Page 79 of Let Us Prey
Henny taps on the mic to get everyone’s attention, looking as if she’d rather be 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 be 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 rise from 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.
“You don’t have the authority to decide that!”
“Doesn’t the Council accept appeals?”
“What does Bruno think? Shouldn’thebe the one to make this decision?”
Oh, shit.
Delores’ mother doesn’t bat a lash before leaping off the stage, shifting mid-jump as she lands on the unfortunate dickwad in the second row who thought to open his mouth about her husband. Before he can even respond, fangs rip his throat out, blood spraying to coat the screaming shifters on either side of him. Lucille shifts back to her mostly human form as she calmly turns to the crowd, a delicate finger wiping blood from the corner of her mouth. “We don’t talk about Bruno.”
I look away from her nakedness, feeling a shiver of disgust roll up my spine at the unnecessary display. I couldn’t care less about the killing—it’s the dictatorial dominance that makes me want to hurl. This crazy bitch is definitely worse than our snack-sized girl is letting on, and I’m going to make certain Rennie, Cash, and the others know the full story. Growing up with two sociopaths as parents is no picnic, and it explains a hell of a lot about why Dolly seems to constantly struggle with self-confidence. Even if we can protect her at school, now I’m worried about what will happen when she goes home for breaks.
Perhaps she can stay here… with us.
Deciding I’ve seen enough, I rise, nodding at Henny as I make my way to the exit in the back. She knows I’ll take care of alerting a clean-up crew. I don’t know where those carrion-eaters are right now, but I’ll email maintenance once I get back to the library. Dolly’s in the archives finishing up a few tasks before the weekend, and I suddenly feel compelled to check up on her. Something about her mother and father being on campus with that sneaky looking bodyguard is putting my teeth on edge.
Squeezing the bunny mochi in my pocket, I grit my teeth and stomp out of the Admin building towards the library like a dragon on a mission.
Perhaps I am.
* * *
“Why didn’tyou tell us your mother is a raging psycho?” I demand after I pound the panel to gain entrance to the archive room. I’ve worked myself into an infuriated froth on my journey from the Honeywell Admissions building, and it takes every ounce of self-control I have not to completely lose my shit at the girl hunched over in my work space.
Dolly looks up, her blue eyes wide with concern. There’s a slight tremble to her hands as she carefully puts down the tweezers she’s holding a piece of parchment in, and she ducks her head for a moment. “I don’t like to talk about my family,” she mumbles.
Stomping over, I position a finger under her chin, forcing her to look up at me, searching for the truth in her eyes. What I find isn’t dishonesty; it’s shame. Whatever her parents have done or continue to do behind closed doors is painful enough that she doesn’t trustanyoneto know about it. The adorable spark of defiance and wit I’ve grown accustomed to has dimmed, because she doesn’t even fight me as I yank her out of the chair to her feet.
“Why, Dolly? Tell me why you won’t discuss something that obviously hurts you.” I press her, even though she’s squirming in place. This is important—if this girl has any hope of assimilating into our pack, we can’t have secrets.
Ironic coming from me, I know. I have plenty of my own secrets, but they don’t put any of us in danger.
“Because they fucking disowned me!” she shouts, finally looking up with a fiery glare. “They sent me here to survive on my own—to die—by order of the Council, because I’m not a predator. I’m a genetic fluke… afailure!”
