Dr. June Porter pressed her lips firmly together to keep from saying anything to the lurker outside her office door. She did not have to like her thesis advisee; she merely had to get him to produce satisfactory work sufficient to get rid of him.
Watching him slouch against the narrow faculty hallway wall reading a glossy periodical known for its style advice for men and the latest trendy whiskey did not give inspire confidence that she’d be rid of him anytime soon.
“Score,” Christian sang out with smug satisfaction, and tucked the item in question into his backpack. “Someone left money in the magazine.”
June rolled her eyes and unlocked her office door. Her eyes drifted to his hand reaching for the floor as she put her shoulder into the usual spot to dislodge the perpetually stuck corner.
“Wait!” She blurted, gaze glued to the floor. Above the worn industrial carpet, the bill burned to her sight with a sickly red glow. It might be masquerading as a fifty — enough to tempt even the students from richer families, as Christian had just greedily proved — but that alluring piece of paper screamed “trap” louder than last week’s drunken space movie fans who’d pew-pewed their way into an overnight jail cell.
“Tell me why?” he drawled, not bothering to hide his disdain as he rose. “Need it to pay the bills?”
She forced a fake smile and a shrug while tugging on a thread to unravel the complicated knot on the parchment. It wasn’t like she could tell him what he thought was a windfall was filled with poisonous magic. “Didn’t you hear about the counterfeit bills making their way onto campus?”
He sniffed and reached toward the floor again. “I’ll risk it.”
Out of time, June went for the Gordian knot approach and sent a spark of magic straight at the paper.
“Ouch!” Christian rubbed his fingers.
“Static’s been getting everyone lately,” June murmured, and set her satchel next to the tray she used as a desk.
He followed her into the tiny room, still muttering.
If he only knew. Nothing good came from lures that attractive.
***
The email I thought I sent, well, didn’t! This week, I snagged a spare instead: Someone left money in the pages of the magazine.
