Page 35 of Death and Do-Overs

“You’d like a fry,” I said.

“Yes.”

Yes—that was another new word. This was good.

I lifted a greasy potato to Nie’s pale lips. She opened and chewed eagerly.

“I bet once you have some calories in your system, you’ll be able to speak more clearly,” I told her.

But then I looked at the bottom of her neck sitting on the wooden table, which was the only place the food could go.

“Except you don’t have a digestive system,” I told her. “Let’s wait and see how that fry goes before we try another.”

Nie bared her teeth in a display of her displeasure over my suggestion. Apparently she was quite hungry. And angry.

“Agreed,” I said. “I’m furious as well. It’s horrible what someone did to you. Iwillavenge you.”

Nie’s expression softened. I wasn’t sure if she was appeased or….

“Do…nnnn’t die,” she said.

Not appeased, worried. Of course she was more concerned about my safety than her revenge. I’d feel the same way if our roles were reversed.

“Me dying would be unfortunate, especially if I’m the only whole one of us left. You can’t expect me to walk away, though.”

“No.”

No? No to which part?

I chose to take it to mean she didn’t want me to leave Nevermore, at least not until we had answers.

“Did you really die in that alley?” I asked Nie.

“Yes.”

Good, this was good to have clarification, especially after I thought maybe she was telling me that I was going to die.

“Were you cursed in Piccadilly, so you died in that alley from the curse, by leaving the city?”

No answer.

“Did the curse make your body explode, leaving no trace but a glove and your head?”

No answer.

For now, there was little to do but wait for Nie’s speaking abilities to strengthen.

Other questions pinged through my head, though, and the power to pursue at least one topic of interest remained at my fingertips.

I scrolled through a couple of pages of pictures from my Levi Rivers search, finding no one who even remotely resembled the man in white. I should have found something by now. I was beginning to seriously believe his name wasn’t Levi Rivers.

It was also possible that he worked for The Library, the self-appointed secret organization that policed all things supernatural.

Though I had met Lily, a former associate of the organization, most of what I knew about The Library came from Imogen, whose accounts tended to be told through a glittery and hallucinogenic filter. Librarians traveled through toilets that transported them through time and space. They communed with antler-clad bunnies. They claimed to have access to all of the knowledge in the universe, yet regularly misinterpreted situations, like arresting Andrew for a magical murder Rose had committed.

Levi’s bravado fit my limited impression of what a librarian was meant to be.

“Fry,” Nie said. “Fry. Fry. Fry.”

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