
The pitiful creature on the floor was crying. “I don’t understand! Why are you helping them? You’re a demon like—”
Rumi severed his head from his neck before he could finish.
“You can follow them?” asked Mira.
“Maybe we don’t follow anybody into hell?” suggested Zoey.
“Girls?” Bobby cried from behind the door, one eye peering through the hole Rumi had made with her claws. “I think I’m locked in!”
Rumi let go of her saingeom and dashed for the blockade of sodas, turning it over without care. Hands were around her, voices saying let us help, but she could barely see, barely hear through the fury—They had taken him, they scared him, her Bobby, the sweetest man in the whole entire world, and they shouldn’t even exist anymore because she’d remade the honmoon but it wasn’t enough, it could never be enough, because the new honmoon was tainted by her demonic blood and a demon could never make it gold—
The door opened under her claws, and Bobby looked up at her, eyes shining, like he’d seen the sun. “My heroes!” He looked to Zoey, then Mira, the smile on his face faltering as he took in the sight. “Girls, what the fuck is going on?”
The music died on Rumi’s phone without ceremony. Two hands, one small and warm, one long fingered and firm, fell hard on Rumi’s shoulder, more weight than strictly comfort.
“I’m not running.” The words escaped Rumi’s mouth in a low growl. How many times had she promised in the last weeks that she was done running, and still they did not trust her.
(how could they trust her, when she looks like this?)
“You’re okay,” said Zoey softly at her side, then to Bobby, “Hi Bobby, we hunt demons. Also, demons are real.”
“Right,” he nodded along in a poor impersonation of understanding. “And Rumi is…”
Rumi ducked out of the hands gently pinning her. Her hands were at her face; claws pressed against the teeth that would not shrink away. “I’m going to the apartment. Bring him back there and we’ll explain all of it. Bobby should know.”
“No.” Mira shook her head. “Nuh-uh. That is too far a jump and there is no way we’re leaving you alone right now.”
“I’ve gone further—”
“Rumi, please don’t make us beg,” said Zoey.
Rumi pushed again at the tusks but they would not recede. “I can’t—girls, I can’t make them go down.” Tears welled in her eyes as her claws dug into her gums. Maybe she could rip them out?
“Oh,” said Bobby. “Is that the problem?” Bobby snapped his fingers, and Huntr/x snapped to attention. “Mira, Rumi, switch jackets. The length in Mira’s will cover Rumi’s hands.” He marched through the abandoned convenience store and pulled a pack of face masks off the shelf with one hand while he was typing on his phone with the other. “Rumi, wear one of these. A cab will be here in three minutes to take you three back to the tower.”
Rumi pulled on the mask. It felt lumpy and awkward, but her teeth were fully hidden.
Bobby punctuated his typing with a flourish and looked back up to his girls. “The crew has already been dismissed for the day and we’ll reconvene tomorrow if you’re all feeling up for it.” He smiled and gently took Rumi’s clawed hands in his own. “I want to know everything, but this is clearly a private conversation, so I don’t want to hear a word until we get you girls home, okay?”
Rumi nodded and her girls closed around her, trapping her and Bobby into a hug.
###
They told him everything. Or rather, Zoey told him everything, with occasional direction from Mira. The honmoon, the legacy of protection in song, their role as hunters, Rumi’s status as a half demon, the break down and build up of a new honmoon, every bit of it, as Rumi quietly panicked on the far edge of the couch until her claws finally went away and her teeth shrunk down to barely noticeable fangs.
“Golden was supposed to fix it,” she finally said as the energy in the room waned.
Mira groaned loudly into her hands, revisiting an a old frustration. “We don’t know that, and obviously we’re never going to try for gold again, because we don’t know what that will do to you.”
Zoey gave a firm and final nod. “You don’t need to be fixed, Rumi.”
“Not me,” she growled. “I mean, we wouldn’t still be dealing with demons if the idol awards had just gone the way we planned and Bobby would never even have to know about this.”
Mira stood from the couch and loomed long over her. “And we’re lucky it didn’t, because if all the demons were banished, that leaves us with what, half a Rumi? I will 1v1 every demon myself if it means keeping you in this world.”
Rumi tensed. She could feel the need to fight rising within her, right when she’d finally pulled herself back together. Mira was so sure Celine was wrong, that Rumi had put her whole life into a goal she wouldn’t survive, and god, she wanted to spar with Mira so bad, knock her on her smug stupid—
Bobby leaned back, and the motion broke Rumi from her spiral. He un-steepled his fingers and cracked his neck after the long time spent in quiet contemplation as the girls’ words washed over him. “Okay. First things first: Rumi, does it hurt to keep your teeth and claws hidden?”
Rumi’s mouth hung open. “What?” She shook the confusion free. “No, no. What? Bobby, no, this? This is me.” Perfectly manicured nails, perfect idol-trained smile. She put it on just to show him, to remind him. “I’m not hiding anything.”
She pointedly ignored the massively dramatic sighs from Mira and Zoey.
“It’s okay if you need to let it out. You girls are superstars: you say the word and we will pivot on a dime. We’ve already got the demon hunting motif seeded, so maybe we go with a heavy metal angle and we say all your appearances are in costume from now on—”
Zoey brightened at that, her hand twitching for a notebook. “I could write a story album about losing to the demons! Please let me write a story album about a world corrupted by demons.”
Mira threw horns at her, already in solidarity. “I would look fuckin’ sick in corpse paint.”
“I don’t want to look like this all the time!” Rumi’s voice ricocheted off the new honmoon and boomed through the apartment. Bobby flinched. Rumi felt her eyes go hot, the sharpening of her vision that came with molten gold irises, and she closed them, putting just an eyelid’s worth of distance between herself and the room so that she would not run away. But her patterns were still alight, their flicker impossible to ignore even with eyes closed
“It’s not a skin condition,” said Bobby softly as the realization dawned on him. “I wish you’d have told me, kiddo.”
“Why does everyone need me to let it out?” she asked softly. Rumi looked down at her hands, the faintly shimmering patterns, the claws that slipped out with that stupid little tantrum. “Why is it only the real me when I’m at my worst?”
“Woah.” Mira’s low voice put a halt on the conversation.
Zoey’s brow furrowed. “I don’t think that’s what anyone is saying, Rumi.”
“This is your worst?” Bobby scoffed, then shrunk back as three sets of eyes pinned him to the wall. “What? I’m just saying…” he shrugged, floundered with his hands, seemingly afraid to speak his next words, then he shook himself out of it. “I mean, come on! Rumi I watched you bust into that place magic style, an avenging angel with a glowing sword, kill two demons faster than I could blink, took the time to give me just enough direction so I don’t fully freak out, all while Zoey and Mira kept up the music while mowing through what sounded like a full-on army… I wouldn’t call any of this your worst.”
Rumi’s lip quivered, unsure what to do with the praise.
Bobby’s smile turned devious. “That photo shoot at the hot springs where you tried to convince the sponsors that you could wear a turtleneck underwater, I think that might have been your worst.”
Zoey snorted a laugh. “You looked like a sad hairless cat left out in the rain!”
Mira laughed. “You wouldn’t take off your socks. You looked like you had hooves!” Her laugh cut short. “You’re not going to grow hooves, right?”
“Ew! No!”
“Could be cute,” said Zoey.
“You would,” griped Mira with a playful shove.
Zoey giggled and shoved her back. “Come on, for Rumi? So would you!”
Rumi buried her blushing face in her hands as Bobby’s eyes swept over the three of them.
“Should I go?” he asked.
“NO!” The answer came as a chorus.
“Bobby,” Rumi sighed. “I’m so sorry to wrap you up in this. You work so hard.”
He smiled and reached for Rumi’s hands, then pulled her in close for a hug. “It’s what you pay me for! You don’t have to carry everything on your own, kid.”
“I thought I was going to lose you.” Oh no. Her lip was wobbling. She didn’t want to cry. Bobby was rubbing her back. She’s definitely going to cry.
“So what do you guys need? A team of demon fighting k-pop idols needs more than just a guy to handle the schedule and bring snacks.” He produced his phone like it was conjured from the honmoon and began furiously typing. “Someone to organize threat levels?”
Zoey stood at attention. “I have several notebooks categorizing the different demons we’ve faced, and the best practices for defeating them!”
“Great! And they are…?”
Zoey winced. “Somewhere in this apartment?”
“I’ll get working on a database as soon as we find them.”
“No,” said Rumi.
“Agreed,” said Mira. “Bobby, we don’t want you getting hurt. We can handle this.”
“We almost handled it for good,” muttered Rumi as she pulled away from Bobby’s arms.
Mira’s exasperated cry added three syllables to the word “Stop!”
“How?” asked Bobby. “I mean, you explained the goal with Golden, but how does that even work?”
“The golden honmoon is an impenetrable barrier. It was going to keep demons out for good, so that no one would ever be hurt by them again.” Rumi spoke like she was reading the words from the teleprompter.
Bobby frowned. “But the honmoon is powered by song, and it gets stronger when people feel the music together. So were you supposed to just, I don’t know, write one song so good that no music would ever have to be written after it?”
A murmur of “what’s” rippled across the trio.
Zoey recovered first, but her face was still twisted in disgust. “Well obviously we would keep making music.”
“I think I’d die if I couldn’t?” said Rumi.
“You are not allowed to die,” said Mira. “We’ve been over this!”
Rumi ignored her. “Bobby, that’s not how music works. There’s always something new.”
Bobby shrugged. “That’s what I’m saying!”
“Are you saying the hunters lied about a golden honmoon?”
The shrug pulled even higher as Bobby turtled into his shoulders.
“Why would they lie about that?” Rumi’s voice was panicked.
“Wouldn’t be the first lie we’ve heard from a hunter,” said Mira, then “ow!” as Zoey kicked her in the leg. “Not her,” she said of Rumi.
“It wasn’t a lie,” said Rumi. “We saw it.” She turned to Mira and Zoey. “We all saw the strands of gold at the end of our last tour.”
They both murmured in agreement, but Zoey was clearly churning on the idea as her mouth moved without her brain.
“It would be a convenient lie,” she offered. “I mean, the way concerts connect us to the fans, that feels like gold already.”
“But why would they lie,” asked Rumi again, her panic traded for desperation.
Bobby sighed. “Industry people do it all the time. Especially when their talent wants to believe the lie. One perfect song to unite the whole world? Yeah, achievable, you girls have had a lot of number one hits, but seasons change, people get tired. Nothing lasts forever!”
Zoey nodded. “How far back can we trace the idea of a golden honmoon? There’s been generations of hunters, and none of them could turn it gold. So maybe, some of those old hunters were like, I’m tired of being mega talented superstars and badass demon slayers, and their mom-hunters had to be like, okay if you keep working harder eventually you’ll never have to work ever again.” She grimaced. “I mean, that sounds like a mom move, right?”
“Yup.” Mira’s eyes were in the middle distance, glaring down the mom in her head.
“So there was never a chance,” said Rumi. Her eyes were on her hands, on the shimmering patterns. “I was always going to be like this.”
Bobby hugged her fiercely. Mira and Zoey joined him. “This,” he held tight to her shoulders, his hands light by the subtle glow of the patterns that marred them, “is my hero; Ryu Rumi. I wouldn’t have you any other way.”
Rumi let out an ugly sob and collapsed against his chest.
“He’s right, you know,” said Mira. “Gold was never an option. But what we have, even if it’s not perfect, it works.” She touched the honmoon and the vibrations of her unsummoned weapon rang around them. “And I’d get bored if I didn’t get to smash any demon faces in.”
“Not yours,” said Zoey, winking at Rumi, “Yours is beautiful.”
“You’d better not.” Bobby held onto Rumi tighter, smashing her face as he put his body between himself and Mira. “This hair alone is insured for more than the private jet!” He kissed the top of her head. “Should I revise the insurance? Is demon hair like, impervious to normal wear? I swear I’ve never even seen a split end…”
“Brbby!” Rumi paddled her arms at his chest. “Cn’t breathe.” She pulled away and wiped the tears from her face. “I can’t believe you’re so cool with this. With everything.”
Bobby grinned at them. “I’m always cool under pressure. That’s what I’m here for.” His phone chimed, and he looked down. “Gotta run. Zoey, get me those notebooks, let me know if you need help finding them. Mira, keep me informed when you dip out for a demon fight. We’ll come up with a code word. And Rumi,” he gave her hand a squeeze. “Try to relax. You’ve got people to help. Don’t try to carry the world on your own.”
He was halfway to the elevator before Rumi could shout after him. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to meet up with Celine to look through old hunter records to see if we can corroborate my theory!”
“You’re not a demon hunter, Bobby!”
“I am now! Goodbye!” The doors closed on his winning smile, and whisked him away without a care for Rumi’s argument.
She turned back to Mira and Zoey who were doing the world’s worst job of stifling laughter behind her.
"When did he even contact Celine?!"
"He's Bobby," said Mira, as if that explained everything.
"He's really good," said Zoey. "We should give him a raise."
Rumi sighed and nodded. "We should."
Mira gestured her over, pulling Rumi toward the couch. "Are you okay?" Her eyes narrowed, not in scrutiny, but in concern. "It usually doesn't take you so long to go back to regular boring Rumi."
"Boring?" she gasped, offended, then collapsed face first onto the couch. "No? I mean, not really."
Zoey petted her hair. "It's okay if you're not, you know. We're here for you. I'm serious, I'd write a whole cinematic story album if you needed to go demon mode for a year or two just to let things air out."
Rumi turned up to her. "You want to do that anyway."
Zoey giggled. "Yeah."
"Point stands, though," said Mira. She nudged Rumi's shoulder with her leg, skin on skin, unblemished on exposed patterns. "Whatever you need, Rumi. We're with you."
Rumi flopped over and threaded her fingers through Mira's, through Zoey's, and let herself hold them tight. The world was still here, she was still here, and the honmoon they'd built was holding even if it wasn't perfect. "Do you think Bobby could create a honmoon weapon?"
"Totally," said Zoey.
Mira nodded solemnly. "I bet he pulls a gun."