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Smothering the first smile I’d been tempted to have all day, I nodded. “Yes. We’re tracking artifacts from their place of origin to their current location—”
He cut me off. “None of our exhibits contain stolen artifacts.”
It was difficult not to roll my eyes, but I managed. I wouldn’t mention that many of the objects “purchased” should never have been for sale in the first place. But I’d already worn out my welcome at the Ashmolean, so I gave the man a tight smile, thanked him for his help, and left.
Standing outside the Bodleian, I stared at the stone archway. The rain had let up, but the wind was still fierce. What was I doing? Ignoring the fact that I’d heard voices yesterday, and had flashes of things that had never happened?
Was I just going to pretend everything was normal?
But what was I supposed to do? I had a job. Responsibilities. Research. Interests. None of that changed just because I was on the verge of a break with reality.
I thought back to this morning, and the email I’d received from Dr. Merton. He’d given me a meeting time later this week, and then requested a detailed update of my research. He’d also wanted to discuss potential grants.
Before I left the house, I’d answered him with a quick breakdown of my research, confirmed his meeting time, and as soon as that was finished, shut my computer.
I still felt okay. If only everything that happened yesterday had been a dream.Thatwould really make me feel better.
But the cups of cold tea still sat in my kitchen, proof that the day before hadn’t been in my head. Ironic, because the rest of it had been.
It was good to know I kept my sense of humor in the face of impending insanity.
I turned my back on the library to cross to a nearby bench. Sitting down, I people-watched. This was all real.
Perhaps I’d eaten something that had made me hallucinate.Perhaps you were drugged.As much as I wanted to discount the idea that Pollux might have given me something, I couldn’t entirely.
What was worse?
I thought I’d prefer being drugged to losing my mind, which even now, bounced from subject to subject.
The weather had definitely turned. The brief flash of tropic temperatures was gone. Dark clouds hung low in the sky, and the wind blew my hair into my face.
It matched my mood perfectly.
I thought back to the dark profile of Achilles on the jet. It dated back fifteen hundred years ago, which meant Achilles’ story had made it from Greece to the cold shores of England. How amazing was it that someone had been so caught up in it, that they’d carved his profile? For that matter, the story was still being told.
A light rain began to fall. Now was the time to get into the Bodleian. Any minute the rain would come down harder, and I’d be caught in it.
Standing, I faced the library, but I couldn’t make my feet carry me inside.
I needed something to do with my hands that wasn’t flipping pages. The piece of jet flashed in my head again, and I made a spur of the moment decision.
I was going to Yorkshire. I’d go to Whitby and the Abbey the curator at the museum had spoken of.
As the idea took root, my racing thoughts calmed. I wouldn’t miss my classes, and I wouldn’t have to reschedule my meeting with Dr. Merton.
* * *
An hour later, I’d packed my bag, bought a ticket, and sat on a train, waiting to leave the station.
The closer I’d gotten to the station, the more excited I became. This was a good decision. It was getting down to business, and using some of those hunches I had to do real work.
Now, I sat by the window, studying the people who streamed by, racing to catch other trains, or get onto this one.
Pulling my computer from my bag, I set it on my lap and fired it up. I opened my notes, scanning what I had to see if Whitby had come up in any other places. Sure enough, I found a brief reference to the jet mined by Romans. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was something.
As I read, I had to admit to myself that this trip was as much for me as it was for my work.
I wanted to see the Abbey where the Achilles piece had been unearthed. If I saw it, explored the ruins and the rest of the town, maybe I’d find something related to the shards of the vessel I was still searching for.
