Chapter Eleven
Picking the Knot
Lying on the bed, Oliver turned the ring box over in his hand and tried to ignore the dread building inside him. He had hoped that getting changed and washed up after dealing with the corpses would help, but he couldn’t stop dwelling. He had been foolish for assuming the Aldorhaven case would be nothing more than a vampire panic, and worst of all, his foolhardiness had convinced Gwen to come. Now, he had to worry about the woods or something hiding in the corpses killing her and Felipe. Both were perfectly capable people, but Oliver hadn’t anticipated nearly dying in that creepy cathedral when he and Felipe had gone after Newman and the priest months ago. Bad things happened easily and quickly, and the way Felipe had been staring at the woods scared him. Oliver clenched his fist but let it drop onto the mattress. He shouldn’t have agreed to the case. He had gone thirty-seven years without knowing anything about his father’s family or his mother’s time in Aldorhaven. He should have just let sleeping skeletons lie .
On top of that, everything felt wrong. The collar of his shirt was too tight, the mattress was too soft, the noise outside the window wasn’t right, the smell of chicken and dumplings coming up through the floor was too much, and all he wanted was to curl around Felipe like a snail in a shell, but they probably couldn’t do that either. He could manage to still sleep alone after doing so for all of his life, yet sleeping half a foot away from Felipe without being able to touch him after nine months together was like asking him not to breathe. He had even brought the engagement ring with him in case he found some picturesque spot to propose, like that would ever happen in this godawful place. Foolish, foolish, foolish.
Throwing an arm over his face to block out the light, Oliver tried to slow his breathing enough for his chest to loosen. Keeping it together while inspecting the five bodies had been easy; he was merely doing the same job he did every day at the society. It wasn’t until he finished and couldn’t go back to his room that the day’s strangeness hit him all at once. He was in a new place with people he didn’t know, and he wouldn’t be able to truly relax until they left. At the creak of the bedroom door, Oliver stuffed the ring under his pillow as Felipe strolled in. His gaze flickered over Oliver’s face and form where he lay sprawled across the bed. Biting back a rakish grin, he put his finger to his lips and set the lock.
“Dinner should be ready in a few minutes. In the meantime…” Toeing off his shoes, Felipe soundlessly climbed onto the bed and straddled Oliver’s lap even as he mouthed silent protests. “He’s busy, and we’re not going any further than this.”
Kissing Oliver slowly, Felipe cupped his cheek and drew him closer until they were chest to chest. What little resolve he had left dissolved with each press of Felipe’s lips and hands to his skin. He hadn’t realized how much he needed this. Not the kisses or subtle sluice of arousal but the comfort of having Felipe close. Of someone he could merely exist with. Oliver wrapped his arms tightly around him and inhaled the familiar scent of his aftershave as Felipe kissed his forehead and lids before returning to his lips as if he could make up for all the times they didn’t touch that day. Leaning into his palm, Oliver shut his eyes and tried to ignore the burning behind them.
At the first hitch of Oliver’s breath, Felipe leaned back to take in his face before hugging him tightly. “What’s wrong?” he whispered without letting go.
Releasing a tremulous breath, Oliver went limp against his shoulder. When juxtaposed against the case, it all sounded so trivial. People were dying, and he couldn’t handle the smell of perfectly good food because he couldn’t sleep in his own bed or kiss Felipe whenever he wanted.
“I’m dreading dinner. Maybe I’m just hungry, but everything’s too much. I’ve grown accustomed to eating with only people I know. A restaurant’s anonymous but eating with a stranger is hard. You don’t care if I don’t speak or talk too much, and you don’t comment when my face or hands don’t do the right thing. Mr. Allen seems like a decent person, but… you know how it is. And then, today was a lot, and we can’t be how we usually are for days. It’s all hard for me.” A slightly histrionic laugh escaped his lips. “It’s only the first day, and I’m already—”
Felipe shushed him and rubbed his back in long, firm strokes. “I know, love, but it will go quickly. We can still sneak the occasional kiss or caress here and there, and if we wake up wrapped around each other, oh well. It happens to people who share a bed, even if they have no interest in the other person. All the same, I’ll make sure the door is locked at night. So far, I think you’ve done very well considering the circumstances.”
“I snapped at the mayor,” Oliver croaked.
“He deserved it.”
“He shouldn’t have talked to you and Gwen like that.”
“By the time you did that, I had already implied that he tried to murder his wife, so no harm done.”
“You did?” When Felipe nodded, Oliver sighed against him. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Felipe replied, the grin obvious in his voice even if Oliver couldn’t see it. “While I was downstairs, I asked Mr. Allen if we could use the dining room to discuss the case after dinner, and he said it was fine. Once we share our findings and figure out the plan for tomorrow, we can settle in for the night and unwind. If you think dinner will be too much for you, I can always bring you a plate and call you down when we’re ready for the meeting.”
As tempting as it sounded, Oliver would rather be with Felipe and Gwen than alone. Pulling back, Oliver kissed Felipe and pushed a walnut curl from his forehead. “I can muddle through dinner, but thank you. The whole family thing is weighing on me too. I keep thinking, what if they’re awful people? I know I never need to tell anyone else, but I’ll know. I just hope it isn’t the mayor.”
Felipe barked a laugh. “I somehow doubt you’re related to Mayor Stills.”
“I could be. You never know. By the way, did you ever write back to your family?” Oliver asked. At Felipe’s features falling, Oliver stammered, “I don’t care if you didn’t. I mean, I do. I’m sorry. I—”
“It’s fine, Oliver, and no, I didn’t do it yet. I probably should have before we left, but I need to be in the right frame of mind to get it right.”
Oliver wasn’t certain what he meant. Oliver knew there was something left unsaid that he didn’t truly understand. Part of him wanted to ask Felipe, but mostly, he wanted to pull Felipe on top of him and kiss him until the pensive notch between his brows loosened and he forgot all about his family. Before he could lie back, the door rattled in its frame like it was caught in a hurricane.
“Dinner’s ready!” Gwen called from the other side.
Pressing his forehead to Oliver’s, Felipe lingered in his lap a moment longer before flopping onto his back beside him. Oliver twined his fingers with Felipe’s and brought his hand to his lips. Whatever happened in Aldorhaven or with their families, as long as they were together, they would be all right.
** *
Dinner with Mr. Allen hadn’t been nearly as bad as Oliver feared. The chicken and dumplings were plainer than Oliver was accustomed to, but everything tasted good, even if Oliver was mildly concerned that meat and vegetables grown in Aldorhaven might be contaminated by magic that would turn them into lotus-eaters. Mr. Allen seemed aware of the weirdness of the place, so Oliver had to assume the food wouldn’t hurt them. While they ate, Mr. Allen told them all about his favorite horse, Rasmus, and some of his less gruesome war stories. In return, Gwen told him all about the New York Paranormal Society’s librarians and the most recent book drama. With Argos snuffling Oliver’s hand and thumping his stubby tail against the floor as he waited at Lewis Allen’s side for a scrap of chicken, it felt homey, almost like when they had Sunday dinners with Louisa and Agatha. Once the dinner plates were cleared away and Mr. Allen retreated to the kitchen, Argos threw himself beside the door in a snoring heap.
Glancing toward the kitchen, Felipe confirmed the door was shut before spreading his notes across the tabletop. Oliver and Gwen followed suit, conferring quietly on what details needed to be updated or clarified before they began. At Felipe’s nod, Oliver cleared his throat and was about to start when Mr. Allen bustled in with a pot of tea and a stack of cups.
“I was wondering if I could join you and hear what you’ve discovered. The first set of investigators shut me out, but I’d like to help you all in any way I can, like answering any questions you have about the town or the dead,” Mr. Allen said hopefully as he set the food down.
Oliver and Gwen looked to Felipe, who frowned thoughtfully.
“One moment, please.” Coming to the other side of the table, Felipe leaned between them and dropped his voice as he said, “I know it’s unorthodox, but do you all have any objections?”
“He did call us here, so I doubt he’s involved,” Gwen whispered.
“Besides, he’ll probably eavesdrop in the kitchen if we say no. That’s what I would do.”
Felipe flashed Oliver a curious look.
“Don’t let him fool you, Felipe, Oliver enjoys gossip as much as I do, but I do think it’s better to include him and know exactly what he’s heard than to have him fill in the blanks.”
“Then, no talk of the magic,” Felipe whispered before straightening. “Take a seat, Mr. Allen. First, we’ll start with Dr. Barlow and Miss Jones’s findings. Then, we can talk about what you shared with me.”
The innkeeper’s brown eyes brightened as he nodded solemnly and took the seat beside Felipe. As Oliver and Gwen spoke about the dead, Mr. Allen filled their cups and listened intently. Beside him, Felipe had slipped back into the fa?ade of an investigator. Every so often, his brows would furrow, and he would furiously scribble something down. At first, Oliver worried Mr. Allen would be uncomfortable hearing the details of his former neighbors’ deaths and decomposition, but if he was, he didn’t show it. When Oliver posed a hypothetical date of death, the innkeeper was able to narrow down the window even further. They would have to double-check those later just to be safe, but the corrections were helpful. As he discussed their findings in regards to Horace Ridder, Oliver caught himself before he spoke about the magic clinging to his corpse. Felipe was right. It was better to avoid a conversation about his necromancy with a stranger if he could help it. The bugs were far easier to explain.
“Is there a river or creek near town?” Felipe asked Mr. Allen when Oliver finished.
“The river that powers the mill starts in the Dysterwood and flows out of town toward the Delaware. There’s also a small creek not far from the schoolhouse people like to swim in, but that isn’t big enough to hide a body. I’d wager he was in the river, not the creek.”
“Do you think you could show us to the river, so we can take a look around?”
“Of course, though I would appreciate it if we could take your steamer as it’s a far walk.”
Felipe nodded and reread the page of notes he had taken. “Dr. Barlow, you said Mrs. Lindstrom had a wound on the back of her head?”
“Yes. The placement is consistent with a fall or a blow to the head, so I would need to properly autopsy her to confirm either way. Even then, we would need to talk to whomever was with her when she died, and it wouldn’t tell us if it was foul play or an accident.”
“Was there a police report or an inquest made?” Gwen asked.
Mr. Allen shook his head. “As I said before, everyone thought her death was a sudden tragedy. Her husband was beside himself with grief. Dr. Miller being called in was merely a formality.”
“And the sheriff?”
“I don’t know. I assume he came out to take a look, but we can stop by the sheriff’s office and see if Ridder filed anything.”
Tapping his notepad, Felipe pointedly met Oliver’s gaze. “You’re definitely going to want to speak to Dr. Miller too after you hear this.”
The more Felipe and Mr. Allen told him of Annabelle Harrison’s life and death, the more Oliver wanted to shake the town doctor. The man was either lazy or incurious or both, and Oliver hated him on principle for it. Perhaps, he was still sensitive after dealing with the consequences of what was going on at the Institute for the Betterment of the Soul, but he would have bet good money he knew why Annabelle was sick and why she went after her mother in death. How the good doctor didn’t see it was beyond him, especially after the second child only grew ill after the first died. Outrage constricted Oliver’s ribs, but from across the tether, he felt the balm of Felipe’s presence gently pressing against him like a squeeze of the hand. Drawing in a calming breath, Oliver nodded for his partner to continue with the profiles of the other necromancy victims.
Ultimately, they had one man who died in a mill accident, two “tragedies” that might be murders, a seemingly natural death that was also probably unexamined by the town doctor, and a probable murder .
“Did Sheriff Ridder have any family?” Gwen asked their host when Felipe finished.
“No. His wife died about two years ago. She was a Jarngren.”
“A what?”
“The Jarngrens are the founding family of Aldorhaven. They came to New Jersey when it was still New Sweden and founded the town after they discovered iron in the woods. Silvia Jarngren is— was Lucien Stills’s cousin on his mother’s side and Willard Jarngren’s older sister. That’s how he ended up sheriff; he married into the mayor’s family, not that anyone was dying to be sheriff after my father passed. Anyway, Silvia and Horace’s son died about a year before she did. He couldn’t have been more than ten, and Horace took it very hard. Losing his son started the drinking and dark moods. Once Silvia died, they got worse.”
“Could he have committed suicide?” Felipe asked as much to Oliver as to Mr. Allen.
“I don’t know. I wasn’t close enough to him to know what was going on in his head, but he seemed to be doing all right or at least better than he was. If he wanted to die, there are much easier ways to do so than throwing himself into the river.”
“There were no ligature marks on his neck or head wounds. I don’t know if the insects have reached his lungs yet, but I might be able to see how much water is in them if they’re still intact. That could tell us if he drowned. Obviously, it can’t confirm foul play,” Oliver added, though he did not want to get anywhere near the man’s body again if he could help it.
For a long moment, Gwen stared into her teacup before suddenly setting it aside and grabbing her notes. “Did you notice he was the only one who was dirty?”
“Who?”
“Horace Ridder. He was the only one who had dirt on his skin and clothes. He came from the river, so it makes sense that he would be extra filthy, but the others came out of graves. Shouldn’t they also have dirt on them?”
“I noticed that, but I don’t know if it’s significant,” Oliver replied. “ I had assumed some of them were in those mausoleums we saw or that whoever woke them up had disinterred them instead of letting them claw their way out.”
Mr. Allen went still, his cup drooping absently in his hand. “You know, now that you mention it, I didn’t notice any dirt piles or holes in the cemetery after they were resurrected, but I wasn’t looking. In the morning, remind me to dig out the graveyard books, so we can see where they were buried. Reverend Douglas still has me consult my father’s record book before we bury anyone, so we don’t have any overlap. Their death dates should be listed there too. Most of the families are very intermingled, so it’s anyone’s guess who will end up where in the cemetery.”
“So tomorrow, we need to visit the sheriff’s office, Dr. Miller’s office, the river—”
“And potentially the cemetery,” Gwen added.
Felipe nodded. “And I would like to speak to the foreman at the mill if it isn’t too far from the river. We’ll have to get an early start if we want to get through all of this before dark.”
“We should split up tomorrow,” Oliver said, though he hated the prospect of doing so as much as he hated the idea of being dragged all over Aldorhaven.
A beat of anxiety pulsed across the tether as Felipe’s head whipped up from his papers. Across the table, Felipe held his gaze, searching his features and the tether, even though he knew he was right.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Felipe replied slowly.
“Neither do I, but it doesn’t make sense for the four of us to go everywhere together. You’ve said it yourself, more than two investigators showing up tends to make people nervous.”
Looking between them, Gwen sighed. “I don’t like it any more than you do, Galvan, but Dr. Barlow’s right. We’ll cover more ground that way.”
Oliver thought for certain Felipe would object, but after a long moment, he shook his head and replied, “Then, you and Dr. Barlow will visit the doctor. Mr. Allen and I will go to the river and mill. ”
“And the sheriff’s office to check the files. I’m assuming Mr. Allen has the key.”
“I do, and I’ll give you the cemetery records in the morning along with directions to Dr. Miller’s place,” Mr. Allen said.
“So Miss Jones and I will talk to Dr. Miller and investigate the cemetery while you and Mr. Allen go to the river, mill, and sheriff’s office?” At Felipe’s hesitant nod, Oliver tidied his notes and tried not to think about the resignation written across his features. “Good, then we’ll split up after breakfast and reconvene here in the afternoon to discuss what we found.”
With everyone in accord, they gathered their papers and went to their rooms. The moment their bedroom door closed, Felipe leaned against it and let out a heavy puff of breath. When his gaze met Oliver’s, something sharp prickled behind his heart. Oliver tried to focus on it, but the feeling slipped from his grasp, and in its place, fear gripped Oliver’s throat. Should he have not said anything about splitting up?
“Are… are you mad at me?” Oliver asked softly.
“What? No, not at all.” Pushing off the door, Felipe crossed the small room in two strides to stand before Oliver. A crooked frown crossed Felipe’s lips as he stroked his lover’s arms. “I’m not mad. I’m just worried. I don’t like having you and Gwen out of my sight in a place like this. It’s my job to keep you safe, you know.”
Oliver let out a small laugh. “I’m pretty sure figuring out what’s going on is our job. Gwen and I will be fine. I promise we’ll be careful.”
“I know you will. I trust you two to take care of each other. What I don’t trust is this town. You also might not want to trust the tether will reach without checking a map,” Felipe said, laying his hand over Oliver’s heart. “We can only go half a mile apart, remember?”
His mouth opened in silent horror. “I got so caught up in the case and acting normal that I forgot. What do we do now? I—”
“It should be fine as long as we stick to the plan. When I talked to Mr. Allen while you were washing up, he showed me a map of town. It’s a bit out of date, but hopefully, it’s at least to scale. I’ll drop you and Gwen off by the doctor’s office while we go to the mill, but you can’t go to the cemetery until I’m back in town or the tether won’t reach. If you finish before we do, you may need to kill time and walk around.”
“Gwen and I can do that.”
“When we’re back in town, I’ll give the tether two tugs to signal you can go to the cemetery. It should reach no matter where we are in town, but if you have to go to the far end of the cemetery, maybe you can do that spindle thing with the tether again to thin it out.”
“That should work, though we’ll need to be careful with it. What if everything is farther apart than you anticipated?”
“Then, I’ll turn around and come back to get you and Gwen. I’m sure I can figure out an excuse.”
Oliver stuffed down a rising pang of anxiety at the mistake he had made and the trouble it might have caused as Felipe wrapped his arms around him. Standing cheek to cheek, the tether pulled taut between them as he shut his eyes. He had grown accustomed to living his life with Felipe always at his side, a steady weight under his heart, and he would never take it for granted again. Never.
***
No one could see Felipe where he hid wedged between the yarrow, white sage bush, and the wall of the house. The heat of the day had long gone, and in its place stood the chill night broken only by the buzzing drone of cicadas and the hazy glow of lanterns. The medicinal garden stood empty, and from his pocket of privacy, he could see his aunts, uncles, and cousins walking along the upper catwalk of the compound or silhouetted in the candlelit windows of the kitchen and their bedrooms. This time of night, he should have been settling in with the other children, but he didn’t want to deal with Carmen’s bossiness or his cousins’ taunts. If he slipped out after dinner, no one would care enough to look for him, except his parents, and they were occupied. All day he had felt his father’s disapproving gaze on his back as he struggled through training, so as soon as he heard his father whisper to his mother to meet him in the storeroom, Felipe knew it was about him. Wrapping his arms around his legs and pulling them to his chest, he listened to the voices on the other side of the stucco wall.
“This can’t go on much longer. He can’t fight properly because he’s supposed to be learning healing. He’s not healing, so he isn’t fighting. He’s nearly fourteen, Marina! Do you know what I was doing when I was his age?”
“Oh, trust me, I know, which is why he must learn to heal.”
“But he isn’t!”
“But he will . Some powers take longer to come in than others, you know that. He can’t help it.”
“There are ways around it.”
“We have discussed this, Diego,” his mother hissed.
“And we’re discussing it again. You know, it isn’t your choice to make. He’s my son. I decide his fate, and if I don’t, my father will. Which would you prefer?”
The silence thickened. Felipe didn’t dare move or breathe for fear that his father would hear his heart pounding on the other side of the wall. His mother wouldn’t let them hurt him. She wouldn’t, not after he had tried so hard.
“If he doesn’t make himself useful, he will be turned out. Do you want that shame brought onto us? How will it look for the Patrón’s eldest son’s only boy to be a wastrel?”
“So what do you propose we do with him?”
A bead of blood ran down Felipe’s leg where he dug his nails into his flesh to keep the sob in his mouth.
“He’s going to learn to fight with the men. It’s long past time. He can still go with you when you visit the Quinteros, but his days will be spent in the training grounds. Mateo will take up his healing lessons when he has time. Don’t look at me like that. Your way isn’t working, and it’s making him soft. My son cannot grow up to be a coward .”
Felipe flinched as if he had been struck, and a sharp breath caught between his ribs. Blood pulsed down his leg anew. He hadn’t hidden it well enough. Somehow, his father knew. That word had been spat in his cousin’s face and whispered behind his back for years no matter how well Santiago fought or how dutiful he was. Felipe’s sister had told him it was because Santiago looked at men the way women did, and that was an unforgivable weakness to their grandfather. Felipe hadn’t understood. He hadn’t understood the consequences of their shared weakness until Santiago was caught with a man from town and cast out of the family with nothing but the clothes on his back. It had been a warning and a spectacle his grandfather and uncle took pleasure in even as Santiago pleaded for mercy. Every word and tear he shed only proved his weakness, but what Felipe remembered most was his sister’s nails digging into his shoulder as if she could sense his sympathy. Ever since that day, Felipe had tried so hard to keep his eyes low and his head down. Felipe bit back a sob. He couldn’t be cast out. Whatever his father required of him, he would do it.
“If I already see it, they’ll see it soon enough, and if they do, there’s nothing I can do to spare him. So no more coddling him, Marina. He’s a Galvan, and he needs to start acting like one.”
The door rattled in its frame, and his father charged into the moonlight. As Diego crossed the garden, he stopped directly in front of his cowering son. For a fleeting moment, Felipe thought his father might try to comfort him or offer something that amounted to remorse, but when he beheld his son’s wet gaze, his face twisted into a disgusted sneer. With a shake of his head, his father stormed off towards the training grounds without looking back.
Felipe awoke with a shuddering gasp. For a wretched moment, he thought he was still that boy on his family’s estate. A wave of long-forgotten hopelessness settled over him until he remembered where he was. He wasn’t that boy anymore; he was a grown man standing in the dark, his body humming with adrenaline from a decades-old memory. Scrubbing a shaking hand over the stubble lining his jaw, Felipe focused on the moon shining on the other side of the windowpane. He had left that life years ago. He had a home, he had a job, he had Oliver. Oliver. Turning back to the bed, relief washed away the remaining fear as Felipe watched Oliver sleep. His pale pink lips were lax, and a boyish wave of black hair covered his eyes as he lay oblivious to Felipe’s nightmares. Felipe swept a gentle hand across his lover’s cheek, and the tether slowly tightened as Oliver seemed to lean into his touch. Oliver who loved him so fiercely no matter what. Felipe swallowed hard. Would Oliver love him less or lose his love for him entirely if he knew where he came from or the man he would probably still be if it hadn’t been for that fateful January night?
“Felipe?” Oliver called, his grey eyes drifting open. “Is it morning?”
“No, love, I was just stretching my legs. Go back to sleep.”
“If it’s a cramp, the jerky’s in the dresser.”
A watery smile crossed Felipe’s lips as he climbed back into bed. Oliver blindly reached for him and pulled him close, twining their legs together. His face nuzzled against Felipe’s shoulder as he murmured “I love you” into his skin. Holding Oliver’s hands over his heart like a talisman, Felipe tried to sleep, but every time he shut his eyes, he saw Santiago’s tearstained face as the gates to the Galvan compound closed to him forever.