Page 30 of Out of My Flocking Mind

He let out a short huff but didn’t respond—proof that he couldn’t argue with me over it. The fact was that we were stuck.

We needed to find this supplier to track down the person using the Cloud. Given what I’d learned from Trey, it was clear that the supplier was a powerful Mind, so sneaking up on them was unlikely.

It meant creating our own product to add pressure to the supplier. Giving him a rival would draw him out, and mad people made mistakes.

Given Harrison was the only Mind I knew who could actually make this shit, he’d basically volunteered himself.

“You know,” I said, my eyes closed again. “I’m surprised you know how to make this.”

“It’s not easy to do, but it isn’t all that complicated. It is more a matter of available power. Few Minds have blood powerful enough to actually create it.”

“It won’t hurt you, right?”

“What, are you worried about me now?”

“Nope, not at all. You’re just my current shield. If something happens to you, I’m a sitting target again.”

He snorted, the sound calling me a liar. Still, he didn’t come right out and say it, moving on instead. “No, using this amount of power won’t harm me in the least. By morning, I will have replenished anything I use, especially because I’ve made this batch differently.”

“Differently? Did you flavor it or something? Personally, I’d go fireball. Kids today love fireball.”

“I reduced the mental effects while increasing the euphoric sensation.”

“You can do that?”

“Of course. Cloud is created using the powers of the Mind who makes it, along with their blood as a binder. With enough power and control, they can steer the effects. I made this batch with the purpose of drawing in users without offering them the increase in power that can put others in danger. The last thing I want is your little plan to backfire and harm others.”

“You might just have a future as a chemist,” I said with a laugh. “Why don’t we both quit the council and become drug dealers?”

“This has less risk, but far from none. Someone could still overdose on it, and another powerful Mind could tamper with it. Make no mistake—I don’t care for creating this. I’ve seen what Cloud can do to Minds, and I dislike putting more of it out there, even if I don’t have any better idea or plan.” His tone was low, as though sulking.

Still, I understood. I’d never really liked drugs, and I sure as fuck didn’t care for the idea of selling them at school.

However, it would put us exactly where we needed to be, like it or not. Sometimes we had to do some shitty things to deal with a bigger problem. It took me back to Trey’s words, to the idea that no one was forcing anyone to take it. If doing this got the really bad stuff off the street?

I’d lived with worse.

The conversation dwindled, and before I knew it, exhaustion pulled me under. I slept fitfully, waking every hour or so to find Harrison still hunched over the table, hard at work.

Yet, something about him there helped to ease me, as though he took some of that stress from me. I knew I shouldn’t have felt safe there, but he made me feel it whether or not I wanted to.

The headache refused to ease, and I’d taken enough ibuprofen that any doctor would have lectured me for it. That didn’t seem to even help, anymore. My skin felt feverish, like a cold I just couldn’t kick no matter what I did.

“Grey?” Harrison’s voice came from so close, whispered and oddly sweet. He normally spoke to me so coldly, but I had to admit, I rather liked this tone.

It was strange to hear, sure, but I found myself turning toward it in pleasure. Warmth touched my cheek, and I nuzzled against it.

“Grey, wake up.”

That time, the words drew me back to consciousness. The throbbing headache that ran through my brain made me instantly regret it, however.

How was it possible for me to still feel this horrible? Just sleeping should have helped.

“You’re still hurting.” The words weren’t a question, and I doubted he needed me to confirm it. Instead, I forced myself to sit up, aided by Harrison’s hand on my back.

I peered to the side, toward the light through the window. It told me that the sun had risen, which meant I’d slept through the night. A look at Harrison’s face—and the dark circles under his eyes—said he hadn’t. Guilt hit me for a moment before I pushed it away.

When had guilt helped anything? Never. It hadn’t done anything for me, so why waste my time with such nonsense?

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