“You need to stay in the steamer.”
“But, Papa—”
“This isn’t up for discussion, Teresa. I know you are an adult, but you aren’t a Paranormal Society investigator. This is dangerous, and if you get hurt, your mothers will eviscerate me and I will never be able to live with myself.” Pulling one of the lighter knives from inside his coat, he handed it to his daughter. “Take this and stay low where no one can see you. Don’t come out until the other investigators show up, and when they do, tell them we went inside and that Inspector Ansley is here somewhere too.”
Teresa’s lips twisted in an annoyed frown, but she took the knife without protest and scooted low enough in the seat that someone passing wouldn’t immediately see her. Kissing the top of her head, Felipe met Oliver’s stormy gaze over the seat. Anxiety crackled across the tether, but Oliver nodded and followed him into the rain. The moment they were out of sight of the steamer, Felipe withdrew his revolver and held it at the ready as they crept through the brush toward the house.
“How did it go with the head inspector?” Oliver whispered, holding his gladstone against his chest to keep it from clinking too much.
Felipe peered in through the front windows, but the back parlor was empty, though the fire had been lit in the hearth and a suitcase sat abandoned near the door. “As well as you would expect. He couldn’t promise an all-hands call, but he said he would grab a few people and follow us. I’m hoping they aren’t too far behind.”
Standing on his toes, Felipe leaned back until he could see into the darkened hallway beyond the parlor, but when he pressed his ear to the glass, he could only hear the distant patter of rain and the crackling hiss of the fire. He was about to sneak around to the other lit room when Oliver gave his arm an urgent tap. His partner pointed to the grass in front of the house where it had been smashed down in two long, muddy strips.
“Drag marks?” Oliver asked.
Felipe nodded. What had Ansley been thinking? Then again, he didn’t know Dr. Yates was a murderer, directly or indirectly, but it had been foolish to show up alone. With the wind blowing and the rain coming down in earnest, the path in the overgrown grass quickly disappeared. Moving cautiously between the house and the first outbuildings, Felipe listened for any sign of life, besides the distant thrum of a generator, but heard nothing. As he and Oliver slid between two nearly identical brick sheds, Felipe caught the gleam of a shiny black steamer parked behind the house out of view of the road. The top floor of the house remained dark, though a cluster of the warehouses and hangers were brightly lit, probably by the same generator. Yates had to be in one of them, and he hoped Ansley was too. Moisture clung to Felipe’s curls and skin as the wind whipped and howled between the warehouses and buildings like a poltergeist. In the distance, metal groaned and popped as the lights in the buildings suddenly brightened before dimming back to normal. Stiffening, Oliver winced and sneezed into his sleeve. The sound echoed through the empty lot, but Felipe hoped the machinery drowned it out.
“Sorry, someone’s using a lot of magic somewhere,” Oliver peeped.
Putting his finger to his lips for silence, Felipe listened. He swore he had heard something as Oliver spoke. Then, there it was again, three slow, rhythmic thumps. Oliver locked eyes with him and pointed toward one of the smaller warehouses. As they grew closer, Felipe heard the sound again, this time louder. A chain and padlock had been looped around the door’s handles, but after two years of being left in the elements, the padlock was dusted with rust. Stepping back, Felipe brought his foot down hard on the lock until it popped open with a crunch. He tossed the chain into the bushes and threw open the wooden doors.
Machinery covered in thick canvases stood against the walls, dividing the building into neat, shadowed rows. Felipe raised his gun and was about to walk down the main aisle when the sound came again, followed by a muffled plea. Grabbing his hand, Oliver pulled him toward the corner. One of the tarps rippled as if blown by an unseen wind. Felipe’s pulse hammered in his throat. They reeled the tarp away to reveal Joe bound and gagged but twisting against his binds and an unconscious Inspector Ansley tied up beside him. As Oliver reached for Ansley, Felipe pulled the gag from Joe’s mouth.
“Thank fucking god, I thought I was a goner this time,” Joe said, his voice hoarse. “Where the hell are we?”
“Coney Island.” Felipe made quick work on his binds and helped him into a sitting position. The other man groaned and rubbed his sore wrists and feet. “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you behind. I didn’t realize we had been separated until I reached the steamer, and then, I thought you had escaped.”
As Felipe came around to face Joe, he paled. He hadn’t noticed the purple bruises distorting his face and the searing, red lines trailing down his neck. He didn’t want to think about all the bruises he couldn’t see.
“I was following you, but someone grabbed me. Get me out of here and have the society make good on our deal, and we’re square.” Standing up with Felipe’s help, Joe nodded toward where Oliver knelt beside Ansley. “Is he all right? I haven’t been able to wake him up. Yates must have zapped and drugged him.”
“Zapped?” Oliver asked, his fingers pressed to Ansley’s neck. His color was alarmingly close to Oliver’s, and peeking out from his collar was a ragged, red mark similar to the one on Joe’s neck.
“That’s what Yates does.” When Oliver and Felipe both stared at him, Joe said, “You didn’t know? Yeah, his power is electricity. That’s how I got this; he tried to off me, but it didn’t work.”
Felipe’s blood ran cold as a flush of fear passed from Oliver’s side of the tether. “We need to get out of here. Joe, can you walk?”
When he nodded, Felipe turned to Oliver. “Help me pick up Ansley. We’ll load everybody into the steamer and wait for back-up. Between Yates and the storm, I’m not taking any chances.”
Oliver and Joe helped to sling Ansley across Felipe’s shoulders. The entire time, the other man never stirred or moved, but as Felipe got to his feet, straining beneath the taller man’s deadweight, he thought he heard him mumble something. Shoring up Joe with his shoulder and side, Oliver led him through the pounding rain toward the steamer with Felipe only a step behind. Their feet squelched and sucked into the muddy ground as a crack of thunder boomed overhead like a canon. They were nearly to the steamer when Oliver froze and turned back.
“What is it?” Felipe yelled over the rain.
Oliver’s hand drifted to his chest as he swallowed hard. “I don’t know. It feels like... thethingI told you happened in the hospital. Is Ansley all right?”
Felipe could feel the other man’s pulse where he held his wrist to keep him in place, and it hadn’t changed. “He seems fine.”
“Then, there’s someone else, and—” Oliver paused, panic blanching his features. “I need to go back.”
“Let me get Ansley into the cab, and I’ll come with you. Joe, did you see or hear any other hostages?”
Quickly hobbling away from Oliver, Joe stumbled toward the steamer. “No. I mean, I spent most of my time hogtied in the trunk, but I only heard Yates, the girl, and her mother.”
“Shit. Oliver, it might be the niece.”
Oliver’s grey eyes widened, and he immediately turned to head back.
“Wait!”
