Chapter Eight #2
Mr. Allen puffed on his pipe thoughtfully and shook his head.
“No, no one new has moved to town as far as I know, and I’ve been back for twelve years now.
People used to come here looking for work, but not anymore, even though we still have the ironworks and a mill.
When I came back, I thought people weren’t staying because of the woods and such, so I converted my family’s home into an inn to let visitors acclimate since we’re at the edge of town.
I thought if the industrial folks and their families stayed long enough, they’d get used to it.
“But Aldorhaven has changed for the worst since I left, and nothing seems to fix it. It used to be a booming town. It attracted magical people like us, but no one uses their gifts anymore. They have the mill and ironworks, so why bother? Then, the town stopped bringing people in and started refusing to let the ones already here go. People don’t leave town for more than a day or two, just enough to sell and buy what they have to before they return, but it wasn’t always like that.
That only happened to a few people whose roots went too deep, and now, it’s everybody.
It also seems to repel people who are trying to come in, which would explain some things.
The first pair of investigators said it took them multiple tries to find the turn into town. ”
Oliver frowned. He had felt the jolt when they crossed the magical threshold in his sinuses, but they had had no issue finding the turn.
“But you left?” Gwen said softly.
“Years and years ago, and it was difficult to leave then. As you can see, I’m back and haven’t left since, despite this walking dead nonsense. I’m as stuck as the rest of them.”
Felipe nodded thoughtfully. “Mr. Allen, do you think you could show us around town? We would like to start interviewing people soon and take a look at the bodies of those who came back before it gets dark.”
“Don’t expect cooperation, inspector. You’re not from here, and as far as they’re concerned, the dead coming back to life is somehow proof of Aldorhaven’s industriousness.
Even our dead never sleep,” Mr. Allen parroted with a roll of his eyes as he pushed to his feet.
“But, yes, I’ll show you all around. Let’s go to the cemetery first. It’s the closest, and it will be better if you can start your investigation before anyone realizes you’re in town and interferes.
I’m sure Luther Stills will have something to say about it. ”
Before Mr. Allen could make it to the door, Felipe asked, “One last thing, do you have any idea what happened to the first pair of investigators?”
The innkeeper froze, his hand tightening on the head of his cane.
When he turned back to them, he looked far older than he probably was.
“Yes and no. After I told them what I knew about the dead, they went off on their own to investigate. I should have insisted I go with them, but they gave me the brush-off when I tried to tell them what had happened, and I was annoyed. When they didn’t come back for dinner that night, I assumed they ate at the Fool’s Fire since that’s where most of the single men in town eat.
After I got up in the morning, I realized they still hadn’t returned, so I went looking for them.
Mrs. Owens, who runs the general store, said she last saw them going into the woods around two o’clock.
I told them not to go into the Dysterwood under any circumstances, but they didn’t listen.
I kept looking and asking after them, but I never saw them again. ”
“Did anyone go into the woods to look for them?” Oliver asked.
“Son, there’s only one family that can go in those woods, and they aren’t helping anyone but themselves. Once something goes into the Dysterwood, it belongs to the Lady, and there’s no getting it back,” Mr. Allen replied before turning and leaving the sitting room with Argos on his heels.
***
OLIVER HUGGED HIS COAT closer against the fall chill as he followed Felipe, Gwen, and Mr. Allen up the hill to the cemetery.
His mind turned over every ominous thing Mr. Allen had told them since they arrived.
The dead rising, the town trapping people, the unnamed dangers lurking in the woods, and god knows what else.
He wanted to ask him about everything, but the man had disappeared to suit up for their trek into town and hadn’t volunteered anything since.
All of them were on edge. Even if he couldn’t feel Gwen’s thoughts, Oliver could see the pensive set of her mouth and the way she narrowed her eyes at nothing as she did when her research wasn’t adding up.
While Felipe’s face had become an impassive mask, every once in a while, Oliver felt a pang of dread as if he had run his heart across cold steel.
He wasn’t certain what had upset Felipe more, the possibility of dealing with a rogue necromancer or the way Mr. Allen talked about the forest. He assumed the latter.
Felipe hadn’t wanted to visit the murder town for a reason, and that forest was as good a reason as any to stay away.
It could have been hyperbole and superstition, but why chance it?
The first pair of investigators either aimlessly wandered around the Pine Barrens until they succumbed to the elements, or they had been killed by something the day they trespassed into the woods.
Either way, they had probably met a bad end.
At the top of the hill, Mr. Allen stopped at the cemetery’s iron fence.
Through the bars, Oliver could see an expansive lawn with graves and tombs as far as the eye could see.
In the center further up the hill, stood a ramshackle building that might have once been a church, but only feet behind it, the trees of the forest loomed.
The oaks and pines at the periphery of the forest leaned forward, dusting the taller graves with their shaggy boughs.
Their shadow fell over the dead, but what gave Oliver pause was the way the trees moved with an unseen wind.
They shivered and danced, reaching forward with a renewed fervor as Mr. Allen tugged a bar loose from the fence and motioned for the three of them to slip inside.
The older man gave the trees a wary look half a second before a shiver passed down Oliver’s spine.
Oliver looked around for the source of the sensation, but all he could find was the smell of sweet grass instead of dry leaves.
Rubbing his itchy nose, Oliver passed through the gap and held Felipe’s Kodak while he helped Mr. Allen through the gap in the ironwork.
“Stay close, try to be quiet, and remember what I said about the woods,” Mr. Allen instructed, setting the bar back in place.
“So are we supposed to stay away from all the trees or is there a specific part that’s considered the Dysterwood?” Oliver asked, eyeing the trees as their susurrus murmurings finally ceased.
“The Dysterwood encircles the whole town apart from the far end of the river and the sliver of road by the inn, and even there, it’s growing closer.
It wasn’t always this close, but it’s gotten greedy and is encroaching on town more and more.
Over here, it used to start a ways back, beyond the farthest grave.
As you can see, it’s climbing the hill, eating up everything in its path.
” Mr. Allen tutted and shook his head. “Nothing to do about it now. Come this way, folks. We put the bodies in the church for safekeeping.”
Oliver and Felipe exchanged a silent look as Mr. Allen strode forward with Gwen at his side as she peppered him with questions about the types of trees.
Oliver could understand why the other investigators brushed him off.
As they silently crossed the lawn, Oliver hung back a step, scanning the names and dates on the tombstones for anyone with the name Joanna.
Maybe if he could find her grave, he would be able to find his father’s surname without having to ask.
By the time they reached the church, he had found one Joanna, but the spelling was wrong as were the dates.
Oliver pushed down his disappointment; he could always come back and look later.
Up close, the old church looked even worse for wear.
While the windows were somehow still intact, the cupola appeared singed and shattered, and paint peeled off the sides of the building like birch bark to reveal the rotting boards beneath.
Oliver sniffed the air and recoiled. There was definitely something dead in there.
At a sharp poke of anxiety flashing across the tether, Oliver turned to find Felipe looking peaked already.
Digging around in his gladstone, Oliver pulled out a thick handkerchief and handed it to Felipe, who immediately stopped to wrap it around his nose and mouth.
“How about I take a look at the bodies by myself first,” Oliver whispered to Felipe as Mr. Allen stopped to dig around in his pockets.
“I’ll call you in when I know for sure what I need photographs of, and while I’m examining the bodies, you and Gwen can talk to Mr. Allen about the dead and the people they attacked. ”
“If you’re sure, then, I’ll—”
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Gwen hiss-whispered.
“You are not relegating me to question duty, Oliver Barlow. Remember, you need my vampire expertise, and I need corpse experience for my book. They’re the most important part.
Besides, if I’m with you, I can take notes, and then you won’t get your notebook corpsy. ”
“I was trying to save you from the smell.” When she gave him a hard look, Oliver sighed. Better Gwen than Felipe. “Fine, but if you feel like you’re going to vomit, please do it outside.”
Rolling her eyes, Gwen shook her head and strode toward the church. Oliver made to follow when Felipe caught his arm and pulled him closer. Oliver forced his hand to stay at his side, resisting the urge to rest it on Felipe’s hip while he spoke like he did at home.
“I’ll stay and talk to Mr. Allen about the victims, but I don’t like you going in unprotected.”
“I promise I’ll be careful.”
“I know.” Leaning close enough that Oliver could feel the flutter of fabric and lashes on his cheek, Felipe added, “Three tugs for an emergency. Two tugs if you need me. One for I love you.”
The press of his lips on his cheek was so quick Oliver might have missed it as Felipe stepped away if it weren’t for the single tug on the tether.
Oliver’s cheeks heated as he gave it a tug in return and ducked his head as he dug through his gladstone for the parcel of cheese he had brought with him.
He knew convincing Felipe to go back to the inn or visit the tavern when they just began their investigation would be impossible.
So far, Felipe’s hands were steady and his face unmarred by dark circles, but it was only a matter of time before they appeared if he didn’t stop to eat.
“Here, I brought this for you. Eat a little while I’m in there.” When Felipe looked like he wanted to argue, Oliver shoved it into his hands. “I don’t think it will be edible for long if it stays in my bag.”
Felipe said nothing as he pocketed the waxed paper full of cheese, but Oliver smiled at the sluice of warmth across the tether. When he turned back to the church, Mr. Allen stood waiting and watching them from the door.
“Everything settled, then? Good,” he said as he pulled out a heavy, iron skeleton key that was as old and weathered as the church.
“The others wouldn’t want me to let you in here, but Luther forgets I have a key as well.
My father was the sheriff and the groundskeeper here for many years. He had keys to everything.”
When Felipe reached for his gun, Mr. Allen waved it away.
“You’re safe in daylight but keep an eye out for a balding man in a frock coat.
He’s far more of a danger to you than the dead are right now, but don’t pull a gun on him, or I’ll never hear the end of it.
” As Mr. Allen slipped the key into the lock and tugged on the door handle, he grimaced.
“I would brace myself if I were you. I haven’t opened the building in almost a fortnight, and the bodies weren’t all in the best shape to begin with. ”
When the old church doors swung open, Oliver wondered, not for the first time, what he had gotten them into.