“That wouldn’t last for long.”
“I know. Plus, he has magical books in his library, which won’t go over well,” Oliver said, measuring the bones Felipe brought back with a caliper to confirm what he already knew. When he looked up from marking down the numbers, he found Felipe regarding him with a puzzled expression. “The books are in locked cabinets, but I could feel the magic radiating from a few of them. We might need to add to our report that the librarians need to get involved with the missing books and all.”
“What missing books?”
“Oh, Gwen was telling me the other day about how the book that disappeared, the one Turpin and the plantmancer were fighting over, turned up outside the society because someone had tried to get it rebound.” Oliver frowned thoughtfully as he set the bones aside. “Some of Yates’s books were rebound too. I wonder why these collectors want to replace the bindings.”
“To obscure their ages or where they come from, maybe?”
“Maybe... Gwen told me the spell work in the library is attached to the binding somehow, though I don’t know what they do in other places.” Inspecting the mushroomed bullet Felipe had found, Oliver jotted down the suspected caliber and age based on corrosion. “Going back to that family tree of people and their powers, when the photographs are ready, I need to look at them better. There’s something there I’m missing, but I didn’t have time to take a closer look. I just hope the photographs came out clear enough to read.”
“The negative with the head inspector’s name in it alone should be enough to get him to mobilize. That combined with the bones, the missing files, and the crossed out names...” Felipe shook his head. “There’s no question something’s going on.”
But what?Oliver’s mind turned over the possibilities. The evidence they had collected obviously pointed to murder, but why have a morgue? Why have a list of magical people and families? He needed to sit down with all the evidence again and trulylook, but there wasn’t time. Shutting down the Institute for the Betterment of the Soul and pulling Joe out, if he was still there, was only step one, Oliver reminded himself. They could figure the rest out later.
“I’m going to send a telegram to local precincts in case they arrested Joe. They might jerk us around, but at least they usually let us take our own.” With a groan, Felipe rose to his feet and made it halfway up the stairs before he stopped. “Shit, he never told me his surname.”
“Schmitt,” Oliver called over his shoulder as he headed for the typewriter. “Yates figured it was an alias, but that’s what was listed on the chart.”
“Thank you. You know my feelings about the police, but I hope he’s been arrested. He would be safer in jail than with Yates at this point.”
As the door shut behind Felipe, Oliver hoped Joe had been arrested, but somehow, he doubted Dr. Yates would let him get away so easily.
***
FELIPE TOOK THE ELEVATORback down to the basement and could have fallen asleep during the short ride if it wasn’t for the gnawing pain in his stomach. He hated this. He hated how pain and stress now transformed into an exhaustion he couldn’t shake. Before he died, he wouldn’t have felt like this unless he had been up for two days straight or had been recovering from far worse wounds with little food. Felipe winced as he walked down the empty hall. At least the broken bones in his hand had shifted back into place and were slowly healing, though the bruising was getting worse. He knew he looked like hell. The woman stationed in the telegraph office had given him a wide-eyed once over before promptly sending out the alert notice to every precinct within driving distance of the Institute for the Betterment of the Soul. More than anything, Felipe wanted to lie down, but if he did, there was a good chance, he would oversleep and miss the opportunity to take the institute by surprise.
Felipe’s steps slowed as he spotted a domed tray sitting in front of the lab door. He checked his watch, but it was far too early for breakfast. He thought it might have been delivered to the wrong room until he opened the lid to find a heaping plate of bacon, liver, a hunk of last night’s roast beef along with eggs, and toast. His stomach growled painfully at the smell and the pink puddle beneath the meat.Oliver. The tether tightened beneath his heart as he stepped inside with the heavy tray balanced in his arms. At the bench, Oliver sat furiously typing, his jacket neatly folded beside him and his sleeves rolled up to reveal his pale forearms.
Oliver’s grey gaze flashed to Felipe and the food before returning to the papers beside him. “I thought you might need it to help fix your hand. I’m just typing up the evidence summary for the head inspector. We can finish the photographs after.”
“Oliver, I’ll do it. It’s my responsibility. I—”
“You should know by now I don’t mind. Besides, I’ve written a lot of these during murder investigations to substantiate search or arrest warrants; I know what to include. When you’re done eating, you can look it over for me to see if I’ve forgotten anything,” Oliver replied without stopping. “But eat first.”
“Fine.”
Sighing, Felipe wasn’t certain whether he should be relieved or annoyed that Oliver had everything in hand. He still wasn’t accustomed to sharing the workload after his past string of lackluster investigative partners. A competent partner he could trust was practically unheard of, but Oliver picked up the slack without complaint or prompting. Sitting down at the table with the percolator, Felipe ate with his back to Oliver. With each bite, relief at finally having what he needed warred with loathing for this new weakness. He tried not to eat like this in front of Oliver. Those times when blood and flesh pulled quiet moans from his throat reminded him too much of that moment in the cathedral. Forcing himself to slow down, Felipe ignored the way his gnawing gut begged him to eat faster for fear his partner might turn and see him. Guilt washed over him for needing so much, for no longer being able to continuously do and give, for not being able to keep his promises to Joe or Teresa. Felipe’s hand shook as his fork scraped porcelain far too quickly. Would he ever be sated?
“If you’re not feeling well, I can present the information to the head inspector by myself,” Oliver said hesitantly, the ticking of the keys slowing. “Not that I want to, but I would rather you rest if you need it.”
“I’ll be all right, Oliver, but thank you... for the food and the offer.” Mopping up the last of the meat juice and egg yolk with a piece of toast, the knot in Felipe’s core loosened a fraction. “I can do it myself, and I promise I will keep my temper in check if Ansley shows up.”
“We’ll do it together, then. I’ll provide the science and what I saw in Dr. Yates’s office while you talk about Joe and what you found in the basement. Do you want to take a look at what I’ve written so far?”
Drifting over to the typewriter, Felipe found a stack of typed pages at Oliver’s elbow. The first page may have saidsummary, but the notes were impeccably detailed and thorough in their explanation of what they had found over the course of their investigation and how it related to the institute. In order to get the search warrant and the other decrees they needed, their explanations had to be exhaustive enough to prove they had done their due diligence, but even for that, five pages and counting was a lot.
“This is less of a summary and more of a dissertation, Oliver.”
He shrugged. “I mean, itisa summary. The case has a lot of evidence, and I want to make sure we provide enough information to avoid having to resubmit everything.” Glancing at the stack of papers in Felipe’s hand and the notes left for him to go through, Oliver rolled his eyes and said, “I’ll add an actual summarized page for the head inspector when I’m done.”
“Sounds good. I’ll get started on pulling the negatives we need to prioritize.”
As he headed for the closet, Felipe’s steps slowed before the shaving mirror hanging near the door. He thought he caught a hint of orange light gleaming in the shadows, but when he looked, there was nothing but his battered reflection staring back. Only opening the closet door enough to slip inside, Felipe peered into what should have been darkness. In the thick of the night, the closet had been absolutely black apart from the muted red light of Oliver’s lantern, but with dawn rapidly approaching, enough light slipped beneath the closet door that Felipe could make out the contours of the furniture and the hanging specters of the negatives.
“Oliver, can you come here a moment?” When Oliver stuck his head into the closet, Felipe asked, “Do you think it’s dark enough in here or should we block the bottoms of the doors?”
“It’s plenty dark, I think.”
