Page 12 of Curses & Keys (Curses & Gods #1)

PHAEDRA

L ibraries are magical places full of knowledge, adventure, and people, and one of my favorite places to spend time. Even with all the years I’ve lived, there is always something new to learn. It’s also a great place to search for information behind a wall of anonymity.

Desks are hidden around the library, but I leave those to the students.

Instead, I head to the one on the left that provides me a clear view of anyone approaching.

Some universities offer a dedicated nexus linking journals, websites, chat groups, and other sources for students of that department.

We offer one to our Classical Studies students.

Every student has access to the most in-depth information in their field of study, allowing them to easily research topics without spending an inordinate amount of time searching for it or weeding through irrelevant topics.

Clicking on a specific chat group, I enter and post a message.

CursedGreek: Seeking information on a key; original origin unknown; source: vampire collection. Willing to pay.

I scroll through the most recent posts, but I don’t see anything that mentions a key.

Leaving the chat, I open a second window to search for information on Egyptian weaponry.

The mace-ax in the museum is the first Egyptian piece I’ve collected for this university.

I wonder if there are other items I could bring back from Egypt.

Engrossed in reading about the khopesh, it takes me a second to realize someone is standing next to me, but the subtle earthy smell of sage, moss, and musk slowly pierces my intense concentration. I look up to find Hawthorne Wylde standing next to me with his eyes on my screen.

“I came over to ask you about collaborating on a seminar,” he inserts smoothly. Pointing to the screen, he continues, “A combined lecture that will get them thinking about ancient civilizations and the tools and weapons crafted from the same materials. Like copper, then bronze, and later, iron.”

Passion sparks as his gaze returns to me. For the topic, not me, I remind myself, clearing my throat. “Yes. Sounds great. When would you like to get together and discuss the details?”

“How about now? Unless you have a class?”

“I don’t teach classes here. Only procure items for the museum,” I reply with a smile.

He walks off to grab his messenger bag and the chair he was using. While he’s gone, I click to the chat window and close it. When he returns, I scoot over to share the small single desk with him, and he crams in beside me.

Hawthorne turns his head and asks, “Is this okay?” Green eyes search mine intently.

“Yes,” I tell him, conscious of his big body next to mine. Warmth spreads from him to me, making me want to curl closer, like a cat seeking the sun.

We spend the next hour planning the lecture. Deciding it would be best to supply our students with a list of approved materials, we research and argue about the best ones to include in the discussion. It’s exhilarating to speak to someone with more knowledge of ancient civilizations than me.

At one point, he leans over to point to something on the screen, and his body curves around mine, making the small space shrink.

The air becomes charged with tension, and I have to repeatedly remind myself we’re in a library.

But instead of dampening my interest, my mind wanders to the dark stacks located in the back, hidden from the rest of the world, and I silently groan at the images flooding my brain.

We finally finish laying out the details, and he leans back to scan the notebook in front of him.

Breathing a little easier, I take a moment to contemplate the man beside me.

Elven men are genetically gorgeous and inherently sexy, but the way this man thinks, his brain, is the ultimate aphrodisiac. He’s exactly my type.

“Would you like to grab lunch?” I ask as nonchalantly as possible. Or search for an obscure book in the back. Find a deserted room. Go back to my office.

He stops making notes. “Sorry. I can’t.” He flips the notebook closed. “Taking this position was sort of a last-minute decision for me, and I haven’t prepared for my first seminar. I’m working on it over lunch.”

Disappointment hits me, but I brush it off. “Completely understand. Maybe another time.” I don’t care if he is a spy. It’s not as if I have to share my secrets with him.

He nods. “Thanks for working with me on this. I’ll type up the notes.” After grabbing his stuff, he glances at the monitor, then back at me. “Are you going to be at your office later? I could drop it by.”

I nod and give him my hours. “Thanks, Hawthorne. I’m looking forward to working on this with you.”

“Me too.” He flashes me a wide smile and strides off.

Tempted to lean over and watch him walk away, I restrain myself. Once I’m sure he’s left the library, I drop my head in my hands and groan. The man is smart and passionate, and I could sit beside him for hours. I almost wish he were an ogre. How am I going to keep my guard up around him?

By doing what I always do… getting back to my real job. I lift my head and open up the chat screen from earlier.

AncientFangs: Key went up for sale a week ago. LINK. Seller took the post down a couple of days later. Original ask MMs.

Nothing truly disappears from the web. After paying for the information, I click on the link, which takes me to the original seller’s post. An image of an ancient-looking key pops up on the screen. I study it, but it’s not familiar, so I turn to the archived post.

User9738432: Platinum key with Hephaestus’ symbol on bow. Non-magical. Serious collectors only. 20M GBP

Non-magical. Then why is everyone after it?

Is this a money play? My eyes dart back to the image, and I zoom in on the bow, the portion of the key a person holds in their hands, and see the metal stamp Hephaestus often used to sign his pieces.

A simplified version of the hammer and anvil.

I frown. Anyone could have stamped this onto the piece.

Given the attack at the museum, and Jamison’s subsequent search, the piece must somehow be connected to Westgate’s collection, and if it was in the vampire’s possession, it could be thousands of years old.

Westgate was ancient and reported to be one of the first vampires to cross the portal.

Objects with a symbol of the gods are rare, but they do exist. If it’s been authenticated, it would be worth the twenty-million-pound price tag.

I flick back to the post. The seller’s use of “non-magical” tells me they’re supernatural. A human wouldn’t make that distinction.

Beyond curious, I decide to send the anonymous user a note.

CursedGreek: @User 9738432 If the key is authentic, I’m interested. DM me if still available.

I close the chat and head to the sandwich place on campus, then back to the library.

Someone’s using my favorite desk, so I drop into another.

I’ll only be here a minute. Entering the chat room, I check for messages, but there’s no reply.

Disappointed, I log out and decide to head to the gym early to blow off some steam.

Cara stops me the minute I walk in. As the gym’s owner and resident fitness guru, she spends most of her time here and is one of the few supernaturals I speak to on a regular basis.

“Guess what? You’re never going to believe it.

A new supe moved to town, and he’s a trainer.

Here. In my gym. What are the odds?” She drags me around the corner to the weight room. “There. See him?”

I scan the faces around me. Most of them I recognize as regulars. “Where?”

She smirks. “Keep looking. You won’t miss him. Believe me.”

Shaking my head, I stretch up on tiptoe to see the back of the room. “Holy… Huge” The man is freaking big and muscular. Stacked in all the best ways. “What is he?” I keep my voice low, so he doesn’t hear us.

She licks her lips. “Shifter of some kind.”

One of the men working out in front of me moves, giving me a clear view.

At least six feet, seven inches tall, he’s definitely massive, but surprisingly, it’s not the first thing you notice about him.

“He looks like a golden god. Or a Nemean lion.” Big, powerful, with acres of golden skin and a full head of white-blond hair.

She hums. “He does, doesn’t he?” As a panther shifter herself, she’s practically purring at the idea.

I continue to watch him train the woman next to him, showing her how each piece of equipment works and how to do the reps. She’s not even looking at the weights. “He’s not the only new supe in town. There are two more.”

Cara jerks me around to face her. “Seriously?” Folding her arms across her chest, she motions for me to continue.

Unable to be completely honest, I keep it light, telling her I met Jamison in London, and he showed up at the university today. Then I tell her about the new Elven professor who’s joined the staff for the semester.

Eyes as wide as saucers, she slaps me on the arm. “I’m so jelly. Two lovely, unbreakable men. Sounds like you already have dibs on those two, so I’ll take this one for myself. Come, I’ll introduce you.”

I chuckle and shake my head. “He’s busy. I’m just going to grab a run on the treadmill, then hit the wall. It’s been a while, and I need the practice.”

She heaves a huge sigh but pushes me toward the cardio area.

After completing a five-mile run, I make my way over to the climbing wall on the other side of the gym.

This is my favorite activity. It’s the best thing I’ve found that mimics scaling a wall or building in real life.

Skills every thief needs. I visually trace the climbing holds I want to conquer today.

Exchanging my sneakers for climbing shoes, I step into the harness.

After hooking everything up, I chalk my hands and nod to the trainer on duty to let him know I’m starting the climb.

He gives me a thumbs up, then turns back to watch the beginners on the wall next to me.

I’ve been here so many times, he’s used to me.

Taking the most difficult route possible, I traverse my way up the wall, pushing myself to take the farthest hold instead of the nearest. As I get closer to the top, I arch my neck to find the ceiling.

There. It will require a big leap to get there, but it’s the best move.

Arms straining, I look down to position my feet, and see Cara’s new supe standing below, watching someone on the wall to my right.

Golden eyes swing to me briefly, then with a frown, move back to the woman he’s training.

I roll my shoulders and refocus on the ceiling.

Twisting my body, I spring forward, but instead of landing the jump, my fingertips graze the hold, and I find myself falling.

“Damn it!” Thankfully, I’m far enough from the main portion of the wall to let myself fall directly to the mats below.

An oomph escapes me when I hit a wall of muscle instead of the floor. A subtle smell teases my senses. Juniper, maybe. Confused, I look up. Fierce gold eyes stare down at me, almost glowing in their intensity.

I might be immortal, but that only means I can’t die. In the meantime, I can bruise or break bones. Feeling the hit, I lie in his arms for a second.

“Are you okay?” a gruff voice asks. Body tense and closed off, his energy reflects his gruff tone.

“Yep, just catching my breath,” I reply, easing out of his bulging biceps to stand beside him. “Err, thanks. The mat would have broken my fall.”

His brows lower as if he’s offended.

“Cara says you’re her new trainer. I’m Phaedra. You’ll see me here a lot. Hopefully, you won’t see me falling much.” I laugh. I’ve fallen in this place far too many times to count.

“Gatlin. Try not to kill yourself on my watch,” he spits out, then walks—or rather, prowls—away. His stride and smooth gait suggest he’s light on his feet. Maybe he’s a cat shifter like Cara. He certainly snarls like one. A literal ball of sunshine. Cara will love his grumpiness.

With a groan, I force myself up and add more chalk to my hands. I’m determined to nail this move despite grumpy’s warning.