“The ‘not their business’ part.”
“But it isn’t their business! It’s an invasive question that shouldn’t have been asked! We aren’t allowed to make note of people’s powers in our case files, so why can Holbrook demand I tell the whole committee mine? That isn’t fair or right. I’m allowed some modicum of privacy.”
“I get it, but saying it isn’t their business sounds rude. You could have just said you weren’t comfortable sharing.”
Oliver scoffed. “When has that ever worked? Whenever I say I’m uncomfortable, people just push and try to coerce me into doing whatever it is they want me to do. No means no when you say it, but that doesn’t happen for me. You know how Holbrook backed off when you gave him the brush off? If I did that, I would have been called difficult or asked to leave.”
“Not everyone is like Ansley or the head inspector, Oliver,” Felipe said gently.
“No, but most of them aren’t like you or Gwen either. You give me the benefit of the doubt and ask what I mean if what I say comes out wrong, and you take no for an answer. Most people don’t do that.” Shaking his head, Oliver added, “You want to hear the worst part? Holbrook somehow got it in his head that I was only there to take notes for Gwen even though Isigned up to be a part of the committee. I tried to be biddable and volunteer to give tours, and he still didn’t even assign me a hypothetical role for the open house.”
“Why didn’t you say some—” Felipe shut his mouth with a sigh before giving Oliver’s knee a loving squeeze. “No, I get why you didn’t bother saying anything. It sounds like Holbrook was being an ass.”
“I don’t know. Everyone else seems to get along with him, so I assume I’m the problem.”
“Well, I don’t get along with him. He was rude to my partner,” Felipe replied, slipping his fingers between Oliver’s, “and I’m sure Gwen wouldn’t approve of his behavior either if she knew how he treated you.”
A hesitant smile crossed Oliver’s lips. “While I appreciate the sentiment, I don’t want to make things complicated for Gwen. Shewantsto be on this committee. Besides, the purpose of all of this is to make things better for everyone at the society, and me complaining doesn’t help that. If I do go back, I’ll just pretend this meeting didn’t happen and hope everyone else forgets in the meantime.”
“I’m sure they will.”
“Is it bad of me to hope the chalkboard disappears as well? Holbrook kept making the chalk screech, and the sound went straight through my teeth.”
At Oliver’s shudder, Felipe bit back a laugh. “If you decide to go to the next meeting, I promise I will wheel the chalkboard out of the room ahead of time.”
Squeezing Felipe’s hand, Oliver wished he could bring it to his lips or lean against Felipe as he would back home. Offering to steal the chalkboard was probably a silly, offhanded comment to make Oliver feel better, but it still meant so much to him. He had lived on his own since he was nineteen, but having Felipe in his life had made everything better and easier. He had been withother men before Felipe, yet he had never had someone he could rely on who also relied on him in return. They made up for what the other lacked, and while they were fine apart, they were even more together. Oliver made certain Felipe ate and rested enough to maintain his reanimated body while Felipe helped Oliver in those moments when life became overwhelming.
Oliver was certain Felipe had felt his sudden relief across the tether when he knocked on the meeting room door. Oliver knew that sound, and the second he caught a glimpse of tan skin and curly, walnut brown hair from the corner of his eye, his heart knew it was Felipe before his brain or eyes could register it. After ten months, he could recognize Felipe by the sound of his steps or the cadence of his breath in the dark. He had committed to memory the rhythm of his heart, the smile crinkles at the corners of his eyes, the strands of grey hair at his temples, the tender arch of his hip that fit perfectly beneath his palm. He knew his body better than he knew his own, and he loved him wholly, even if there were parts of his life that were still shrouded in shadow.
There were times when a storm cloud of emotions rumbled across the tether when there had been only a calm sea a moment before. Sometimes, Felipe didn’t seem certain where they came from, but Oliver had his suspicions. In the bottom drawer of Felipe’s desk, Oliver had seen the letter from Felipe’s mother alongside the address of his cousin who had been cast out of the family; Felipe still hadn’t decided what to do about either of them. The things that had haunted his nightmares in Aldorhaven still followed him, and Oliver hoped that if he waited, Felipe would trust him to shoulder that pain with him. He didn’t know what had upset Felipe in the library, but he didn’t think it had to do with his family. That felt different.
“How was the library? Did you find what you were looking for?” Oliver asked, trying to sound casual.
Felipe’s face tightened around his eyes. “Somewhat. I also ran into Turpin, and he did that thing again.”
“The thing where he somehow puffs up like a frog but with magic?”
“Christ almighty, I hate when he does that. It gives me the creeps.”
“Why did he do it this time?”
Felipe shrugged. “You know how he is. Hey, can you check the address for me? It’s Fifth Avenue and Seventy-what?”
Shuffling the papers in his lap, Oliver suppressed the urge to give Felipe a sidelong glance. That was an evasive maneuver if he ever saw one, but he would let it go for now.
“It’s Fifth and East 77thStreet, so we’re on the correct side of Central Park at least.”
“It’s probably up on the Golden Mile,” Felipe replied with a grimace of distaste.
They went up that way often enough when Teresa was home to visit the museums surrounding Central Park, but Oliver couldn’t picture what the house looked like. Halfway to the address, the finery of Fifth Avenue was still broken up by boardinghouses and normal shops, but with every passing year, more mansions cropped up like mushrooms. The Golden Mile and its inhabitants with bottomless pockets seemed to be spreading further into the city to the point that when Oliver and Felipe made plans to go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art or that side of Central Park, they made sure to eat beforehand or made plans to have something closer to home after.
Oliver studied Felipe’s face and noticed the shadow of a dark circle making its way to the surface. They would need to find something for Felipe to eat on their way back if they wanted to avoid fatigue and hand tremors. Oliver silently cursed himself for being so jangled when they left the society that he hadn’t thought to pack some emergency jerky or cheese. Theycouldn’t exactly stop anywhere once the body was in the hearse, but they would figure it out. Oliver eyed the storefronts for anything reasonable as they drove farther into the domain of the nouveau riche. They passed opulent French restaurants, stores that catered only to the most discerning clientele, and hotels where a room probably cost more than he made in a month, and Oliver couldn’t help but feel as if he had entered an alien world. When they visited the Tam Noodle House or the Jewish markets or even when he stumbled upon Reynard’s immigrant shifter meetings, he might not have always understood the languages around him, but he understood the people there all wanted the same thing as him: stability, safety, a little time and money to do what they loved with whom they loved. Driving past a half-built sprawling mansion, it was clear they did not want the same thing.
“I think we have arrived,” Felipe declared as they pulled onto East 77thStreet and were met with a sea of police wagons and a crowd of reporters clogging the road in front of a monstrosity of a house that took up half the block. On every side, people stared into the steamer as they inched forward. Oliver’s pulse raced. He needed to stay grounded, so he locked his gaze onto the house and refused to look at anything else. The mansion was hideous. It reminded him of the Medieval tapestries he had seen at the Metropolitan Museum of Art where the artist tried to portray a lion without ever having seen one. It was obvious whoever designed the house had only a passing acquaintance with castles. The facade was littered with nonsensical turrets with large windows instead of arrow slits, pointy crenellations, and several Juliette balconies no one could access because they were in front of windows, not doors.
When Oliver had previously complained about this emerging style of architecture to Gwen, she had told him that since people like the Vanderbilts and Carnegies didn’t haveany ties to power through blood, they tried to harken back to European castles through the designs of their homes. With all that money, they could have at least come up with something original. Then again, he lived in a place that looked like a temple to Hecate or Hades that featured a frieze of a danse macabre and a pair of oddly placed gargoyles, so perhaps, he was spoiled for whimsy and originality. With plenty of honks and cursing, Felipe inched the steamer through the crowd to reach the wall of police wagons. A grim-faced officer waved them to the side as a reporter snapped a camera in Oliver’s face. Resisting the urge to shake out his hands, Oliver hunkered lower and reminded himself they were here on a job. Crowds were difficult, corpses were easy. All they had to do was get inside.
***
