“That would be great, thanks.” She could hide behind the mug if she had to. Grip it for dear life. She took a fresh mug from the cupboard and selected a mint baggie. The smell was fragrantly clean. She inhaled to fill her head with it.
She glanced at Adam. Sure enough, his gaze was on her. She held her breath. His eyes were tired, but still had the power to see through her. Her nerves quivered as heat spread throughout her body. She wondered what emotion would dominate if she were to touch him now. Her throat went dry just thinking about it.
Slowly, he shifted his attention to his beer.
She, too, took a sip of tea, but her drink only burned her up more.
“You hungry?” Patty called from the fridge. She held up paper-wrapped packages of deli meat. “We have turkey, salami, and ham.”
Talia had been hiding out in her room for the last couple of hours. She was starved. “Turkey,” Talia said. “But I can make my—”
“Adam? Philip?” Patty interrupted.
“Ham,” they answered in unison.
The old man settled next to Talia at the island. Adam sat across from her. At the counter, Patty created towering sandwiches in need of long deli toothpicks to hold the layers together.
“I read your dissertation,” Philip said as they waited. “I was very impressed with your work. I wondered if you have pursued a cross-cultural examination of near-death experiences.”
“Um. No. It wasn’t in the scope of the paper, I’m afraid.” Talia took another sip of her tea.
“Of course. When you have the time, I’d like to discuss your findings. See if any of the ritualistic practices I’ve studied conform to the norms you established in your thesis.”
“Certainly…” Talia said. She’d have to dig into the boxes and review her notes. Something told her that the professor wasn’t going to accept answers not backed by good data.
“It’s good to have you back, Philip,” Adam said, as Patty placed a plate in front of each of them. “It’s not the same here without you questioning everyone’s work.”
“I’m off to my lab,” Patty said, lifting her own plate and breezing to the door. “Good night, all.”
“ ’Night,” Talia said. Philip raised a hand in farewell.
Talia pretended not to see Philip as he flicked a glance in her direction and back to Adam. A question.
“She’s okay,” Adam answered, raising those gray eyes to hers. “In fact, she’s single-handedly turned our work upside down in the space of eight hours.”
“Oh?” Philip raised a bushy eyebrow at her.
“I’ll brief you on it tomorrow, once I’ve thought through everything. I’m having trouble keeping up at the moment.” Adam smiled woefully.
Philip set his mug on the island. “Well, you’ll have to try, because I found something as well.”
“Of course you did.” Adam had lifted his own sandwich, but now he lowered it to his plate. “Let’s have it. I’m going to have a sleepless night anyway, might as well have it all at once.”
Talia hoped whatever Philip found had nothing to do with her. “It’s getting late,” she said. Better to make her escape now. She slid off the stool.
“Please stay,” Adam said. “I have a feeling I’ll want your perspective.”
Talia felt his gaze on her, but she didn’t meet it. She looked at Philip, her uneaten sandwich, the steam lifting from her cup of tea, anything but Adam.
“Perhaps she should go. My information is personal,” Philip said.
“I trust her,” Adam answered. His tone was light, but still managed a weight that brooked no further argument.
Talia’s heart clenched. He had to be making things even—a personal revelation for a personal revelation. Tit for tat. A way to keep working together when he knew too much about her. She appreciated the gesture, but she really wanted to be in her room.
“So it’s like that. Good for you,” Philip said. “All right then.”
Talia’s head snapped up. Like what? She glanced over at Adam, waiting for him to correct Philip’s mistaken assumption, but he didn’t.
Philip ignored her distress, too, moving on. “I was in England, speaking to a modern druid elder about death rituals. He was a scholar as well, and our discussion turned theoretical. We touched on the ancient Anglo-Saxon custom of wergild, in which a person is required to pay a sum for the wrongful death of a family or clan member to prevent a blood feud.”
“You think I would take money for my mom and dad? For Jacob?” Adam pushed his plate away from him without taking a bite.
“No, Adam,” Philip said, crumpling a napkin in his palm. “Listen. And think. We spoke of wergild as compensation for a loss. An attempt at reestablishing a balance between two parties. And then we compared it to vengeance, a life for a life.”
“That’s something I understand.”
Talia glanced at Adam and recalled the bloodlust that tainted him. The dark desire to put an end to Jacob that went beyond justice to murder.