Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

MAR

I scrambled away from Levi as quickly as I could. I wished I could crawl into a hole and hide until everyone left. My head was still spinning, and I couldn’t be held responsible for my actions when I was hardly conscious and reeling from the flood of new memories.

“You kissed a man and made another Nie.” Imogen clapped her hands together in pure glee.

“No,” my copy and I said in unison.

Imogen shot her eyebrows up in surprise and her hands up in defense.

“We’re attempting to solve Nie’s murder. I’m not her,” my copy said. She nodded in my direction. “You’re the original. That makes you Mar.”

That made sense.

“I’ll be…Greta.”

“That’s pretty,” Imogen said. “Is that your middle name?”

Like someone would name their child Margaret Greta, basically Margaret Margaret. Well, someone might, but fortunately my mother had not done that to me.

“Greta is short for Margaret, my first name.” I rose to my feet and did my best to brush the dirt off of myself.

Levi looked at Greta for a long time, assessing like everyone did when they first saw two of us. It was like they expected to see some small difference, but there weren’t any, not in our physical appearances anyway. The differences seeded now, as our unique experiences grew and transformed us into individuals.

Those differences were slight. But Nie used to eat ice cream with a spork, like some sort of alien. To anyone else, the behavioral change would be too insignificant to notice, but I knew. Every Marnie knew.

“I assume you don’t share a consciousness, or Mar, you would have known from the start what happened to Nie,” Levi said, with his usual sharp perception.

“We’re completely separate people until one of us dies,” Greta said. “Then the survivor gets the memories. After that, I could be the new Marnie Prime.”

She felt like the original, of course she would feel like she was supposed to be the one who lived. I also knew her well enough to know she’d prefer if we both lived.

“So like twenty years down the line, we could be on Marnie version fifty? Like you could be that far removed from whichever one was the original?” Imogen’s eyes lit up like the prospect was absolutely fascinating. Then she actually said, “Fascinating.”

“You’re both Marnie,” Levi said, in a tone that implied he meant we were both equally entitled to that name, and to my life.

“Yes,” Greta and I said in unison.

“How many of you can exist at once?” he asked.

“Two,” Greta said.

“As far as we know,” Imogen said. “As the coven magic grows, so do our abilities. You could eventually be fifty Marnies at once.”

I shivered at the thought.

“No thank you,” Greta and I said at the same time.

Imogen chuckled, positively glowing with delight. She took a picture and tapped away on her phone, likely informing “the crew” of my current situation.

“Do you control the creation of your clone?” Levi asked me.

“No,” I said.

“Not consciously,” Imogen said. “Not yet.”

Every time I’d split into two versions of myself, I’d been under extreme duress. First, Imogen had forced me into a conversation as to why I’d hated her. In a state of high emotion, I’d explained the way she’d mentally tortured me by taking over my body and holding my mind prisoner. Then I’d split in two.

The next time was during the high-stakes battle with the reaper. I split for the second time. That’s when Nie had been born.

Now, the start to the third split—I’d kissed Levi Rivers.

Fury, frustration, mortification—those were my catalysts.

From here out, was I doomed to create new versions every time my emotions ran high? If so, we would need to find a solution, because one salary would not be enough to maintain infinite Marnies. Would we end up fighting for our right to maintain our lives, or would we break ties to spare each other the trouble?

Greta glanced at me, and I knew she shared my concern.

We weren’t the types to rely on others. We weren’t the kind of people who wanted anyone else around.

“There are only two of us,” Greta said. “That’s enough.”

“Plenty,” I agreed.

“I don’t know, it could be fun to have a whole bunch of you. I love Marnies.” Imogen looked back at her phone. “Ooh, a message.”

The surrounding trees seemed to press in on us. We really should head back into town. It didn’t seem like the goblins had followed us, but there was still a cloaked murderer out there—Guy Jones—and the reaper who hated us.

“We should walk and talk,” Levi said, as if thinking the same thing.

We slowly started our way back toward town.

“Before we get into what the crew is saying, what did you see, Mar or Greta?” Imogen asked. “Did the foot give you new memories?”

“Nie bought food from Caspian,” Greta said.

Imogen’s expression turned to confusion in response.

“Purple guy at the general store,” I said.

“Oh okay. Good stuff,” Imogen said.

She looked between me and Greta.

When neither of us elaborated, she flipped her phone so we could see.

Rose: Tell me that’s not a fox.

Wendy: Where?

Rose: In the third image.

Wendy: Looks like a reddish blur to me.

“It seems unlikely for a fox to be in town,” I said.

Imogen opened the picture in question and zoomed in for a better look. Of course making the picture larger didn’t magically create more pixels, so the reddish blur only became a larger reddish blur.

“Do you think that’s a fox?” Imogen asked.

I shrugged.

“Greta, do you think this is a fox?” Imogen asked.

Greta shrugged.

“I did see a fox in town once,” Levi said.

We all turned to him.

“That’s it. Whole story,” he said.

Rose: Is the fox wearing a crown?

“Rose mentioned a cat who was really a fox before,” Greta said.

I nodded. “The one who locked her mom in a shed and magically controlled the entire neighborhood.”

“And now Noodles is her mom’s friend,” Imogen said. “That’s the name of the devious cat-fox—Noodles McDoodles Butterbelly.”

I had no idea how Rose’s mom could forgive Noodles.

Imogen typed back a response to Rose.

Imogen: It’s too blurry to tell if it’s a fox or a cat or a balled-up sweater.

Rose: I’m calling my mom.

Probably to make sure the cat-fox was home in Pennsylvania, and not here in Nevermore, New Jersey.

“That reads like one sibling tattling on another,” Greta said.

It did, which probably wasn’t far from Rose’s intention if in fact there was a possibility that the creature was here in Nevermore.

Was Rose’s relationship to the cat-fox now like they were siblings? It lived with Rose’s mother. Did Rose’s mother treat the cat-fox like it was her child?

I needed to stop this line of thinking. Their relationship was irrelevant to the situation at hand.

“Is Noodles a murderer?” I asked.

“I don’t remember hearing that specifically,” Imogen said.

“Locking a person in a shed and leaving them to rot is worse than killing them,” Greta said.

She was right. But what would Noodles have to gain by coming to Nevermore?

“Did Wendy ever tell you what the deal is with Guy Jones?” I asked Imogen.

“Oh, no, I forgot to ask,” Imogen said. “Do you want me to ask her now while we wait for Rose?”

I pulled out my own phone and gave it a little wiggle. “Easier if I do it.”

Imogen smiled.

Me: Wendy, I don’t remember Guy Jones or his tantrum. Can you remind me what happened?

Wendy: Hey, Marnie!

Me: It’s Mar.

Wendy: Got it. I hope you’re holding up okay.

I wasn’t sure what to say to that.

Wendy: So, Guy Jones. He came in looking to adopt a cat. You processed his application and found a previous neglect report.

Wendy: When you told him he’d been denied, he threw himself against the cat room’s glass wall.

Recognition sparked. It happened in January or February. I specifically remembered Guy’s lack of eyebrows.

Me: He slid down flailing his arms and sobbing “why me, why always me?”

Wendy: Yes!

Imogen: I feel kind of sorry for him, now.

Wendy: Previous neglect, Imogen. Don’t feel sorry for him. Our duty is to protect the animals, three-hundred-percent.

Imogen: Of course, but he seems sad. Life’s hard. Sympathy doesn’t hurt the animals.

Wendy: Okay, fine, you morally-superior woman. You’ve got me there.

Imogen wrinkled her nose.

Guy Jones’s melodramatic display had been complete with crocodile tears, leading me to question not only his stability as a human being, but his earnestness.

Me: Was denying his application enough motive to drive Guy to murder nearly a year later?

Wendy: ˉ\_(ツ)_/ˉ

Greta said, “Better to be safe and follow up on every lead.”

She wasn’t wrong, but we didn’t have any way to know where Guy Jones had gone once he’d arrived in Nevermore. Following up wouldn’t be easy.

Rose: Noodles is gone. Red alert. Noodles is not at my mom’s house and hasn’t been for a week.

Wendy: Your mom really should have told you.

Rose: Yes, well, you know how she is. She thinks there’s nothing to worry about. She thinks that kitsune is trustworthy now.

Wendy: She’s wrong. Ten thousand percent.

“Kitsune. Imogen, have you read anything about them?” I asked.

“Nope,” she said. “We have another lead to follow now though. And since there are four of us, that’s two teams.”

Her stomach growled.

“It’s late,” Greta said. “Mar and I haven’t slept in…I need sleep.”

Rose: Even though the flooding is over, Wendy still has lots to do at the shelter. But I can come help tomorrow.

Imogen: Awesome!

That would be incredibly helpful.

Me: If it’s possible, Wendy, could you hunt down a pic of Guy Jones or give Rose a description to go on? Then Rose, it’d be invaluable if you could check for him at the train station footage from the twenty-third.

Wendy: No problem.

Rose: Happy to.

“Okay, so maybe we talk everything out over a late dinner, then we crash, and tomorrow we split into two teams,” Imogen said.

“One to confront the reaper,” I said.

Imogen nodded. “That’s got to be me, because of my ability, and one of you Marnies.”

“So me, obviously,” Greta said.

“Why obviously?” I asked.

“Because if you’re the real Marnie, you have to deal with the real Marnie problems.” She glanced over at Levi, who I had kissed.

That was a real problem indeed.

I tried to swallow the lump that formed in my throat when I looked at him. It just grew bigger. “Go Team Noodles.”