“I’m sure he will.” Standing on her toes, Louisa craned her neck to see through the crowd, but Felipe doubted she could see him if he couldn’t. “I don’t think he’s here yet, but he and Bennett should come at some point tonight. I know they donated some jars of Theo’s special jam and pickled vegetables, so someone definitely invited them.”
“The problem is that I don’t have all night to wait for him. Oliver might not be able to stay all that long.”
“Well, if I see Theo, I’ll tell him you wanted to speak to him about something important.”
As he and Louisa lapsed into companionable silence, Felipe’s eyes trailed over the familiar slope of Oliver’s nose and the curve of his pale pink lips. No matter how many people there were, he always found Oliver in a crowd. He shined like the moon; his absence making Felipe’s world a little darker. Guilt clotted in his throat at the thought of Oliver not becoming an anchorite for his sake. Felipe had never been promised forever when he was reanimated; Oliver had offered him a week to find his killer, but love and luck had kept him alive for nearly a year. Of course, he wanted to live as long as he could with Oliver. He just didn’t want it to be at the expense of Oliver’s life and dreams.
Felipe took a swig of mulled wine, but a taste of his old life did little to wash away the bitterness left in his mouth. As much as Turpin irked him, he had chosen the future anchorites well. Of all the people at the Paranormal Society, there were few, if any, Felipe trusted more than Oliver and Gwen. From experience, he knew they worked well together and would strive to do the right thing, even if it wasn’t easy, and his life stood in the way of that. When Oliver looked over his shoulder and found Felipe staring, he gave him a tired but affectionate smile. Felipe replied with a tight grin that mirrored his grip on the tether and hoped Oliver didn’t notice. He would talk to Oliver later when things calmed down, but for now, he would keep his feelings to himself. Oliver didn’t need any extra anxiety when there were already so many people around, and Felipe didn’t feel like talking about it.
At least Oliver seemed to be in good spirits as Agatha led them into the first gallery room. She pointed out items she had scoped out before they arrived that she thought might be to Oliver and Felipe’s liking as well as those made by their commonacquaintances. The first room, the one nearest to the door, was filled to the brim with things for Christmas and even some for Hanukah. Felipe opted to wait near the entrance beside the table of candles, tops, pamphlets, and a handful of nine-armed menorahs while the others shopped. Being surrounded by so many baubles and decorations made him think too much, so he chatted with the young woman manning the table devoted to Hanukah. While the holiday wasn’t for a few more weeks, she confirmed that her sister was selling fried doughnuts along with knishes and latkes in the refreshments room.
Felipe’s stomach growled and his mouth watered at the thought of biting into scalding hot potato. He didn’t want to leave Oliver alone, but he would much rather peruse the food and bring him back a plate than stare at decorations that made him antsy. Peering through the crowd, Felipe found Oliver picking through stacks of Christmas cards while chatting with Louisa. An ember of warmth glowed beneath Felipe’s heart. Oliver would be fine. Twanging the tether, he waited for Oliver to look up and find him in the crowd. Holding up his cup of mulled wine, Felipe gave his partner a questioning look. Oliver nodded but mouthed what Felipe thought waschocolate. Felipe gave the tether a tug and slipped out to hunt for refreshments.
He was about the follow the smell of cooking oil when he spotted someone who looked like Theo Bisclavret in the room across from them. Unlike the room of decorations, this gallery appeared to be filled with clothing and accessories. The tables were littered with decorated hats, embroidered handkerchiefs, beaded purses, and smaller bits like brooches and pins. A few people he recognized from the Paranormal Society browsed the selection of shawls while the older Miss Jones, Gwen’s sister Ivy, collected donations and answered questions behind the table. Felipe looked for Bisclavret, but the man was nowhere to be found. Out of curiosity, he stuck his head into the next gallery.It was half estate sale and half art gallery. The back half of the room held what looked like household goods, like teapots and toasters, that people had donated to the sale while the front half contained what the women in his life would refer to as objects d’art. The handmade creations ranged from homemade scrapbooks to quilts to racks of paintings and prints. Somewhere in that room were pieces done by Agatha and Teresa, and Felipe couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride knowing his daughter’s work would be in other people’s homes.
In the last room, Felipe found the refreshments. He should have known as it was the most crowded, even if it smelled oddly of flowers and fried food. Most people were on line to buy refreshments or browsing tables of sweets to take home, but the florists and plantmancers that had set up close to the door had garnered a crowd. Felipe assumed it was probably because one of them could change the color or configuration of the plants to the buyer’s liking. A lot of people made a show of it to bring in more customers, but the plants often wilted faster after. As Felipe shuffled ever closer to the front of the line, he eyed a boutonniere with a red rose so dark it was nearly black. If it had been less crowded, he might have bought a rose for Oliver, but he seemed more like a living plant in a pot type. For now, snacks would have to do.
Felipe shivered as a gust of cool air blew in along with the smell of fresh pastries. He turned in time to watch a woman carry in a tray of hot, glistening doughnuts from the makeshift kitchen. Through the French doors to the tiny courtyard, he could see a giant pot of boiling water and a man flipping what looked like knishes in a vat of hot oil. Felipe had expected the food sold at the bazaar to all be homemade and brought in to avoid tainting the artwork with the smell of oil, but with everything stowed away for the event, there was little chance of that happening. Felipe’s stomach clenched as he watched thewoman with the doughnuts dump half of them into cinnamon and sugar while the rest went on a rack to cool, so they could be stuffed with jam. By the time he reached the front of the line, his hands were getting that warning jitter, so he bought a sausage to eat while he waited for his knishes and doughnuts to be ready. He also managed to get packets of krokerle, pfeffernüsse, fudge, and candied nuts to share with Oliver back at the apartment because if there was one good thing about the holidays, it was the food.
Felipe Galvan did not do things by halves, so of course, he also topped off his mulled wine, bought a hot chocolate for Oliver, and left with an emptier wallet but very full hands. Felipe stared at the crowd between him and the door with dismay. He had grown so accustomed to Oliver always being there to hand things off to that he hadn’t thought through how he would get the food to his partner without spilling hot liquid on someone else or taking the flesh off his hands. He would prefer the latter; at least he could heal himself. He stuffed the bags of sweets into any pocket they would fit, cursing himself as they knocked against his revolver and knife with every movement. His hands burned from the hot drinks and even hotter bag of knishes and doughnuts as he cut through the crowd sideways. Even with a steady stream of excuse-me’s and evasive maneuvers, he nearly got elbowed by Morris Holbrook for his trouble as he entered the atrium.
The crowd had dispersed to the other rooms, but with every minute, more people trickled back into the atrium. Felipe made a beeline for an open spot near the fountain where Oliver would hopefully see him. He attempted to give the tether two tugs, but even if he didn’t need his hands to do it, he feared he would drop the mugs if he let his attention slip for anything more than a sloppy twang. He was about to set the mugs down on the narrow edge of the fountain to shift the bag to his other hand when hefelt eyes on him. Felipe looked up in time to see Oliver’s grey eyes widen as he wove through the crowd to reach him. His look of concern turned to bemusement as he set his bloated shopping bag between his feet and took the cup of hot chocolate and the hot bags of food from Felipe’s hands.
“Is this why you told me to eat a light dinner?” Oliver asked with a wry grin as Felipe shook out his hands. “I think your eyes might be bigger than your stomach.”
“Maybe, but I think you’ll like what I got for us.”
“I’m sure I will.” Balancing the oily bags on his knee, Oliver peered inside. “Doughnuts!”
“Two just sugar and two jelly. And there’s a knish for you too,” he replied as he took one for himself. “They’re fresh, so—”
Oliver carefully pulled the doughnut in two and took a bite. The sinful noise he made as he chewed went straight to Felipe’s groin, so he quickly stuck a piece of burning hot knish in his mouth to quell his thoughts. Despite his earlier breakdown, Oliver was starting to look more himself as he dipped his remaining doughnut into his hot chocolate between bites. He watched the crowd and idly nodded along to the quartet’s tune, and Felipe wished he could thread his fingers through Oliver’s or wrap an arm around him. Even if much of the crowd belonged to the Paranormal Society, he didn’t dare do it. Instead, he stood with his shoulder pressed against Oliver’s and just enjoyed the moment of quiet. As Oliver leaned against him, he frowned when Felipe’s jacket loudly crinkled. Stepping back, he eyed the strange bulges on Felipe’s chest and hips.
“What do you have in your pockets?”
“Some cookies and candy for later.”
“Give them to me. I’ll put them in my bag.” Oliver gave him a world-weary look as Felipe pulled out half a dozen little bags from his pockets. “You really are trying to have mice infest your clothing.”
“Aren’t you the one who always has cheese and jerky in his coat?”
“Yes, but I don’t have a habit of never emptying my pockets,” Oliver said as he shuffled his things around in his bag and stowed the snacks beside them. “Besides, no one wants to put their hand in their pocket and be surprised by melted fudge.”
“Point taken,” Felipe replied around a mouthful of warm jelly doughnut. “What did you buy?”
“Holiday cards, a few prints your daughter made, and a ceramic bowl for the basement apartment that you can dump your keys and such into. Oh, and I bought a beaded purse that I thought I might give to Louisa for Christmas. I know it’s early, but I wanted to get a jump on my Christmas shopping since I have more people to buy for.”
Felipe’s chest warmed at the sheepish yet pleased smile that crossed Oliver’s lips. The look fell away as Oliver straightened and gave a little wave to someone in the crowd.
“Mr. Reynard and Mr. Bisclavret are coming this way.”
The two men chatted animatedly as they walked. Reynard gesticulated and shook his head, and while Felipe couldn’t hear their conversation, he could see the affection in Bisclavret’s eyes as he listened. He was used to Reynard being sardonic but quiet at the library, but he could see how he and Bisclavret must be behind closed doors, even if they were a study in contrasts. Where Theo Bisclavret was tall and sturdy, Bennett Reynard was short and wiry. Bisclavret was all shades of greens and browns with a light tan complexion to match while Reynard had pale skin, red hair, and wore bright colors that gave him a dandyish air. Most striking was how, even in human form, Bisclavret gave the impression of a powerful, watchful wolf, and Reynard had the vulpine features and sharp eyes of his namesake.
“Dr. Barlow, Inspector Galvan, I hope you’re enjoying the festivities,” Bisclavret said giving each of them a nod. While hehad lived in New York for several years, Felipe could still hear his Louisiana accent clinging to his vowels and the rhythm of his speech. “I ran into Mrs. Galvan, and she said you needed to speak to me about something important.”
Felipe let out a sigh. Better to deal with this now. “I do. I have a wolf problem.”
Bisclavret and Reynard listened intently as Felipe relayed all that DeSanto had told him and what he knew of the young man. Throughout it, Bisclavret nodded and only spoke to ask the occasional clarifying question. Every once in a while, Reynard would give him a pointed glance, and even if they didn’t have a tether, Felipe could see them exchange wordless thoughts. Felipe had heard that Theo Bisclavret was the son of the Rougarou, the most powerful werewolf in the country, and he could believe it. He might have worked in the gardens and did more canning than fighting, but he possessed a gravitas and a quiet intelligence behind his eyes that spoke of being raised to listen rather than react.
