By Jove (7 page)

“They’re something, aren’t they?” he said. Walking up to her, he gazed down at Pegasus and Bellerophon, hands clasped behind his back. “I like to do just what you’re doing, sometimes, when I need distraction.”

She glanced at him cautiously but he stood still and looked down at the images with a pensive expression. He had made her nervous in her first few days here, and she had avoided him as much as she could after the department dinner. To her relief she’d seen little of him since then, and her attention had been caught up in her teaching and in—as he jokingly called them—her humanities classes with Grant.

But Julian seemed different this afternoon. His manner, though friendly, was easier. Less—well, predatory. Theo found her guard relaxing.

“I love it in here. It’s my favorite place for studying,” she confessed, and could have bitten her tongue. Was that a wise thing to have told him?

But he merely smiled and nodded. “I can understand that. It’s the most beautiful place on campus, in my opinion.” He looked around the room, still smiling, then looked back at her. “Actually, I’m glad to find someone here. Do you have a minute? I could use a hand.”

Theo thought quickly.
Someone
, he had said. Not
you
. “Sure. What can I do?”

“Come upstairs and help me find something. I’m working on a paper for a conference next spring and can’t find a reference I need. A fresh pair of eyes would be useful.”

Theo followed him up the stairs to the department library and museum on the third floor. To her surprise he bypassed the library, another paneled room lined with shelves holding thousands of books and monographs, and led her into the museum.

If the library was impressive, the museum was astounding. Theo knew that art museums from all over the world constantly requested the loan of items from it: Andrew Barnes whom she’d met at the department party often worked with June Cadwallader on processing loan requests, and had told her about it. Its strength was less in the size of its collection than in its rarity and condition: from exquisite Greek jewelry and rare Roman iridescent glass beakers to amazingly well-preserved documents. State-of-the-art cases held the pieces on rotating display and kept the rest in storage in optimal conditions.

But despite the splendor of the place, Theo had visited it only once. The museum’s curator, Dr. Bellow, had frightened her nearly out of her wits when she had gone up to see it in the first week of classes. He was a tall, somber man who gave an impression of overall grayness: his hair, his clothes, even his skin seemed to have an ashen tinge. Only his eyes were alive: they were black and glittering, like obsidian, and as sharp.

She had been admiring an elegantly wrought silver drinking cup, set in a case at eye level to enable viewers to appreciate its workmanship, when those eyes had appeared on the other side of the case, staring at her. She had nearly shouted in surprise. Nor had she been captivated by Dr. Bellow’s small gray dog, which sniffed at her ankles and growled softly. It looked up at her with eyes as flat and remorseless as its master’s.

“No, Kirby! Heel!” Dr. Bellow had said sternly, and tried to smile at her. He had chatted quite pleasantly after that, but she could not erase the memory of the terror she had felt when she glanced up from the dancing nymphs and satyrs on the cup into those gleaming pools of blackness that seemed to lead into eternity.

“I don’t see Dr. Bellow anywhere,” she said nervously to Julian as he unlocked the door and flicked on the lights. “Or Kirby.”

“It’s after regular museum hours. He’s probably down in his office by now,” Julian replied carelessly.

“His office isn’t up here? I don’t remember seeing it near the other faculty offices.”

“It’s not. It’s in the basement. Don’t ask me why; he seems to like it down there. And I don’t care for Kirby any more than you do. I’m just as happy he’s there and not here.” Julian motioned her toward a case set against one wall.

The top of the case, set on rows of drawers, held a display of carved gems from different parts of Greece, once set in rings and used to seal documents and letters. They were tiny works of art, carved from colorful banded jasper and agate and quartz.

Julian waved a hand at the drawers. “I’m looking for a specific seal and can’t find it in the museum index. As I recall, it depicts a male figure holding a cup out to a reclining woman.”

He handed her a small lump, and Theo saw that it was some type of Plasticine clay. “Start with that drawer and I’ll start over here. Look at each one and if it looks promising, press it on the clay. That helps make the image more identifiable if the stone matrix is striped.” He pulled a couple of chairs up to the case and unlocked the drawers.

Theo held the clay in her hand to warm it as she surveyed the first row of seals, each in its own cushioned compartment. She sat stiffly at first but relaxed as she examined the exquisite little carvings, some of stylized trees and vegetation, others of gods and men. One depicting a pair of geese in flight reminded her of lying on the hillside with Grant. And there was one with a leaping dolphin. The sight of it made her smile. Good thing Dr. Waterman didn’t keep any of those in his tanks
.

She rubbed her nose to conceal her expression and felt a tingle, accompanied by a rush of pleasurable wooziness. Dr. Waterman’s fish food! Theo looked at the back of her hand and saw a few silvery flakes still clinging to it. Some of the food must have stuck to her hand when she’d fed them just now. She’d tried to be careful, really she had. She hadn’t meant to—

A wave of euphoria surged through her. She looked back down at the seals. Their colors glowed more brightly in their drab protective foam, and she stared at them in delight for a moment before shutting the drawer and opening another.

“Any luck?” Julian said from his chair.

“No. But they’re so beautiful,” she sighed. “I could look at them all day.” She looked around the room and drank in its contents. “All of it. So, so beautiful.”

Julian looked at her and his eyes widened slightly. “Is everything all right, Theodora?” He shut the drawer he had been searching and pulled his chair closer to hers.

“I’m fine. I love all this—love it here. It’s everything I’d hoped it would be.” She smiled at him. Julian was being so
nice
today—not at all alarming, really. He was awfully attractive, wasn’t he? Those turquoise eyes were mesmerizing, and the tanned face was youthful and unlined despite the silver-gray hair.

“And what did you hope it would be?” he asked with a slight smile.

Tingles coursed through her; it felt like her blood had been replaced with champagne. “A place where everyone loves the same things I do, and where we can talk and laugh and even argue for hours, and still understand each other perfectly.”

“Didn’t you have that before where you taught?”

“No. Never.” She shook her head earnestly and felt dizzy. “Even though I was teaching what I loved, no one cared about it. Or about me.”

“No one?” His voice was warm and sympathetic.

“They were
afraid
of me. They all assumed I was an escapee from a convent because I taught Latin. My best friend was my cat. I do miss her an awful lot,” she added with a sigh.

“Poor Theodora. So you think you’ll find your true home here with us?”

“I hope so. You are all so kind and so—” What was it she wanted to say? Beautiful glittering words danced away in her head as she reached for them.

“
Simpatico
, as the Romans would put it today?”

“Yes! That’s it exactly.” Oh, it was so nice to be understood. She smiled into his eyes. Just now they were an even deeper turquoise than usual.

“And are we all
simpatico
, or are some of us more so than others?” he asked playfully. But there was a note somewhere in his tone that required an answer. Even in her giddiness she could hear it.

“Oh, I like all of you. Dr. Waterman has been so kind, and so have Dr. Forge-Smythe and Dr. Herman and Dr. Zeno in the Philosophy Department.”

“And?”

“And well, Paul Harriman can be a bit difficult.”

“I can imagine.” Julian smiled wryly.

“I’m not sure about Dr. Hunter. I thought she liked me at first, but maybe not so much since she saw me kiss Grant a few weeks ago.”

She saw the turquoise in his eyes fade to a grayer shade. Was she saying too much? But he wanted to know, and for some reason she wanted to tell him.

“Grant Proctor,” he said slowly. “You’re teaching with him, I believe. How is that going?”

Warm happiness flooded her again. “It’s wonderful.
He’s
wonderful. He’s so—I don’t know. Funny and wise one minute, and strange and vulnerable the next. But he loves to teach. I’ve watched him when we’ve combined our classes for special lectures.”

Julian gazed at her and tapped a finger on his lips. She stared dreamily at his hands; they were well formed, the fingers long and supple. And his mouth…the lips were chiseled and smooth. She had to clench her hand into a fist to keep from reaching out to touch his beautiful mouth.

“Well,
eme phile
Theodora. I’m glad you’re happy here,” he said at last. “We try very hard to find the right people for the department each year. I’m more delighted than you can know that we did so well in finding you.” He smiled and leaned forward. “You didn’t have too much, did you? It was Arthur’s fish food, I assume. Are you feeling quite well?”

“Hmm?” She tore her attention away from contemplation of his lips and blinked owlishly. “Oh, I’m fine. I feel wonderful.”

“Good. That’s very good. Not everyone can tolerate it so well. Very interesting, my dear. I think—ah, yes. I’ve remembered.” He rose and pulled out the drawer she had been about to open, and pointed to a seal carved from deep-blue lapis lazuli, flecked with gold.

Theo picked it up and stared at it raptly. Yes, there was the reclining woman, reaching up to take something—a cup?—from the man standing by her couch. Geologic chance and the carver’s whimsy had made it so that the man’s head was surrounded by a halo of gold flecks. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

“It is indeed. Thank you for your help, my dear,” he said, taking the seal from her and looking at it with satisfaction. “You don’t know how interesting this has been. Here.” He took the forgotten lump of clay still warming in Theo’s hand, smoothed it with his fingers, and pressed the seal into it. “For you,” he added, handing the impression to her.

“Ahem.” The polite cough startled Theo, sounding unnaturally loud to her heightened sense of hearing. She turned. June Cadwallader stood in the doorway, arms folded on her chest.

“Yes, June?” sighed Julian.

“If you’re going to make it for dinner with the President, you’d better get going now. It’s nearly four-thirty.” Theo’s euphoria receded under the woman’s basilisk stare.

“Thank you. I’ll be right down. You can go home now,” Julian replied.

“What about locking up the museum?” June persisted.

“I am perfectly capable of doing it myself. I
am
the head of the department. Please remember that.” He nodded coldly at her and turned back to Theo. “Thank you for your help. I enjoyed having a chance to talk—”

“Dr. Bellow wanted me to lock—”

“
Apeche, gunai! Epilanthanei tina to sou despoten einai?”
he shouted.
“Aperchome
!”

“My master?” June’s voice dripped derision. “Once, maybe. But not now, if you recall. You can’t have it both ways. Not even you. And I’m going, don’t worry.” She gave him one last baleful look and left.

Julian closed his eyes for a moment. His face was stiff with anger.

“Uh—” Theo rose from her chair. What had that been about…and what had he just said to June? Did she speak classical Greek too?

Julian’s anger seemed to evaporate. His eyes were again warm, almost caressing, when he opened them and looked at her. “I’m sorry, Theodora. June is an excellent secretary, but she does try to run my life sometimes. Please pay us no mind.” He took her chair and put it away, then put the lapis seal in an envelope, leaving a note in its place in the drawer. “That will do for up here. Are you all right?”

“I think so.” A rosy curl of giddiness swirled through her brain and faded. She’d inhaled some of Dr. Waterman’s fish food, hadn’t she? And Julian had been so charming and easy to talk to until—what had they talked about? Something to do with her liking it here, maybe? “Yes, I’m fine.”

“Of course you are.” He locked the cases and motioned her through the museum’s doors, locking them as well before he followed her down the stairs. On the landing outside the second floor he paused. “Well, I’ll see you Monday, Theodora. Have a nice weekend.”

Theo went back to the Great Room where she had left her book bag, and suddenly remembered the little wad of clay in her hand. She stopped to look at the image impressed in it. Julian had been nice—she hadn’t dreamed that. She could vaguely remember his face as he had handed it to her, intent on hers. But not frightening. As she walked back to her car and thought about going back to Dr. Waterman’s quiet house, she actually found herself wishing that they could have chatted a little longer.

Chapter Five

“You’re not going to believe this, I’m afraid,” Dr. Waterman said with a smile, stroking his beard.

Theo and Grant were sitting in his office. It was the Friday before Halloween, and down in the Great Room the undergraduate classics majors were preparing for their annual Halloween toga party. Sounds of moving furniture and shrill laughter could be heard even up here, but did nothing to dispel the tense atmosphere in the room. Midterms were over, and Grant and Theo had turned their grades in to Dr. Waterman. Now they were waiting to find out who had won the bet Grant made with her in September.

Theo grimaced as the sound of a couch being dragged across the floor below grated against her ears. If those kids hurt the mosaics—

Grant leaned over and patted her hand reassuringly. “We’ll go down there and supervise after Arthur tells us I’ve won.”

“Well, I hate to disappoint you, Grant,” Dr. Waterman began. Theo let out a triumphant hoot and turned to grin at him.