Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

MAR

I stared unblinking at the head in the box. The hair was black with bangs, like mine. The cheeks were round, like mine. The lips were big, and coated in blood-red lipstick, like mine. I recognized the perpetual frown lines from the mirror, but the complexion was too pale, and the skin at the edge of the lips was cracked and peeling.

It looked like a horror movie prop made of clay and plaster, not flesh and bone.

This couldn’t be real.

This was all some elaborate prank by Wendy or Imogen to….

No, neither of them was the type to find something like this funny. Imogen was a giant ball of sunshine, so ridiculously positive that sometimes I felt like looking at her would permanently burn spots into my retinas.

Wendy’s presence wasn’t so abrasive, but she was loyal, earnest, and not at all antagonistic except in defense of someone she cared about. Mock her best friend Rose, and Wendy would get stabby. I was equally certain she would never send me something like this.

Sending a head in a box as a prank was more like something I would do. That meant…maybe Nie had done it.

Had my clone sent this prop as perverse proof that while on her exciting new adventure to explore the world she still took the time to think of me? This was the most reasonable explanation for the disturbing sight on the exam table in front of me.

Shock waned to mild disturbance, and I tried to find humor in the “gift.” Tomorrow was Halloween, so the timing was perfect. I could set this in the window of my home, or hide it in the medicine cabinet to startle Jayden so thoroughly he’d wet his pants. ‘Tis the season.

Perhaps there was something more to see in the box. Maybe a little note from Nie that explained the history of the object. Or maybe a note about the clearly-gifted artisan who’d crafted our likeness.

I didn’t see a note. Hmm.

I searched the face for a maker’s mark, along with proof of its manufactured nature. I couldn’t find any seams in the rubber.

The black eyeliner was slightly uneven on the left wing. Was that proof?

I checked the mirror on the side wall, and to my chagrin, found my own cat eye slightly off.

All right, the eyes were the next point to check, right? As a suspicious man had recently pointed out, the eyes were the window to the soul. There I’d find the truth.

The open eyes staring up at me had a foggy appearance. Beneath the obscuring haze, the irises were the blandest shade irises could be—graphite.

Just like mine.

The eyes weren’t glass. They were real.

Nie hadn’t sent me a Halloween prop.

My heart shot up into my throat. I stumbled back away from the box.

This really was Nie’s head.

The one that belonged perched between her shoulders.

Reality was far crueler than a questionable Halloween prank. Someone had murdered Nie—me—and delivered my head here to taunt me.

Bile seeped through my guts. I clenched my stomach and leaned back against the cabinets for support.

My legs felt weak. My head pounded. The bile lingering in my stomach crept up my throat.

Don’t lose your head.

The “kernel of truth” written on crumpled parchment and left on the passenger seat of my car came back to haunt me. Ha. Punny, and easy peasy to remain calm with my own murderer tormenting me.

I closed my eyes, took a breath, and swallowed down my panic.

This wasn’t the first time my clone had been murdered.

For my first death, Imogen had killed Nie. It’d been an accident, and in reality that murder had been the fault of the grim reaper who had been parading around as a flying sheep to torment her. Coercing Imogen to kill Nie had been a manipulation tactic to force Imogen to take over the reaper’s position.

Fortunately, that manipulation had failed.

Unfortunately, it was impossible for someone to have accidentally chopped off my head, put it in a box, and delivered it to Barnacles’s doorstep. This situation was entirely different than the last time.

Still, my next action should be the same.

I slipped off my gloves and reached my hand slowly into the box, pointer finger at the ready.

When Nie had died that first time, I’d touched her corpse. I’d felt what it was like to die, a sensation I had no desire to live through ever again. Nie had poofed away into oblivion without a trace, as if she had never existed at all.

I’d gained all of her memories as if I’d lived them myself. That meant if I touched Nie’s disembodied nose now, I would know everything Nie had known. With any luck, that knowledge would include who had killed me. Her. Us.

I paused an inch from my face.

What if Nie didn’t know who killed her? What if her head disappeared, and any physical evidence there was to be gathered disappeared with it?

I’d feel her fear, her pain, relive the worst moment of her life, as if they’d happened to me.

Touching Nie’s head could be a grave mistake.

The pop of the weather seal was the only warning I received before the shelter’s door swung open. The sound of hammering rain filled the room. When it had started, I had no idea, but the weather was the least of my concerns at the moment.

Priority one—hiding Nie.

I launched into action and threw the cardboard flaps up and over the top of the box, then positioned myself protectively, and with any luck, subtly in front of the table.

Was I quick enough? Cold sweat broke out on my forehead.

With a practice flick of his chin, Jayden tossed his mop of sopping wet hair and grinned at me as he stepped inside.

“Hey,” he said.

As flatly as possible, I said, “Hi.”

“It’s getting dark out there.”

It was getting a different kind of dark in here. “Mmm.”

Jayden hadn’t noticed the package on the table or he would have said something. I inched to the side, following his slight movements to keep the box out of his line of sight.

Jayden slung his coat onto the rack. “Have you gotten all the dogs out yet?”

Right, the dogs. I was supposed to take them before the storm hit so that they’d actually pee.

“I meant to,” I said. “Haven’t yet.”

“We’ll do it together. Saw some wicked lightning on my way in. Once the thunder starts….”

I nodded. We both knew how the day would go.

I wanted to help him with the dogs. I wanted everything to be normal today. I wanted not to have Nie’s head in a box hidden behind my back.

Wants didn’t matter.

“I’m sick,” I lied. “I shouldn’t have come in today.”

“You can go home,” Jayden said. “I can cover things here.”

“You sure?” At the very least, I needed to get the head into my car. But leaving the shelter entirely was by far the best option.

“You, Marnie, have never ever taken a sick day. At least for as long as I’ve been working here.”

It was true. Barnacles used to be so strapped for cash, Wendy would try to take care of everything alone, including not paying herself for her shifts or overtime. I’d done what I could to support her. At least the shelter’s finances had improved. Since Adoptaganza, the shelter had the resources it needed now.

“I’m taking the day,” I said.

“I hope you feel better,” Jayden said with a warm smile. He headed toward the dog room, pausing at the door. “What’s in the box? Kittens?”

My every muscle clenched. I took a breath and tried not to let my discomfort show.

“Nope,” I said, completely calm and normal. There was no way for him to know my heart was trying to beat its way out of my chest or that I wanted to scream just for the release of it. “Not kittens. Personal thing.”

“Kay. Get some rest.”

“Will do.”

I watched him go, then snatched up the box, my belongings, and a pair of work gloves. I hurried out to my car before Jayden could ask me anything else.

Cold rain pelted my shoulders as I curled my body protectively over the cardboard.

Safely inside the car, I checked to make sure Nie was all right. She was, or as all right as a dead person’s disembodied head could be. I strapped Nie’s box in the passenger seat and deflated in the driver’s seat.

My soaked black hair pasted to my head like a helmet. My soaked black peacoat sopped up enough water to keep my skin soggy and chilled for the rest of the day. But none of that mattered.

I had a monumental task ahead of me, possibly insurmountable. I had absolutely no idea where to start. The one person I truly trusted was dead.

Which meant I was on my own. Or….

A shiver of revulsion coursed through me as I realized what I had to do. Every fiber of my being rebelled against it, but there was no other choice.

I needed to ask for help.

I pulled out my phone and opened the untraceable communication app my coven used to safely discuss magic, murder, and all other manner of horrors that had befallen our little trio over the past months.

I texted Wendy and Imogen: Emergency meeting. My house. ASAP.