Chapter Nine #2
Between his mother snapping at him for leaning on gravestones while preparing for Día de los Muertos and Oliver’s strict morals regarding the dead, Felipe still thought of graveyards as hallowed ground, even if he saw death as frequently as a former soldier.
Felipe read the name off the stone before offering a silent apology and gingerly sitting on the grave beside the innkeeper.
“Your partner says I should tell you about the dead and who they went after. Might be a good idea to eat your snack before I do.”
Felipe’s cheeks heated as he reached into his coat with shaking hands to grab his notepad and pencil. “That can wait.”
“Eat. It’s good you have someone who looks after you. Besides, I need a minute to catch my breath.”
Forcing his hands steady, Felipe sighed and took out the cheese. It had crumbled into a dozen pieces, so he took a chunk and held out the paper to Mr. Allen. A small smile crossed the other man’s lips as he popped some into his mouth.
“Your friend has good taste. No, thank you, the rest is yours,” he replied when Felipe offered him a second piece.
The innkeeper’s blue eyes flickered over Felipe’s form as he quickly tipped the rest of the cheese into his mouth and dusted his hands on his trousers.
“You know, I remember reading about an Inspector Galvan in the papers years ago.
This was before I moved back to Aldorhaven.
Oh, it had to be in ‘82 or ‘83. He helped take down a gang of train robbers, all while getting shot multiple times, and he still managed to locate what was stolen. Was that you?”
“Yeah, that was me,” Felipe said, mustering a smile he knew didn’t reach his eyes. It felt like a lifetime ago that he was proud to recount his acts of daring.
“How long have you been with the Paranormal Society, inspector?”
“Twenty years. Why?”
“The way you reacted before made me think of my time in the army. They would send us on missions where we would see horrors beyond comprehension, but it never showed until the moment we were safe, truly safe. That’s when the shakes would set in or the vomit and tears.
It’s like your body can only handle so much poison before it has to come out.
Then again, there were men I knew who went straight from the Union Army down to the South to keep the rebels in check during the reconstruction or went out West with the army to fight a far less noble war without a second thought.
They would rather drink poison for the rest of their lives and hope they became immune than deal with the weakness after. ”
You don’t know me, Felipe wanted to say but couldn’t.
“He’s making you soft, but trust me when I say, that’s a good thing,” Mr. Allen said gently. “If you’re already softening, you’re less likely to shatter when you crash.”
Felipe swallowed hard, focusing on Oliver’s steady heartbeat on the other end of the tether instead of answering.
When he crashed— He had too many people relying on him to crash or show weakness now.
He needed to keep Oliver and Gwen safe while they were in Aldorhaven; he promised he would protect them with his life, and he would.
Clapping Felipe on the shoulder, Mr. Allen gave it a firm squeeze.
“My apologies for talking your ear off, Inspector Galvan. I worked with my local branch of the Grand Army of the Republic for years, paranormal and not, and you come to recognize these things. Anyway, you wanted to know about the dead, right?”
“Yes, sir, if you’re willing.” Felipe hated how unmoored he suddenly felt as he stuffed the empty wrapper back into his pocket and turned to a clean page in his notepad.
He had already received one ominous prophecy that day; he didn’t need another.
“Can you tell me about each of the deceased and who they went after?”
“I’ll go in order since it’s easier for me to remember them that way.
I rehearsed all this for the first set of investigators, but they didn’t even stay long enough to listen.
Truthfully, they didn’t do much of anything.
” Clearing his throat, Mr. Allen set his cane against the grave and got more comfortable.
“Sarah Lindstrom was first. She died not long after her wedding to William Lindstrom, maybe six months or so after.”
“What was her cause of death?”
“I’m not certain and neither was Dr. Miller.
It was tragic for her to die so suddenly and so young.
I assumed she had an illness or accident.
When she awoke, she went after her husband and nearly scared the life out of his second wife.
The next was John Fleming, another tragic accident.
He somehow got his arm caught in a piece of equipment at the mill and died from his injuries.
He went after Henry Stevenson, the foreman at the mill, and he would have gotten him too if Henry hadn’t shot him.
That seemed to knock him back out. Fleming returning got the town worried, but Roger Ekland coming to life really scared people.
He owned the mill along with his business partner, Andrew Hogarth.
Ekland was in his sixties, so him having a heart attack wasn’t surprising.
When he broke into Hogarth’s house and strangled him in his bed, everyone was shocked.
They had been in business together for nearly forty years. ”
Felipe narrowed his eyes at his notes. “Are they certain Ekland strangled Hogarth? Could it have been someone in the house who blamed his dead partner after what happened with the man from the mill?”
“Trust me, inspector, I know how it sounds, but they caught him red-handed. Mrs. Hogarth awoke to Ekland killing her husband. He had already been dead for several months, and he left... evidence behind. She started screaming, her housekeeper summoned the sheriff, and by the time he got there, Ekland had finished the job and was already walking back to the graveyard. Multiple eyewitnesses confirmed it was him, and he collapsed not far from his grave.”
“I see, and Mr. Hogarth hasn’t risen from his grave?”
“No, he’s resting peacefully, thank the Lord, and it was quiet for a few months before Annabelle Harrison returned from the dead.
I didn’t really know her at all; I don’t think anyone did.
She was quite ill for her entire life. Her parents kept her in the house, doted on her, constantly had Dr. Miller over, but it did little good. She died during a cold snap last year.”
“Who did she go after?”
“Her mother. She got her good too. She managed to break Mrs. Harrison’s hand and tear out her eye along with a chunk of her hair.”
“But she didn’t kill her?”
“No, her younger sister reported seeing Annabelle standing over their mother with a pair of scissors whispering. Her mother said something, and Annabelle dropped her and retreated to the graveyard without killing her or hurting anyone else. The strange thing is that her younger sister had become ill not long after her death, like whatever Annabelle had passed from her to her sister when she died, but since Annabelle awoke, she’s recovered.
It’s like she took the disease back to the grave with her. ”
“And the sister wasn’t involved in maiming Mrs. Harrison?”
“No, the mother and the house were covered in blood, but she was clean.”
Strange, very strange, Felipe thought as he made a note to revisit that and talk to Dr. Miller. “You said there was another rising recently?”
Mr. Allen released a tired sigh. “Horace Ridder. He— Well, we’re not sure how or where he died.
He disappeared one day and reappeared as a walking corpse, and yes, he was definitely very dead when he attacked the mayor’s wife.
He disappeared not long after I wrote to the Paranormal Society, so about three weeks ago.
Horace had a temper. Sometimes, he would get into moods and leave town for a few days to spite everyone.
He always came back, so no one worried until after the first set of investigators disappeared too.
By then, Horace still hadn’t turned up.”
“Do you have any idea why he went after the mayor’s wife?”
“No. He was chummy with the Stills as far as I know. He had been married to her niece after all, and as sheriff, he had been Luther’s righthand man. If you’re asking if he and Daphne Stills had an affair, no, I don’t think she would stoop that low, though stranger things have happened.”
“Could you show me where—”
Before Felipe could finish, a scream ripped through the air.
Launching off the grave, Felipe ran into the church with his gun drawn and his heart in his throat.
He swept his gaze and weapon across the tiny church, but it was empty save for Gwen frantically stomping and Oliver scrambling up onto the stone altar.
Felipe bit back a gag as the smell hit him at the same moment he spotted a legion of bugs racing out of Horace Ridder’s corpse.
“Ew, ew, ew, ew,” Gwen cried as she frantically stomped the bugs at her feet and squashed a swath of insects with her powers.
“Gwen, you are going to fall through the floor,” Oliver said as he wrapped his arms around her and hauled her away from the corpses and onto the altar. “Just let them settle down.”
Beetles, maggots, flies, and what looked like leeches roiled inside the man’s decaying flesh, on the wooden floor beside him, and in the air above the corpse.
“Are you all right?” Felipe called, trying to sidestep the swarm and not breathe.
“We will be. Mr. Ridder came with an infestation.”
Gwen frantically brushed at the hem of her dress. “I can do many things, but I cannot do corpse bugs.”
Felipe winced at the state of the dead man.
If he hadn’t been told the corpse was human, he might not have realized it right away on his own.
Mr. Ridder’s body had been eaten away by insects and whatever other creatures had gotten to him first, and his form was so bloated, discolored, and partly liquified that his features were barely recognizable.
Oliver would have to confirm it, but Felipe guessed Ridder’s body had been left in water at some point.
He had smelled that smell enough times when they fished bodies out of the Hudson or harbor to recognize it.
“Felipe, can you help Gwen get out?”
Hopping over the writhing mass of insects, Felipe went the long way to the altar around the other corpses.
On the stone table, Gwen scooted to the edge and pulled her makeshift mask tighter against the swarm of flies and mosquitos.
Oliver swatted away a beetle that flew too close to her and crawled between her and Ridder’s corpse as a buffer.
“Bride or back?” Felipe offered.
“Bride.” Half falling into Felipe’s arms, Gwen clung to his neck as he readjusted his grip. “Not a word of this when we get back to the society.”
“I wouldn’t think of it.”
Holding Gwen tightly, Felipe skirted the edge of the swarm as he made for the door.
Bugs bounced off his face and tangled in his hair.
He swore as something bit his leg. It instantly stung and itched, but he couldn’t do anything about it now.
Mr. Allen held the door open as Felipe carried Gwen outside and placed her onto the grass.
Smoothing out her navy dress, she shook out the fabric that had been around her face and frantically batted at her hair.
Felipe staggered to the grave Mr. Allen had been sitting on to scratch at his calf.
When he pulled up his trouser leg, he found an angry welt already forming.
“It had to be bugs,” Gwen grumbled. “Do you see any on me?”
As she turned in a slow circle, Felipe flicked away an errant maggot and brushed a beetle shell from her hair. He was about to return to Oliver with the Kodak when Mr. Allen pointed toward the cemetery gate.
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we have company.”