“No, it’s usually just unpleasant.” His grey eyes widened as he shied away from Felipe’s hand when he tried to keep him seated. “You were terrifying. Is that how you usually are when you’re on a case?”
“What? Oh, god, no. That’s an act.”
At the fear in Oliver’s eyes, Felipe swallowed against the knot in his throat. Anger had welled up in him so fast for all the things Jed had done, all the ways it could have gone differently, that it all just spewed out of him, but he never would have done it. He had played the villain before with past partners. He had seen Jed use the tactic more than he was comfortable with, but he never wanted Oliver to think this was who he was. Gently wrapping an arm around Oliver’s shoulders, Felipe relaxed when Oliver didn’t flinch from his touch.
“I promise that was an act. I wanted to scare Jed, and the one thing the man is afraid of is pain.”Hence, how I’ve ended up taking the brunt of every injury, he wanted to say but didn’t. “Please believe that I never would have done those things, and I would never hurt you.”
“I believe you. But warn me next time, and no stabbing corpses. Unless absolutely necessary.”
Felipe stared at him; he was serious. “I’m not even going to ask. Oliver, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you to revive Jed. If I had known, it would hurt you...”
“It’s fine. Now, we know and can prepare for next time. At least, we know it’s possible to reanimate two people, though I think we need to start slower until I rebuild my tolerance,” he replied, absently rubbing his chest.
Oliver wasn’t telling him something. Of that, Felipe was sure, but he didn’t push. When Oliver reanimated Jed and the second tether caught, Felipe had felt the reverberation and strain through his own body. If it brought sweat to his forehead, how bad had it been for Oliver? Felipe watched the labored rise and fall of Oliver’s chest with concern. Unfortunately, Felipe had enough of his own secrets that he didn’t have the right to badger Oliver for trying not to worry him. He would just have to make certain he didn’t overdo it in the meantime.
“Did Jed have the card?”
“Let me look. You stay here.”
Standing, Felipe froze when his eyes fell upon Jed’s body. He knew he was dead. He had killed him, yet seeing him inert, as if their whole conversation had never happened, sent a chill through him.That could be you. Somehow, Jed being dead now felt different than when he pulled the drawer out the night before. Maybe snapping the tether had released what was left of Jed Monroe into whatever lay beyond. Felipe quickly untied his body before fishing through each pocket. In his inner breast pocket, Felipe finally found the crinkled calling card. Blood had soaked halfway across it, but the boat’s name and the address in the West Bronx were legible on the back as he read them off to Oliver.
“We should tell the head inspector,” Oliver said as he slowly rose to his feet.
“And tell him we discovered this information by waking Jed up and threatening him?”
“I figured we could lie. Tell him I found the card while preparing his body for the undertaker, and you remembered something he said while you were carousing.” Crossing the room, he washed his hands at the sink. “If Father Gareth has a relic and a magic book, I don’t know if we can handle him and Newman on our own, especially in the middle of the East River. We need reinforcements.”
Oliver wasn’t wrong. Getting his lungs ripped out or being compulsed again was not something Felipe was eager to repeat, but putting other investigators into the line of fire in his place didn’t sit right. He had spent his entire adult life running headlong into danger because others couldn’t, but now, throwing himself into danger meant dragging Oliver with him. Felipe watched Oliver draw in a tight breath and tidy Jed’s clothes to cover the bullet wound. This was the time he should be spending making good on his promise to Gwen that he would teach Oliver some basic knife skills or disarming techniques, but he had nearly lost him less than a day before and watching him drop only minutes ago scared him more than he was willing to admit.
“Oliver, you don’t have to work on Jed’s body.”
“But the head inspector—”
“I know, but that’s what undertakers are for. I’m certain every undertaker in the city has dealt with a bullet wound. Jed tried to kill you. You shouldn’t have to work on him. It isn’t right, and it shouldn’t be expected of you.”
For a long moment, Oliver merely stared at Jed’s body with his jaw set and his hands poised over his jacket as if battling with himself. “You’re right.”
Sighing, he rolled the laboratory table over to the vaults, and Felipe helped him hoist the stretcher back inside. In the short time it had taken them to get him locked away, sweat glistened on Oliver’s flushed cheeks. He wiped down the table with antiseptic and washed his hands for a second time.
Leaning on the sink, he turned to Felipe. Lines of fatigue gathered around his grey eyes, and the swoop of his unpomaded hair fell limp across his forehead. “I know I should be cleaning the lab and putting things to right, but I am so tired.”
“Then, lie down for a while.”
Felipe placed a hand on Oliver’s side and felt it tremble with a sharp intake of breath. A rush of emotions fluttered across the tether: sadness, fear, but mostly bone-deep exhaustion. Felipe felt a pressure around his heart as if the tether’s grip had tightened a fraction. Oliver bit his lip and blinked against the moisture in his eyes before rubbing his hands across his cheeks.
“I’m sorry. I barely slept worrying about Gwen, and I know she’s fine, but— This has all been a lot, and when I don’t feel well, it makes it harder to ignore.”
“I know,” Felipe whispered, wrapping his arms around Oliver. Oliver’s head dropped onto his shoulder as Felipe held him close and kissed his temple. “Come on.”
Tamping down his worry about the strain he had put on Oliver, Felipe took his hand and led him through the storeroom to his bedroom. Dappled light drifted in through the high windows as sleet tapped against the panes, bathing the room in a soothing grey glow. Oliver tensed as Felipe’s eyes roamed over the sighing radiator and the well-loved quilt covering the mattress. In daylight, the room was less austere than Felipe remembered it. He could picture Oliver curled up on his bed reading or taking dinner at the little table. Felipe stripped the jacket from Oliver’s shoulders, but as he untangled his tie, Oliver’s hand closed over his.
“Felipe, I don’t think I— the bed is— I’m—” He opened his mouth again but gave up with a frustrated shake of his head.
“I’m neither asking nor expecting. I just want you to rest, and you can’t do that in a tie.”
“Or shoes.”
“Or shoes,” he echoed, kicking off his shoes by the door beside Oliver’s. “I’ll happily stay with you if you would like. I know you don’t mind snuggling up in my bed, but this is yours. I don’t want to presume.”
