I clean up a killing, or I do a killing, and then, like any corporate employee, I spend hours typing up documentation on the killings. The what, the whys, the how, and everyone involved. These are then emailed, printed, and stored away for the next person along the line.

  

  [SYSTEM LOG UPDATED]

  Incident File(s) Uploaded: 14

  Chain-of-Custody Confirmed

  Compliance Rating: Acceptable

  What they did with the documentation after it left me, I have no idea. So, when I was pulled into HR for a “situation” with one of these incidents, I was annoyed.

  I wasn’t going to get fired in the traditional sense or killed off for whatever the incident was. It was just someone’s job to pull me from my duties to reprimand me for something someone else did. Like human corporations, demon corporations had many middlemen, women, theys, and whatevers who felt they needed to show their muscle every few months. It just happened to be my turn to deal with one of them.

  I stepped in front of the door. The new guy, Wankum, his zone smelled heavily of floor wax and sulfur.

  

  [PASSIVE SKILL—ENVIRONMENTAL PROFILING (LV. 4)]

  Foreign chemical overlay detected.

  Primary scent Source: Subject inside office.

  Secondary scent: Recent surface treatment

  Probability of territorial marking: 64%

  Definitely not the scent when Jasper was here, but it is what it is—Jasper either moved up the chain of command or below. I didn’t go to his going-away party that was held for him. He was too good for this job, and I hoped it was a promotion or whatever torture demons preferred.

  Promotions and pay raises worked differently here; it was pretty progressive in some respects compared to what you would see in a human job. Possibly even the same number of deaths. I never worked in a human corporate job, so I can’t really… say for sure.

  My face was set in its habitual mask of boredom as I adjusted my cufflinks. Nothing about my position required visible professionalism. This was all cosmetic. But the cufflinks were sentimental.

  

  [EQUIPPED ITEM]

  Anchor cufflinks (Uncommon - Bound)

  Passive Effect: Mental stabilization +3

  Passive Effect: Panic Resistance +15%

  Flavor Text: You told yourself you could survive without reminders. You lied.

  As most of this was just for appearance's sake. But they were sentimental. The only thing I allowed myself to reveal to this world. They were, sadly, also the only thing keeping me sane and moving within this world. That and the retirement plan.

  To my mother, I was a senior risk assessment officer for a mid-sized insurance firm. She stopped asking about work when she discovered every woman I worked with was decades older. I did continually bring up Karen and her flirtatious ways with me just to rile her up on the weekends I visited. However, to the Board of Directors, I was an invaluable fixer. Drop me into an unstable situation. Give me partial information. Let everything be five seconds from collapsing into mass casualty. I’d handle it

  

  [TITLE: Corporate Fixer - Active]

  Reputation Modifier: +18% with Executive Entities

  Survival rate in hostile negotiations: 92%

  But the checks cleared, dinner was on the table, the mortgage was paid, and there was a good healthcare plan. But if I told her about that job, she would probably die on the spot.

  Wankum’s door to his office opened. The sulfur was harsher in here, and the weird dash of floor wax—it wasn’t the building. It was him... A middle manager from HR who wore a human suit two sizes too small and a smile with too many teeth. A demon who didn’t want others to know exactly what or who he was.

  

  [PASSIVE TRAIT - Threat Classification]

  Subject Type: Administrative Predator

  Danger Level: Moderate

  Political Influence: High

  Lethality: Conditional

  I stepped inside.

  “We hired you as a new assistant. He starts today," Wankum begins. The words "firm" and "flat." He was getting used to his new body, the way bones moved within the skin that shouldn’t be there. The words were flat but controlled; he was used to giving orders.

  “The last ‘assistant’ the company gave me tried to eat the evidence.”

  “We have no problems with evidence going missing here. Silas, you know that.” Wankum answers.

  “Then, he tried to eat me," I emphasized.

  “Yes, it does read that you vaporized him afterward.”

  

  [SYSTEM NOTICE]

  Prior disciplinary incident resolved

  Liability assigned to Asset Protection Division

  No corrective action recommended.

  Wankum exhaled through too many teeth.

  “This one is a human witch who specializes in finding things. He’s a vegetarian. He’s assured me he has no interest in meals of demon or human flesh.”

  I turned, ready to dissect Wankum verbally, then stopped. There was a human beside him. Young and soft in a way that this building does not permit. A gentleness radiating from him that read that he wasn’t long for this world.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  He looked as if he were dipped in the sunrise and left a little too long. I felt drawn to it but also felt a wrongness, that this person wasn’t supposed to be here. His feet shouldn’t have met this building, let alone get hired. There was an unreasonable amount of annoyance at this feeling I couldn’t quite name.

  He wore a chunky mustard knit sweater that clashed violently with the corporate facade of this office—hell, this entire company. His hair is a chaotic mop of brown curls. Something caught his attention, and he leaned down, whispering something to the wilted plant in the decorative flowerpot.

  “There you go,” he whispered, his fingers brushing a yellowed leaf, "just a little intent. You’re doing great.”

  

  [UNKNOWN SKILL ACTIVATED]

  External mana fluctuation detected

  As I stared at the insane scene unfolding in front of me, the brown leaves of the plant shuddered and turned a vibrant, waxy green. Probably what this plant should look like on a good day. I’ve never seen them on a good day.

  

  [SYSTEM OBSERVATION]

  Environmental condition corrected.

  “August,” Wankum barked, "meet your supervisor.”

  August snapped upright, his eyes widening. They were bright, earnest, and entirely too wide for a place that specialized in soul-breaking. He stepped forward, extending a hand that looked entirely too soft for this line of work.

  "Mr. Thorne. It’s an honor. I’ve heard you’re the best at…” He lowered his voice, "what we do here.”

  My pulse did something inconvenient.

  I ignored his hand.

  As if it weren't just the company here.

  “I don’t train people,” I said evenly, “especially ones who talk to the office furniture.”

  “It’s a plant.” August corrected, gently, his smile not fading from his face. “I am here to help. Not a trainee. I’m very good at finding things that don’t want to be found.”

  I felt a sharp prickle at the back of my neck. My internal alarm is ringing.

  

  [PASSIVE ALERT - Situation Awareness]

  Anomalous resonance detected

  Target of interest: August

  “Finding things? Like what?”

  “Most anything or anyone that is missing.” August’s smile twitched, just for a fraction of a second. Had I not been staring at him, I would have missed it.

  

  [MICRO-EXPRESSION ANALYSIS FAILED]

  Emotional layer masked by active enchantment

  “Fine.” I snapped, turning on my heels and heading toward the elevator. “Follow me. Keep your mouth shut. Don’t touch anything.”

  The space inside this elevator became legally meaningful.

  

  TEMPORARY OPERATIONAL CONTRACTED - GENERATED

  Supervisor: Thorne, Silas

  Assigned Asset: Bloom, August

  Department: Recovery and Remediation

  Oversight Authority: Human Resources - Internal Compliance

  Primary Directive:

  Escort the assigned asset to the active operational site.

  Restrictions:

  No disclosures of classified procedural doctrine

  No unsupervised interaction with archived materials

  No alteration of contract scope without HR authorization

  The language wasn’t magic. It was something pressed into my bones. Mapped itself onto my nervous system. It made refusal feel like a bad idea; I had already survived once. A second line threaded through it.

  Quiet.

  Heavier.

  

  Contingency Clause—Supervisor Liability Applies

  I didn’t need to ask what that meant. The elevator chimed. Behind me, August stepped in. The doors slide shut. The system sealed the contract. Then, just as smoothly, it disappeared again.

  “Follow me,” I said.

  “Keep your mouth shut.”

  “Don’t touch anything.”

  “Yes, sir,” August replied softly.

  His footsteps fell beside mine. Light and unthreatening, but now, officially, my responsibility.

  That unsettled me more than defiance would have.

  His shoulder brushed mine as the elevator shifted.

  Just barely.

  Accidental.

  My interface flickered.

  

  [STATUS EFFECT: Unidentified]

  Heart Rate: Elevated

  Cause: Unknown

  Threat Level: …Inconclusive

  Ridiculous.

  He was an assignment.

  A liability.

  A human witch dropped into a department where humans rarely survived long enough to file complaints.

  Nothing more.

  And yet

  

  [PASSIVE ALERT—Persistent Resonance Detected]

  My interface dimmed instead of expanding -- which was wrong. It often stacks alerts, compiling and categorizing items to my preference. This one slid under the rest like it didn’t want to be seen.

  A thin, low-priority banner ghosted along the edge of my vision.

  [SYSTEM SUBPROCESS INITIALIZING]

  Source Vector: Proximity overlap

  Secondary Vector: Emotional field interference

  Stability domain: Non-combat

  I slowed down without meaning to. August followed me in the same manner.

  The damn thing flickered again even though I was fighting with it.

  

  [INTERPERSONAL STABILITY PROTOCOL — PENDING]

  Authorization basis:

  — prolonged sensory overlap

  — anomalous emotional throughput

  — operational co-location

  There was little acknowledgement of what the system was trying to relay to me. This was how the place psychologically messed with its workers. Especially those of us who have survived and worked here far longer than needed. But again, the benefits outweighed the negative elements of the work.

  I would simply ignore or refuse whatever the system was trying to say to me. What I was feeling was simple, corporate shit that we dealt with—supervisor liability applied here. Fixers did not take on assistants because the company made a spectacle out of keeping them alive.

  This wasn’t out of kindness or a way to grow—it wasn't intended to climb the ladder. It was an illusion that this place was a great fit for any and all humans. That we were progressive, that people—the human kind—could enter and live.

  If August died under my supervision, it wouldn’t just stain my record. I wouldn’t get canned or killed—well, not quickly. I had enough seniority that it would reroute what my assignments were. I would eventually become expendable.

  It meant that there would be audits. Psych screenings and forced rotations. Fixers learn very quickly that taking on an assistant wasn’t mentorship. It was exposure, some twisted sort of leverage.

  It meant I pissed off someone up top somewhere in the last year and a half. I would need to reach out to my starry-eyed co-worker who had her nose in everything. She would know what had happened. To be honest there was a chance that she was the fucking reason I had this.

  I am very good at handling unstable situations. As a fixer, I would not confuse responsibility for something softer due to the likelihood we’d both be dead. And I really liked being on this side of the ground.