As the vine lowered and waited for him to step closer, Felipe drew in a steadying breath and braced himself to be lifted.In a minute, it’ll be over, he reminded himself as the vines wrapped around his legs. He screwed his eyes shut the second his feet left the ground like he did every time he went to Coney Island with Teresa. When the vine slowed, he opened his eyes only to have his stomach and heart lurch into his throat at the realization that he was three stories up and rising higher. Felipe jerked in alarm, and the vines tightened around him like a boa. The prickly hairs on the vines poked through his trousers and sent a bolt of searing pain through the bite on the back of his leg. He made a mental note to clean it with alcohol from Oliver’s gladstone when they got back.
The moment the vine stopped, Oliver leaned out the window to grab his arms. Felipe tried not to think about dangling forty feet in the air as the smaller tendrils uncurled from around his legs. He could survive the fall, but he didn’t want to think about the aftermath. He wrapped his arms around Oliver’s neck, and with a grunt, his partner hauled him inside. Falling back against Oliver, Felipe sank to the wooden floor. He let out a tremulous, relieved breath followed by an oath when he lifted his head from Oliver’s chest and saw the state of the room.
Chapter Twenty
The Heir and the Spare
“Christ almighty,” Felipe said from Oliver’s lap, his eyes wide as he looked around the crowded room.
“You can say that again,” Gwen replied as she stepped back and narrowly avoided tripping over a pot with what looked like a fig tree growing in it. “Watch where you step. They might bite for all we know.”
Every surface, apart from some of the floor, was covered in plants. Ivy, small trees, a flowering plant that looked suspiciously like nightshade, and plenty Oliver couldn’t identify hung from the rafters, grew up the walls, and trickled across the nearly hidden furniture. It looked as if the room had been left to rot, and the garden had taken over. As Oliver released Felipe and helped him up, he turned to find Willard already rising to meet them. He balanced on a narrow strip of vine barely larger than his foot and ducked through the open window with the grace of a cat. Any semblance of ease disappeared as Willard’s feet soundlessly landed on the wood floor and he turned to find themstaring.
Flattening against the window, he swallowed hard. Fear or regret flashed across his features as he clutched his hands, but he seemed to catch himself and let them go with a wince. Unlike Lucien who moved through crowds as if always anticipating someone else’s demands or moods, Willard seemed self-conscious in a way that was horribly familiar. Oliver wished he knew what to say to smooth things over, but they barely knew each other. Anything he could think of would ring like a hollow platitude. Instead, he gave him a tight smile and a nod of encouragement. Willard stared at him for a long moment before averting his gaze and clearing his throat.
“Thank you all for coming. I know my letter was brusque, or I assume it was. Lucien and my sister would always say I am, but—” He made another pained, vague gesture before waving the thought away. Locking eyes with Oliver, he said, “That’s beside the point. The point is I needed to speak to you, and now, you’re here and— What is your name? I heard you were investigators with the Paranormal Society, but I missed your names when Lucien said them. I didn’t care at the time.”
“I’m Oliver Barlow. This is my partner, Inspector Felipe Galvan, and my best friend and coworker, Gwen Jones.”
“Will,” he replied simply, not meeting their gazes. “Now that, that’s settled. We need to get on with things. Everyone will be back from their respective activities in an hour and seventeen minutes.” He had gotten halfway across the cramped room when he stopped and turned to Oliver. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-seven.”
“Definitely Stephen’s then. Just as I suspected. Any children?”
“No,” Oliver replied with a shake of his head.
“Good, then, there’s no one except us. Lucien’s our weak point. I’ve begged him not to get married or procreate for years, but I can see his patience wearing thin. It’s only a matter of time before he conveniently forgets I ever asked him to wait.” As Oliver’s thumb drifted to the memento mori ring on his finger, Will’s eyes snagged on it. “A widower?”
“Yes and no,” he said truthfully, feeling his partner and friend’s eyes on his back. Will frowned thoughtfully but said nothing as he waved the plants hanging from the rafters away. If now was the time to ask questions, Oliver had a few of his own. Taking a step toward him as he paced to the far side of the room, Oliver asked, “May I ask how you knew I was your cousin? If you shoved me into the Dysterwood, I would rather know now than later.”
Will’s pale green eyes widened as he shook his head. His gaze flickered between Felipe’s stern expression and Oliver’s as he took a step back toward the window on the far wall. With a sweep of his hand, the ivy piled beneath it parted to reveal a battered telescope on a tripod.
“No, I didn’t. I— I don’t leave the house. I can’t. Not that far. But after the dead started rising, after Ridder, I started watching the cemetery after dark. I thought I could raise the alarm if I saw anything. I looked out and saw you, Galvan, sitting with Miss Jones in the cemetery. Then, she left, and you stayed. I wanted to see what you were waiting for. That’s when I saw you come out of the Dysterwood.” Will averted his gaze and stuffed his hands into his sleeves. “Only Jarngrens can come out of the Dysterwood like that, so you must be a Jarngren, even if that isn’t your surname.”
Oliver stared at the younger man. It made sense. It almost made too much sense. While he wanted to trust him, he couldn’t. “And how did you know I was Stephen’s son?”
“Because I’m not stupid,” Will responded with a dry scoff. “Stephen’s wife was with child when he died, and she disappeared. There was a fifty-fifty chance that the child survived, no matter what my aunt says. You came out of the woods, and you came from out of town. Therefore, you’re Stephen’s missing child. My father never left town and neither did Uncle Edmund. Any bastards would be local. That’s why I wrote you that letter.”
On one hand, everything Will said made sense. On the other hand, the thought of being spied on when he and Felipe reunited made him nauseous. If Will told anyone what he saw, he could get them in serious trouble. They might be blood, but they were nothing to each other.Without another word, Will darted past him, dropped to his knees behind his bed, and started prying up the boards. Oliver froze where he stood and looked over his shoulder at Felipe and Gwen for help. Gwen gave him a shrug before parting another curtain of vines to find a chair. Giving Oliver’s arm a squeeze, Felipe furrowed his dark brows and stepped closer. Across the tether, his emotions were steady, and that comforted him far more than words could. If Felipe wasn’t worried, neither was he. They inched closer slowly as if trying not to startle the other man and watched as Will pulled out papers and dusty books from a space beneath the boards.
“Mr. Jarngren, may I ask why you summoned us here?” Felipe asked. “I assume it wasn’t to have a family reunion.”
Will’s head shot up from the side of the bed. He looked over Felipe as if truly seeing him for the first time. Staring down at the tome in his hands for a long moment, he finally said in a thin voice, “Because I need your help to figure out what’s going on with the Dysterwood. All of this, the trees covering the road, the dead people coming back to life, the missing iron, I think it all has to do with your parents. They— they broke something in the Dysterwood around the time you were born. And if we don’t fix it, you and certainly I will be dead, and if we’re dead, I don’t think the rest of Aldorhaven will fare much better for long.”
A dizzying wave of panic flooded through Oliver’s brain and spread through his body in a cold sweat. “The family curse?”
Will released a mirthless laugh and dumped a pile of books and papers onto the bed. “You can call it that. Did your mother tell you anything about us?”
“I never met her. She had Lewis Allen take me back to Philadelphia to live with my grandmother the day she disappeared. No one told me anything about the Jarngrens or this place. I didn’t even know who my father was until yesterday.”
Will’s head snapped up. A shadow of hopelessness swept across his features, and his hand stilled over the map he had unfurled across the coverlet. “So you know nothing about us or you?”
“I mean, I didn’t. I don’t. Mr. Allen told me what he knew, the things that my mother told him or that he overheard. I would like to help if I can, but I don’t know if I know any more than you do.”
“Of course I know more than you! I know more than all of them. I’ve been researching the family since I saw the writing on the wall.” The anger that had fleetingly burned so brightly faded as he set a handful of stones onto the corners of the map. “I hadn’t thought to talk to Lewis Allen. That does explain some things though.” Will sighed. “Let’s start from the beginning, and we’ll see if you can fill in any gaps. Do you know about the Lady and the bargain? About our ties to the Dysterwood?”
“I know we can go into it. Mr. Allen mentioned the Lady a few times, but I don’t know what that means.”
