Chapter 4

"Your Star of David?" At my blank look, the doctor tapped a spot on the bottom right of her skull. Exactly where I'd been coshed. "Under your hair. We shaved a small patch to better examine the lump while you were unconscious."

Reality cracked, dark tendrils of WTF rushing in to fill the gaps. I'd gotten bruises before without knowing how, but a tattoo? I'd never been blackout drunk, which limited the possibilities to either when I was a baby or when I was in the hospital at age thirteen.

The doctor stared at me like she was going to call a drug and alcohol rehab center if I couldn't remember tattooing my head and even Priya looked alarmed.

I forced a laugh. "Oh, that one. The one that I got probably a year ago."

Dr. Samuels frowned. "It's a shame that the blow left a scar through it."

"Real shame. However, I'm sure God will understand." It seemed appropriate to punctuate that statement with something religious so I waved my hand in benediction. "Borei p'ri hagafen."

I'd recited part of the Sabbath blessing for the wine, but it was the only suitably religious sounding line I could remember.

"Borei p'ri hagafen," Dr. Samuels responded.

Priya let out a strangled cough, her shoulders shaking.

Now that we'd blessed each other with grapes...

"Can I go?"

Dr. Samuels scribbled something on a prescription pad. "Here's a list of symptoms to watch out for. It's highly unlikely any of these are going to present, but if they do call 911. Otherwise, take Tylenol for any headaches in the next little while."

Then, assured that Priya would drive me home, she discharged me.

The curtain had barely fallen into place behind her before Priya moved onto my bed and shoved my long, dark brown hair out of the way. She whistled. "Odd choice for a tattoo. Why'd you get it?"

"I didn't," I hissed.

"Well, that's weird and alarming. Hmm. If I had to pick a tattoo for you, this wouldn't be my first choice."

"You think? How big is it?"

"About an inch high. Black lines, no color."

I twisted around to look at her, narrowing my eyes. "Out of curiosity, what kind of tattoo did you see me with, were I to have one?"

"Tramp stamp, baby. Something glittery and pretty for Big Daddy to look at when he's spanking you." She enthusiastically mimed the actions, dissolving into guffaws.

So inappropriate, but I cracked a smile at her ridiculousness anyway and she winked at me.

I probed the tattoo gingerly with a finger. "Travel, a rich and fulfilling professional career, discovering I have a patriarchal religious symbol branding me. Nope. Not one of my life goals. Though points for the Handmaid's Tale vibe."

Priya slid her laptop into its protective sleeve. "Who could have pulled this off?"

"I dunno. My parents? But why? It's not like they were religious. Or totally batshit crazy because what the hell?"

"Your grandparents were super Orthodox."

"Yeah, and Talia was scarred from it. She wouldn't have put a Magen David on me."

"What about your dad? To shine good favor from the Almighty on his cons?"

"That seems farfetched, even for him." I folded up the two hospital blankets that I'd used. "I really hope it wasn't Dr. Zhang. Tattooing an unconscious kid seems like a serious contravention of the Hippocratic Oath."

"Maybe it was some kind of marker and you narrowly missed having your organs harvested for a black market ring," Priya said.

"Yup. We Jews have prime resale value on kidneys and livers." Motioning for Priya to turn around, I dumped the ugly, breezy hospital gown, threw on my faded jeans and purple sweater, grabbed my leather jacket, and headed out to Moriarty.

There was an aluminum foil-wrapped tray on the passenger seat and my car smelled like cinnamon buns, which was a vast improvement on the stale "new car smell" air freshener dangling from my rearview mirror.

"This is creepy," I said. "Tattoos, mysterious pastry, what's next?"

"Pity buns from Mummy. She drove me here." Priya pulled out her personal set of my car keys and got into the driver's seat.

I adored Priya's mother Geeta, who was an amazing cook and often sent pity food home for me. "In that case, I'm not sharing."

"You will." She turned the key without even doing the superstitious double pat and whisper and Moriarty hummed to life. The slutty bastard. "Or good luck guessing all your new passwords."

I unwrapped the foil, broke off a piece of cinnamon bun and held it out to her.

Priya popped it into her mouth then pulled out into traffic on West Broadway.

How had my day gone so wrong that being lied to by a client who might cost me my business was not the low point?

"You going to keep it?" Priya said.

"No, I'm going to find it a good home with two parents who'll love it and give it the life I couldn't."

She slammed on the brakes to avoid an idiot jaywalker, flinging her arm protectively across me.

My head bounced off the seat. "Ouch."

"Sorry."

"Obviously, I'm removing this damn tattoo at the first possible opportunity." Growing up with a dad who twisted the truth to his own ends and couldn't even go to the grocery store without getting something out of someone, even a smile, left me with zero tolerance for people trying to pull a fast one. Especially on me. So someone inking me without my knowledge or consent? Fuck that.

Knowledge was power and right now, I had a decided lack of both. I rested my head gingerly against the head rest. The back of my skull pounded like a bitch but there was no vertigo.

Rain pattered against the windshield and the wipers were a rhythmic hum, but Moriarty's cold interior kept me from falling into a sleepy daze. At least the tray was nice and warm on my lap.

Priya fiddled with the radio dial, turning up the volume as she launched into "Shoop" by Salt-N-Pepa. She nudged me with her elbow until I joined in, the two of us rapping our little hearts out, busting out the moves we'd made up to go with it. It was our happy song and I was helpless to resist.

Singing away, we hit our Commercial Drive neighborhood. While still branded as Little Italy with its banners hanging from the streetlights and crosswalks decorated in red, white, and green, its population was actually far more diverse. After Canada opened its doors to a fresh wave of Nefesh refugees several years back, the area had become quite the magic hub. A lot of the newcomers were from the Middle East and Africa and preferred the mild weather out here to the rest of the country.

Priya braked at a red light, rapping along with Big Twan, while I stared out the window at the massive cherry tree in the yard at Green Thumb Nursery that was doing its hourly magic cycle through the four seasons in defiance of the actual weather. In contrast to all the other trees with bare branches lining the sidewalks, this cherry tree was transitioning from spring to summer, ablaze in sumptuous pink petals that were already falling gently to the ground to make way for green leaves.

Outside the store, one of the employees in a jacket with the Green Thumb logo silkscreened on the front wrestled a large ceramic planter into the back seat of a car. Its owner, a bald woman with multiple piercings, adjusted the front seat.

I'd seen the employee around before. He'd shaved the stupid hipster beard he usually wore but the real change to his appearance was the smudgy shadow flowing sluggishly out of him and into the woman that had depth and an oily viscous texture, pulsing with malevolence.

I started.

Beside me, Priya rapped away like nothing was wrong.

The woman broke into a coughing fit, some essential part of her seeming to fade, all while the employee cheerfully assisted her with her purchase.

I grabbed the handle, intending to roll down the window and yell some kind of warning, when the shadow paused its movement.

Neither completely free of the man nor fully possessing the woman, the weird ghostly creature swiveled as if seeking something out, then stretched a tentacle in my direction.

My skin prickled, iciness permeating my core, and I fought the urge to wrap my arms protectively around myself to keep my heat and my soul from being sucked out. Instead, I practically choked the handle to keep that window sealed tight.

Five seconds until the light turned green and we could get out of here.

I yawned, staring out the front window with feigned disinterest and keeping every ounce of tension out of my body.

The smudgy tentacle drew closer.

The rest of that shadow was now only attached to the Green Thumb employee by the thinnest of tethers, having gone mostly inside the bald woman. Black lines slithered along her hands and across her face, yet none of the pedestrians walking by noticed.

Oblivious, Priya sang the final chorus.

Two seconds.

Come on, green light!

The tentacle plastered against my side of the car, pushing on the glass.

My stomach roiled and I stuffed my shaking hands under my ass.

A tiny tendril of darkness seeped into the car...

And snapped backwards into the woman, whose features were momentarily obscured by the shadow, a dark wraith standing in the rain.

The smudge broke free of the man entirely. He clutched his heart, convulsed, and fell to the ground, his expression a vacant stare.

The shadow had possessed him, used him up, and discarded him.

The shadow had killed him.

It was now housed completely within the bald woman, though there was no sign of it on her person or in her behavior. Like any concerned citizen, she had already dialed 911, yelling about a heart attack, but it was too late.

Priya turned to look -