Page 3 of Flock This

This place served as the headquarters for the main vampire families and the seat of power for the Grave Clan. In addition, the building contained everything a vampire could need. Blackout windows to keep the sun at bay, donors on site, even a dry-cleaner for removing those pesky all-too-common blood stains.

I’d been in other main residences like this—for the Weres, the Natures, the Minds—but none were nearly as gaudy.

The vampires had money and they liked to flaunt it.

Still, on my arm, glowing in yellow lettering, sat the address. The penthouse, meaning even if I hadn’t had the name, I’d have known exactly who this was going to.

William Garrison, the patriarch of the Garrison bloodline and the current holder of the Graves council seat. It was the equivalent of delivering a package to the fucking Queen.

If the Queen might drain your blood for funsies.

I hadn’t been scheduled to make this delivery in the first place. It had been assigned to Lilly, a human working as a courier, but she’d called in sick at the last minute, leaving my boss to give it to me instead.

Worse, this place always got my crow going and had me itching to cause some trouble. As I walked through the front doors, my gaze found all the areas on its own. A small crack in the window could let in light—just a little, just enough to annoy. A paperclip in the electrical socket could flip a breaker. A few chewed wires could take down the elevator and wouldn’t it be fun to watch them all walk thirty flights of stairs on foot?

Stop it. Playing games with vampires is a shit idea.

How often did I say that to myself, substituting whatever Spirit I was currently talking about?

Far too often to be healthy, at least if I wanted a long life.

Still, my passenger, the crow placed inside me, thrived on chaos. It needed it the same way I needed food and water. Rarely dangerous, at least to others, but she lived on creating disorder and trouble.

And far too often I’d given in, only to be the one who suffered the consequences.

“Can I help you?” A vampire standing guard at the desk in the lobby glared at me, his face full of disinterest. His tone said he really didn’t want to do shit for me.

I held my arm out, displaying the shining golden mark that granted me access basically everywhere, because while people might kill policing forces, accountants and almost any other type of professional, no one fucked with the mail. The symbol proved my position not only as an official courier, but also as working for the Justice Department, and thus beneath their protection.

The vampire lifted his lip, as if he didn’t care for my type being in his building.

Me neither, fuckwit.

“You will take the elevator at the left and I will activate it. It goes only to Mr. Garrison’s apartment. Do not wander, and touch nothing.”

I rolled my eyes and added a slight head movement to really sell my I don’t give a fuck response. “Trust me, I’ll be gone as soon as I can. If I wanted to spend time in a dark house where people were disappointed in me, I’d visit my parents.”

He made a low sound, one that suggested he didn’t appreciate my perfectly crafted joke, before waving at the elevator to get me going.

The inside of the spacious elevator lacked mirrors. Then again, vampires didn’t care for mirrors. Not because they couldn’t see themselves, as it turned out. I’d learned that old stories often got the specific details wrong. Rather, they hated them because seeing themselves unchanged for so many years became disconcerting.

I knew a lot, mostly because I asked a lot of questions. I’d found being annoying not only came naturally to me, but also kept me safer. People didn’t want me around, which meant they were less likely to abduct me or spend any amount of time thinking about me.

The worse I behaved, the faster they ushered me from their lives.

It worked for me.

Sort of.

A few exceptions had shown up, of course. Galen, who seemed immune to my personal brand of annoying. Kelvin, a vampire who delighted in tormenting me. A couple of female friends who would bail me out of jail when needed.

I’d learned an important lesson on day one as a Spirit, as a being who no longer had a place in the normal, mortal world—everyone needed a group.

No one survived long all alone.

All four clans grouped people in their own ways, both to label and protect. Graves had their families, Weres their packs, Natures had breeds and Minds had classes. For those of us who didn’t fit nicely into such groups, however, we lacked protection.

We could hide, blend into the mortal world, or we could try to band together.

---