We were supposed to use them to cut apart cardboard standees to make them easier to toss in the dumpster, but they’d be able to cut through skin if we needed to. That’s why we both grabbed one, stuck them in our pockets, and headed toward the stairs.
“If it really is a ghost, we’re in luck,” Tyler said, trying to adopt the same casual tone I’d used before. “Silver kills them, right?”
I faked a laugh and started down the stairs. The more steps we took, the louder the noises became. Screaming and panting and moaning.
When we reached the bottom, there was a muscular man with a patchy beard holding one of our co-workers against the wall. He punched him in the jaw, then the stomach, then the jaw again. Each time, blood spurted from his limp body.
I must’ve gasped, or made some other sound of shock, because the man turned to look at me. His eyes were black, but when he blinked, they returned to their normal blue. Luckily, I only received a second of his attention before he returned to his pummeling.
