Page 13 of Flock This

Finally, I went to the door and opened it without knocking—my mother never locked her door, no matter how often I lectured her. The scent of food hit me as soon as I opened the door, and it gave me a moment of nostalgic peace.

If she was cooking, she was breathing at least.

“Grey, is that you?” My mother’s voice was a godsend, and I blinked away the stinging in my eyes.

“Yeah, Mom,” I called back and headed for the kitchen after locking the door behind me.

Not that a lock was going to keep anything out, but it would give me a warning.

In the kitchen, my mom looked the same as she always did. Her hair had been black when she’d been younger, but she’d let it go gray with age. It was braided down her back, and a pair of glasses perched on her nose. She had on a pair of black jeans and a floral shirt that was baggy enough to move easily in as she stirred a big pot of something in the stove. “I didn’t know you were coming,” she chided. “I would have cooked more if I had.”

I peered at the huge pot of food big enough to feed twelve. “I think you can fit me in.”

She gave me a glare that reminded me she was my mom and didn’t appreciate my sass. “I mean I would have made biscuits and all.”

I swallowed hard, because I did want to have some biscuits. No, that wasn’t it, not exactly. I wanted to be able to sit down, to enjoy all the parts of what dinner with her were about. The biscuits, the not-so-subtle way she complained about me not having a man in my life, the way she licked her thumb and cleaned my face no matter how old I got.

“It’s fine,” I told her. “I just wanted to stop in and have some food with you.”

And say my goodbye…

I couldn’t disappear or know there was a good chance I’d be offed by a vampire without at least talking to her, without at least telling her I loved her once more. I couldn’t just fall off the face of the earth.

She paused, looking at me that way that said she knew me better than I knew myself. “What’s wrong?”

I shook my head. “Nothing.”

“I don’t like liars in my house.”

“Which is why I don’t live here anymore,” I said, going for breezy as I brought down three bowls and placed them on her large scuffed-up table.

There was one good chunk taken out of it on the left from the time I’d been sword fighting with my sister—with real swords we’d bought from a thrift store—and my sister had almost landed a good shot. Instead, she’d gotten my arm—it had needed three stitches—and left a forever memento on our table.

Mom brought the pot to the table and set it in the middle on a kitchen towel. She served soup into the bowls just as her husband walked in.

Arthur had been around since they’d married when I’d been eight. He was the father of my two siblings, and he was the only father I’d ever known. I knew how lucky I was for that. Blended families didn’t always work out so well, but he’d taken me in so fully that I never thought for a moment he saw me any differently from his biological children. For that reason, despite him being my stepfather, I never thought of him as anything other than my dad.

He offered me a quick hug before sitting down.

A knock at the door made everyone pause.

While Mom and Dad went still because they couldn’t believe someone would stop by so late, I reacted for an entirely different reason.

What if someone came looking for me here?

“I’ll get it,” Mom said, rubbing her hands on her thighs as if to clean them.

“No,” I snapped so loudly that she took a step backward. I forced a smile that was far too wide to pass for real. “Sorry,” I said. “Too much caffeine. I’ll get it, though. You cooked, so sit. It’s just someone selling stuff, I’m sure.”

She narrowed her eyes, but nodded and took her seat.

I went to the door, fear swamping me. At least if I opened it and it was something bad, there was a good chance I’d get abducted and they’d leave my parents alone.

It was a small win, but I’d take it.

I took a deep breath before pulling the door open, and sure enough, there was a vampire standing there.

Kelvin.

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