Page 94 of (Mostly) Human Resources

“Little busy, darlin’.”

She looked up to find Silas dragging one of the cultists to their feet. Their hood was up, so she couldn’t see their face. Not that she could have recognized them if she’d seen it.

Silas lifted them effortlessly from the ground until their feet dangled several inches from the dirt. “Saving your little friend has a price.” Silas looked over his shoulder at her, smile wide. “Have you forgotten our deal already?”

“Wait.” Alexys tried to gently move Nic’s head out of her lap and stand, but she wasn’t moving fast enough. “Silas, wait!”

The man’s neck snapped with a sickening crack that echoed through the mine, and Silas moved on to the next before Alexys was able to stand. Her feet slipped in the puddle of blood she was knelt in,Nic’s blood, and caused her to stumble as she rushed to stop him.

“Silas, stop!”

He didn’t answer, didn’t look at her as he struck them down one by one.

Alexys screamed at him, rushed through the fallen bodies and scattered altar remains to try and end the carnage before it could get any worse. Her footing slipped. She went down and landed hard on her hands and knees. The collision with the packed earth sent ripples of pain streaking up her limbs.

She scrambled to her feet and pushed her hair out of her face. A dark liquid dripped off her forehead. She looked down.

Alexys’s hands were covered in blood. Soaked to the elbow. Her jeans had absorbed so much of the stuff, they looked black and clung to her skin. She tried to wipe it off on her shirt which did nothingbut leave violent red streaks across the fabric. She nearly choked when she realized she’d marred Nic’s sweater with bloody handprints. The metallic scent filled her nose, so strong her head swam. She couldn’t tell if it was tears or blood wetting her cheeks.

Her gaze darted over to Nic, still lying next to the broken altar, and then back to Silas.

Silas stood among the bodies of their captors. Obsidian dagger dripping blood in one hand and a limp body clutched in the other, he looked like a painting of Death itself. The bloodthirsty grin that split his face was decorated with crimson stains. His eyes cut to hers, and her chest hollowed out.

CHAPTER 50

“If a situation arises in which there are civilian casualties, negative outcomes, or unfortunate repercussions to a Warden’s actions, you will contact your regional office’s PEC personnel immediately.”

Entity Employee Handbook: HR Edition

Alexys pushed herself to her feet, wavering and unsteady. She wasn’t sure if she should move to protect Nic from Silas’s bloody rampage or somehow stand her ground. Her hands shook violently. The muscles of her thighs quivered as if begging her to give in to her instincts and flee.

Silas took steady, measured steps toward her. The soaked dagger glistened in the lamplight.

She couldn’t find the strength to run. Alexys couldn’t even breathe as Silas finally stopped in front of her. They stood nearly toe-to-toe, and she tilted her head back to look up at him.

That horrible smile, far too big for a human mouth and full of razor-edged teeth, still cut across his lips. Up close, Alexys could see the speckles of blood on his face like murderous freckles.

“Aren’t you going to say thank you?” His voice was laced with humor. “I believe that’s customary after saving a person’s life.”

She looked to the bodies behind him. Eight people. Perhaps not innocent, but still human beings. All slaughtered for her sake.

Alexys vomited onto Silas’s shoes.

Silas grimaced and took a careful step back from the mess, but the damage to his footwear was already done. “Well, that wasn’t quite the gesture of gratitude I had in mind.”

“Oh God.” She wasn’t sure if the words were from the carnage or puking on Silas’s shoes. “Oh God.”

“Is that really all you have to say?” Silas looked put out. Did he expect some sort of trophy for committing such an atrocity?

“Silas, you …” Alexys felt bile rise up in her throat again. She couldn’t say it. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, she tried to forget the gruesome sight and work through the nausea.

The biting cold of Silas’s fingertips brushed her cheek. Alexys jerked back, and her eyes snapped open.

“Is squeamishness common in your line of work?”

“I don’t know, but murder isn’t!”

“I find that hard to believe. Would you like to waste my time debating the moral implications of sacrificing murderers, or would you like me to save him?”