Page 125 of Death and Do-Overs

“Imogen,” I said.

He looked no less confused.

“My friend is inside the shark man,” I said.

Otis’s expression turned from lost to disturbed.

I couldn’t help but laugh.

We started down the hall after Shark Imogen. Better to be as far away from the yellow fox and the bloody floor as possible.

A few minutes later, we crossed paths with Vent Marnie and Shark Imogen. The possessed sea creature carried an unconscious regular Imogen in one arm and pulled a large box behind him with the other.

Vent Marnie carried our messenger bag over her shoulder. I was glad it wasn’t lost.

“Are we the only two Marnies left?” Vent Marnie asked.

I wasn’t sure if the others I’d left fighting counted as contestants. But the quiet that had filled the tunnels suggested there were no other survivors.

“I don’t know,” I said. “What happened on your end?”

“I found Levi outside, attempting to find a way in,” Vent Marnie said. “I told him how to find you, then I went to hunt down Imogen.”

“You did good,” I said.

“You’re alive, so you did, too,” she said.

“High fives all around,” Shark Imogen said. Then she checked her own hands, which were both full, and shrugged.

“You should see this.” Vent Marnie nodded toward the box.

I looked inside.

There was a body with no head and only one foot. I recognized the clothes and the build. It was Nie.

“Where did you find her?” I asked.

“Noodles,” Shark Imogen said. “She came to help after you were taken. I didn’t know how to get in until Vent Marnie crawled out of a vent. But I wouldn’t have known where to look for this building or for the body room without Noodles.”

My clone frowned. “Can I be Greta instead of Vent Marnie?”

“Of course,” I said, as if I had any right to decide for her. “I’ll go back to Mar.”

“There were a number of bodies stashed in a room down here,” Greta said. “Fortunately, they weren’t taken by the goblins.”

That was fortunate. And possibly purposeful. Had Noodles stashed her there for safe keeping? I was probably giving the kitsune too much credit.

And thehowdidn’t matter. What mattered was that we had the rest of Nie. I couldn’t believe it.

“Do the honors,” Greta said.

I gave her my sword, took a breath, reached inside the box, and touched Nie.

A flood of memories flashed before my eyes.

I found a website with video footage from a Victorian town with dark flair. I’d found the address on a flier tucked inside a library book. It advertised a competition where the winner could get one wish granted by a wish-granting sprite.

Intrigued, I bought a ticket for Nevermore.

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