“Will you let me examine you?”
I regarded my daughter. Her black hair was pulled back in a ponytail, her glasses resting on her nose bridge. She looked so much like Lily.
“What can you do?” I whispered.
Marigold took off the white nylon gloves she’d been wearing all day. I’d always thought she had beautiful hands. A scholar’s hands, with long sensitive fingers that now hovered above the birthmark on my chest.
“I’m going to touch you,” she said, as if she were giving me an injection.
I felt a gentle hand on my skin, and Marigold’s face immediately contorted. I watched the color blanch from her skin, goosebumps bubbling up her neck to her cheeks as the air wheezed out of her nostrils. Her eyes were open yet empty.
“Marigold!” I said sharply. Her hand had dropped away, and when I patted her cheeks her skin was ice cold, like mine. I shook her. “Marigold!”
I nearly fell off the bed in relief when the blood rushed up to her face.
Depth returned to her eyes and she caught her breath. She sat back against the headboard next to me and, as if nothing had happened, she asked: “Do you remember where you lost your shadow?”
The question was a slap to my face. “What does my shadow have to do with anything?”
“You left it in 12 Harbourage the night you took these.” Marigold was prepared. From her pocket, she took out a pair of silk gloves she’d brought from home. Gloves slightly yellowed by time and that she seldom wore these days, yet I’d still recognize them anywhere.
“They were Lily’s,” my daughter said.
“How did you—” I halted mid-sentence and stared. The scar beside Marigold’s eye shone, pale like the mark on my chest. Was this her curse, the ability to see into my secrets?
I wanted to ask her, I wanted to know how the curse had hurt her, but I couldn’t. Not now. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” I said, raising my voice a pitch. It was a warning that my daughter knew well. “Lunch is in an hour. We need to leave.”
I managed to open my suitcase, and rummaged through my clothes for something suitable to wear.
“What are you so scared of?” Marigold asked. “I’m trying to help you.”
“I don’t need your help.” I picked up the phone to call for Edison.
“Don’t you care what’s happening to you?”
The phone rang. Once. Twice. Then came a familiar voice, “Wei?”
“Hello, Edison, it’s Aunty Helen.” I was calm, unlike Marigold, who simmered beside me. “Will you come pick us up? We’re ready.”
“My pleasure, Aunty. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
I returned the phone to its cradle with a clatter.
The cold was getting sharper. I reached for my jacket, but my fingers tingled; I couldn’t feel them anymore. I thrust my hands into my pants pockets so Marigold wouldn’t see them shimmering.
Of course she saw. She draped my jacket over my shoulders.
“We’re going to 12 Harbourage. We’re going to find your shadow.”
“Listen to me, don’t you go anywhere near that house,” I spat. All these decades later, I could still taste the herbal bitterness of Sai Ma’s poison on my tongue. I could still see the pointed tip of her hairpin stabbing down at my face. “I’ll go on my own.”
“You mean you’ll ring the doorbell and barge inside?” Marigold challenged. “Or will you sneak in—as nothing?”
“I’m done arguing.”
“You might die if you disappear again. You need me to come with you.”
I hardly heard her. A puff of cold air shot into my left ear, bringing a hollow pain that made me stiffen. My skin was tingling, all of me freezing over. I could barely feel my feet as I forced myself toward the door. Yum cha with Sui Chan was no longer a possibility. I needed to get to 12 Harbourage.
