Page 12 of Edge of Secrets

“If you’re a teacher at NYU, then why are you waiting tables?”

Ah, how innocent he was. I exerted all my self-control and did not roll my eyes. “It’s impossible to pay rent on a grad student’s stipend,” I told him. “Though that, too, is irrelevant, and nobody’s business but mine. I am an extremely busy person, Mr. Burke, but I’m the best you’re ever going to find for this project. If you’re interested in interviewing me, we can proceed. If you intend to insult and belittle me, I’ll be on my way.” I stared straight into his eyes.

He stared back for a harrowing moment, tapping his pen rapidly against his keyboard. “I never meant to insult or belittle you,” he said.

I sniffed. “Very well. Apology accepted.”

“Apology? Did I apologize?” he said, his brow furrowed.

I gave him a thin smile. “I sure hope so. Or else I’ll just be on my way right now. Did I misread you?”

He chewed on that, still tapping. “No, I guess not,” he said. “Let’s proceed.”

I rummaged in my bag and handed him a resume. He flicked his gaze over it and tossed it on his desk. “Pull up a chair,” he said.

I looked around, at a loss, since both chairs were piled high with books and folders.

Burke got up, grumbling under his breath. His white sleeves were rolled up, and the muscles in his forearms bulged appealingly as he grabbed armfuls of paper and dumped them on the floor. “Derek was supposed to file this stuff,” he growled. “Sit down.”

I seated myself gingerly on the chair, nerves buzzing.

Burke studied me for a long moment. “We’re creating a cutting-edge computer game,” he said finally. “Puzzle solving, riddles, prophecies, secrets, treasure maps. Less blood and guts, but there’s plenty of that, too. To move to the higher levels, the player must pass a series of trials each time, like following an enchanted map, breaking a spell, or figuring out how to enlist the help of some magical creature. That kind of thing. Instructions for the tasks and trials will be encoded in hidden texts that are stylistically in keeping with the game. I also desire texts that have actual artistic merit, although I’m no judge of that kind of thing myself. That’s where you come in. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes,” I said. “Look no further. I’m your woman.”

The words rang in the air between us. They sounded so suggestive and sexual. Dear God. What on earth had come over me to say something so in-your-face flirtatious?

He gazed at me for a moment, blinking. “You sound very confident,” he said.

“Absolutely,” I said. “I know my strengths, and this plays right to them.”

He nodded. “We’ve been interviewing people for weeks, but I’ve been unsatisfied with the pool of applicants that have come our way. Several struck me as lightweights. Others took it far too seriously. It’s a game, for God’s sake. So I thought maybe the local universities might have people with the right vibe. Competent, yet playful.”

“A sensible idea,” I commented. “You said last night that you’d never done anything like this before? So this project is a first for you?”

“That’s right. I’m not a game designer myself. I design cybersecurity programs, data analysis programs, systems with real-world practical applications. The game is my brother Bruce’s baby, so you’ll be working with him. My mission is just to make sure everything stays on track. I’ve invested a fortune in game designers and programmers. I can’t afford for this thing to fail. The one thing we haven’t covered is someone to handle the written texts.”

“I see,” I murmured.

“Let me tell you exactly what I want from you.” His intense gaze made his words sound seductive. I plastered on a politely interested smile and tried to breathe.

“For instance, to move to the second level, the player must find a hidden manuscript and get three clues out of it: a silver vial, a scrying pool, and a jeweled dagger. You pour the contents of the vial into the pool to figure out where to find the dagger, which leads you to the next level—the cursed labyrinth. Got it?”

“Uh, yes. I think so.”

“Write me something that gives the clues but leaves the player to figure out the details—while also alluding to the overall quest of the game.”

“Which is?” I asked.

He shifted restlessly in his chair, looking vaguely embarrassed. “Um … well,” he muttered. “Actually, it’s to, uh, rescue the captured princess.”

Awww. I smiled, in spite of myself. That was pretty freaking adorable.

He flapped his hand impatiently to banish my amusement. “I know, I know,” he said. “It’s tired. It’s been done to death. We know, we know.”

“I’ll say,” I murmured. “For, like, all of recorded history.”

He harrumphed impatiently. “I didn’t come up with it. The princess was Bruce’s idea. He’s a very basic guy. Maybe we can come up with something snappier and more original later.”

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