CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
After the wrap party’s conclusion, Professor Ilaria drew him to a porcelain clawfoot bathtub in her lavish antechamber.
The serpentine ivies and pothos snaked around every corner of the professor’s private cave in ostentatious flora, the ornamentals of selenite and black tourmaline were scattered throughout the draughty antechamber with the aroma of crushed sage and earthy camphor incense.
Surrounding James were trinkets, baubles, beads, and charms to avert evil and unclean spirits.
A laurel was bestowed upon his head.
After thysía, the lustration needed to begin to cleanse them of ceremonial impurity.
The lustration was a form of purification–expurgating the body and mind from guilt, harmful spirits, omens, unsanctified mindsets, or ill luck.
For the lustration, the animal sacrifices were often half burnt on the altar and half abandoned into the sea.
However, there were no rams, bulls, or priests nearby, but there was always ample water to cleanse him.
James stepped inside the warmth of the scented waters. He kept a rough cloth between his thighs. He tried not to cough from the smoke of the frankincense in the thousand-year-old clay thymiaterion. He kept his nicked hands beneath water.
Professor Ilaria bathed him as though she truly was a priestess of Delphi for Apollōn, the god of archery, the arts, light, healing, and prophecy. James was the god of nothing.
Yet with her, he was her everything.
“You know you may tell me anything, my muse,” she whispered against his ear.
“Thank you, I appreciate your condolences.”
She hadn’t meant condolences. She quickly cleared her throat in mortification.
“Of course, condolences are to be given. I am very terribly sorry for…” She paused and it seemed to occur to her that she didn’t even know his friend’s name.
“I offer my deepest regards to…I shall send all my heartfelt wishes to…Ellison…”
“Elliott Archway.”
“Ah, yes!” She smeared the letters of Elliott’s name across her wrist with ink as not to forget the next time. “Elliott Archway, the boy in your dormitory every afternoon. Very tragic, indeed.”
“You’ve met him at rehearsals, line readings, and recitations.”
“Naturally, I have. I remember him fondly.”
James felt tension in his muscle as the cold compression of her hands held his broad shoulders.
“Is there…anything you wish to tell me in your moment of darkness?”
“The Paean of the Villains of Winter was exceptional as always. No one nearly drowned in the seawater this time.”
“You were absolute perfection on stage. An impeccable performance as ever.” She breathed further in his ear, cleansing his forearms. “Anything else?”
James complimented her commitment to the lustration. She was very young for a professor, but she cared greatly about history and tradition. She thanked him with a kiss on his laurel.
“I am excellent with secrets, Apollōn. You may speak to me about anything.” She reached further into the waters. “Anything you desire to tell me at all. Anything you would like from me.”
Her eyes met his fiercely.
“The provisions were delicious, as always.” James plied her with praise on the ripe fruits, fine meats, olives, bread, honey, and exotic cheeses. The abundant assortment of imported fish, iced fresh from the islands of Greece. “I am full on your generosity.”
Her voice hovered above his shoulder blade.
“My gracious Apollōn, remember that I was once a student of AEscwulf College as you are. I was terribly gifted and out of place as you are. I had a mentor that awakened my world when he introduced me to the Oxlade Cabal as you were introduced.” She skimmed her fingers lithely over the chiseled barrel of his chest. “He protected me from all troubles. He spared no expense for my private erudition. He restrained nothing from me. All was given to me. As I gave unto him.”
James knew who her mentor had been. Who her mentor still was.
Provost Tytheridge.
“Truly, he was my sovereign Jupiter. Whenever I was in need of him, all was taken care of for me. In return, I ensured I was his finest protégé.” She kissed the corner of his mouth softly. “Ask anything of me, beautiful Apollo. In your time of need, I wish to be your Minerva.”
“I don’t need you at the moment, but thank you.”
He raised himself from the waters as soon as she was finished. His mind was elsewhere. Her mouth fell open. “You-You don’t need me?”
“No, I don’t need you at all.”
She swayed, as though wounded. “You don’t need me at all?” Her voice was stricken.
He gathered the rest of his clothes, checking his watch when her back was turned. Distracted. He heard her retch distantly. He hadn’t realized the dire mistake he’d made. He hadn’t caught himself in the moment.
His mind was centered on Elliott.
11:24 AM. He frowned.
The train to Arkansas would depart at 5:00 PM.
If airports didn’t require identification, he would’ve flown Elliott out of Connecticut.
There were private charters and regional airports; he could’ve smuggled him out on a light aircraft, but none had a time-sensitive schedule for Arkansas.
He could’ve taken father’s private executive liner jet, but it would’ve been patently obvious what it’d been used for.
Not to mention his father would’ve been notified by the pilot immediately due to the Federal Aviation Administration air space authorization required.
The pilot would’ve left a direct record of his flight.
James could’ve asked a student to borrow their parents’ light aircraft, but the small planes were limited to 600-800 miles.
Connecticut and Arkansas were 1,300 miles apart.
Only a train would work on short notice.
“Truly, you don’t need me in your grief and anguish?” She asked, agape, as James dried himself. Her mouth was smeared with vomit.
“Thank you, but not at all.” James dressed himself, absent-mindedly keeping an eye on his wristwatch. He’d forgotten she was even there. “Keep me in your prayers.”
Tristful, she bid him farewell after the lustration with a dispirited reminder that he needed to return on New Year’s night to begin work on the fresh body.
If there was anyone willing to deceive and lie on his behalf, it was Professor Ilaria.
However, he didn’t need her for anything more than an eye witness.
If only he’d known then the error he had made.