Page 3 of My Professor is a Demon (Demons for Hire)

Oscar

T he glare I directed at the Faculty Affairs Committee as they filed out of the conference room would have incinerated lesser beings. Two hours of bureaucratic posturing about curriculum standards—two hours I could have spent researching the ley line anomalies or, more importantly, figuring out how to keep Charlotte Evers off Hell's radar.

Charlotte. The image of her standing rain-soaked on the steps of Blackwood Hall refused to leave my mind. Golden hair darkened by water, sundress clinging to her curves, and that irrepressible smile undimmed by the downpour. The way she'd fit perfectly under my arm as I sheltered her with the umbrella, her supernatural energy signature reaching instinctively for mine.

I had a research session scheduled with her that started fifteen minutes ago. Professional detachment dictated I should cancel it, create distance between us rather than encourage the dangerous connection forming. Yet I found myself hurrying back to my office, anticipation building at the thought of seeing her again.

When I arrived, she was already waiting outside my door, perched on a bench with a book in her lap. She looked up as I approached, her face brightening in a way that sent an uncomfortable warmth through my chest.

"Dr. Katz! I was beginning to think you'd forgotten our appointment."

"Faculty meeting ran long," I explained, unlocking my office. "Bureaucracy is the true eternal torment, not hellfire."

She laughed, the sound light and genuine in the somber corridor. "I'll remember that for my dissertation on comparative supernatural punishments."

As we entered my office, I noticed she'd brought not just research materials, but two takeout containers that emitted enticing aromas.

"I thought you might be hungry after your meeting," she explained, setting them on the desk. "The faculty lounge food is notoriously terrible."

The thoughtful gesture caught me off-guard, as did my unreasonably strong reaction to it. In centuries of existence, few had ever considered my comfort, much less acted to improve it.

"That's... considerate of you," I managed, taking a seat behind my desk.

She unpacked the food with casual efficiency, reaching across the desk to arrange the containers. The movement caused the top of her dress to pull tight across her chest, outlining curves that my eyes traced before I could exercise better control. Her proximity brought her scent to me—something floral mingled with the natural sweetness of her skin—and I found myself leaning slightly closer under the pretense of examining the food she'd brought.

"Research brain works better with proper fuel,” she said. “I got Thai from that place near the physics building. I hope you like spicy food."

"I do." Another small truth about myself I hadn't intended to share.

We ate while discussing her latest findings about the ley line patterns. Her intuitive understanding continued to impress me; connections I'd spent decades discovering, she pieced together through pure instinct and creative thinking.

"The energy signatures in the eastern quadrant are definitely artificial," she said, gesturing with her fork. "Someone is deliberately manipulating the natural flow, creating dissonance rather than harmony."

"To what purpose?" I asked, though I had my suspicions.

"That's what I can't figure out." She frowned, a rare expression of frustration crossing her usually sunny features. "It's like they're creating interference patterns, but not to open a portal like the blood magic ritual attempted. Something more subtle."

"Perhaps to influence emotional states across large populations," I suggested, watching her reaction carefully. "The increasing tensions between supernatural species in Midnight Creek aren't entirely natural."

Charlotte's eyes widened, her quick mind immediately grasping the implications. "You think someone is deliberately making things worse between witches and werewolves? Vampires and fae? But why?"

"Divided communities are easier to control," I said simply. "Or to destroy."

A shiver ran through her despite the warm office. "We have to stop them."

"We?" I couldn't help the skepticism in my tone.

"Of course we." She leaned forward, radiating determination. "My connection to the ley lines could help."

"It's precisely your connection that concerns me," I admitted, choosing my words carefully. "If you can sense the ley lines so acutely, there's every possibility they can sense you in return. Including whoever is manipulating them."

The implication silenced her momentarily, though her expression remained thoughtful rather than fearful.

"All the more reason to work together," she concluded. "You know things I don't about these energies, and I can sense patterns you might miss. We're stronger as a team."

The word "team" created an unexpected warmth. I had been many things in my long existence—agent, servant, instrument, weapon—but rarely a teammate. The concept implied mutual respect and shared purpose. Things demons weren't supposed to value or desire.

Yet I found myself nodding in agreement. "Your reasoning is sound, if optimistic."

"Optimism is underrated in supernatural crisis management," she quipped, her smile returning.

As we finished our meal and turned to the research materials, I found myself watching her more than the ancient texts. The way she tucked errant curls behind her ear without noticing. How her small fingers traced energy diagrams with intuitive precision. The serious concentration that occasionally replaced her usual cheerful expression, revealing the formidable intellect beneath the sunny exterior.

"You're staring, Professor," she noted without looking up from the grimoire she was examining.

I hadn't realized I'd been so obvious. "Your methodological approach is unconventional. I'm analyzing its effectiveness."

"Mmm-hmm." She glanced up, amusement dancing in her eyes. "And your conclusion?"

"Unorthodox but surprisingly effective," I admitted. "Like much about you, Miss Evers."

A slight blush colored her cheeks, but her gaze remained steady on mine. "High praise from someone with such exacting standards."

Something shifted in the atmosphere between us—the professional veneer thinning as unspoken awareness shimmered in the air. I knew I should reinforce boundaries, maintain the academic distance appropriate between professor and student. Instead, I found myself leaning slightly closer.

"Your standards seem equally high, given your persistent questioning of accepted magical theory."

"I question everything," she said softly. "Especially things that don't make sense. Like why a professor with your knowledge would be interested in a small college like Midnight Creek. Or why energy reacts so strangely when we touch."

The directness of her observation left me momentarily speechless. In Hell's hierarchies, such forthrightness would be suicidal. In academic circles, it was considered impolite at best. Yet Charlotte Evers cut through pretense with refreshing clarity, her blue eyes focused on me with undisguised curiosity.

"Some questions are better left unasked, Miss Evers."

"And those are precisely the questions most worth asking, Professor."

I took a breath, trying not to react, and gestured to her notes. "The eastern quadrant requires direct observation. These patterns can't be fully analyzed through theoretical models alone."

Charlotte immediately perked up. "You mean a field trip? To the restricted area?"

I knew this was a bad idea for all the reasons that had nothing to do with research, but I couldn’t seem to help myself where Charlotte Evers was concerned.

"The eastern edge of campus, where it borders the nature preserve, has been off-limits to students since the unexplained energy fluctuations last semester." She looked delighted rather than concerned. "A limited investigation," I clarified. "Given the potential dangers, discretion would be advisable."

"You're suggesting we break the rules?" Her eyes sparkled with excitement. "The intimidating Dr. Katz, advocating academic espionage?"

"I'm suggesting that valuable research sometimes requires unconventional approaches," I corrected, though I couldn't entirely suppress a smile at her characterization.

"When do we go?" She was already gathering her notes, practically vibrating with enthusiasm.

"Tonight. Eight o'clock. The area around it should be deserted then."

"I'll bring snacks," she announced, as if we were planning a picnic rather than investigating potentially dangerous magical anomalies. “Oh, do you want your umbrella back?”

I shook my head. “Keep it.”

After she left, I stood at my window for a long time, watching her cross the campus quad, her step light despite the heavy bag of books she carried. Students and faculty alike seemed drawn to her natural brightness, several stopping to chat as she passed.

Vorthazul 's orders echoed in my mind: Discover what she is. Bring her in.

I had discovered enough to know that Charlotte Evers was extraordinary, her connection to the ley lines unlike anything I'd encountered. That knowledge should have gone directly to Hell's Board, fulfilling my assignment and advancing my redemption.

Instead, I was planning a clandestine research expedition with her, actively working to keep her off Hell's radar. The risk I was taking defied all logic, violated my contract in ways that could result in eternal punishment.

Yet as I watched her disappear into the library, her umbrella—my umbrella—swinging casually at her side, I couldn't bring myself to regret the choice. Something about her had awakened parts of me I'd thought long dead or dormant—protective instincts untainted by possessiveness and dangerously, emotions I had no right to feel after centuries of infernal service.

I was playing a dangerous game. If Hell discovered my deception, the consequences would be catastrophic for us both. But for the first time in my long life, something mattered more than my own survival or redemption.