“That’s new,” he mutters.
“Yeah,” I say, watching as a few tilt their heads in eerie unison. “Crows gather if I stay in one spot too long.”
He steps up behind me, close enough that his body heat seeps through my clothes.
“Creepy little bastards,” he murmurs, resting an arm against the wall beside me. “I like them.”
I glance up at him. This morning, he smells like mint soap and warm skin.
“You're very distracting,” I tell him, trying to move away without touching. “And that’s not going to pass around here much longer. You should work on that.”
“Why?”
“Because apparently, I need a godlike level of concentration to reach the souls of murderers,” I say, dead serious. “I did it last night. Got to see if the Candy Maker is actually a murderer.”
That gets his attention. I don’t know if it’s because I just admitted his presence makes me clinically insane or because I pulled off something I didn’t know I could.
“Oh?” He steps back, turns around, and walks over to the couch. Correction: he flops down. His chest musclesbounce.
I cross my arms, leaning against the wall. “She’s a serial killer. Not once, not twice. The woman has a body count that’d put some of you to shame. A perfect target for you guys.”
Something about the way I say it unsettles me. I’ve accepted their nature too quickly, too easily. These men toe the line between life and death, treating morality like a vague suggestion.
They should scare me. I should be disgusted.
Then again… I’ve always known how to pick my company, haven’t I?
“You say that like you’re not one of us, Little Grim.” Talon winks. “But this kill will be just as much yours as ours.”
I press my lips together, unwilling to take the bait. I’m not one of them. I just… exist near them.
But that argument is getting harder to win.
Before I can respond, a thunderous flutter of wings pulls our attention back to the window. More crows have gathered, their numbers multiplying like the little bastards are part of some unholy bird cult.
They pack in tight, filling the fence, the roof, the crumbling remains of the ambulance bay.
I exhale sharply. “Give me a minute. I’ll step outside, take Pain with me, and they should clear out.”
Talon tilts his head. “What, they like being around you but don’t want to touch you?” His grin turns sharp. “Why, Little Grim, you and them are just like you and us.”
I roll my eyes. “Real funny.”
Without another word, I walk toward the wall, shut my eyes, and wish myself through it. My body siphons through the solid surface, depositing me outside.
And I immediately regret it.
From the inside, it looked like a lot of crows. From the outside? It’s an actual writhing mass of black feathers, sharp beaks, and beady, watchful eyes.
Like a biblical plague, or something.
They don’t scatter when I step through the wall. If anything, they settle in deeper.
Something is wrong.
“Pain,” I murmur, and almost immediately, my raven appears by my side.
With one powerful beat of its wings, Pain takes to the sky, casting a huge, dramatic shadow over the smaller birds. It’s bigger than the crows, sleeker, meaner.
