Chapter Ten
At the End of His Tether
Oliver awoke with astart. The angles of the room were wrong, the sounds of people moving beyond the walls were wrong, and his back was stiff in a way it hadn’t been in years. As he sat up and his hands found the intricate stitches of the wool blanket beneath him, the fear abated. He had slept in Felipe Galvan’s apartment instead of his own room.Felipe. Drawing in a shaky breath, he rushed to his feet to find Felipe’s face lax and turned into the pillow. He was still, so still that panic flared in Oliver so fast he hadn’t realized he was reaching for him until Felipe awoke with a lurch and nearly took a swing at him.
“Christ almighty, Oliver,” Felipe said, falling back to the pillows, “you scared the shit out of me. I thought you were the killer.”
“And I thought you were dead.”
Oliver ran a hand over his face at the ragged edge in his voice and his heart pounding in his ears. He had intended to stay up most of the night but, instead, fell asleep the moment he closed his eyes.
He could have died, he could have died, he could have died.
But he didn’t, he reminded himself as he sank onto the edge of the bed. But if Felipe had, there would be no bringing him back again. Reanimation worked one time, and that was it.
“Well, now, we know that the tether won’t snap if you fall asleep,” Felipe said.
Nodding slowly, Oliver resisted the urge to shake out his hands. He needed a moment alone. “I want to go to the lab to get something, but—”
Felipe stretched like a cat before sinking back into the covers. “You may as well test how far it can stretch before anyone’s seen me.”
“I guess, though I’d like to avoid snapping it. If I feel anything, I’ll stop and come back.”
Quickly folding the borrowed blanket, Oliver returned it and the pillow to Galvan’s bed before retrieving his pile of clothes from the armchair. He threw his jacket and trousers on over his pajamas and opened the door a crack. The hall was still dark and thankfully empty. He didn’t want to run into anyone and have to explain why he was coming out of Galvan’s room at the crack of dawn, especially if the tether did snap. He wanted to avoid setting himself up for suspicion of murder.
Creeping down the back stairs, Oliver stopped every flight to feel for the tether. Each time he closed his eyes and reached for it, anxiety flared within him until he felt the calmer beats at the other end. It took three times as long to get from the dormitories to the lab, but it held. Reaching the laboratory door, Oliver unlocked it with shaking hands and tumbled inside.
The second the door shut, he released the long, tremulous breath he had been holding since he awoke. The ragged, fear-ridden breaths of a drowning man ripped through his form as he crouched with his back to the wall. Rocking slowly on his heels, he kept his head down. A thousand thoughts tumbled through his mind, wheeling away faster than he could deal with them. It was all too much. Too, too much. Part of him longed to stuff himself inside one of the body drawers. It was safe and cool inside where no one would think of looking. He kept the one with a broken latch clean and empty for when he needed to clear his head or for in summer when the heat of the city and the building was too much to bear, but Felipe Galvan needed him today. He couldn’t afford to breakdown or hide right now.
Releasing another slow, steadying breath, he shook out his hands and paced the room as he ran through their plans. Today, they would have breakfast, then head out to the West Bronx to visit the priest. After, maybe he could convince Felipe to go to the library. Even though it was Sunday, Mr. Turpin would be in. Oliver suspected Turpin lived in the library the way he lived in his laboratory. The library’s stacks made him feel peaceful, and he would need that after another day of running around. Checking the tether one more time, Oliver slipped off his clothing and washed up in the laboratory’s shower.
By the time Oliver washed the remnants of shaving cream from his face, he felt a little more himself. The relentless hum of nerves had somewhat abated, and he could almost think straight when absorbed in a mindless task. As he rinsed his razor under the tap, he paused at the sound of the lock turning. Grabbing a scalpel from its tray, he turned toward the door only to see Gwen standing in the doorway with a knowing look. Relief and anxiety roiled within him as she rolled her eyes and came down the steps.
“Why do you never expect it to be me?” she asked, her gaze flickering to the scalpel with a quirked brow.
Because there’s a killer on the loose in the society, he wanted to say. Instead, he shrugged on his waistcoat and said more sharply than he intended, “What if I was naked when you barged in?”
“Oddly, I can’t imagine you ever being naked. I have a theory you bathe in long johns. Speaking of which, how did it go?” she replied as she followed him back to the sink and took up her spot on the edge of the table. “I know you went out to dinner last night with Galvan. I saw you two leave. So did you have a good time?”
Before he could reply, her eyes swept past him to his spare gladstone on the floor. “You did sleep over!”
“It’s not like that.”
“Why are you upset? I would hope that was the reason you shared a room.”
“Because—”
