Page 73 of Death and Do-Overs

“No,”my copy and I said in unison.

Imogen shot her eyebrows up in surprise and her hands up in defense.

“We’re attempting to solve Nie’s murder. I’m not her,” my copy said. She nodded in my direction. “You’re the original. That makes you Mar.”

That made sense.

“I’ll be…Greta.”

“That’s pretty,” Imogen said. “Is that your middle name?”

Like someone would name their child Margaret Greta, basically Margaret Margaret. Well, someone might, but fortunately my mother had not done that to me.

“Greta is short for Margaret, my first name.” I rose to my feet and did my best to brush the dirt off of myself.

Levi looked at Greta for a long time, assessing like everyone did when they first saw two of us. It was like they expected to see some small difference, but there weren’t any, not in our physical appearances anyway. The differences seeded now, as our unique experiences grew and transformed us into individuals.

Those differences were slight. But Nie used to eat ice cream with a spork, like some sort of alien. To anyone else, the behavioral change would be too insignificant to notice, but I knew. Every Marnie knew.

“I assume you don’t share a consciousness, or Mar, you would have known from the start what happened to Nie,” Levi said, with his usual sharp perception.

“We’re completely separate people until one of us dies,” Greta said. “Then the survivor gets the memories. After that, I could be the new Marnie Prime.”

She felt like the original, of course she would feel like she was supposed to be the one who lived. I also knew her well enough to know she’d prefer if we both lived.

“So like twenty years down the line, we could be on Marnie version fifty? Like you could be that far removed from whichever one was the original?” Imogen’s eyes lit up like the prospect was absolutely fascinating. Then she actually said,“Fascinating.”

“You’re both Marnie,” Levi said, in a tone that implied he meant we were both equally entitled to that name, and to my life.

“Yes,” Greta and I said in unison.

“How many of you can exist at once?” he asked.

“Two,” Greta said.

“As far as we know,” Imogen said. “As the coven magic grows, so do our abilities.You could eventually be fifty Marnies at once.”

I shivered at the thought.

“No thank you,” Greta and I said at the same time.

Imogen chuckled, positively glowing with delight. She took a picture and tapped away on her phone, likely informing “the crew” of my current situation.

“Do you control the creation of your clone?” Levi asked me.

“No,” I said.

“Not consciously,” Imogen said. “Notyet.”

Every time I’d split into two versions of myself, I’d been under extreme duress. First, Imogen had forced me into a conversation as to why I’d hated her. In a state of high emotion, I’d explained the way she’d mentally tortured me by taking over my body and holding my mind prisoner. Then I’d split in two.

The next time was during the high-stakes battle with the reaper. I split for the second time. That’s when Nie had been born.

Now, the start to the third split—I’d kissed Levi Rivers.

Fury, frustration, mortification—those were my catalysts.

From here out, was I doomed to create new versions every time my emotions ran high? If so, we would need to find a solution, because one salary would not be enough to maintain infinite Marnies. Would we end up fighting for our right to maintain our lives, or would we break ties to spare each other the trouble?

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