Page 19 of Death and Do-Overs

I couldn’t remake Nie, not on purpose, at least. I’d only created a copy of myself twice, and neither time had been by choice. It had just happened.

I said, “Yes, that theory.”

“Time will tell. I think that’s only likely if the rest of us start dropping dead, too.”

Great. That made me feel so much better.

We parked at the train station. I grabbed my messenger bag from behind my seat, careful not to bump Nie into anything as I retrieved her, and headed toward the ticket booth.

A howling sound filled the air, like a ferocious monster hiding in the woods of a campy horror film. It appeared to be coming from Rose’s stomach.

She checked the time on her phone. I caught the number on the screen—ten twenty-seven.

With an urgent intensity, she rifled through her bag. “I nearly forgot about second breakfast.”

What was she, a hobbit?

Rose pulled out a baggie filled with nuts and berries and started chowing down on it. After eating half of the contents, she offered me some.

I declined.

We crossed the rest of the parking lot to the open-air station. Nearly every surface was made of cement, from the parmesan yellow pillars to the parmesan yellow station floor, which was cut to look like large tiles.

The ticket booth stood out against the yellow, a small enclosed space painted barn red. Inside, a man stood with his eyes half-closed. He appeared to be in his sixties, ninety-percent mustache, and well on his way to falling asleep and toppling over.

As Rose and I reached the booth, the man blinked and wiggled his mustache back and forth like a rocking horse.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hello. Are you ready to purchase a ticket?” Ticket Guy asked.

“No,” I said. “My sister stole my credit card and purchased a ticket on the twenty-third.”

“Family can be complicated.” He shook his head and frowned. “If I was you, I’d call the credit company and report the card as stolen. They can sometimes help with fraudulent charges.”

That would be helpful advice if my story was fact instead of fiction.

“Thanks,” I said. “I was hoping you could look up her destination. It’s not listed digitally on the charge.”

Ticket Guy hissed a breath between his teeth. “I wish I could help you, but I’m not authorized to share customer information.”

“I’m only asking for what was done with my card,” I said, “not anything about anyone else.”

He offered an apologetic twitch of his lips and a small shrug. “Sorry I can’t help.”

Well, that was disappointing.

I turned my attention up to the board affixed to the wall beside the counter. On it was a list of destinations and times, along with a haunted house sticker and several more of what appeared to be white balloons but were more likely intended to be ghosts.

Maybe if I put myself in Nie’s shoes and pretended it was my turn to leave Piccadilly to travel anywhere I wanted, I’d be able to figure out where she’d gone. Crescent City wasn’t listed as a destination, though it was possible she’d taken a train south and headed west from there.

Rose looked from side to side, conspicuously. She was definitely up to something. Curious, I watched to see what that something was.

She leaned her elbows on the counter and narrowed her eyes at Ticket Guy. Her expression, usually jovial, took on a predatory quality. “Give us the purchase information for Marnie Ab?—”

“Margaret,” I interjected.

“Margaret Abernathy,” Rose said to Ticket Guy. Then she snapped her attention back to me, and every ounce of intimidation instantly disappeared. “Margaret’s a pretty name.”

---