“Alone?”
“That’s usually how it’s done.”
Oliver let out an exasperated huff as he crossed his arms. “Oh, so the rules are for thee but not for me. Is that how it is? You have had Gwen and I going out here in pairs during the day, butyouare allowed to go out at night without telling anyone? That isn’t very safe, and you know it.” Oliver’s gaze strayed to the woods before narrowing on Felipe. “You seem to have overshot the outhouse.”
“I thought I saw something in the woods, that’s all. Look, let’s just go back to bed. I promise I won’t do it again.”
Oliver looked as if he wanted to say more, but instead, he hooked his arm through Felipe’s and steered him back toward the house. “Youhad better not. You don’t know how scary it was to wake up and find the bed empty after what happened today. I know I can be crabby at night, but I’d much rather you wake me up for my own peace of mind and your safety. The Dysterwood is not someplace I want to lose you.”
Felipe nodded but didn’t meet Oliver’s eyes as the reality of the danger he had been in hit home. This was the second time he had had a dream about his family and woke up out of bed. The first time, he hadn’t left the room; this time, he had made it outside. How far would he have gone if Oliver hadn’t found him? Felipe’s pulse rushed in his ears. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like any of this. Nearly losing Oliver had probably rattled him more deeply than he imagined, and Mr. Turpin’s ominous warnings about threats to his and Gwen’s safety hadn’t helped. Felipe’s lungs strained against his ribs. Stress could cause sleepwalking, couldn’t it? Then again, the dreams centered on his family. He had stuffed his mother’s letter in his bag with the intention of replying when he had a spare moment. Maybe, if he wrote his reply to her, it might be enough to get them out of his head and stop the dreams. Tightening his grip on Oliver’s arm, he hoped his partner couldn’t feel him tremble. He needed to keep it together. He couldn’t crack under the pressure and fall to pieces. Not now.
“Felipe, are you all right?” Oliver asked, stopping at the back door. In the dull glow of the kitchen window, he searched Felipe’s features. “I was speaking to you again, and you seemed a thousand miles away. You’re worrying me.”
Opening his mouth, Felipe hesitated. He wanted to tell Oliver about the sleepwalking and the memories haunting his dreams. Oliver would ultimately understand, but he didn’t know where to start or how to say it. If he started telling him about eavesdropping on his parents or cutting his arm in the belltower, then Oliver would ask questions about why. He would want to understand, and that would require telling him more about those years before he left the Galvan compound and the person he was supposed to become and still be. Oliver, sweet, Quaker-raised Oliver, who stuck so hard to do no harm that it complicated things and who was unequivocally loved by hisgrandmother, would be appalled by it. Felipe didn’t think he could speak and give life to those memories again, especially if it meant Oliver looked at him differently after. Scratching at the stinging bite on the back of his leg with his slippered foot, Felipe shook his head. In a few hours, they would be back in Manhattan, far from the Dysterwood. The sleepwalking would probably stop back home, so there was no point in worrying Oliver and opening Pandora’s box for nothing.
“I’m sorry. I’m fine. It’s just been a long day. What were you saying?”
Oliver frowned as he opened the door and let Felipe go in ahead of him. “What I was trying to tell you is that you should probably wear your sun spectacles if you go out at night. Your eyes are glowing. I know I wasn’t keen on going back to the Paranormal Society without having solved the case, but maybe it’s for the best. At least at home we don’t need a chaperone to use the facilities.”
Felipe sighed and kept his gaze low as he followed Oliver up the steps to their room. When they settled back into bed, Felipe still felt Oliver’s eyes on him. He dutifully snuggled close to him and pretended to sleep, but the moment Oliver nodded off, Felipe laid back and stared at the ceiling. He lay still as death until the shadows on the ceiling lightened with the coming dawn. It was only a few more hours before they left for home. He would finally sleep when they were safe.
***
Felipe snapped to attention at the sound of raised voices. Scrambling out of Oliver’s arms, he grabbed his gun from the bedside table and pointed it at the door before registering that the voices were coming from outside the inn. His pulse pounded in his temples as he scrubbed a hand over the stubble peppering his jaw and let the revolver drop into this lap. Beside him, Oliver stirred and squinted at the light. When he raised his head, he flinched at the sight of the gun.
“What is going on? Why is there a gun in our bed?” Oliver asked, his voice high with alarm.
“It’s fine. I thought I heard something.”
“It is not fine. Put that thing back in its holster where it belongs.” Rolling over with an annoyed huff, Oliver pulled the blanket closer and mumbled something about the early hour. “Go back to sleep. It was probably a rodent, and I’m sure Mr. Allen would be very cross if you shot a hole in his floor dealing with it.”
“It wasn’t a mouse. It’s—”
Before Felipe could reply, he heard it again: someone yelling and others replying or arguing; he wasn’t sure which. The voices were raised more in alarm than hostility, but they still had that unmistakable twinge of fear that could set off a powder keg. Felipe’s mind raced as he threw off the blanket. Had another person risen from the dead and attacked someone while they slept? Padding to the window, Felipe listened and tried to look through the glass; whoever was speaking was out of sight. He forced the window open and stuck his head out, but he still couldn’t see what was going on. Felipe didn’t want to wake the whole house running outside or give himself away not knowing where they were or what he was walking into. Climbing onto the sill, Felipe swung his legs out and tested the sturdiness of the porch roof. He carefully inched forward, sticking close to the roofline, until he could see the crowd gathered in the middle of the road running beside the inn.
At the center of the chaos stood a long, a horsedrawn cart with a tarp over what looked like giant rolls of paper. Painted on the side wasH & E Mill Co.Another cart, this one empty and unnamed, lingered behind it. The horses from the first cart had been temporarily freed from their harnesses and stood munching on the edge of Cemetery Hill as the drivers spoke to a growing crowd. From his perch, Felipe could see Mr. Allen talking to one of the men as he patted the black horse’s flank. Several more people were gesturing and pointing or arguing amongst each other. They would glance toward town and shake their heads, though Felipe couldn’t hear what they were saying. At first, Felipe thought that the two carts had collided or one had broken a struton a hole in the road, but upon closer inspection, the horses appeared fine, as did the carts. The older man speaking to Mr. Allen pointed at the road leading out of town. Following his finger, sickening dread washed over Felipe as he saw what had drawn the crowd.
“Oliver! Oliver, come here. You need to see this,” Felipe called from the roof.
“See what? Where are you?”
“On the roof. Just come here.”
“The roof!” Oliver stuck his head out, his eyes widening as he spotted Felipe crouching near the porch’s edge. “Get back inside. You’re going to break your neck!”
“It isn’t that high. But come here.” When Oliver didn’t budge from the window, Felipe sighed. “If you stand on the sill, you should be tall enough to see it.”
With a conflicted frown, Oliver hesitated before climbing half out of the window. Craning his neck, his grey eyes ran over the people and horses before landing on the trees. He opened his mouth to speak when the color drained out of his face.
“That’s the only road in and out of town, isn’t it?” Oliver asked, his voice tight. “And the Dysterwood… the trees have grown across it.”
Felipe nodded. “It looks like we’re trapped here.”
***
By the time he and Felipe got dressed, alerted Gwen, and made it outside, the crowd had grown to over a dozen people with more trickling in. Oliver stood on the inn’s porch watching the chaos farther down the hill with his heart in his throat. They were trapped. At some point between when they went to bed and when they awoke, the Dysterwood had swallowed up the road from both sides. He tried to remember if the road had been clear when he fell out of the forest, buthe hadn’t thought to look. It had been too dark and chaotic, and he hadn’t thought to worry about the road being overtaken in his absence. Now, the road ended suddenly in a carpet of moss and grass. Mature trees stood in the center as if they had been there for years, the same height as their neighbors.
Had this mess been his doing? Oliver wondered. He had taken the ring from the Dysterwood in order to escape, and perhaps, he had violated the rules of the woods. By all accounts, he should have been swiftly cut down by a creature or forced to wander the forest for all eternity, but instead, the woods had decided the best way to get the ring back was to trap him and everyone else in town forever for his transgression. The battered ring hung on the chain around his neck out of sight; Felipe had insisted he keep it with him just in case. Part of him wanted to hurl it back into the woods in hopes that would make things right, but if it didn’t, they would have no other options. Gwen had suggested he wear the ring while asking the trees to part like Moses in the Red Sea, but he would have to wait for everyone to leave before he tried that. Asking nicely had worked once after all.
