In the University of Virginia at Brandenburg…

     "Damnation!"

     Claire Reynolds cursed loudly as she dove to catch a falling stack of student essays. Sliding on her knees, she winced at the rug burn to her pantyhose-clad legs, missing the papers by a bare inch. As she sat back on her heels, rubbing her knees with a whimper, she flipped the papers off.

     "Yeah, that’ll show ’em." Ross Evanoich stood in the doorway, giving her a wry smile. "You really think those papers will do it with you watching?"

     "Stuff it, Ross," Claire snapped as she began gathering the essays, her cheeks bright pink. "I don’t need your help with these."

     Idly, he strolled into the room, scooping up a couple of papers which had meandered further than the others. "Oh? Really? Well, fine then. I could just throw these into the hallway."

     She glared at him, snatching the papers from his hand as she straightened the essays into a stack, pinning it to her desk with a heavy pewter reproduction of an antique Roman dagger. Pushing back her thick, chestnut hair, Claire seated herself back in her chair with a decisive thump. "There. Papers all together now. Thank you for the help, and you can go."

     The older grad student leaned against her overflowing bookcase, crossing his arms as his grey eyes skipped over the room. He tilted his head, looking more closely at her new addition to the far wall. "What is this?" Ross strode over, squinting as he examined the shadow-boxed item. "When did you get this?"

     Claire grinned, bounding out of her chair to join him in looking into the shadow box. "Isn’t it incredible? There’s an antique store in the Waterfront district, and I bought it there. For a very, very fair price, I might add."

     He lifted an eyebrow, glancing at her. "Ah. Reproduction then."

     She scowled, crossing her arms. "No, it’s not. I had Dr. Connor date it for me, and all of the tests indicate it is genuine."

     "Indicate? Or are you certain?"

     Claire’s scowl darkened. "Dr. Connor was convinced."

     Ross shook his head, peering back at the item carefully mounted in the box. "If this is genuine, you shouldn’t have been able to afford it. The Oglethorpes wouldn’t be able to afford it," he said, naming one of the premiere families in the city, well known for their incredible wealth.

     "It is genuine, and I was able to afford it," Claire snapped.

     "Look, Claire. If this is genuine, which would mean it would have to date to the early Middle Kingdom, it would not have gotten out of Egypt. And, assuming that it managed to slip past like a lot of archeological treasures, it would have cost way more than a grad student could afford, no matter what your mom left you in her will."

     She flounced to her desk, sitting on the edge and narrowing her turquoise blue eyes. "I am quite aware of the rarity of the find, Ross. However, the propetier provided extensive documentation, which I checked for authenticity," she stressed, precluding whatever his opened mouth would have lead to. "I asked half of the department’s professors to give me their opinion before I purchased it, and I asked Dr. Connor to come along when I did buy it. He was impressed with the store’s owner, and intends to return to hunt out a few select pieces."

     Ross lifted one eyebrow. "I think I’ll have to go to this place myself."

     She rooted around beneath a stack of graded essays, pulling out a small rectangle of white cardboard. "Here’s the business card. He’s only open at night, but it is worth going."

     He took the card, eyebrow still uplifted as he scanned the small text. "From nine to three in the morning? Those are really weird hours, Claire."

     She rolled her eyes. "And you’re really weird, Ross. It’s a perfect match. Just be polite so you don’t give me a bad name, okay?"

     Ross shook his head, sliding the card into the breast pocket of his grey jacket. "Whatever. I doubt he’ll have anything I’m interested in."

     Claire smiled smugly. "Oh? Okay…I’ll talk to you in two days then, and I’ll be happy to accept your apology when you show me what you buy."

     The dark-haired man shook his head as he walked out of the room, closing the

door to her office behind himself. Claire sat for a moment, her gaze straying to the shadow box. She rose and went to stand before the box, staring into it and chewing on her lower lip.

     The delicate piece of papyrus was carefully sealed behind Plexiglas, in a climate-controlled shadow box. The faded hieroglyphs were legible, but barely. It was a text depicting the conception of Horus through the magics of his mother, Isis. Claire examined the brush strokes, thinking about the scribe over four thousand years ago who had created this lovely piece, and sighed in contentment. There was something…addicting about owning actual pieces of history, and as Claire thought about Ishmael, the store’s owner, a blush crept into her cheeks. There was something very compelling about him, that she couldn’t put her finger on, but as she considered his heartfelt invitation to return, the color in her cheeks darkened. One hand traced a hieroglyph on the Plexiglas as she gazed at it, a coy smile on her lips.

     Oh yeah…she’d be back.