By Jove (25 page)

“No, you weren’t. He’s not coming. But he wanted me to talk to you. He’s worried about you.”

“I’ll bet he is,” Theo snapped. Good. If he was worried, maybe she and Olivia were getting close. But Renee’s next words dashed her hopes.

“You look exhausted, Theo. You’ve got to stop running yourself so ragged looking for Grant and take care of yourself. You’re not used to your new condition yet. I know it might seem like you don’t need rest, or to have ambrosia, but you do.”

“If I’m immortal now, why do I need rest? If I can’t kill myself with overwork, then I don’t need rest.”

“You do, you stubborn girl. Julian is almost frantic when he sees you looking so worn out. Oh, Theo, is it worth it? Listen to me. Julian had some of his wine sent here for you. Do us all a favor and have some? I’ll drink it too, if it will make you feel better.”

Theo sat back in her seat and shook her head. “What part of ‘no’ are you not understanding? I won’t touch another drop of Julian’s wine. I don’t need any more ambrosia. I don’t care if Julian is frantic. How does he think
I
feel?”

“I don’t know. How do you feel?” Renee’s eyes were overeager as she looked back at Theo. A light clicked on in Theo’s head, and she smiled a slow, evil grin.

“How do I feel? Julian’s heard I’ve been feeling faint and dizzy now and then, has he? And now he’s wondering if it’s just a little ambrosial deficiency, or something else.”

Renee had the grace to look uncomfortable, but she said frankly, “Can you blame him? He loves you, and if it were to happen that you were pregnant with his—”

“Being a goddess hasn’t stopped me from the usual monthly annoyances, more’s the pity. Maybe Julian isn’t as all-knowing as he likes to think. You can inform him that I am not pregnant, and that if he’s truly concerned for my health and well-being, he can tell me where I can find Grant,” Theo shot back, staring furiously at Renee. At the two Renees—no, just one, but now she was wavering like a badly tuned television—

“Theo!” she heard Renee say in an exasperated tone. “Now do you see what I mean?”

“I’ll be fine,” she muttered, rubbing her forehead.

“When pigs fly, girlfriend. Julian is
not
going to be happy with you.”

“Ooh. How terrible. I’m trembling.”

Renee shook her head. Beyond her, Theo saw Dmitri stare at her with intent eyes, holding a wine bottle. She stared back, then stuck out her tongue at him. He frowned angrily, and Theo saw his dark hair fade to silver just before he vanished.

…

Next Theo and Olivia moved their search into the city. They examined both Grant and Proctor Streets, the Greek and Roman art in the Museum of Fine Arts and the Gardner Museum, every tree on Boston Common, and all the animals at the Franklin Park Zoo. When none of those venues turned up any hint of Grant’s presence, Olivia summoned a flock of barn owls to search farther afield in the wilder places around town.

“I’m drawing the line at Brookline Village and the Somerville border. Any farther out than that is futile,” she said to Theo a few evenings after the dinner with Renee.

“I’m beginning to think any point within it is futile, too,” Theo said, rubbing her aching temples. The past few mornings Julian had been stationed near the front entrance of Hamilton Hall when she came in, giving her a sharp and anxious once-over. In fact wherever she turned these days he seemed to be there, watching her with brooding eyes. No wonder she was frazzled.

Olivia looked up at the bleakness in her voice. “You’re losing hope, aren’t you?”

“Can you blame me?” Theo replied. Her voice shook. “We’ve been searching everywhere, and haven’t caught a single hint of Grant.”

“One of the first things Grant told me about you was the conversation you had with him on the subject of hope. Do you remember what I’m talking about?” She unfolded herself from her chair and came over to sit next to Theo.

Theo closed her eyes and thought about lying on the grass in the October sun, gazing up into Grant’s serious gray eyes. “I remember,” she said quietly.

“It was what made him realize just how important you were becoming to him, and what he needed to learn in order to love you. You can’t lose hope now, Theo. If you lose hope, you’ll lose Grant.”

“It was—it was the first time we kissed,” she said, still gazing back in her mind’s eye at the two figures on the grassy hillside.

“Well, he glossed over that part of things. I think he was still too shaken up by it. I’m afraid I didn’t much care for what I’d heard about you, until that conversation.” Olivia smiled and let her disguise slip, so that she looked at Theo with her own face.

“You didn’t like me?”

“No, not at first. I just couldn’t picture him falling in love with a twenty-first century woman. I should have trusted his judgment better—he is far older than I, after all—but I was worried he’d be hurt.”

“He
was
hurt,” Theo said, lapsing back into gloom.

“That’s the risk you take in love. He was also happier than he’d been in thousands of years. Your love gave him the courage to live, and to want to die.”

“Don’t say that, please, Olivia.” Theo buried her face in her hands. Olivia put an arm over her shoulders.

“We’ll find him,” she said again.

“Do—do you still hate me?” Theo asked from behind her hands.

“Of course not. I liked you before I met you, once Grant had told me more. And I like you even more now. It will be fun when all this is over and we can go back home to Eleusinian together.”

Memories—uncomfortable, some of them—swirled and roiled through her tired mind. She hesitated, then spoke. “I hated you too, you know.”

“I’d guessed,” Olivia said, unperturbed.

“Well, how was I to know? Grant kept talking about his great friend back in New Hampshire. And Julian—” Theo swallowed.

“Julian let fall some misleading comments about me, no doubt,” she said drily. “He was very angry when I went to Eleusinian. Oh, it was wonderful here at first. Our own little enclave at John Winthrop, for years and years. When any of us got to retirement age, we’d just pretend to move away to some old-age home in Arizona and take on a new shape to be rehired. Quite clever. But I got tired of it, and tired of them all. They’ve grown petty, a lot of them. Only Julian chafes under his comfortable yoke. I did too, but I had the option of running away. So I did. I don’t think Julian’ll ever forgive me. So I’m sure he took great delight in dropping poison about me into your ears.”

“I worried that
you
were what was keeping Grant from being able to love me,” Theo said, lowering her hands from her tearstained face.

“And instead I was the one who encouraged him to go to Cumae over Christmas, so he could become human and love you.”

Theo smiled, but her smile held no mirth. “Lord, what fools these mortals be.”

…

Theo peeked out the seminar room door. She had stayed behind after Dr. Forge-Smythe’s Republican Rome class to scribble down some ideas for her class paper, and now the room and, it seemed, the floor were deserted. Well, it
was
Friday afternoon. People tended to leave a little early. At least Julian didn’t seem to be anywhere in sight.

She picked up her book bag and stepped quickly down the hall to check her mailbox in June’s office. June had taken to locking her office at lunchtime, which meant Theo couldn’t get her mail while June was at lunch. She had to endure June’s fulminating stare every day now, which didn’t help her emotional state.

A fresh wave of dizziness overcame her as she walked. It was getting progressively worse, and was starting to interfere with her classwork. Theo paused by Dr. Waterman’s closed door to catch her breath and contemplated summoning a cane to help steady herself. But the way her magic use had been going lately, she would probably just fill the corridor with a bamboo grove. With a weak smile at the thought she resumed her walk, now creeping doorknob to doorknob. If she were lucky, June Cadwallader had left early and she could get her mail without feeling those dark eyes boring into her back. She already felt ill and tired enough without
that
.

She glanced down the hall. Hell. Julian’s door was half open. No such luck that he’d gone already. Another rush of dizziness made her stagger slightly.

June hadn’t left yet either. Double hell. Theo slipped in with a polite nod to her and went to look in her mailbox, taking out the ball of twine that had been wedged into it. That was the fifth time she’d found one there. Evidently June found it a convenient place to store it, or else she was just being annoying. Yes, that was probably it.

Under the twine there was a department newsletter, put out by Di and decorated with obnoxiously cute computer clip art. Theo rolled her eyes, which was a bad idea as it made her feel even dizzier. She steadied herself as unobtrusively as possible on the table below the mailboxes. It made a small scraping sound on the floor, and she could practically
feel
June watching her. She wanted to turn around and tell her that she wanted nothing to do with Julian and that June was welcome to him, but facing her basilisk stare was more than she could handle right now.

Along with the newsletter was a photocopy of an article about the excavation of the theater at Herculaneum that Dr. Waterman had promised her. She glanced at it but could barely read the title. Her awareness of June’s eyes on her was growing until it felt almost physical, as if two holes were burning between her shoulder blades. She wanted desperately to reach back and see if her shirt were on fire.

There was one more thing in her box—a small envelope addressed only to “Miss Fairchild.” She clutched her mail in one hand and almost stumbled out into the corridor. A funny smoky smell burned her nose, making her eyes water until she couldn’t see. She gasped; was there really a fire here in Hamilton Hall? Smoke was everywhere, in her eyes and ears and throat, in her head—

“Theodora!” she vaguely heard as the choking darkness closed over her.

Chapter Eighteen

A feeling of coolness, of sweet wetness, greeted her as she swam back up to consciousness. She tried to pinpoint where it was, but it felt like it was everywhere: on her skin, inside her, a sweet cool tingling that banished the dizzy burning smoke and soothed the pain in her head.

Then she realized that it was from the cup at her lips. Of course. That was what would ease the burning dryness in her throat and clear her aching head. She gulped eagerly, and blessed relief filled her. Another cup, yes. And another. After the fourth she let her head fall back with a sigh of contentment. A feeling of calm well-being flowed through her as the ache in her head eased. She smiled and stretched, and opened her eyes.

Julian was gazing down at her.

“Ju—?” She struggled to sit up. What had happened? What—

“Hush. You fainted outside June’s office. Fortunately I happened to walk by just then, my beautiful stubborn Theodora. Drink some more.” He shifted the arm that encircled her shoulders to help her up a little.

More memory flooded back then. This was
Julian
holding her in his arms, holding the cup that she was drinking from so obediently, drinking cool, sweet, honey-and-champagne-tasting— “No!” she cried feebly, and turned her head away to hide it against his chest. Another bad move.

“Yes. Enough foolishness, Theodora. You’ve refused any ambrosia for nearly two weeks now, and it’s made you ill. You’re going to have as much as I say you need. I won’t stand by and watch you suffer from your own pigheadedness.” He turned her head and put the cup to her lips again. “Drink,” he commanded in a low but very clear voice.

There was no gainsaying that voice. She drank another cup, felt the last of the dizziness and the ache in her head recede. A familiar dreamy contentment stole over her.

No!
said a part of her brain.
Wake up, idiot. Just because your head feels better doesn’t mean you can let down your guard. This is Julian and Julian’s wine, remember! Don’t—

“Look at me, Theodora,” Julian whispered. He set down the cup and tilted her head toward him, and Theo realized that she lay on something hard, something smooth and polished, and that he was stretched out next to her, stroking her face as he gazed down at her. The turquoise eyes were gentle and smiling, but something else was in them too, something fierce and hungry. The hand stroking her cheek began to wander south.

Theo screwed her eyes tightly shut to block out his hypnotic eyes and shoved as hard as she could against his chest, then rolled away from him and found herself falling. She landed ungracefully on hands and knees amid a litter of papers and files and realized they’d been lying on his desk, and he’d been about to—to—

“Theodora!” Julian peered over the edge of the desk at her.

“No. No you don’t, Julian. You’re not going to do that to me again.” Theo climbed unsteadily to her feet, waiting for dizziness to strike once again, but instead found she felt better than she had in days. She scowled at him.

He met her scowl with his charming smile. “Why not? You enjoyed it greatly the first time.”

“Because you’d drugged me senseless with ambrosia. Just like you were trying to do now. But if I went to the campus police and accused you of using drugs as an accessory to attempted rape, they wouldn’t believe me, would they?”

He ignored her. “I gave you ambrosia because you were so ill from lack of it that you were hallucinating in the corridor. What might have happened once you were restored to your right mind—” He shrugged, then vaulted lightly from the desk and landed beside her. She tried to back away but he caught her in his arms and began to kiss her neck.

“By the Styx, I’ve missed you,” he murmured. “It’s like having my heart torn out when you run away from me, or look at me with anger and disdain.”

“No!” She tried to jerk away from him. Damnation! She’d forgotten his strength. He ignored her struggles and held her pinioned, kissing his way up her jaw.

“Tell me. Tell me you didn’t remember this, and long for my touch again,” he whispered into her mouth.