Page 18 of Flock This

He huffed softly. “I can’t argue with that. Still, shouldn’t you learn to rely on your friends?”

“Again, not friends.”

“I thought that was better than calling me a lover.”

I leaned in. “We haven’t had sex yet, so not lovers.”

“Yet? That sounds promising.”

I hated the way my crow purred at the exchange. Kelvin was chaos in a body, and she loved it. Whereas I knew what to expect with Galen, Kelvin always kept me guessing.

I narrowed my eyes because, damn it, he was right.

I hated it when Kelvin was right.

Chapter Six

I really hate Justices.

The thought didn’t hit me as a surprise, wasn’t something I’d only just realized. I’d known it the first time I’d had to deal with one.

It had happened in this very room, when I’d met the head Justice, Ruben, for the first time—if only it’d been the last. His face might as well have been carved from granite for how little it moved. He’d stared at me, silent and intimidating, as though he could already see my head neatly removed from my body.

This room was the council chambers, the place for the clans to meet and hopefully keep the peace. Most Spirits only saw this place when they were first changed, when brought here to officially classify them and assign them to their clan. The council chambers sat on the top floor of the Justice Department building, which also housed the courier offices—including my own.

At the front of the room sat the same huge crystal I’d used back then. I recalled how it had heated against my palm, the way I’d expected it to turn a golden amber as it did for all the Weres.

If a Grave touched it, it would turn red. If a Nature did, it’d shine green. Any of the Mind clan would make it turn purple. Every clan made it react differently, but always sorted them into one of four groups.

Except when it came to me.

I reached toward it, unable to stop myself, as though if I touched it once more, it’d sort me properly and change everything.

“It won’t change.” The flat voice behind me made me spin to find the last person I wanted to see.

Or maybe not last. That saying has lost most of its bite since there aren’t a lot of people I want to see.

There stood Ruben, the head Justice. I’d met with him often over the years, even after he’d offered me my job. My direct supervisor ended up frustrated too often, so Ruben stepped into deal with me.

“So you called me?” I tried to peer behind Ruben, as though my direct supervisor might be hiding there.

The little bit of hope turned to smoke when Ruben lifted his dark eyebrow as though to tell me, ‘I’m all you get.’

Instead of addressing my question, Ruben walked into the room, dressed in a pair of black slacks and a white button-up shirt. He had his arms crossed over his chest, his expression flat and unreadable. He stopped right beside me, not looking at me but rather at the crystal. “It doesn’t matter if you try it again—it won’t show anything different.”

“How can you be sure? Maybe last time was a fluke.”

“Would you like that? Would you prefer to pick it up and see a familiar color?” Even as he asked, his voice didn’t change in the least. It seemed he didn’t care about the answer at all, like it didn’t matter to him.

Then why ask in the first place?

“Don’t you think my life would be easier if I had a clan? A place?”

“Perhaps,” he admitted, his voice soft. “Or perhaps you’d find a whole different set of problems anyway.”

“Easy for you to say—you aren’t stuck between worlds without any power of your own.”

I glanced to the side to find him no longer looking at the crystal but instead at me. It reminded me how unnerving his direct focus was. His eyes were green, but that wasn’t what made it strange. Instead, it was how empty they were, how hollow they appeared, as though nothing existed behind that jade.

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