Oliver sighed but let it go. As Holbrook moved from person to person, the names on the board shifted as roles were added and removed, but Oliver’s remained at the bottom unchanged. Holbrook finished what he was writing, and then, his gaze landed on Oliver’s name. Oliver straightened, bracing himself for whatever ridiculous place Holbrook would want to stick him when Holbrook picked up the chalk, quickly wrotefloater, and moved on to discuss with Mr. Martins how some of the investigators might be put to use despite being busy. Oliver gaped.Floater? Everyone else got roles, and he got to be a floater. Somehow, Holbrook managed to find his weakness and stick a knife straight into it. The ambiguity of it galled at him. He had expected Holbrook to tell him to wait in the lab for tour groups that would never come, yet this was worse. Either he would do nothing the entire day, or Holbrook would send him on random errands the entire day until he got so jangled he quit. IfHolbrook was a different man, Oliver might have asked him to reassign him to another area or to let him help the Sybils create lists and organize groups, but he knew that if he did, Holbrook would think he was being difficult again. Felipe would tell him to just find something to do the day of the event and not ask permission, but people rarely questioned Felipe like they did him.
“What about fundraising? This is the Mutual Aid Committee. Shouldn’t we raise funds or gather other donations to help the newer members stay afloat until they can get settled?” Miss Patel asked.
“While that is a good point, I don’t want money to be the focus of the open house. I worry it will give new members the impression that we’re a business focused on profit rather than community. Plus, if we raise money and they know it’s for them, some might only want to join for that. We want to make sure that the donations are going to the most worthy and needy people.”
That isn’t how it works, Oliver thought but bit his tongue.
When Miss Patel looked as if she might push the issue, Holbrook said, “Since it is on New Year’s Eve, I was thinking we might host a special dinner, and the proceeds from that could go to our mutual aid fund. The prospective members will dine with the people who showed them around and made them feel welcome, that way they can learn more about life here, and the more genteel and well-off friends of the Paranormal Society will dine elsewhere as I doubt they would want to attend the open house. Miss Patel, would you and your companions be able to gather the names of our wealthier patrons and send them a letter of solicitation for the donations? We could iron out the details for where the dinner will be held, but I would like to strike while the iron is hot. Now, imagine all the people from the open house sharing a meal—”
Oliver did, and the thought filled him with dread. When the open house had been dozens of people moving through the building in small groups, he hadn’t thought much of it as that was close to how the society functioned on a normal day. Cramming potentially hundreds of people into the dining room and foyer was dangerous, even if the building chose to expand as it had during the All Hallows’ Eve party. If it did, it might be even worse. Mrs. Van Husen had said the building becamequirkywhen there were so many people in it, and that would lead to confusion among those who lived there on top of the newcomers. It would be so easy to attack them during dinner. They would be sitting ducks in two rooms with tables and chairs in the way and potentially exits and halls that were in different positions than normal. Oliver’s throat constricted at the image of everyone trying to flee through the front door. There would be a stampede, and far more than two people would die if that happened. The more they advertised and made a spectacle of it, the more enticing it would be for the would-be killer. Striking the Paranormal Society meant striking the heart of New York’s magical society. They had to wait. They had to postpone it until they got a handle on who was behind the murders and attack.
Oliver raised his hand to catch Mr. Holbrook’s attention, but he was busy discussing magical-owned restaurants that might be willing to lend them their chef or private dining room for the event. Oliver waited, keeping his hand up even as people farther down the table looked uncomfortable. Miss Darling cleared her throat and nodded toward Oliver, but when Holbrook realized it was him, he rolled his eyes and kept talking. Gwen laid her hand on Oliver’s arm and was probably going to tell him to ignore it, but he couldn’t. If Holbrook was going to be that way, then Oliver was done being civil.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Oliver said his voice wavering as he put his hand down. When Holbrook still paidhim no heed, Oliver raised his voice. “I said, I think this is a bad idea.”
Holbrook gave him a derisive look as he straightened to his full height. “What do you think isn’t a good idea, Mr. Barlow?”
“Holding the open house in a few weeks when Mrs. Cutler was attacked, two people were killed, and dozens were injured feels foolhardy. We still don’t know who did it or when they’ll strike again, and the open house will be a tempting target.”
“We don’t know that wasn’t an isolated incident.”
“It wasn’t. Inspector Galvan and I have been working these cases. We had one man murdered under mysterious circumstances with a warning that there would be more. The attack at the bazaar was the follow-up to that. Someone is targeting magical people, and if we hold the open house before we figure out who did it and if they’re working alone or with other people, then we’re opening ourselves up to another potential attack that could have more casualties than the first. We can’t, in good conscience, invite new people into our community when we could be asking them to risk their lives.”
Holbrook’s eyes bored into him, and for a second, Oliver foolishly thought he might agree until his eyes crinkled and a look of renewed vigor washed over him.
“And that is precisely why we must hold the open house as soon as possible. We must show those around us that we will not be cowed by anyone. Our community is unafraid and unbothered by whatever they could throw at us. We will show everyone that we will not balk in the face of prejudice.”
Oliver winced at the glow of hope on some of the other committee members’ faces. “I’m not saying the open house or any other events should be canceled indefinitely. I just think it would be prudent to wait a month or two until we can make sure there will be no further attacks.”
“And if the culprit is too smart for you and they aren’t found, then what? Should we let our community wither and die?”
“That is the opposite of what I’m saying. I’m asking you not to rush, so we can figure out what’s going on or to at least talk to the head inspector. We need to make sure everyone at future community events will be safe.”
“What do you know of community, Barlow?”
Oliver’s chest tightened as he locked eyes with Holbrook from across the table. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean. You have been with the Paranormal Society for how many years, yet we barely see you. You barely participate in anything, you keep to yourself, and you add nothing of value. I don’t think the Mutual Aid Committee or anyone else for that matter should be taking orders from someone who thinks they’re too good to interact with anyone.”
“You don’t know me,” Oliver replied, his voice eerily calm despite the heat gathering behind his eyes. “You don’t know my life outside these doors. I hadn’t even spoken to you until the first meeting.”
“And whose fault was that? I’ve spoken to everyone else. You are a misanthrope who only talks to two people, and I don’t think you of all people have the right to lecture me about how to handle my affairs.”
“He isn’t a misanthrope,” Gwen said, resting her hand protectively on Oliver’s arm.
“Then, why, Miss Jones, have I never seen him in the dining room or in the billiards room or even in the gymnasium? Barlow can keep his own company all he wants, but I will not allow him to undermine the work that must be done.”
Warmth scalded the backs of Oliver’s eyes. Hewasn’tmisanthropic. He loved the society. He loved his home, he loved the little corner of this world he had carved for himself, and he loved the people within it, even if he struggled to interact withthem on a regular basis. Somehow, it always came down to the amount of time he spent in shared spaces. He didn’t hate anyone or think he was better than them. He merely couldn’t tolerate the sound of clanking dishes and cutlery on top of hundreds of people talking. The sounds made him want to crawl out of his skin, and to make sure he didn’t resent everyone, he kept to himself and ate where he could do so peacefully. People assumed that because he quietly watched everyone else from the sidelines, he was judgmental or disapproving when in reality, he was content. He didn’t need to be the center of their world or even to talk about himself. They were his neighbors and friends of his friends. He contented himself with watching them from afar, collecting the emotional detritus they freely shared.
Holbrook didn’t even live at the society and never had as far as Oliver knew. Oliver had spent ten years at the society nearly every single day. He had interacted with the people around the table in passing so many times, yet he would never be one of them. The retort lodged in Oliver’s throat at the smirk on Holbrook’s face. He was taking his silence as capitulation when it was fury that had gummed up Oliver’s brain. Beside him, Oliver could feel Reynard’s eyes searching his features.
“Mr. Holbrook, I think Dr. Barlow is right to be concerned about the security for the open house,” Reynard said. “None of us want a bunch of investigators with guns lingering in the halls, and the best way to avoid that would be to push the open house back. Dr. Barlow saw the carnage firsthand with Inspector Galvan as did Mr. Appleton and Miss Patel. People died and others were gravely injured. I don’t think any of us want a repeat of that, especially at an event that is so important to our survival.”
“If security truly was Barlow’s concern, then why did he make no mention of using any of the dozens of investigators at our disposal to stand watch and prevent this supposed attack?Instead, we’re supposed to wait for justice that may never come.” Eyeing Oliver suspiciously, Holbrook added, “I have to wonder if there is another motive for stopping the open house. A man who has barely spent a day in the company of other society members just happens to go to a charity bazaar where people are attacked, rushes in to play hero, and then, works the case against the supposed attacker. It’s convenient.”
Gwen gasped, her hand tightening on Oliver’s arm.
“How dare you imply that I had anything to do with it,” Oliver said. “Inspector Galvan and I were assigned to that case.”
