Page 131 of In Prey We Trust

2 Your wish is my command.

Teenagers

Aubrey

None of us are really sure exactly what my lunchable did last week. She didn’t mate with Felix—that requires a reciprocal action—but whatever makes her special inside definitely reared its head to leave a mark. Chess and Fitz were out like a light, just like her. The rest of us were dazed, but not unconscious, so we untied our precious bunny first, then cleaned everyone up. Rennie seemed baffled by the whole thing, so I didn’t press him to see if it was some bullshit magic thing he could have warned us about.

But I think it was, and that raises some very specific questions that we’ve all studiously ignored in our pursuit of the warring factions.

There are far too many blank spaces in our understanding of snack size. She’s not a pred, but was born to them according to everything on record. One could say it’s nature versus nurture, but the emergence of her claws, fangs, and dominance says otherwise. She’s hungry for life force like Ren and I—something I’ve only known mythical shifters to crave during my vast lifetime. Her emergence went into hyper-drive quickly and, despite having a few of the new shifter quirks, she learned to control various shifts easily. Hell, Dolly can even shift pieces like Rennie and no two-year-old shifter, even an alpha type, should gain control that quickly.

Her use of the lightning the night Apex exploded and the light show last week proves whatever forces are within her aren’t just offensive toys. There’s something different about her on a cellular level and I guarantee the reason why is a secret so closely guarded there may be less than a handful of people alive who know it. Snack size may occasionally pull on the persona of her wretched bio-donors, but she’s not like them at all. I simply don’t believe that’s because she had a lovely nanny who taught her things as a child.

Delores Drew is a riddle wrapped in an enigma, and if we’re going to figure out why she’s been targeted, we need to explore her shrouded history.

“Hidey-ho, screamers. I’ve come to make you all acceptable in not-so-polite society.” The badger has a cunning look on his face and I approve.

I don’t know what he and the adorable polar bear did to get the multiple garment bags ready in time, but I’m grateful. Tonight is important on so many levels that I can hardly wrap my wings around them. We have to present a strong united front in this shark tank while still being on our guard against whatever might be coming. I’ve felt like we’re gearing up for battle as I arranged all the players around the campus via video conferences throughout the week. I’m glad we have people on our side, but if this goes poorly, we’re going to need more than a few friends to deal with the future.

There hasn’t been an all-out shifter war on a global scale since the 1950s and I have no idea how it’s going to play out now, especially against magic users.

“I hope to hell you didn’t forget we need to be armed,” Felix grumbles as he strides in behind him. “I don’t trust ninety-eight percent of the assholes who will attend this godforsaken thing.”

Rufus smirks. “Don’t worry, Prof. Coco made sure you all have a few hidey-holes for the special gear you ordered.”

Rolling my eyes, I walk over to Rennie, leaning to whisper, “Who the hell needs knives and shit when they have a dragon? It’s like giving plain old guns to those Avengers guys.”

“Are you insinuating you’re our Hulk, Flames? I admit, green would look good on you.” My mate gives me a fond smile and I shrug.

“You’re not so bad yourself when you’re full sized. The likelihood of anyone in the room coming close to the two of us is minimal.” I take the bag from the badger as he comes over to us, nodding my thanks. He and the bubbly designer have been good friends for our bunny and they’re becoming invaluable as team members. Even a solitary shifter like me recognizes that as a group, we’re much stronger and more prepared to handle all the shit being thrown our way. “Thank you, Rufus.”

He blinks, looking surprised, then gives me a genuine smile. “Anything for Dollypop, Professor D. Cori and I have been TeamBunny from day one, you know.”

“And we appreciate it, though not all of us show it,” Rennie adds as he cuts his eyes to Fitz. “Though I suppose his teasing has always been an indicator that he’s fond of someone.”

“I’ve got cousins like that. Don’t worry your pretty wings about me, gentlemen. I’m a survivor.”

That, I am certain, is true.

Ren and I exit our room first, dressed in sharp three-piece tuxedos and shiny shoes. I can’t quite figure out what the wacky sewing duo was thinking as I look at my mate in lavender with a white bow tie and myself in a similar get-up in spring green. Each piece is bespoke and fits perfectly—from the pants to the vest to the jacket—so I can’t complain about that, only the odd Easter egg colors. Felix and Fitz come out next, followed by Chess, sporting matching tuxes in light blue, peach, and soft yellow. I still don’t know if the assholes at this thing will accept our non-traditional, non-black tie attire, but I have to admit we’re even coordinated down to our skin tones.

The youngest Bouvier takes her shit seriously.

“Anyone know why I look like something out of the 70s?” Felix mutters as he sweeps his hair out of his face. “I feel like a scoop of sorbet.”

“Patience, boys,” Cori says as she carefully exits the room. She and Rufus have Dolly squirreled away in again. She’s got a mermaid-style getup with a train of ruffles three feet long trailing behind her and a glittery white bow in her sea green hair. “Did you find all the little pocketses for your shit?”

Fitz grins and walks over to give her a bear hug. “Sure did, Coco-cabana! You and the Country Consigliere did a good job. And you look hot AF, by the way. Your girl is gonna flip her ponytail.”

She blushes and swats Fitz playfully before turning to us with her hands on her hips. “You all have to look hot and unbothered when you enter, like models, you know? Someone will definitely ask who you’re wearing and that is my bonus for making all the spiffy adjustments to the gown you’re about to see.”

“Are you ready?” Rufus pokes his head out the door, rainbow hair color covering his usual white streaks. Cori nods and I arch a brow as he steps out in a shining pastel sharkskin suit that matches our tuxes. He has a white bow tie as well and suddenly, the theme smacks me in the face. “Behold, Thee Dress of the Season, worn by Miss Delores Drew, Queen of the Pred Games.”

“Ruuuufuuuuuss!”

We laugh as we hear her groan at the moniker before she walks through the door. My eyes widen and I know my jaw hits the floor at the same time as the others when snack size floats across the floor.

“Son of a bitch,” Chess whispers.

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