Tightening his grip on Ansley’s limbs with one hand, Felipe pulled Oliver closer and kissed him, tasting the salty sea rain on his lips. “Go look for her, but wait for me. Do not go in without me.”
Oliver stared at him a long moment. The tether tightened beneath Felipe’s heart as a pool of warmth flooded through his chest, momentarily chasing away the storm’s chill. A silentI love youpassed between them. With one more quick kiss, Oliver left. Felipe watched his partner’s retreating form until he disappeared into the shadows of the brick buildings.
By the time he reached the steamer with Ansley on his back, Joe was already climbing inside. He hoped Teresa had seen them coming, so she didn’t stab him. Quickening his pace, he opened the door and dumped Ansley across the backseat.
“Teresa, this is—” The words died in his throat as his eyes swept over the front bench. Joe shivered in the empty passenger seat, watching him with a raised brow. Teresa was gone.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Blood
Slinking between buildings, Oliver tried to ignore the sensation of his powers being pulled to a guttering flame while still following it. He hated it. He hated the stirring of his necromancy and the way the tether seemed to reach for whomever fought for their life. What if it reached without his knowledge and hurt someone? His powers had never acted of their own accord at the Howard Hospital, but he had barely used them back then. Necromancy came far more easily now, and that scared him. Voices broke through the pelting rain as the sensation of unstable flickering grew stronger. Slipping from the shadows of one illuminated building to another, Oliver listened and crept closer to the grimy windows.
“She needs to understand her place, Irene. Shecannotbehave this way. I will not tolerate it,” Dr. Yates scolded. “My reputation already hangs by a thread. If it gets out that she is like her degenerate father, she will ruin us all.”
Mrs. Bellamy spoke, but all Oliver could hear was the pleading in her voice.
“I don’t care. Shewillfinish this treatment whether you like it or not. I will not have this kind of willful disobedience in my household. Do I make myself clear?”
What sounded like a sob broke from Mrs. Bellamy’s lips as the lights brightened and dimmed. The flame blew in an unseen wind, reaching for the tether as if it might save her. Before he could stop himself, Oliver threw open the door. The dead inventor’s laboratory had been converted into a makeshift operating theater with machines Oliver recognized from the hidden treatment room. On the counter sat a tray of syringes and medication along with what looked like vials of blood lazily tilting in the arms of a machine, but what held Oliver’s attention was Amelia Bellamy stretched across the center workbench.
The girl with the slight smirk he had seen in the photograph was barely recognizable after two years in her uncle’s care. Her copper hair stuck to the sweat glistening on her forehead as she dragged in a ragged breath. Her face was deathly pale and her eyes sunken. For a brief moment, her brown eyes opened, landing on Oliver with listless curiosity before she lapsed back into unconsciousness. Behind her at the head of the table, Dr. Yates held the machine’s metal and wooden wands in each hand.
“Put the electrodes down,” Oliver yelled.
Mrs. Bellamy stepped protectively in front of her daughter as she stared up at Oliver. He knew how he must look, a madman drenched and bedraggled, face taut with building fury. The doctor narrowed his eyes at Oliver before turning back to adjust the knobs on the machine.
“I’m in the middle of a procedure, Dr. Owens, though I suppose that isn’t your name and you aren’t a real doctor,” Yates replied calmly, not taking his eyes off the dials. “Yourbrother-in-lawstopped by. He said he was with the Paranormal Society, and I’m sure you are too. A nuisance, but there’s only one way to deal with your sort of people.”
Oliver smelled the tang of molten metal half a second before Yates turned on him. Ducking behind the other wooden door, Oliver covered his head as a bolt of electricity flashed and smashed into the wood behind him. Spots danced across Oliver’s vision and his ears rang as he stumbled away from the smoldering wood. Inside, Mrs. Bellamy screamed. Static clung to Oliver’s skin as he cautiously stepped back into the building. Perspiration glistened on Dr. Yates’s forehead in time with the generator’s uncertain thrum as he glared at Oliver, but at least Amelia’s soul didn’t reach for the tether again. Trembling, Mrs. Bellamy wordlessly stared at the smoking wooden door and then, her brother.
“You’re right. I am a member of the Paranormal Society. My name is Dr. Oliver Barlow. Now, put down the device and step away from the girl,” he said, keeping his voice level despite the shaking in his limbs. Where was Felipe?
“Or what?”
“Or she’ll die by your hand.”
