“With my life.”
The words rushed from Felipe’s lips unbidden, and the air around them crackled. With a clap like thunder, Felipe’s ears popped painfully and Mr. Turpin settled back into the balding, unassuming old man Felipe was accustomed to. “Good, then, I suggest you get going, Inspector Galvan. Aldorhaven is not a place I would recommend venturing to at night.”
Felipe’s heart hammered in his head. He was certain if he touched his ear, he would find blood, but when he did, nothing was amiss. He had seen and experienced phenomena and carnage the likes of which most people couldn’t imagine, yet his brain felt as if it had been turned inside out as he watched Mr. Turpin leave. It was as if the man had never been something more.
“Wait,” Felipe called, finally finding his voice. “What do you mean Oliver’s role in all this? What do you know?”
Turpin gave Felipe a far more sympathetic frown than he had ever given him before. “You know I can’t tell you that, Galvan. The future is only so clear, even for the best of us, but there is a reason fate intervened that night.Thatis becoming clearer. Keep them safe.”
Standing rooted in the foyer, Felipe watched Mr. Turpin melt into the shadows of the hall and disappear. Felipe tried in vain to slow his pounding pulse.There are greater things at stake than the dead, Felipe repeated in his head, but what? His mind reeled. He wanted to step away, to go back to the apartment or lab and pretend they had never agreed to take this case, but he knew that would be impossible. A hand closing on his shoulder snapped him back to reality.
“Felipe, please tell Gwen I’m not being overprotective,” Oliver pleaded.
“Did you see Turpin—?” Turpin, what? Turpin disappear into the wall like a ghost?
“No, why?”
Felipe scrubbed a hand over his face. There was no way he had hallucinated that. “He— he gave Gwen permission to go with us, so she’s coming to Aldorhaven.”
“I told you!” Gwen crowed triumphantly behind Oliver as she levitated her trunk toward the door.
Oliver grumbled but followed her outside to the waiting steamers. Trailing a step behind them, Felipe watched a smile break across Oliver’s lips as he loaded their bags in with Gwen’s. When he reached for Oliver’s heart, Felipe felt only trepidation mixed with relief at having his best friend at his side. Felipe clung to that feeling. It was far more comforting than the shadows taking shape in his mind.
***
The drive to Aldorhaven took far longer than Felipe anticipated. While Felipe knew it was located somewhere in the Southwesternportion of New Jersey, he hadn’t realized just how far that was from Manhattan. They had gone from small cities to peaceful towns to bucolic landscapes and back again several times before they hit the Pine Barrens. Farms gave way to a seemingly endless forest bisected by winding carriage paths that led to mill towns or lone houses, then nothing for miles. Unease knotted Felipe’s gut; it would be so easy to get lost.
On the other side of the bench seat, Oliver and Gwen studied a map with a route traced in pencil. Pushing her glasses up her nose, Gwen squinted at the road ahead. “The next left should take us to Aldorhaven.”
Slowing the steamer, Felipe nearly missed the turn hidden among the thick trees. The path had once been well-trodden, but the edges had become overgrown with disuse. Anxiety flickered across the tether from Oliver as his lover stared through the windshield at the narrow space between the trees. He wasn’t certain what Oliver had expected, but somehow, this probably wasn’t it. As they drove into a thicker thatch of pitch pines, the sky dimmed, and the steamer lurched beneath Felipe’s hands. Beside him, Oliver sneezed twice and drew in a wet sniff as he blinked away the tears in his eyes.
“I think we have reached the murder town,” Gwen said as Oliver blew his nose. “The Allen Inn should be half a mile up the road on our right.”
A moment later, the pines and oaks fell away on one side of the road to reveal a house. What looked to have once been a quaint farmhouse had been converted into a small, two story coaching inn with a stable and an overgrown pasture. A faded sign painted with a brown horse andThe Allen Innin blocky letters hung dolefully from the long porch.
Parking the steamer in the yard beside the inn, Felipe turned to Gwen and Oliver. “Remember, don’t say anything about Oliver’s family being from Aldorhaven. We don’t know the people or what’s going on yet. Even if you suspect they are your family, don’t let your guard down around them.”
“Felipe, isn’t that a little—”
“No, Oliver, it isn’t. Two investigators already went missing. We don’t need to be next. Be polite, but don’t get too comfortable. Any questions before we go in?”
Gwen raised her hand. “Should I levitate my trunk or should one of you carry it for me?”
“I’ll carry it. Felipe can do the talking.”
As Oliver struggled with Gwen’s trunk, Felipe poked his head into the stable. It was empty and looked like it had been for some time. The whole place had an air of weariness, and the wall of trees looming on the other side of the road didn’t help. The forest behind the inn seemed no different from the orange and red leaved trees and eternal pines they had passed through for the past two hours, yet Felipe was certain he felt something watching from the trees across the road. His free hand slid to the knife tucked into his belt. Just because he couldn’t see anything, didn’t mean it wasn’t there. Ushering Oliver and Gwen into the inn ahead of him, Felipe looked into the woods and thought he caught a flash of white, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.
Stepping into the inn behind Oliver, Felipe feared it was deserted too, but as his eyes roamed over the front room a second time, he noticed a stout, white, middle aged man perched on a stool behind the front desk. He read the paper with a pipe dangling from the corner of his mouth and a monocle clenched in front of his left eye. His face was round and ruddy, making him appear youthful, even though his once dark blonde hair was now streaked with salt and pepper strands. The moment the door closed behind them, he set the paper aside and dropped the reading glass back into his pocket in a smooth, practiced motion.
“Welcome to the Allen Inn. How may I help you folks?” the man asked, his voice harsh from years of tobacco smoke.
“Mr. Allen, I presume? We’re investigators with the New York Paranormal Society. I’m Inspector Galvan,” Felipe began, shaking Mr. Allen’s hand.
As the man’s blue eyes widened, Felipe noticed the skin aroundthe eye that had held the monocle was pink and strained with old scars. Propped behind the counter within reach was a well-used wooden cane along with a large, brindle dog who sat curled by his feet. While Mr. Allen gave the impression of being larger than he appeared, he was an inch or two shorter than Felipe when he stood and probably a decade older.
Gesturing behind him, Felipe continued, “This is Dr. Barlow, our society’s medical examiner, and Miss Jones, one of our librarians. She’s come to aid us in our investigation and record our findings.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet all of you, though I wish it were under better circumstances. I’m Lewis Allen.” The man shook his head and let out a nervous chuckle. “You probably already knew that since I’m the one who wrote to the society in the first place. My apologies if I seem befuddled, but I wasn’t expecting three of you.”
