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It was black, and…oh thank god. “Coffee?”
Hector smiled and turned his back. He had a small press on the stove and poured me a cup. “Not a tea drinker?”
“I will drink it,” I answered. “I have for most of the time I’ve been here. When in Rome, you know?”
He’d given me the coffee black, and it looked like espresso. I took a sip. It was strong, bitter.
Pollux moved past us, opened a small under-the-counter refrigerator, and took out a tray of ice. I watched him as I sipped, dumping the ice into a tea towel, twisting it to keep the cubes from escaping, and testing it against his skin. “You should put this on.”
With one hand, he flicked my bangs out of the way. “I think it’s worse.”
Hector leaned forward. “What happened?”
“Bumped my head.”
From his spot at the table, Orestes frowned. Everyone was frowning now. Hector. Pollux.
One of my father’s favorite jabs slipped into my head.“You’re like a storm cloud, Leo. Following people around. Everywhere you go, you just darken the mood.”
My mother had laughed at his description and then added,“You should smile more.”
I hated that advice.
I also hated how long their comments stayed with me. The repetition of them hadn’t helped. Once my parents discovered a particular characteristic of mine they didn’t like, they perpetually reminded me—and others—of it.
“The low eaves.” Hector shook his head. “I hit them all the time. It’s why my room is on the bottom floor. But houses this old have low ceilings.”
“What year was it built?” I wasn’t sure if Hector said that to take the focus off me, but I intended to run with his comment.
“Not sure, actually,” he replied. “Some parts date from the fifteen hundreds.”
The historian in me delighted at that. At the table, Orestes buttered a piece of bread, placed it on a plate and held it out.
I took it, sliding into a chair across from him. “Thanks.” I took a bite, covering my mouth as I chewed, since they were all looking at me.
Under a microscope. That’s how it felt. They studied me like I was something they’d never seen before.
Swallowing, I decided to take the bull by the horns. “I’m going to take the train to Whitby today, and then go to Whitby Abbey. A piece of jet, carved with the profile of Achilles—”
Orestes’ eyes narrowed, and I added, hoping they’d laugh at the joke, “The real one, not your friend. I want to go where the jet was found and putter around. Is it possible for one of you to bring me back to the station?”
“I thought you said you weren’t going to search for the seal.” Hector stated it as if it was a fact.
My face heated, and not for the first time this morning, I cursed my pale skin.
Pollux slid the empty plate out of the way to hand me the tea towel with ice. “Here.”
Twisting the edges again, I placed it on my forehead and winced. “I just want to see where the piece was found. Even if I’m not actively searching for the seal, per se—” Oh, I’d put a lot of qualifiers on that statement, but it was close enough to the truth. “It’s fascinating to me that there are all these artifacts related to the Trojan War story here. And the place where the jet was found—it’s actually the site of a pagan battle.”
My fingertips were getting cold, and in shifting the ice from one hand to another, I almost missed the quick flick of gazes between the three men.
Hector pulled out another chair, leaving Pollux to stand by the door between the kitchen and living area. Frowning, he watched Hector sit next to me.
“Dr. Ophidia—” he began, and I interrupted him.
“Leo, or Leonora, but preferably Leo. Only my students call me Dr. Ophidia.” I couldn’t help glancing at Pollux, whose cheek swelled with a half-smile.
“I dropped the class,” he answered.
