Heaving a sigh, Head Inspector Williams threw down the rope ladder. “I never should have sanctioned this relationship. There’s a blanket in the cabin. Gale will take your statements on the way back. At least tell me you have the Vatican’s book.”
“We do.”
“Thank the gods for small miracles.”
At Oliver’s anxious glance, Felipe squeezed his shoulder and steadied the ladder for him. He already looked pale and sweaty again. Felipe wondered how much healing Oliver had ahead of him or how much would come undone after all the jostling between the cathedral and the Paranormal Society.
“Don’t upset yourself over this. We aren’t in trouble. If we were, he would be far louder.”
“If you say so.” Casting a pained look at the deck, Oliver took a step back and dropped his voice. “Felipe, about what happened in the cathedral...”
“Later,” he said, kissing him quickly.
As Oliver stepped onto the first rung, he ran his tongue across his lip. If realization dawned on his face, Felipe didn’t see it. He made certain not to look.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Vive Memor Leti
Oliver sat by the fire, a quilt draped over his legs and a carafe of lukewarm coffee on the small table at his elbow. He should be resting, but he had spent the first day after returning from South Brother Island being tending to by a doctor and sleeping for nearly eighteen hours straight. After another two days lost to lying in bed, he was tired of doing nothing. At least with Felipe out of the room, he could finally read the case notes from that night. He remembered the horrified look on Felipe’s face when he realized what he had done and the strange burning pressure of the knife. After that, things became blurry until they were running through the forest to escape, and even everything after that had been dulled by whatever concoction the surgeon had given him. The surgeon had said he was lucky to be alive. Oliver didn’t disagree. He knew the path the knife had taken and what it could have hit. What he didn’t know was what Felipe did to keep him alive, though he had an idea.
Skimming the parts of the trip he remembered, Oliver frowned when he reached the bit about how Newman had been incapacitated. He regretted not checking to see if he was still alive, but everything moved so quickly after that. Felipe had omitted the skeleton, and the story became muddled with Oliver knocking out Newman with the sword while he tried to strangle Felipe, and Father Gareth stabbing Oliver and subsequently being killed by Felipe. His descriptions of the cathedral and surrounding island were scanter but to the point: creepy, unsettling, inhabited by shadow creatures, should neither be replicated nor returned to. There was also a fire in the cathedral Oliver didn’t remember where Felipe cast the heart and nearly threw the book before thinking better of it.
This version was far simpler than what Oliver tried to half-deliriously explain to Gale on the boat before it all became too much and he fell asleep or lost consciousness, he wasn’t sure which. Felipe had omitted Oliver’s bonemancing, which he appreciated in case anyone at the society read the file, and while smoothing over the more complicated details didn’t change the outcome, Oliver wasn’t sure how he felt about lying so much in one report. If this was standard, no wonder his findings rarely completely lined up with the investigator’s accounts. He assumed it was inattention or sloppy reporting. Instead, he would have to add a larger margin of error for blatant lies, though it would probably save him time in the long run. He was about to reread the report in its entirety when the apartment door unlocked, and Felipe silently slipped inside.
“And where have you been?” Oliver asked cheerfully, relishing the way Felipe jumped.
“Christ almighty, Oliver, you’re going to give me a heart attack. Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
“I got bored. Luckily, Gwen stopped by, and she helped me get set up in here.” Truthfully, she found him in the armchair staring forlornly at the bedroom door because he was cold but too exhausted to get up again to fetch his heavy quilt off the bed. “Convalescence doesn’t suit me, I’m afraid.”
“I suppose not. Isn’t that why the surgeon sent you home so quickly? He said he didn’t need another doctor bossing him around if you could care for yourself adequately,” Felipe said with a wry smile.
Oliver tensed but caught himself with a wince. “There’s a reason I don’t work in a hospital. I don’t know how anyone recovers in a place like that.”
“Well, you certainly seem a lot more relaxed here than you were there. And I’m glad Gwen stopped by. She told me yesterday she would.” Settling into the armchair across from him, Felipe’s gaze traveled to the bandages hidden under Oliver’s dressing gown and pajamas. “How are you feeling?”
