The rest of the week went...normally? Or as normal as life could get for me. I patrolled with no more interference from Paul, the mausoleum seemed to crouch in on itself as if it were sucking itself into a black hole, I was no closer to figuring out who the other Necron Brotherhood member was, and I hissed "don't touch" if anyone got close enough to pluck stray hairs off my clothes for another make-the-slayer-useless spell.

So yeah, normal.

Until Friday came.

That ...