Page 83 of Let Us Prey

After a minute, it hits me, and I squint at the spicy Dark Knight, pointing an accusing finger at him. “You’re only speaking in iambic pentameter. I knew you sounded weird!”

“For fuck’s sake, don’t encourage him,” Felix mutters, shaking his head at us.

“Sir, yes, Sir!” I say sarcastically, giving the tiger a salute. His eyes narrow, and I feel a sizzle of satisfaction zing up my spine at the thought of getting him riled up—and what that might mean for me.

“Baby Girl, quit trying to give him a woody,” Fitz snorts, throwing his arm around me. “We’re gonna have an audience soon.”

I tilt my head, listening intently, and realize he’s right. There’s definitely people coming—Headmistress Henrietta and some of the administration staff. Of course, I feel awful that astudent is dead, but attacks like this are usually random, and I’m always watching my back.

Plus, maybe I now have others watching it, too.

Stupid Feelings

Aubrey

Tugging on my bowtie,I watch the room as parents drift in well past the time Henny set for this wretched meeting to begin. They’re all dressed to the nines, casually gossiping like fools, and flanked by varying amounts of staff alternating between bored and psychotic. Despite the screeching outrage over the events of Halloween night, it took an entire week for the supposedly concerned guardians of the spoiled assholes who attend this school to make time in their busy schedules to gather here. Hell, the dead kid got buried days ago, but these self-important twits have suddenly given the untimely death the attention it deserves.

Considering all the paperwork I had to do, one could say I find it rude.

I sigh, sipping my scotch. Once again, I got elected to be a presence at an official function. None of us wanted to endure hours of whining, blustering elite families, and lurking Council members, but we all agreed we needed to have eyes on the scene. This was to not only discern what motive there could be for killing a random student, but also to experience the Drews in person. Their daughter has wormed her way into our homes, and a clinicalassessment of what threat they are to her—and how that may translate to us—is necessary.

Of course, Fitz volunteered to come with me, because the last time we chaperoned an event here it was ‘ the night my baby girl fell in love with me’, as if this was an enjoyable excursion. Felix overruled that fairly quickly—he knows his enforcer wouldn’t be able to control his ire if her mother was as odious as her reputation. Honestly, I’m not sure how I’ll react, either, but ironically, I was still the one everyone felt was most appropriate to represent our group.

There’s a fucking first time for everything, I suppose.

Speak of the devils and they shall appear. The room goes silent and all heads turn as Lucille Rostoff Drew and her brutish husband, Bruno, enter. She’s unironically dressed like the loyal daughter of a Russian mobster, with a garishly red designer dress, stilettos, and diamonds dripping from every available surface. Hell, the woman even has on a huge black hat, like she’s going to a goddamn polo match. Conversely, her toothy husband is in a boxy pinstriped suit with slicked-back hair, no doubt attempting to emulate a rich businessman. Unfortunately, the croc looks more like a lumpy mafia enforcer than a Don, and it’s immediately clear who is wearing the pants in this family.

“Henrietta Shirdal!”

The reigning leopard queen booms at the Headmistress as she glides across the floor, eyes disdainfully sweeping over every single shifter as she passes. They land on me for a moment, narrowing appraisingly before she turns to face the poor eagle running towards her like a frazzled chicken. When Henny stops, she adjusts her glasses to look up at the tall, vicious pred, and mutters a pathetic apology. Within seconds, she’s taken off again towards the dais in a flurry of motion. Lucille Drew clearly wants this meeting to begin.

Too bad it could have started half an hour ago, if she and her thug spouse had been on time.

Henny taps on the mic to get everyone’s attention, looking as if she’d rather get eaten by a bear than try to wrangle the parents’ attention on her own. Moving from where I’m standing in the back, I walk to the front row and pointedly sit across two chairs in the aisle before turning to glare at the crowd. Murmurs and shuffling follow, and I nod up at the Headmistress. She needs to get this show on the road before these idiots get restless—or worse, drunk—and start shouting.

“Good afternoon, esteemed families, honored alumni, and Council members. In the wake of the tragedy that occurred at our hallowed academy last week?—”

“How could you let a student get killed?! Are you incompetent?”

The shout comes from the back, and I whip my head around to identify the source. Everyone looks smug, but no one owns up to the interruption. Delores’ mother is staunchly facing forward, ignoring the rabble, but I spy a slimy bodyguard type, leaning against the wall in the back who wasn’t here before. He looks to be reptilian, and apparently shops at the same suit warehouse as Bruno, so he’s probably the Drews’ eyes on the crowd, so they can look disinterested.

None of these elite pred dipshits would survive outside of the cushy bullshit they’ve surrounded themselves with. It’s almost comical.

“Students have died at Apex every semester since it opened,” Henrietta says, finally answering the heckler, her voice shaking as she fearfully gazes into the crowd. “However, this is an unusual circumstance as it occurred outside of the Pred Games or a shifting control issue where the animal needed to be put down.”

“Cold-blooded murder isn’t normal!”

This time I’m sure I’ll catch the shouting twat, but it comes from a different direction, and suddenly, they’re all yelling. Predators risefrom their seats, shaking fists and waving their hands, some even half-shifting as their emotions—or liquor—get the better of them. I’m never getting out of here if Henrietta doesn’t get this shit under control, and I’m about to go on stage to help when the evil queen herself rises to her feet. Lucille Drew gracefully strides up the steps of the dais, shoos Henny away from the mic, and gives the riotous parents a look so cold it could freeze the balls off a walrus.

“Silence, fools,” Lucille snarls.

The low timbre of her voice is from her animal, but her composure is as steady as Renard when he’s brooding on his balcony. She reaches up with one hand, removing her sunglasses to show the yellow eyes of her leopard and smiles with a hint of fang against her red lipstick. The roar of outrage dies instantly, and asses hit seats so fast, you’d think they were going to win an open-bar in Belize.

When the audiences’ submission is deemed sufficient, the woman who supposedly gave birth to our fuzzy ball of sarcasm and babbles sweeps her gaze over everyone. “Apex Academy hasneverbeen a safe place for students. It exists to teach our heirs and future leaders the way of our world—that the strongest predator survives because he or she does whatever it takes to do so. We do not know why this… weasel… was murdered, but given his family’sunimpressivestanding, it is unlikely that it is an attack on the school or the Council. Since it was likely a personal grievance, we have decided tonotprovide any additional security on campus for the rest of the year. The Council expects their heirs to handle themselves in a manner befitting their status—to prove they can handle themselves.”

Did… did this bitch just tell everyone that their kids are on their own with a murderer on campus?!

Henny looks like she’s going to be ill, implying she wasn’t aware of this decision, and I blink as I brace for the reaction from the angry parents.

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