Felipe clenched his jaw at the fleeting image of Oliver’s flustered expression as he headed for the door. He needed to move, needed to get out. His instinct was to run, but he couldn’t snap the tether, not now. Pressing his back against the chophouse’s brick façade, the cold night air burned his throat as he drew in a gulping breath. The alley was probably covered in piss and offal, but it was the only thing keeping him standing.
It was too late. He was too late.
***
Oliver trailed at Felipe’sside as they walked back to the Paranormal Society. He wanted to say something. Heshouldsay something because the light had gone out in Felipe Galvan’s eyes, and he didn’t know what to do to make it better. If therewasanything he could do. The man moved like a ghost through the lobby of the society, barely nodding at the handful of werewolves who tried to draw him into the billiards room for a game. When they reached Felipe’s apartment, Oliver wasn’t certain if he should follow or give him space until Felipe slipped inside and left the door ajar for him. Felipe disappeared into the bedroom and wordlessly retreated into the hall a moment later with his robe and a towel.
Standing in the empty apartment, Oliver shut his eyes. He should go downstairs and replenish his overnight bag, but what if Felipe came back before he was done and thought he left? Oliver couldn’t leave him alone in that state or make him think he had abandoned him. Instead, Oliver ducked into the smaller lavatory down the hall to wash his face and rinse the pomade from his hair. He felt the eyes of the men who lived on that floor on his back, but they said nothing and he offered no explanation in return. All it took was one incident involving an exploding corpse to get a shower in the laboratory, and sharing a lavatory was not something Oliver missed. When Oliver returned, he was relieved to find Felipe hadn’t finished yet.
Tidying up the mail left on the sideboard, Oliver found the Montgomery Ward catalog and settled into the armchair. There was something about catalogs that spoke to him. He had a whole collection of old ones in his room, stacked beside his National Geographic Magazines. He used them to buy coffee pots and clothes, but whenever he thumbed through them, they made him wonder about other lives he might have had or possibilities for the future. Would he have needed a sturdy china cabinet had he traveled to the Pennsylvania countryside instead of coming to Manhattan? If he hadn’t been born the person he was, would he have been the kind of man to wear a maroon suit or care about his clothing beyond the practical? If things were different, he might have been flipping through the catalog looking for a birthday present for Felipe or asking him which patterns he liked best for their shared home. A pang of sadness lanced through his chest at the thought.
As Oliver stripped off his tie and carefully folded his jacket onto the back of the armchair, the apartment door opened to reveal a tired and damp Felipe Galvan. More than anything, Oliver wanted to wrap his arms around him and chase away the chill that had fallen over him. Felipe’s brown eyes traveled to his face for a brief moment before returning to the floor.
“I’m going to bed,” he said in barely more than a whisper.
Oliver nodded, watching Felipe fall deeply into himself. Standing still as death, Oliver listened to the whisper of the covers being drawn back and the creak of the mattress as Felipe settled onto his side. Oliver quietly pulled off his shoes, folded the rest of his clothes, and followed Felipe into the darkened room. Feeling along the edge of the bed, Oliver caught the glint of Felipe’s eyes in the darkness.
“May I join you?”
Felipe’s shoulder lifted in a desolate shrug. Sighing, Oliver climbed into bed and stared at the other man’s back. It would be so easy to reach out and put a hand on him, but he didn’t want to make it worse. He swallowed and tried to work free the words he had been holding in since the chophouse.
“We can keep this going a little while longer. Saturday doesn’t have to be the deadline if we don’t want it to be. Then, you could see Teresa and maybe have dinner with Louisa and Agatha again. You wouldn’t have to worry about your daughter blaming herself.”
Silence hung between them long enough that Oliver thought perhaps Felipe had fallen asleep until he replied in a thin, gravelly voice, “Our deal was until Saturday. One week to solve the case. You said it yourself, you can’t wait until people get their shit together. I’m not going to make you break the rules or go back on your principles more than you already have for me, but thank you.”
At the almost imperceivable shudder of his ribs, Oliver scooted forward and wrapped his arms around Felipe’s middle. When the other man’s hands clasped his and his back arched to meet Oliver’s body, Oliver gave him a small squeeze and lifted his leg to let Felipe’s feet intertwine with his. Closing his eyes with his head in the crook of Felipe’s neck, he focused on the other man’s heart beating only a few layers of flesh and bone away until both organs fell into the same, sleepy rhythm.
Oliver would talk to Mr. Turpin, and one way or another, he would find a way for Felipe Galvan to live.
Chapter Nineteen
Educated Decisions
When Oliver awoke atsix-thirty, Felipe was still sound asleep, so he left a brief note on the bedside table and bustled down to the laboratory for a quick shower and shave. Using the pneumatic tube in the lab, he sent an order for his usual breakfast and a platter of meat and eggs to be sent up to Felipe’s room. As Oliver tried to decide whether green or red was a more cheerful tie color, his gaze caught on the box of specimens from Felipe. In all the chaos, he had forgotten about it. Settling on the green tie, he dug through the box to find the jarred heart. There really was nothing particularly interesting about it from the outside, apart from its discolored, viscous preservative, but it called to him. Something had to be special about it for someone to keep it all those years. The heart slumped forlornly against the side of the jar, the aorta nearly exposed by a drop in the preservative inside. The dark liquid was crystallizing and would have to be gradually replaced with a new solution in order to keep the heart from bloating or shriveling after he examined it further.Later.
Dim sunlight drifted in through his bedroom window, so Oliver grabbed the box and placed it in the storeroom. The specimens were long overdue to the archives, and he would much rather examine them than Mrs. Abbot’s bones. But for now, he had to get back to Felipe. Taking the winding servants’ stairs up to Felipe’s floor, Oliver twanged the tether to confirm Felipe was there and probably awake. He hoped the person dropping off breakfast hadn’t awoken him, but there was no helping it now. When he entered the still quiet hall, he found the two plates domed and waiting outside the door.
