“Off, inspector.”
Rolling his eyes, Felipe grabbed the pile of books and stood slowly enough to draw another withering look from Mr. Turpin.
“There are perfectly good tables against the wall for everyone to use, most of which are empty at the moment, yet you insist on being a tripping hazard or worse. I would ask why, but I suspect I know.” Mr. Turpin shook his head and glanced at the papers in his hands before thrusting them at Felipe. “The head inspector came looking for you and Dr. Barlow. I told him I would deliver these to you. I didn’t think you would want to be disturbed.”
Felipe quickly shifted the stack of books under his arm and grabbed the wad of papers. A telegram from the police had been paperclipped to the orders from Head Inspector Williams. As usual, the instructions were clipped and sparse in details, but beneath them was all the paperwork they might need to prove to any lingering policemen that they had the authority to be there and take over the scene. Felipe hoped the police were gone by the time he and Oliver got there. They were always such a nuisance, especially when they thought they knew better thantheir superior officers who called the society in, in the first place. The Paranormal Society was an open secret, but sometimes, it was better to let them think they were federal agents than have to explain magic to them. Skimming the telegram and the orders from the head inspector, Felipe frowned. A mysterious death in a nouveau riche area. What had tipped them off at the scene that they thought to call the Paranormal Society? Probably not a stab or bullet wound; otherwise, it would have said a murder. There was a good chance that someone had gotten themselves killed by doing something foolish, like getting their face chewed off by a demon or setting themselves on fire, he thought cynically. Christ almighty, Oliver was rubbing off on him.
He hadn’t realized he had started walking away until Mr. Turpin cleared his throat. “Are you planning to make off with those books, Inspector Galvan, or are you going to check them out before you collect Dr. Barlow?”
Felipe’s hand tightened around the pile of books. Of course, Turpin wouldn’t let him off the hook that easily. He had come to the library to learn about the meaning behind the death card, and while he had gotten what he wanted, he wasn’t sure he was ready to part with the books yet. He had the nagging feeling there was more he should learn. The problem was that the deeper he dug, the more he might not like what he found.
Forcing himself to set the books down on the ladder, Felipe stepped away without looking back. “You can take them. I think I’ve read enough.”
Felipe turned on heel and got about three steps toward the catwalk when Turpin called out to him again. Sucking in a tight breath, Felipe wheeled around and was about to ask what the hell Turpin’s problem was when he spotted the death card and Receipt of Prophecy pinned between the librarian’s fingers.
“I believe these belong to you.”
Felipe sighed. All this prophecy nonsense was making him scattered. He needed to get his shit together before they left for the crime scene. Felipe reached for the slips of paper, but when he tried to take them, Turpin didn’t let go. Before he could pull his hand away, the world seemed to stretch as Turpin loosened into something more. Felipe’s pulse raced at the sudden weight of Turpin’s being pressing down upon him. The head librarian was everything and nothing, shadow and flesh, man and magic and monster all at once. The shelves around them sank into oblivion until all he could see were the librarian’s blue eyes.
“I have said this to Dr. Barlow before, but it bears repeating: these books hold information, but they won’t give you allthe answers you seek. The path you are starting down is a road no one has ever walked before and no one will ever walk again. It is up toyouto decide where it goes. Neither cards, nor books, nor prophecies decide our fate. They are merely guides and portents.Youdecide. Do you understand, Galvan?”
His heart pounded in his throat, but he forced himself to nod. A small smile curled the corner of Turpin’s lips as he relinquished his hold. Felipe’s ears popped in time with the well-lit shelves surging back into place as if nothing had happened. He ran his gaze over Mr. Turpin for any signs of what he once was, but he appeared to be nothing more than a balding old man with an eternally disapproving frown. As Turpin hoisted the stack of books into his arms, Felipe’s mind reeled and he held onto the shelf ladder as if it were the only thing tethering him to reality.
“Well, the books will still be here if you change your mind, inspector, and I would like to remind you that the library is for everyone. You aren’t relegated to the first floor by any means.” Setting the first book back in place, Turpin didn’t meet his gaze as he said, “When you see Dr. Barlow, let him know that I wouldlike to speak with him about something important when he has time.”
Felipe nodded again, though he didn’t want Oliver anywhere near Turpin right now. He would tell him when they returned from retrieving the body, and the fear coursing through his veins had died down. As if feeling Felipe’s probing gaze upon him, Mr. Turpin shook his head and gave him another world-weary look.
“Don’t you have a case to attend to and a medical examiner to collect, Inspector Galvan?”
Forcing his body to move, Felipe pocketed the death card and Receipt of Prophecy and strode toward the meeting room as quickly as his legs would carry him.
Chapter Three
A Different World
Sinking deeper into the passenger seat of the Paranormal Society’s hearse as Felipe pulled away from the curb, Oliver deflated with relief. He had never been so happy to be called away from the society to deal with a corpse. He would apologize to Gwen later for not staying for the whole meeting, but being called to a crime scene was a far better excuse than running from the room because cobbling together the right set of words to not make people hate him was hard. When Felipe appeared in the doorway and said he needed to steal Oliver away to deal with a case, Oliver nearly sobbed with relief. As he gathered his things, Holbrook tried to convince Felipe he should join the committee. Oliver hadn’t heard Felipe’s words, but his tone was less than cheerful and rather forceful. Yet Holbrook let it go with an “Ah, well, we can talk about it at a more opportune time.” If only he could manage a reply that was palatableandforceful. Every time he tried to do both, it ended with him either being ignored or greeted with sneers. At least no one even gave him a dirty look or criticized him as he made his apologies and followed Felipe out. They were probably relieved they didn’t have to deal with him for the rest of the meeting.
Oliver started to shake out his hands again but caught himself and stuck them under his armpits. Felipe’s eyes darted from the road to Oliver, but he said nothing. Ever since they leftthe meeting room, Felipe had been quietly assessing him, giving him space to decompress while still being attentive. He was glad Felipe had let him go through his routine of double checking his gladstone and the supplies in the back of the hearse in silence before they departed. His partner knew he needed to not speak to keep from breaking down. Whether he talked or not, he still might, and he wanted to know what he had done to make things go so wrong. When they stopped at the next intersection, Felipe’s gaze lingered on Oliver’s face and chest as if he could puzzle out the miasma of emotions rolling off him. Oliver had felt fear and dread coming from Felipe’s side of the tether a minute before he arrived at the meeting room, but it had been quickly replaced by concern.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Felipe began cautiously as he took the next turn and headed uptown.
“Yes. No. I don’t know.”
“I assume the meeting didn’t go well.”
A bitter, wet laugh escaped Oliver’s lips as he stared down at the paperwork in his lap. “You could say that. I’m sure it was fine for everyone else, but not for me. The society is going to hold an open house sometime before Christmas, and they want everyone to help out, which is sort of what I was expecting, but I— I put my foot in it. I don’t think I want to go back, but I know Gwen will want to. I don’t want to disappoint her, but I don’t think Morris Holbrook wants me to come back either.”
At the thickness of his voice, Felipe’s warm brown eyes locked onto his. “What the hell happened?”
“I don’t know. I mean, I know when it went wrong but not how exactly. Right at the beginning, Holbrook decided to have everyone introduce themselves, including their powers and how they could be used to help with the open house. It all went downhill from there.” Oliver looked up in time to see the back ofthe steamer in front of them rapidly approaching. “Felipe, eyes on the road!”
Felipe hit the brakes hard enough to make the steamer buck and muttered something about uptown drivers before turning back to Oliver. “Did you tell them you were a necromancer?”
“No! And I don’t plan to, but you would think I did from the way they reacted. All I said was that my powers weren’t their business since they had nothing to do with the task at hand.”
Grimacing, Felipe pulled onto Fifth Avenue.
“Oh, god, that’s the same face Bennett Reynard made when I said it. Where did I put my foot in it?”
