Page 9 of Curses & Keys (Curses & Gods #1)
PHAEDRA
R efreshed after my stay on the farm, I head to the condo I’m leasing in Durham. Off West Main Street, the mid-rise building sits in the perfect downtown location, close enough to walk to campus if I wish. I ease my car into its reserved parking spot and take the elevator to the top.
Unlike the farmhouse, everything here is sleek and modern, with high-end finishes and all the latest appliances.
There isn’t an ounce of warmth in the cold, sterile place except for the bank of windows in the corner that allows sunlight to flood the space.
Airy and modern. Livable, but not home. It’s the perfect ruse for my life here.
I toss my keys into a wooden bowl on the entry table and hang up my purse. My stomach grumbles loudly. Walking over to the refrigerator, I open it and stare at the empty shelves. School starts tomorrow. I slam it shut and tap on my phone to order groceries.
While I wait for my order to arrive, I grab my laptop and pull up the cameras I hacked into the other day.
The port is busy this morning. Shipments arriving and leaving all over the place.
Once I find the camera for the warehouse, I bring it up and start rewinding the video footage.
There. That’s me running across the roof.
I note the time and switch to a second camera.
The second camera shows the inside of the warehouse.
I rewind the footage an additional twenty minutes and see myself moving away from my crate to the skylight.
Behind me, a shadow quickly scales the shelving in the warehouse until it reaches my crate. It’s too dark to get much detail, but the person’s bulk and height make me think it’s a male. Plus, there is something about the way he moves. Confident and sure-footed. Military training, maybe.
From a third camera, I see myself reaching the skylight and disappearing up to the roof.
I switch back to camera two and watch him probe around the crate. Instead of opening it, he waves a green light back and forth over the outside of the crate, then stares down at the device in his hand. That’s it. He puts the item in his hand away and walks around the crate. What’s he doing?
His head suddenly jerks up, and he takes off running across the top shelf, following the same path I’d used minutes earlier, until he reaches the skylight and disappears.
I switch back to the first camera and catch him on the roof a minute later, peering over the side of the building.
He must have heard the motorcycle. Moving to the front of the building, he waves his hands a few times in a series of practiced maneuvers, obviously communicating with someone on the ground.
I watch as he leaves the roof but lose him in the shadows of the building.
I rewind the footage of him inside the warehouse to watch it several more times.
He’s clearly running the green light over the crate.
Not once does he open the crate. Is he scanning for a specific type of metal?
The pieces inside are mainly made of gold and silver, not rare minerals, but maybe he’s searching for something unusual.
Some of the supernaturals brought materials from home when they came through the portal. Compounds not known to this world.
Groceries arrive, and I spend several minutes putting those away, then fix an easy butter, parmesan, and veggie pasta for dinner.
I take it out to the patio, along with a glass of wine, and watch as the sun turns the sky into shades of pink and gold.
Tonight is the last time it will set after eight p.m. this year.
I watch every second. Soon, my favorite season will be gone.
Once it’s dark, I pick up my phone and glance at the tracker app. My crate is on a truck bound for Durham and scheduled for delivery tomorrow.
Designed in a collection of Revival styles, the Allen Building’s majestic facade reflects the Classical Studies program it offers inside its hallowed halls.
Built in the thirties, Duke University’s West Campus, including this building, was designed to represent a romanticist interpretation of the historic medieval universities in England.
It was meant to be a symbol of Duke’s status and credibility to the rest of the world, and almost a hundred years later, it stands firm with all the hallmarks of prestige.
Unwilling to walk in the sweltering heat this morning, I swing the car into my assigned parking spot a few minutes early.
The staff meeting starts promptly at nine a.m. Usually, I wouldn’t be expected to join, but the department chair asked me to give a brief update on the pieces coming from the collection.
I glance at my watch. I need to tell security the crate is arriving today before the meeting.
They don’t like surprises. My heels click rapidly on the tiles as I rush to their office at the other end of the building.
Hurrying around the corner and through the door, I slam into someone who’s standing a few feet inside.
Thankfully, their strong grip catches me before I fall.
Horrified, I glance up and find the most captivating sea-green eyes staring down at me. “Sorry. I’m in a rush and didn’t look. Are you okay?”
A half-smile graces his lips as he flicks his eyes down. “No harm done.”
My eyes linger on his masculine features in appreciation, then widen when they get to the pointed ears. Elven. Humans can’t see them, but I do. Undoubtedly why he is so beautiful with his strong nose, firm lips, and high cheekbones. Symmetrically perfect.
What is he doing here? My phone pings, and I jerk out of his hold.
“Damn, I’m going to be late,” I lament, shaking my head. “Tony.” I pop my head around the man standing in front of me to focus on the burly guy seated behind the counter. “I’ve got a crate coming this afternoon. Could you please call me when it arrives?”
Tony writes it down on the pad beside him, nodding in agreement. “Sure thing, Dr. Galanis.”
I glance up at the elf and wish I had more time.
“Again, I’m sorry.” Stepping away from him, I turn toward the door.
From the corner of my eye, I spot a messenger bag on a chair.
Does he work here? I swivel to get one last look at him and nearly clip my nose on the doorframe.
Idiot. He’s going to think I’m a complete klutz.
Minutes later, I walk into the conference room. Of course, I’m the last person to walk in and take a seat. All eyes turn toward me when I enter, and I hear a long-suffering sigh from the department head.
“Sorry I’m late.” My apology is out of respect, but it’s all she’ll get from me. As a visiting professor, my only job is to provide the university with artifacts from my travels. I’m not here to teach classes or interfere in the day-to-day operations.
Dr. Florence Berne shuffles the papers in front of her, but the door opens before she can get a word out. We all turn to see who it is. Personally, I’m curious to see the person who would dare interrupt Dr. Berne’s staff meeting. Besides me, of course.
Dr. Berne giggles, and my mouth drops open in shock, but when the elf I ran into earlier steps into the room, I completely understand.
Tall, serious green eyes, tanned complexion, and tousled hair the color of mahogany—dark brown with the slightest hint of russet.
Fit, too. I subtly wipe the invisible drool from my mouth.
“Dr. Wylde,” she practically purrs. “Welcome to Duke University and to the Classical Studies program.” She motions to the chair beside her, and he strides over and sits down, all eyes following his every move.
Whispers fill the room, but one glare from Florence silences them all.
“Everyone, this is Dr. Hawthorne Wylde. He’ll be visiting us for a few weeks.
An expert in ancient botany, his seminars will be offered to any of our graduate students who wish to expand their knowledge of the historical evolution of plants and their importance in ancient civilizations.
Please introduce yourself after the meeting. ”
After beaming a wide smile at him, she continues with the agenda.
I tune her out and focus on the man sitting beside her.
As if he can feel my eyes on him, he flicks his gaze toward me.
An intense look of concentration comes over him, and I realize he’s trying to use his magic on me.
Like mages, the Elven wield elemental magic, but they also have an empathic-like ability to sense emotions in others, especially humans.
His power snakes around me, searching for a door, but finds nothing. His attention shifts to the people around me, as if he’s testing his magic on them, and his shoulders relax in relief. Green eyes immediately move back to me; they narrow when he, again, gets nothing.
Unable to resist, I wink at him, and his eyes widen.
When I hear Florence say my name, I tune back into the meeting, ignoring the perfect specimen at the end of the table.
It’s a good thing I do, because Florence is touting the work I did this summer on Nolan’s collection in London.
While she doesn’t know anything about vampires or magical objects, she’s a renowned expert in archaeology, and I consulted with her on several items.
“It’s an incredible collection. Thank you, Dr. Berne, for your assistance in identifying several of the pieces,” I state firmly, giving her the credit she deserves before continuing.
“I managed to secure a few pieces for the university. They should be arriving later today. I’ll send an email to the staff with a list of the items, the provenance of each piece, and a picture, in case you want to integrate them into your curriculum. ”
Several professors nod enthusiastically. Dr. Wylde eyes me with a speculative gleam, but I see his fingers moving across his phone. He’d better not let Florence catch him. His good looks won’t save him from her blistering lecture on the use of cell phones during staff meetings. I should know.
Florence finishes with her usual spiel about making this the best year for students and ends the meeting. I ignore the queue of people moving toward Dr. Wylde and quickly head out the door.