Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

MAR

W hen I called an emergency coven meeting, I expected my coven—Wendy and Imogen—to come. I did not expect Rose and her fiancé to show up as well.

As people went, the two of them were tolerable enough.

Rose and I had been casual acquaintances for years. She was Wendy’s best friend, and consistently showed up in Wendy’s orbit, including at the shelter and related events. Recently she’d grown ridiculously strong and disturbingly hungry. I found Rose both tolerable and overly enthusiastic in her search for affection.

Her hunt for a romantic partner had come to a close not long ago, upon meeting Andrew, an even-kiltered, potion-crafting wolfman. Having grown up in the hidden world of magic, Andrew’s supernatural experience easily eclipsed the rest of our knowledge combined.

Since I was begrudgingly asking for assistance, it was good he was here. If half of what Wendy said about him was true, he was the most likely of my guests to offer a solution to my dilemma.

Everyone stuffed themselves into the living room of my tiny cottage. Andrew narrowed his attention on the box sitting on the coffee table in the center of the room as everyone else engaged in idle chatter.

Rose tucked a strand of dirty-blond hair behind her ear. “I bet we’ll see snow any day now.”

“It’s early still,” Wendy said.

Imogen flashed a wide smile from one to the other, impatiently waiting for an opportunity to join into the conversation. Her teeth were nearly as bright a shade of white as her lipstick was red, though everything about her dulled in comparison to her desperate desire for belonging.

Imogen and Rose shared that desperation. While Rose craved romantic love, Imogen craved friendship, both so fervently that they’d allow themselves to be harmed to reach their goals.

I, on the other hand, preferred my solitude, while holding firmly to my belief that people sucked.

During our limited interactions, I’d gotten the impression that Andrew leaned closer to my camp than everyone else’s. While the others chatted away, he lingered halfway between Rose and the door, still staring at the box on the table.

Could he sense something about it due to one of his supernatural hyphenations?

“The first flurries always come in October,” Rose said. “In two days it’ll be November.”

“Hmm,” Wendy glanced up at nothing, as if considering. “I guess that sounds right. But it still feels too soon.”

Still grinning, Imogen leaned forward and clasped her hands together. “We didn’t get snow until Thanksgiving at the earliest in Sunflower. Sometimes not until mid-December or later.”

“That’s when it’s supposed to snow,” Wendy said. “It gives Christmas those fuzzy winter wonderland vibes.”

Imogen beamed from head to toe at the positive result of her effort, clearly unable to properly restrain herself.

I would never understand her. I would never understand the comfort any of them took in meaningless interactions, their nervousness crackling beneath their smiles.

I cleared my throat, drawing everyone’s attention to me. “When I arrived at Barnacles this morning, this box was on the step.”

“It wouldn’t be an emergency if the box was full of kittens,” Imogen whispered, almost to herself.

I said, “My head’s inside.”

“What?” Wendy hunched forward, eyes wide, like she was choking on a chicken bone. Her always-frazzled hair seemed to grow larger with her surprise.

Rose crinkled her face. “Since your head looks like it’s still attached to your shoulders, does this mean your clone?—”

“Nie’s dead?” Imogen clapped her hands over her mouth.

“Yes.” It was the obvious conclusion of her head currently residing inside the cardboard box.

“May I?” Andrew asked.

I gestured for him to help himself.

He still didn’t touch the box, but he did step closer as he continued his observation of the exterior.

Since he was here, I had an idea. It relied on both Andrew’s alchemy and Wendy’s lych magic.

“Do you have a potion that can regrow missing bodies?” I asked Andrew.

Wendy barked a nervous laugh.

As our eyes met, a flush of red flooded up her neck. Had she guessed what I was thinking?

“Unfortunately, I don’t have any potions like that,” Andrew said.

Unfortunate indeed. Without Nie having a body attached to her head, it didn’t matter that Wendy’s magic was reanimation. There was no Nie to revive.

“That would be really cool to regrow a body,” Imogen said. “And way useful in very particular circumstances probably. But I think Nie would still be dead now, right? Even with a torso and limbs and everything?”

Rose touched Imogen’s arm. “Probably.”

Definitely.

I returned my attention to Wendy. Her face was still red. She definitely knew what I was thinking.

“The cardboard is dry,” Andrew lifted the box to check the bottom. “No blood.”

“Should I get Brock in on this?” Imogen asked, in reference to her significant other. “Generally when there’s a murder, you should call the police.”

Andrew set the box down and opened the top.

“Marnie’s not dead,” Rose said. “There’s legally only the one of her. That’d be hard to explain to the police. And we don’t want The Library involved either. They’re liable to lock us all up, no questions asked.”

Rose shivered.

She’d had a less than pleasant experience dealing with both the police and their magical equivalent, The Library, not so long ago while hiding the corpse of her ex-fiancé in her basement freezer. I hadn’t thought about the similarity of our situations before now.

“I don’t mean to disrespect your experience,” Imogen said. “It’s totally fair for you to feel that way, Rose. I probably would be hesitant in your shoes. But I have to say, I’ve had really positive experiences with The Library. There’s some super nice and helpful people there, too. And if we’re trying to avoid Library involvement, Lily isn’t technically with The Library anymore…ish. We could call her?”

I didn’t know Lily particularly well, but I’d sat near her at a few social events. She seemed peculiar, competent, and a skilled liar. I wasn’t sure what to think about bringing her in.

My instinct was to keep my privacy and make as few people as possible aware of my struggles.

Rose pressed her lips together, suggesting she wasn’t sure talking to Lily was a great idea. No one else commented with words or body language about Imogen’s suggestion.

I decided it was best to make a mental note that contacting Lily was a possibility, but perhaps not an ideal one.

“Did you try touching Nie’s cheek?” Wendy asked me. “Like when Imogen killed her before?”

Imogen’s eyes went glossy. She stuck out a pouty lip, probably not even realizing she was doing it.

I knew she was as much a victim in those circumstances as Nie and I had been. There was no need for her to dwell on the past.

Wendy gave Imogen a side hug, flowing skirt whipping over her legs. “It was the reaper’s fault, not yours.”

Imogen nodded, but her lip stayed out.

“Nie disappeared when I touched her before.” I wasn’t entirely sure that was why I hesitated this time. I should say so. If anyone could understand the fear pumping through my veins, it was the women standing in the room with me. They’d all died before, or gotten close to it. Still, I held back.

“Better that you waited.” Andrew lifted Nie’s head from the box, examined her neck wound, and set her gently on the table. “One clean cut. The wound is completely dry.”

How was that possible? How was any of this possible?

The air in the room grew heavier as everyone stared at Nie.

Andrew ran his fingers through her hair, checking for what, I had no idea. He cut off the bottom of a few strands of her hair and put the clippings into a vial.

“Who would do this?” Imogen asked, voice quivering.

“Someone who hates Mar, I guess,” Wendy said.

That could be a long list. It was impossible to know, as I made zero effort to appease people, less still when it came to people I didn’t actually like. That meant the list could be pretty much the entire human population minus the people standing in my living room.

“Can you tell how long ago Nie died?” I asked Andrew.

“It can’t be that long, right?” Wendy asked. “Didn’t she just leave?”

“She’s been gone a week,” I said, returning my attention to Andrew.

“I can’t be certain without testing. Magic can interfere with these kinds of estimates,” Andrew said.

Did that mean he believed there was a supernatural cause of death?

“Back to suspects.” Rose raised a hand as if that was required to speak. “Who hates Marnie?”

I shrugged.

“Someone with explosive percent road rage,” Wendy offered.

“Ooh, I know,” Imogen said. “That guy at the Burger Ruler on Third who spits in the food.”

“Tell me you’re not still eating there,” I said.

Imogen turned red. “No. I mean, not after I saw what he did to the fry oil.”

Wendy shook her head. “The spit wasn’t enough of a deterrent?”

“He didn’t spit in my food,” Imogen said. “He only does it when people aren’t friendly.”

She glanced at me, then away just as quickly.

“Tainting the oil, though, that hurts everyone,” Imogen said.

“Someone who wanted to adopt a pet and you said no?” Rose made a face like she didn’t believe any of these were reason enough to decapitate a person.

Some of the people who reached out about adoptions, especially since Barnacles had gone viral, were particularly ill-equipped for human interaction, let alone pet ownership.

I said, “It’s possible.”

Rose twisted her lips. “Feels flimsy.”

“It’s impossible to know who anyone is deep down, or what they’re capable of,” I said.

“I don’t think that’s true,” Imogen said. “I’ve been inside lots of people.”

A moment of silence passed as the rest of us gagged a little in our mouths, or at least that was my reaction.

“I’ve been inside you, Mar,” Imogen said.

I shook my head, not wanting to hear that, or whatever she had to say next.

Imogen bared her unnaturally white teeth in her most unsettling smile. If I didn’t know it meant trouble, I’d like this expression of hers best. It was off-putting to most, as it resembled a snarl, but it was brutally honest, unrestrained Imogen.

She said, “It’s how I know there are rainbows behind your raincloud exterior, just waiting to be released.”

I poked her in the nose. “No.”

She blinked hard.

Andrew shined a small flashlight into Nie’s eyes, still not sharing what he was looking for or if he’d found anything. He swabbed inside her ears and up her nose.

My nose itched as I watched.

“What about the reaper?” Wendy suggested. “She’s clearly gaga for murder.”

Imogen frowned. “Birdie promised to leave us alone.”

After attempting to manipulate Imogen into becoming a reaper, Bernadette Graves conceded defeat with a promise not to kill any of us before it was our time. There was nothing stopping her from going back on her word, or from deciding it was Nie’s time to die.

“That’s also possible,” I agreed with Wendy.

“She wouldn’t go back on her word.” Imogen furrowed her brows. “She’s a good person. I just know it.”

I was not convinced. No one in their right mind would be.

Something occurred to me then, something I should have thought of sooner.

I turned to Wendy. “It’s also possible Nie’s death isn’t about me at all. It could be about you.”

“Me?” Wendy opened and closed her mouth. “How could this be about me?”

“Whoever killed Nie may have thought she was the only me,” I said.

“Ooh, that’s smart.” Rose snapped her fingers.

“There’s no addressee on the package,” Andrew chimed in.

Wendy threw her hands up. “Why?”

“Almost no one knows about your cloning magic. So it’s more likely that your head was sent to Wendy to intimidate her,” Rose said.

“Or me,” Imogen said. “I work there, too. And I adore Marnie.”

Aside from supernatural people who happen to have been bodysnatched by Imogen, like me, I couldn’t imagine anyone hating her. She was too nice. Now that I knew her, I couldn’t hate her either.

“You, as a lead, points back to Bernadette,” I told Imogen.

She wrinkled her nose and flattened her lips into a line, like she wanted to tell me again that Bernadette had promised to be nice.

“No address or postage on the box means it was hand delivered,” Andrew said.

“And could have been intended for any of the three of us,” Wendy said.

So a dead end.

“What about Jayden?” Imogen asked.

Then she and Wendy shook their heads in unison. It was a laughable suggestion, really. Jayden was the most universally beloved person on the planet.

“No way,” Wendy said. “And we’re lucky Jayden didn’t find the box first this morning.”

If it was messy to get the police involved in a magical clone’s murder, traumatizing our non-magical coworker with my situation would have been a disaster. I tried to swallow the lump forming in my throat.

Andrew opened Nie’s mouth and narrowed his eyes.

“What is it?” I asked him.

“I’m not sure.” He reached inside with a pair of long tweezers. “Something’s lodged in her throat.”

It could be an important clue, or it could be nothing.

“Do you think she choked to death?” Rose asked.

“That had to be so scary,” Imogen said. “One time I had a scallop get lodged and my cousin laughed as I turned purple. I thought I was going to die for sure.”

“That’s terrible. Your cousin is terrible,” Rose said. “You know that, right?”

I ignored them and focused on Andrew’s task, waiting to see what he’d uncover.

“He is terrible, for sure.” Imogen nodded. “I Heimliched myself on the back of a chair. Jabbed it right under my ribs and whoosh, out flew the scallop.”

Wendy wrinkled her nose. “Even if Nie choked to death on a scallop, or anything else, someone still cut off her head, ten thousand percent.”

Finally shoring his grip, Andrew lifted his tweezers. Held in the ends was a pale green object. He set it down on the table.

Everyone leaned in for a better look.

From the six legs to the curved carapace, the object appeared to be a beetle carved from a precious stone.

“That’s definitely not a scallop,” Imogen said.

The beetle looked to be about two inches long and fairly thick. Based on the size, and the difficult time Andrew had dislodging it, someone must have really shoved it in there hard.

There was no way Nie had done this to herself.

“Do scarabs mean anything special to you, Mar?” Rose asked.

Scarab? Was that the type of beetle it was?

“No,” I said. The only thing that came to mind when hearing that word was the Brendan Fraser classic, The Mummy.

“Makes me think of that movie, The Mummy. With those swarms tearing people apart.” Wendy visibly shivered.

“So it’s an Egyptian thing?” Imogen asked as if any of us had any real answers.

“The scarab is a symbol for rebirth and resurrection,” Andrew said.

Apparently one of us had answers. Though Andrew’s insight only led to more questions.

“Another taunt,” I said.

“I agree,” Wendy said. “It’s like the killer was pointing and laughing at you, Mar.”

“Or maybe they were hopeful,” Imogen said. “Like the resurrection would work.”

Everyone stared at her.

“What?” she said. “It could happen.”

“The scarab can also represent good fortune.” Andrew gently lifted Nie’s head and replaced it in the box.

“See, good fortune’s nice.” Imogen smiled.

I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t roll them at Imogen. She was here because I asked her to be. She was trying to help.

“Does the scarab have connections to reapers?” Rose asked.

Good question. I opened my eyes.

Imogen’s smile fell.

“Not that I’m aware of,” Andrew said. “I don’t sense any magic in the stone. You should hold onto it for now, Mar.”

Imogen wrinkled her nose as I lifted the scarab from the table. It felt heavier in my palm than I’d expected. Colder, too.

I asked Andrew, “What do you expect to learn from the samples you collected?”

“We’ll learn if Nie was under the influence of anything at the time of her death—magical or pharmaceutical,” he said. “There’s nothing abnormal upon examination.”

Except for the fact that her head was in a box.

“So are you going to touch her now?” Imogen asked me. “Learn all the stuff she was up to before she died?”

I wouldn’t admit it, but I was nervous. Clearly whatever had happened to Nie had been horrible. It was entirely possible I’d experience that same horrible thing. It could be scarring, even. And in the end, I might not glean any useful information.

Wendy waved her hand, her face flushing a brighter shade of red than before. “I have another idea. Touching Nie’s head is a one-shot option. If you think it’s all right, Mar, I could try to revive her.”

This was exactly what I’d wanted. It was what I still wanted.

Then we could ask Nie questions. There’d be two of us to talk things out. It was the absolute best option, one I didn’t think Wendy in her reluctance to do magic would actually offer.

“Do you think that’ll work on a piece of a person?” Rose asked.

“It’s the most important piece.” Wendy chewed her lip and glanced back at me. “What do you think?”

“You could always absorb her later?” Imogen punctuated her suggestion with a skeptical and questioning look.

Three out of three coven votes for reviving Nie. That was as sure as I could get, even if I didn’t feel particularly certain at all.

I told Wendy, “Do it.”