Oliver half paid attention as the boardinghouse proprietor, Mr. Stanley, as he introduced himself, led them up several flights of stairs to the penultimate floor. He explained the rules along with the schedule for meals and other activities. Felipe nodded along, asking questions and laughing at the other man’s jokes while Oliver tried to stay focused in the seemingly unending halls. With every door appearing nearly the same, his equilibrium felt off-kilter, or perhaps it was the sneaky nudge of decades of magic lingering on the plaster and rugs like mold. Opening the door to 4C, Mr. Stanley motioned for them to go inside.
The room was furnished with sturdy yet nondescript furniture. Everything edged toward darker tones and masculine solidity with a flourish of wealthy impracticality. The layout of the apartment reminded Oliver vaguely of the society with a parlor and a bedroom attached, though he much preferred the warmth of Felipe’s apartment. Mr. Stanley continued to explain there were communal washrooms down the hall for daily use or public baths located nearby should he prefer it. The farther he went into the room, the more Oliver was sure he smelled cat. His suspicions were confirmed by the painted over scratches on the legs of the furniture, orange fur stuck into the sofa’s seam, and a hastily done repair along the edge of the rug. If the building did allow pets, that would be one advantage over the society. Distantly listening to Felipe’s questions, Oliver drifted toward the radiator under the window, but when he raised his gaze, he found the view blocked by a fire escape. At least whoever leased the apartment next could easily get out.
“Now, as I said, this apartment is spoken for, but we do have one on the second floor, 2A. The lower apartment would be slightly less rent per week due to its location, more noise and such.”
“Which direction is that one?” Felipe asked. “Does it face 5thAvenue?”
Oliver’s ears perked, but he kept his gaze out the window, watching Felipe in its reflection. He could practically see the gears turning as he triangulated where 2B was. Suppressing a grin, Oliver studied the frame as if admiring the view. The previous tenant’s cat must have pawed at the window to be let in and out. A claw mark with a rather large gouge had been hastily whitewashed.
“Yes, it does, and it has an even better view than this room.”
“That’s good to know. I’m sure I’ll be kept busy, but a good view at night would be lovely. George, what do you think of it?” Felipe said, pointedly turning to Oliver.
“Oh, I think it’s nice, very spacious. Quite similar to my place.”
As Oliver forced a smile, Felipe mouthed,Ask to use the lavatory.
Looking between Felipe and Mr. Stanley, Oliver tried not to gape. He didn’t want to go to the bathroom in a strange building. He didn’t have to go, and he would rather hold it all day than do that. Why else might he go? Glancing at the windowsill, Oliver spotted the splinter jutting out from the cat-scratched wood. As if reaching to open the window, he slammed his thumb across the gash. Pain followed by a trickle of blood bloomed on his finger.
“May I use your facilities? I appear to have cut myself. There must have been a splinter on the ledge,” Oliver said with a nervous laugh, hoping the cut wouldn’t magically seal itself before he could wash it.
The proprietor’s face blanched as Oliver held up his bloody thumb. “Of course, my apologies, sir. I’ll need to speak to the workmen about fixing that spot before the next tenant moves in. Come this way.”
Following the man down the hall, Oliver ignored his apologies and assurances that that was not the norm in the building. The bathroom was, thankfully, empty and relatively clean as Oliver rinsed his stinging finger with hot water and soap. He didn’t want to know what Felipe was up to in the apartment by himself. He could picture him sliding down a drainpipe or climbing around that rickety fire escape, though Oliver hoped he would just take the stairs to 2B. With his healing abilities and undead state, hitting the ground from that height might not kill him, but why take that chance?
Leaving the water on, Oliver silently paced and shook out his hands. Felipe needed time to do whatever it was he was doing, but it still seemed like a conspicuously long time to rinse a tiny cut. Oliver reached for the tether and felt Felipe’s heartbeat elevated on the other end, but there was no sign of fear or panic. A knock sounded on the door followed by the proprietor’s voice, breaking his concentration. Oliver glanced down at his finger, and the tiny cut had already healed. Wrapping his handkerchief around his thumb, he opened the door and stepped into the hall.
“Sir, would you like me to fetch a doctor to properly clean that? We have several physicians living here who would be happy to do so,” Mr. Stanley said, though Oliver suspected he was trying to sell him on the property more than help him.
“I’m also a doctor, but no, thank you, it’s nothing serious. I’ll clean it better when I get home.” Mr. Stanley was about to lead him back to the apartment when Oliver blurted, “I think I know someone who lives here. A Dr. Thorn? I used to work with him.”
“Yes, we have a Dr. Thorn,” the proprietor said, his features brightening. “I don’t know him very well as he moved in a little over a year ago and spends much of his time at work, but I’m glad to see he has friends outside of the Wilbraham. Do you know, by chance, if he’s gone on vacation?”
Oliver raised a questioning brow and shook his head. “No, why?”
“He hasn’t come to collect his mail in some time. Most of the tenants notify me when they’ll be away, so we can keep an eye on their apartment, set their mail aside, water their plants, and such. I don’t know whether to be worried.”
“Hmm, that is strange. He may have gotten called out of town to care for a sick patient or relative. In his haste, perhaps he forgot to say something,” Oliver said, his eyes darting to the open door of apartment 4C where Felipe peeked his head out.
“That’s probably it. Doctors are always so in demand.”
Stifling a relieved sigh, Oliver followed him back into the empty apartment where Felipe stood admiring a gilt mirror on the far wall. His clothes were perfectly straight with not a hair out of place, though his chest rose and fell a little harder than usual.
“Would you like to see the rest of our facilities, sir?” Mr. Stanley asked Felipe.
“No, I’m quite happy with what I see here. I have one more apartment to view before I make my decision.”
“Well, if you decide you should like to lodge with us, stop back in and we will fill out the necessary paperwork.” Motioning for Oliver and Felipe to follow him, he led them back down the stairs while explaining the deposit that would be required. “Please keep in mind that our rooms are highly sought after, so I wouldn’t take too long deciding or the room might be taken.” Turning to Oliver, Mr. Stanley said, “And if I do see Dr. Thorn again soon, would you like me to tell him you asked after him, Dr.—?”
“Ambrose,” Oliver said tightly.
Leaving a false name and address behind, Felipe bid the other man a good day and swept out with Oliver at his side. Oliver kept his head down and his wrapped hand tightly in his pocket as they walked back to the steamer. All in all, their impromptu investigation hadn’t had too many hiccups, but Oliver worried Thorn might see through the visit, especially if he suspected the society might come after him for murder. The moment they were safely out of earshot, Felipe smiled and shook his head at Oliver.
Panic panged through his chest and the fear of a misstep. “What?”
“I can’t believe you purposely cut your hand. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. It healed nearly instantly, thanks to you. But I didn’t know what else to do. You wanted me to go to the bathroom, and you know I don’t like using strange bathrooms.”
