Page 70 of (Mostly) Human Resources

Nic brushed a few strands of loose hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. She exhaled, her face peaceful again as she leaned into his touch. He cupped her face, peering down at her. She was beautiful, there was no denying it—but never before had he wished he could tell her. Nightmares and all.

Nic pulled his hand away, chastised himself for such thinking, and returned to his side of the fire. He sat back down on his sleeping bag and fished out his phone. He’d taken screenshots of the file Zach sent over, and he flicked through it once again. He must have read the pages at least fifty times since receiving them, but he hadn’t been looking for anything spider-related before. His memory wasn’t perfect, contrary to popular belief, but he did recall the mention of spiders in one of her dream journal entries.

Nic scrolled through all the notes and files he’d saved, some nothing more than scribbled notes from Zach, all with potential hypotheses as to what creatures were haunting Alexys (none of his hunches were correct). As he read, he kept an eye on Alexys’s sleeping form.

When Nic first saw the sleep journal entries in Zach’s email, he’d initially dismissed them. Now, he read them with renewed interest.

There was a towering tree with white flowers and smooth, dark wood. I couldn’t see anything else, only the tree and the night sky behind it. A voice, which sounded almost like it came from the branches of the tree, said, “You must not let him break free.” The tree swayed in the wind, the flowers turned black, and the bark began to crack and break.

Nic wasn’t sure why a talking Blackwood tree might be important, but trees were prominent in folklore and legends. The ominous message could fall within the premonition territory, despite how vague it was. He would research the significance when he got back to the office. He skimmed a few more entries until another one stuck out.

I’m standing before a grave. There’s no name on it, but I know who’s buried there. I look up, and there are eight more graves behind it, all unmarked but all holding the bodies of people I’m certain I know. It’s my fault they’re there. I can’t remember who they are, but I know it’s my fault they’re dead. I drop the shovel.

He wasn’t an expert in psychology, so Nic couldn’t begin to imagine the implications of homicide or dead bodies in a dream. Buried secrets, maybe? A haunted past? He checked the date and considered Alexys’s behavior around the time she had written it, but nothing in his memory stood out. It had been several weeks ago, and there was no guarantee he’d even seen her that day. He skipped to the next.

I was back at the faire, in the fortune teller’s tent. The one I hated. It felt wrong, like a dark stain on a white sheet. It didn’t belong, but it didn’t try to hide its un-belonging. The table was draped in cobwebs. Every corner, every wall was covered in them. I was sitting across the table from myself. My dream-selfsmiled, cruel and mocking. “You never listen,” she said. “I’ve told you not to trust him. He will be your downfall.” Spiders, hundreds of black spiders, began to crawl out from under the table until they covered every inch of the room. My dream-self laughed.

The spiders, of course, immediately caught his attention. The webs, the spiders, the dark version of Alexys, it all had to be connected. He’d never heard of a nightmare-creating spider cryptid, but it wouldn’t be the first time a new cryptid was discovered seemingly out of nowhere. Finally having something to research was a relief. He just had to figure out what exactly the spider was and how to get rid of it. His eyes slipped back over to Alexys and scanned for any signs of the spider in her hair. She was still sleeping, her nose buried in the sleeve of his sweater, and her hair formed a wild halo around her head. The sweater nearly swallowed her, and it made him smile. Seeing her in his clothes made him feel a certain way but …

Nic wasn’t going to think about that because they werecoworkers. Plus, he was too busy snooping through her personal files to indulge in nonsensical observations like how cozy she looked wrapped up in the soft white fabric. He felt an unfamiliar, protective instinct rear up before immediately quashing it.

He checked his watch. Only a handful of hours until dawn. He’d let her sleep a bit more before waking her. She’d be easier to manage after a little sleep. He already anticipated her temper being particularly fearsome in the absence of caffeine. But that was Morning Nic’s problem. Stretching out on his sleeping bag, Nic considered their next steps in the hope that the logical thinking would at least distract him from all the noise in his brain.

Nicreallyhoped Elliot was still alive, despite being fairly convinced otherwise—especially after seeing that Jackalope. But he didn’t have the heart to snuff out Alexys’s hope just yet. He wasn’t sure what Elliot’s death would do to her, or if she would be able tocope with something so traumatic. He worried she’d leave the job, although he’d try to persuade her otherwise, of course. He decided long before he made it to Opal’s house that he was joining her, mostly, for his own personal gain, but along the way things had changed. It wasn’t his job to rescue wayward employees, but he did feel obligated to help her, and Elliot, in whatever way he could.

They would set out again at first light to look for him. With any luck, they hadn’t strayed too far off the path Nic’s compass had set for them, and they would be able to find Greenbriar Mine before anything else tried to kill them.

CHAPTER 37

“If you hear whistling, leave. If you hear laughter, leave. If you hear a voice you recognize that definitely shouldn’t be there,leave.”

Journals of Reaper J. T. Cross

She woke to the muffled sound of someone screaming her name.

Before she was even fully conscious, Alexys scrambled out of her sleeping bag, tugged on her shoes, and tumbled out into the woods, desperate to track the sound.

Not just any sound.

Elliot’s voice.

Alexys would have known that nasally pitch anywhere. After countless phone and Zoom calls, there was no doubt in her mind that it was him. She’d bet her life on it.

“Alexys?”

She was running before her brain had time to catch up.

His voice seemed to come from the trees to her right. There wasn’t a deer trail or path to follow, but the first wisps of dawn’s light were finally beginning to crack through the clouds. She pushed her way through dense foliage, still heavy and dripping with rain, and tried to head in the direction of his voice.

Elliot called her name again. His voice sounded closer, but his tone was laced with panic.

“Elliot?” Alexys shoved her way through the bushes and brambles. Thorns snagged her clothes and hair like dark claws. “Elliot!” she called again. “Where are you?”

“Oh God!No, no!”

Elliot’s scream froze the blood in her veins. She stopped dead in her tracks. Her head swiveled this way and that as she frantically searched for any sign of him. She shouted his name, tears blurring her vision, too set on finding him to care about what else might hear her. For a long, horrible moment, she heard only the sound of her own rattled breaths.

Rain dripped and pattered around her, the smell of damp earth hung heavy in the air.