The worst part was it had worked. He took comfort in knowing the agony and bloodshed hadn’t been for nothing because it was one of the reasons the Paranormal Society had been so eager to hire him. While they might not have trusted the Galvans, they knew their methods produced results. Any other Galvan cast-off would have been useful to them, even if they treated them with suspicion, but the man who had been hand-reared to be his grandfather’s heir was worth his weight in gold even if he came with some baggage. He knew they were taking a chance on him, so from the moment he arrived in Manhattan until his death, Felipe had made certain he could last longer, go farther, and withstand any blow. Anything to keep the Paranormal Society from regretting their decision to take on a man who came from a family who regarded them as enemies. The past twenty years had been a balancing act between being indispensable and not becoming the man his grandfather had molded in his image.
When Oliver gazed up at him with such open-hearted trust and thanked him for his patience and gentleness after they had sex, it nearly broke him. He wanted to cry that the gentleness was a façade; it wasn’t him. It was something he worked at day after day because the alternative was unthinkable, even if it was second nature. His family hurt people without remorse, strangers and loved ones alike, and sometimes, despite everything, Felipe still hurt the people he loved. The scar on Oliver’s ribs was a testament to what he was capable of. He couldtry to be a gentle and kind person all he wanted, but he could never forget that he was still a Galvan and no one was truly safe with him.
At the quiet tap of Oliver’s shoes on the tile, Felipe straightened and tried to look as if he had been reading the case notes again. When he looked up, he did a doubletake at Oliver’s outfit. He forgot Oliver had slipped upstairs to get changed before they met up with Agatha and Louisa to go a charity bazaar being held at their friend’s gallery that evening. Truthfully, he had tried not to think too much about another holiday passing and how they were hurtling toward another year. Tearing his focus back to Oliver’s clothes, Felipe ran his eyes over his emerald waistcoat and his matching jacket and pants, each a dark grey with green pinstripes. Green always brought out the color in his cheeks and lips, and that, combined with his wavy hair, made him look far softer and freer than he usually did. He would have looked like the kind of self-assured man one might pick up at a bar if it hadn’t been for the concern marring his features as his grey gaze swept from Felipe’s face to the papers in his hand.
“Everything all right?” Felipe asked in hopes it would throw Oliver off enough that he forgot what he wanted to ask.
“No,” Oliver said with a wince but shook his head. “Yes. Mr. Turpin sent a note saying he’s on his way down. I thought you might want to hear what he had to say about the book. If not, I can speak to him alone.”
Felipe didn’t particularly want to deal with that pedantic old codger, but it had only been a day since he did that weird thing where he becamemore. He still didn’t trust Turpin alone with Oliver.
“I’ll be there.”
Oliver nodded and took a step to leave when he hesitated. The tether buzzed with uncertainty as his fingers curled around the doorframe and he chewed his lip.
“What is it, Oliver?”
“I was just wondering if— if you’ve thought about writing to your cousin Santiago?”
Felipe blinked up at him. “Where did that come from?”
“The letter made me think of how excited you were when you found Santiago’s address. You seemed eager to reconnect with him, but you just let it go. I didn’t know if you are avoiding it or if you merely forgot, so I didn’t bring it up. I didn’t want to be pushy. I still don’t. It’s just that it’s getting close to Christmas time, and that’s usually when families often get together. It’s probably too short of notice to invite him for Christmas, but I thought you could invite him to visit us in the new year.” His feelings must have shown on his face because Oliver quickly added, “The society has guest rooms for that purpose, or we could put him up in a hotel if he would prefer it. Do you think he would be opposed to visiting the Paranormal Society? Is that why you didn’t write?”
“No, that isn’t it, Oliver.”
His face brightened in relief. “Good, because I think it would be good for you to catch up and get to know each other again.Ifhe’s amenable, of course. If he is, then we could show him around the city, take him to all the places we love, and maybe, even let him meet your family if you deem him worthy. I don’t know if Santiago ever found people like himself after he was forced to leave, but if he hasn’t, you could show him it is possible to be like us and to be happy.”
Felipe stared into his lover’s hopeful features and silently sighed. Oliver made it all sound so simple, but nothing with his family ever was. Like him, Santiago hadn’t been a Galvan in years, yet the thought of anyone from his family being near him—let aloneseeinghim—filled Felipe with dread. Then, there was the guilt. He had been a child when Santiago was caught with a man from the village and cast out, but for years, his tearful pleas as the gates closed on him had haunted Felipe’s nightmares. His cousin had been made an example of, and it worked. Felipe had done everything he could to hide his nature around his family for fear he would be next.
At one point, he foolishly thought he might be able to make things better if he was the Patrón, but when he realized that wouldn’t be possible, he begged Louisa to help him escape rather than face a life of repression and the constant fear of discovery. He had only been allowed to leave the compound with his head held high because he had so thoroughly hidden his nature from his grandfather and bought himself enough status to be temporarily untouchable as the heir. Even then, he had been wracked with guilt. Guilt for letting his grandfather down, guilt for bringing shame to his parents when he turned to the Paranormal Society, guilt for getting away with it, but worst of all was the guilt that he had the opportunity to make things better for future Galvans, and rather than staying and doing the hard work, he fled and kept up the façade in his letters for twenty years. He had done nothing to help Santiago or any hidden Galvans who couldn’t leave like he did. If Felipe was in his cousin’s shoes, he wasn’t certain he would want to speak to him. Running a tired hand across his cheeks, Felipe shook his head.
“Oliver, it isn’t that simple. I haven’t seen Santiago in nearly thirty years. I don’t even know what I would say to him or if he would even want to talk to me.”
“You could start by saying that you never forgot him, even after all these years, and that you always hoped he was able to have a good life away from your family. Then, you could tell him how you left years ago and rebuilt your life in New York. You could even hint about us.” Standing behind him, Oliver ran aloving hand over his shoulders and gave them a squeeze. “I know he might not want to speak to you or you might meet and not get along, but isn’t it worth trying to reconnect with him?”
“He has to be close to fifty now,” Felipe said, his voice tight.
“Then, you’re lucky to have found his address in time. Neither of you is getting any younger, and one day, you might regret not speaking to him when you had the chance. I know it’s scary, Felipe. Going to Aldorhaven and meeting my father’s family was terrifying, for many reasons, but despite everything, I’m still glad to have met Willard. Did you and Santiago get along when you were children?”
Felipe nodded, picturing Santiago playfighting with him and carrying him on his shoulders. He had been the only older boy who didn’t find him to be a nuisance. All it took was ruffling his hair and asking what he saw when he went out to help his mother to make Santiago his favorite.
“Then, you should write to him. You know that you two have some fundamental things in common, and you left but never forgot him. I’m sure it will mean something to him that you took the time to find him and reach out.”
The wave of warmth running along the tether in time with Oliver giving him a loving squeeze did little against the rising tide of dread gripping him. Felipe was relieved to know Santiago was alive and far from California, yet he couldn’t bring himself to write to him. He wished he hadn’t told Oliver he found him because he had drawn a line years ago that he would never mix the people he loved with the Galvans, and Santiago didn’t fit neatly on either side of that equation. He didn’t know if Santiago had stayed in California long enough to learn of Felipe’s rise to the Patrón’s golden boy or his marriage to Louisa. If Santiago thought he was a liar or a sellout, Felipe couldn’t blame him. Hell, it might have been preferable if he hated him and refused to speak to him on principle because if he wrote to him andSantiago was eager to reconnect after all these years, he didn’t know what he would do. For a moment, he thought about saying yes and putting off writing the letter until Oliver forgot again, but he doubted that would work a second time.
“I’ll… I’ll think about it.” Felipe’s head snapped up at the faint click of the lab’s outer door opening. “We can talk more about this later. I think Turpin is here.”
Oliver opened his mouth as if he wanted to say more, but at Turpin’s solid rap on the inner door, he quickly ducked out of the room. As soon as Oliver was out of sight, Felipe deflated and buried his head in his hands. He hoped to god that Oliver didn’t tell Louisa about their conversation over dinner. He didn’t have it in him to be berated and pitied in equal measure if they managed to cajole him into saying why he was afraid to see Santiago again.
At Oliver’s call that Turpin had arrived, Felipe shoved up from the desk and nearly flinched at the sudden weight of Turpin’s disapproving gaze on him as soon as he entered the lab. He shot back an equally put-out look as the old man rolled his eyes and ambled over to the counter with a tome tucked close to his chest. Following close behind Oliver, Felipe wished he had said he would stay in the closet, but the moment Mr. Turpin thumped the book onto the bench, Felipe was glad he stayed. He threw an arm in front of Oliver to keep him from getting too close.
“Is that—?”
“The Corpus Arcanum? Yes, Dr. Barlow, it is, and you can calm down, inspector. It’s merely a book; it won’t bite,” Turpin said as he arranged the book on the counter and pulled an old, gilded quizzing glass from his pocket. “Miss Jones said you have a suspected copy ofThe Corpus Arcanumas your murder weapon, so I brought our copy to confirm they are one in the same.”
“Is it safe to have it out of the special collections?” Oliver asked, his face ashen.
“As long as you promise not to steal it, shoot it, or pour coffee on it, then all should be well.” With a dramatic glance about the bench, the head librarian asked, “And the supposedly cursed copy is where?”
