Thunder rolled and lightning cracked directly overhead, but Felipe didn’t flinch, even when a chunk of glassy hail cut his cheek. The rain would wash away the blood, and his skin would mend without his interference. Felipe had been trained to stay still for hours no matter the conditions, and he would remain on the bench all night if he had to. Every layer of clothing was saturated and his curls had flattened hours ago, but as long as Oliver remained in the Dysterwood, he would hold vigil. Felipe’s attention remained steadfastly on the distant beat of Oliver’s heart on the other end of the tether and the space between the trees where he had slipped into another world.
The tether’s familiar pressure between his ribs had been a comfort until Felipe thought about what it would feel like if Oliver died in the Dysterwood. What if there was no prelude of panic and Oliver’s life merely ended? Felipe had felt the tether fraying and slipping from his grasp when Oliver nearly bled out in the cathedral months ago, and he never wanted to experience that sensation again. But if Oliver was swiftly cut down, would Felipe live long enough to know? He might fall where he stood the moment Oliver died, and Gwen would find hiscold body at daybreak and know what happened. The alternative was even worse: that he might linger knowing the end was inescapable and the one person he wanted at his side had already left him behind. The breath caught in Felipe’s throat and tears hovered in the corners of his eyes. He had never wanted to believe in an afterlife for fear of where he might end up, but now, he hoped he would at least get to see Oliver again.
Felipe snapped to attention as the tether pulled taut. A crushing wave of panic knocked the breath from Felipe’s lungs as he leapt to his feet and made for the trees.Oliver. Between the graves where Oliver last stood, the shadows roiled and the branches shook as if caught in a windstorm. A flash of fabric was all he saw as the figure landed hard in the wet grass out of sight. Felipe’s heart pounded in his ears as he sprinted around the graves. The second he heard a wet, gurgling cough and a shuddering breath, he knew it was Oliver. Falling to his knees, Felipe scrambled forward and pulled Oliver upright. He whispered reassuring nothings and patted Oliver’s back as he coughed up water. He was soaking wet and stunk like a stagnant pond, but he was alive. When Oliver flashed him a relieved smile, a sob Felipe didn’t know he had been holding in broke from his lips. Oliver crushed Felipe to his chest and buried his face in his neck as ragged cries rocked his form.
“Is it really you?” The words slipped from Felipe’s lips unbidden as he clutched his partner’s back. For a moment, he feared he was dead, and they had both slipped into the afterlife together. He needed to be sure Oliver was real. Pulling back, Felipe cradled his lover’s face. He stared into Oliver’s pewter grey eyes and ran his thumb along his pale pink lips before brushing a wet lock of hair from his forehead with shaking hands. As if answering his question, Oliver took Felipe’s palm and placed it over his beating heart. The tether tightened as Felipe drew in a wet sniff. He had been so afraid he would never see him again. It must have shown on his face because Oliver bit his lip and tightened his grip on Felipe’s arms.
“I’m so sorry,” Oliver yelled over the rain, his voice thick. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Someone pushed me. I got back as quickly as I could.”
Felipe kissed his temple and hugged his trembling form fiercely, fearing if he let him go, he would disappear again. “Don’t be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry about. I’m just glad you’re safe. Love, you’re shivering. Let’s get you out of the rain.”
Oliver’s teeth chattered as Felipe helped him to his feet. “How long was I gone?”
“Five hours, but I would have waited forever if I had to.”
“Wait, I need to show you something first. I know you aren’t supposed to take anything from those places, but a tree person gave me this,” Oliver replied, holding up a gold ring. “What do you think it means?”
Felipe stared at it for a long moment, thinking of all Gwen had told him about Oliver’s possible origins. “I think it means we’re going to have a lot to talk about with Gwen after you’re dry.”
Chapter Fifteen
Old Friends
Every feeling Oliver had managed to hold in check in the Dysterwood came pouring out of him the moment he was in Felipe’s arms. If it hadn’t been raining so heavily, he might have sat on the grass in the cemetery a little longer and gotten all the ugly tears out, but Felipe was right about going back to the inn. They were both cold and exhausted, and overwhelm was rapidly approaching whether he liked it or not after losing hours of his life. Oliver held Felipe’s hand tightly as they walked back down Cemetery Hill toward the inn. Every few steps his partner glanced at him as if checking that he was still there. Watching Felipe unravel with relief upon seeing him emerge from the woods unscathed scared Oliver far more than anything he had encountered in the Dysterwood. He had assumed that as long as he kept his hands to himself and didn’t do anything obviously foolish, he would be fine, but Felipe didn’t underestimate dangers. He had seen too much in his twenty years with the society to not predict the likeliest outcome, and to him, that outcome had been death. Any thoughts ofasking Felipe about it were dashed when they entered the inn.
“Felipe, is that you?” Gwen called from the parlor. Her voice was edged with fear and rough like when her asthma kicked up. She dashed to the front room, and Oliver watched as her expression went from devastation to realization to joyous relief. “Ol!”
Before Oliver could move, Gwen collided with his chest and hugged him fiercely. Oliver nearly stumbled into Felipe, but he patted her back and held his best friend close. It wasn’t like Gwen to be quite so unrestrained. The sickening suspicion that he should have been far more scared in the Dysterwood grew into a leaden weight in his gut.
“You’re going to get your dress wet if you keep hugging me,” Oliver said, trying to keep his voice light.
“I don’t care. I thought we lost you.” Letting go only long enough to grab Oliver’s shoulders, Gwen locked eyes with him. “Don’t you ever scare me like that ever again, Oliver Barlow. Felipe and I were worried sick. I had a theory and hoped I was right, but we couldn’t—”
Gwen abruptly cut off when Felipe cleared his throat and darted his eyes toward the doorway behind her. Following his gaze, Oliver found the innkeeper staring at him with equal parts amazement and confusion written across his features. His blue eyes narrowed as if probing Oliver’s form before widening with something akin to fear. Oliver wasn’t certain if it was because he had escaped the Dysterwood or because he looked dreadful after being dragged through a bog.
“I need to clean up,” Oliver remarked stiffly with a wince. The longer he stood in the warm, dry inn, the more obvious it was that he was covered in a thin film of slime. If he thought too hard about it, the sensation turned his stomach.
“Mr. Allen, is there any way Oliver could take a bath and we could dry our clothes?” Felipe asked.
The innkeeper blinked and shook his head as if coming out of a fog. “Of course, follow me.”
As Mr. Allen motioned for them to go ahead of him into the kitchen, his eyes never left Oliver’s back. He couldn’t help but wonder what Mr. Allen wasn’t saying when he looked at him like that.
***
Quickly toweling off beside the wooden tub, Oliver had never been so happy to put his clothes back on. He had feared taking a bath in a strange place without Felipe might be the thing to finally send him into panic and tears, but washing off in frigid water seemed to shock him back into normalcy for the time being. He was too cold to be overwhelmed. The kitchen was warm from the dinner Mr. Allen was cooking in the oven, but the water was straight from the pump. Oliver hadn’t been willing to wait for it to be boiled on the stove, so it was his fault that it felt like icicles were forming in his hair and his fingertips were numb. Then again, he would have chosen hypothermia over feeling slimy a thousand times over. Oliver buttoned up his pajamas with chattering teeth and tugged on his robe before pushing the half-full tub toward the back door. Tipping the water into the grass, Oliver had never been so grateful for the Paranormal Society’s indoor plumbing and water heaters. He would not miss this inconvenience.
Tidying up as best he could, Oliver slipped out of the kitchen and followed Felipe and Gwen’s voices to the parlor. Oliver stood in the hall just out of sight, merely observing the room as he gathered the fortitude to join the conversation. Mr. Allen sat at the very end of the sofa with Argos curled at his feet and a smoldering pipe in his hand, listening to Gwen speak two cushions down. While Oliver was in the bath, Felipe had changed into his pajamas and robe as well. Oliver felt a bit conspicuous in his bedclothes, but Felipe had been adamant that their informality would be forgiven after getting soaked so late in the day. His partner sat near the fire with a damp towel around his neck and his curls sticking up at odd angles, though beneath his eyes were dark circles Oliver hadn’t noticed in the cemetery. A small smile crossed Oliver’s lips as he listened to Felipe recount what he had seen when Oliver reappeared in the cemetery. The warmth and relief in hisvoice was evident, but as Felipe finished, Mr. Lewis’s grip on the pipe tightened and his brows drew together. The entire time they had been there, the innkeeper had seemed affable, but the shadow that fell over his features didn’t sit well with Oliver. With a final fortifying breath, Oliver poked his head into the doorway. Felipe’s face broke into a wide grin as he patted the chair beside him.
“Your friends told me someone pushed you into a swamp, Dr. Barlow. It isn’t every day someone falls into the Dysterwood and comes out the other side,” Mr. Allen said with a stilted laugh that could have been from nerves or disbelief, though Oliver couldn’t tell which. “I don’t know of anyone who has lived to tell what they saw in the woods beyond a select few.”
Oliver gave him a tight smile. “I guess I was very lucky.”
“Are you feeling better?” Felipe asked.
“Much, just cold.”
“I have a hot water bottle filled and waiting for you,” Mr. Allen replied, nodding toward the fireplace where a water bottle lay slumped against the hearth. “I meant to grab a blanket while I was up. No matter, I’ll get it now.”
