Page 31 of Flock This

I see. So no goodbye.

“Right. Thanks.” I stood, then stepped away from the desk.

“Go straight to the fifteenth floor and stay out of trouble.”

I went to offer a mocking salute a moment before realizing how stupid that response was. I needed to keep myself on a short leash. So instead of the salute, I did finger guns.

At his expression, I had to guess that wasn’t an improvement.

Still, I figured I’d gotten as far as I could here, so I rushed out of the room before making it worse.

Because fuck knew I could always make it worse.

* * * *

As it turned out, working as a thrall was way harder than working as a courier. Honor was a hard-ass older woman who had no problem telling me everything wrong with me.

Which, as it turned out, was a lot. She’d shown me around the common areas, explained her expectations, then took me to my assigned quarters. Amazingly, I had the quarters all to myself—a small miracle. The room was tiny, set up like a dorm with a central area for making food and general living along with a shared bathroom, then just a bed, closet and desk in the actual room.

Still, a room with a door and lock was far more than I thought I’d get.

I’d helped out the day before until well after midnight. Most of the thralls were awake at night if their activities put them with vampires, to match their schedule. Those of us in housekeeping or other such jobs worked during the daylight hours to stay out of the vampires’ way.

The good part of that was I didn’t have to worry about running into anyone I might know, and it allowed me to communicate more with the thralls. However, it also meant I couldn’t spy on the vampire or guess what they were up to.

I groaned as I got dressed, hating the black dress just as much as I had when Honor had first handed it to me. It was long, snug just under the bust, with a jersey knit material that was comfortable but clung to me. It sure did me no favors when it came to hiding any physical imperfections. A hood hung down on the back, which I was expected to wear in the presence of any vampire. It helped to avoid drawing attention to myself.

It seemed everything here was made for thralls to blend into the background. We wore the same color of clothing, kept our faces covered, remained silent. When I did see a vampire—which was rare given that I worked during the day—they didn’t even acknowledge me unless it was to criticize or tell me to do something.

I showered at the communal bathroom for my block, thankful that at least the individual shower stalls had doors. I hadn’t realized how such a little thing could change my mood.

My inability to manage my own schedule bit me in the ass with the vengeance of a hungry vampire, however, because I rushed to my station, a granola bar hanging from my lips, just as a soft chime echoed down the hallways to let everyone know it had hit nine in the morning.

After having worked so late, the idea of starting this early was beyond depressing. Still, it wasn’t like I had much of a choice.

And given how hard I’d seen the others work, I had to wonder if vampire venom didn’t work as a stimulant. Maybe it would be worth it to get bit just to make the job easier.

“You’re late.” Honor’s voice drew me up short, and I skidded to a stop just before I ran right into the older woman. Despite her being a force of nature in terms of personality, I was pretty sure I’d have taken her out if I ran into her.

The last chime echoed, so I pointed up at the ceiling. “Almost late.” The words came out around the granola bar still clamped between my lips.

Honor didn’t appear amused by me, her lips flattened into a terse line. “I’ve seen a lot of thralls like you. They never last long.”

I went to answer, the action causing the granola bar to break. I caught the half that fell mid-air, then smirked as if I’d won.

Honor’s expression said she didn’t see me as a winner.

Boy was that a familiar look.

“I did a good job yesterday,” I pointed out.

She blew out a short, unhappy breath. “You’re right—you did. I got compliments on your work. That’s the only reason you’re here for a second day. I suggest you start taking your personal life seriously as well, or you’ll find yourself on the street and going through withdrawal alone. Trust me—you don’t want that. It isn’t a fate I’d wish on anyone.”

The fear that probably showed on my face was very real, not because I worried about withdrawal but because I needed to be here to clear my name. When it was time to get the medication, I could just pocket it. They didn’t give a damn if a thrall took it or not, so they didn’t watch.

“Okay,” I told her quickly, unwilling to cause a problem now.

She nodded, seemingly having accepted my word. “Your schedule is on the board for today. I suggest you get started or you’re in for another very long day.” She didn’t wait to hear anything else—my answers were unimportant anyway—before she strolled off.

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