Excerpted: A Dark Death

         The students were spread out at the tables the pub landlady had set for breakfast. Tristan had finished eating and was quietly reading, waiting for the others who seemed to be having trouble facing a full English this morning. All that is except Myfanwy who no matter how much she put away the night before was able to eat anything anyone put in front of her. Noah and Poppy were sitting together by the window looking out over the harbour, their plates pushed to one side, their breakfasts still intact. Poppy was absently chewing on a piece of dry toast, crumbs littering the table.

         Simon poured himself another cup of coffee. He looked peaky, Tristan noted, like he hadn’t slept. Tristan couldn’t imagine what was going through Simon’s head. On one hand, he was on the verge of the most important discovery of his career, yet it was in an area of which he had very little firsthand experience. He couldn’t go much further without calling in an expert in Roman buildings and artefacts. If only he and Freya were still married—or at least talking—it would have been the perfect partnership.

         No one knew the truth of why they’d split up. There was no lack of rumours around the department—her affairs with other faculty members, students even, Simon’s jealousy over her soaring career. But who wouldn’t have a stellar career growing up under the tutelage of Sir Oswin Davenport. She’d probably been born with a trowel in her hand. She and Simon seemed an unlikely couple, but at some point it must have worked for them. Tristan wanted that—a woman to share his intellectual passion.

         “You eating that kidney?” Myfanwy pointed her fork at Jude’s largely untouched plate.

         “Take it. Take it all. Disgusting things, internal organs,” and Jude pushed the whole plate towards her.

         Myfanwy speared it with relish. “I like a good kidney, me. Puts hair on your chest,” and she slipped her hand down Jude’s shirt.

         He uncharacteristically pushed it aside. “I’ve never had any complaints about my chest.”

         “Neither have I!”

         Simon stood up and cleared his throat. “Right, if everyone’s finished playing with their food, let’s be off.” He threw packets of paracetamol onto the students’ tables. “Two of those, a bottle of water, and some fresh air. That’ll bring you round. It was very irresponsible of you to get into this state when we have important work to do.”

         “We were celebrating, sir,” said Noah. “And they would keep buying us drinks.”

         “Yes, of course, and I’m sure you didn’t want to insult these good people so you felt compelled to drink them.”

         Jude popped a couple of tablets into his mouth and looked up at Simon with red-rimmed eyes. “Sarcasm doesn’t become you this early in the morning, Professor.”

         “And a hangover doesn’t become you, Mr. Carlyle. Let’s go, you lot, if you can manage to put one foot in front of the other.”

***

         Given that most of them would have rather stayed in bed, they were making fairly good time. Simon wasn’t sure if it was the fresh air or the tablets, but they were picking up speed, starting to chat rather than grumble.

         A grey sky hung over the island, and this had given Simon pause for concern. They were only here for a few more days, and he didn’t want to lose even one day due to rain. But he also didn’t want to contaminate the site by working in a downpour. Once Julian, the landlord, had assured him that despite the heaviness of the sky there was no chance of precipitation, Simon began to get excited about the day’s work.

         As he came down over the rise, he saw the welcome sight of the blue tarpaulin, still anchored by large flat stones as protection from the wind and rain. But parked beside it was Griffin Blackstock’s motorcycle. If that bastard had done anything to his site…

         Simon was eager to make sure the trench was undisturbed. “All right, let’s get the cover off.” They laid the anchor stones to one side, and each lifted a corner.

         A gull suddenly shrieked over their heads, so loud it almost drowned out Poppy’s scream. Lying face down in the trench, arms outstretched to form a cross, was a naked body.