Page 52 of In Prey We Trust

“Here goes nothing,” I mutter as I jog up the steps to the entrance.

If Capital Prep is anything like Apex was pre-magic bomb, there’s always staff in the main office. However, once you walk past it to the elevator bank, no one’s ever watching the other floors. Maintenance and security might take up residence on the back half of the first floor, but those morons are probably just like the dipshits at Apex. They sit in their break rooms and watch TV until someone forces them to get off their ass to do work. That’s why it’s staffed with lowest tier preds—it’s a shit job no one wants.

I give the birds in the office a jaunty wave as I pass the window. They look down their noses at me, but only because I’m still whistling. I don’t give a single fuck about their judgmental bullshit, so I push the button for the lift, lifting my arm to pretend to look at my watch. If I’m pressed, I’ll say I’m meeting Chessie and it’s doubtful anyone will know whether he’s supposed to be here or not.

I am a super genius, even if my girl’s the only one who recognizes it.

Hopping in, I run my finger over the screen that lists the floors and what offices are on them. I don’t need to break into the ass-sucking counselor’s abode—Ghost Pepper and Frenchie McPoutface have her covered for the moment. Besides, I’m more interested in her digital slime trail than the eyesore she works in. No, I want to worm my way into a bigger preds safe space today: Headmaster Bathalzar Slechtsrijven.

None of us have met the pompous ass, but we’ve all snorted at his pretentious emails. I’m not sure why someone who is supposed to be running this place is never around and doesn’t address students or staff in person, but I guarantee his office has something we can use locked away. The bell dings, interrupting my thoughts, and I step off on the fifth floor confidently. My attitude says I belong here and that alone should keep anyone from questioning me.

But there’s no one here—not a damn soul.

I pause, taking my phone out of my pocket to turn on the flashlight. Holding it up like I’m trying to get a signal, I watch the screen to see if there are cameras in the waiting room that weren’t listed on the school security grid. I looked it up after that night with Dolly in the tunnel, but there was a suspiciously small amount of them. There has to be a secondary grid buried in some subdirectory of the system and until I find it, I’m checking every space I enter.

When I’m satisfied there’s nothing to worry about, I cruise past the empty desk of his assistant and down the hall to the double doors that must be his office. My eyes widen as I look at them, unsure how I’ve gotten so lucky. “What a douche canoe. He has a regular old lock on this place.”

The knife Felix always preaches about is clipped to my belt, so I grab it and bend down. Mine isn’t so plain, which is why I’m able to pop lock picking tools out of the handle. I make short work of the basic thing and put my tools away. The doors swing open slowly and I stare at the room it reveals. Everything is giant sized, though I suppose that makes sense for a fucking hippo shifter. I flash my phone around before I get too far inside and once I’ve confirmed this place is clean, I tuck it away.

Wouldn’t do to leave evidence lying around by mistake.

“If I were a lazy fuckwad, where would I keep damning evidence?” I tap my fingers against my lips as I study the big hutch against the far wall. I’d lay money that has a TV in it, so not there. The bookshelves are crammed with serious looking tomes of every variety, but they seemed unused. I doubt this jackass has read anything in here; it’s probably all decoration. That leaves the cabinets behind his desk and the desk itself, so I stride over to examine them.

My eye twitches as I look at the gorgeous, hand carved piece. The damn thing is made entirely of African blackwood and I’d bet my last dollar it was either a gift from or procured by my dickhole father. Not only is this shit expensive as fuck, it’s also a protected species. Some stuffed shirt motherfucker having a desk the size of a goddamn grand piano made out of it is obscene, especially since it looks as if it almost never gets used. Even I know this kind of thing should be in a museum. My idiot sperm donor probably let it go for a favor of some kind years ago—maybe even one that made certain my brothers and I ended up at Apex instead of any other school.

I hate dickweasels like this and I’m not sorry I broke in here now.

“Cabinets first since they aren’t making my tiger angry,” I say as I whirl around to look at the imposing wooden structures. These have a keypad, so I’ll have to do more than a little fiddling with tumblers. I reach into my other pocket and pull out a plastic badge with a specialty chip in it. Waving it in front of the pad, I check to see if its RF signal is corruptible. The small beep tells me it is and I grin. “Child’s play.”

Taking my phone out again, I remote into my main system and scroll until I find the security grid. Once I have it, I wave the card again and this time, the lock’s information pops up on my screen, digits flying by as it calculates the code for me. When it comes up on my screen, I smack my hand on my face in absolute disgust. “One two three four five? Is this moron serious?”

I punch it in with vicious stabs, muttering about the combination on my luggage in a tribute to the fantastic movie Dolly had us watch about space pirates. This entire day has been like a Fitz birthday blowjob full of fun and I get the feeling I’m going to find something amazing to show everyone. The drawers open one by one, showing me files of various types as they slide forward. I kick the ones that look financial closed—I assume he’s crooked so I don’t care about money laundering—to search for personnel and student files.

“You should have digitized this a long time ago, Hungry Hungry Headmaster. Now I’m going to take pictures of all the dirty secrets and no one can stop me.”

Flicking through sections until I find this year, I pump my fist. Fuck yeah. The student files are alphabetical by first name—something that is fucking strange and works in my favor. It’s like I’m being guided by Lady Luck today and I’m going to leave some shit for whatever deity is helping me for sure. Fitz Khan isn’t stupid enough to ignore this much goodwill in one damn day. Sorting through until I hit ‘T’, I sing-song to myself, “Where are you, Todd?”

I owe that shitstain a comeuppance for making my baby girl hurt. She might have taken her revenge and I took his fingers, but I’m not done with him yet. Call me petty, but causing her ex pain makes me a little giddy. When I find the file, I plop it on the desk and start rifling through it. It looks like a dead end until I hit a contract in the very back of the folder.

“Well, well. Isn’t this interesting? The two-fingered twat has been sold off to the new member of the bitch squad. Maybe that’s why Dolly hasn’t seen either of them yet?” I snap a photo of the marriage contract between the Maclachlans and douchebag Todd’s family, then put everything back in the drawer.

Moving quickly, I go through each Heather’s file, then switch the staff files. I take pictures of anything I’m not sure about and slip them all back into place. Sighing, I turn to the huge desk behind me and frown. It’s not going to have a keypad and knowing the kind of craftsman who probably made the damn thing, the triggers for the locks won’t be obvious. I knew this would be the hardest part, which is why I saved it for last.

I drop to my hands and knees, crawling underneath and start feeling for odd protrusions or switches. It’s slow and painstaking—something I’m not made for. Grumbling as I feel my natural hyperactivity start to peak, I close my eyes. Chess and Dolly tell me if I just breathe and try to focus on this one thing, I can keep it together long enough to finish what I’m doing. I don’t believe them, but I try anyway as I feel along the wooden furniture.

As if by miracle, I hit a spot near the back corner and all five drawers spring open. Fitz for the win!

“Now let’s see what kind of treats you have for me, my beauty,” I whisper as I scoot out from under the damn thing.

The top drawer is boring—pens and office bullshit. All I find in the next two down are full of extra shirts and snacks. I hit pay dirt in the very last one in the form of a laptop that does not look like the official ones given to us by Capital Prep. In fact, this one looks like a personal system that probably doesn’t have much protection. Grinning, I boot it up and flex my fingers.

Here’s hoping it’s not full of hippo porn.

Whatever It Takes

Delores

Felix drilled us until I almost dropped again, so by the time I changed back into my uniform and found my escort, I was moving like an elderly rabbit. The smiling Captain just adjusted his stride, chatting with me about his new duties with the Aquatic House and in the river that splits the campus. Apparently, the swimming bunch here aren’t nearly as shirty as the ones at Apex, though there are a few transfers who still need a poke. He dropped me at the new Shird with a salute and toddled off, grumbling about inspecting House Reptilian’s indoor pools before he sailed back across. The words ‘sailed back’ hit me and I made a mental note to bring up the possibility of an emergency watercraft to the guys later.

---