Page 44 of Let Us Prey
“What aboutFame?” Cori asks, her brightly colored hair popping up from behind a big songbook. “It feels appropriate.”
“Fuck, no, Coco. Where are we going to get that many dancers who don’t look like water buffalo galloping around the stage?” Rufus shakes his head, leaning back on the stage as he stares up at the lighting rig. “There is a serious lack of talent and eligible, not-closeted dick on this campus. I can’t wait until they finally start letting us out on the weekends.”
Cori snickers, ducking back behind her book as he rambles. I pretend to focus on our task for a minute before I finally give in and ask, “What about everyone else? It’s like my presence on Cash’s planet alone has shoved a great big stick up his ass. How am I going to survive the semester with these guys? If dudes are so bent out of shape about me, I’m fucked because my only female professors are from this program. Artemis knows they won’t go easy on me grade-wise.”
“Dolly, you told us you’ve always been an outstanding student. I’m sure, regardless of a professor’s personal conflicts, you don’t need to worry about—” Cori stops, looking at Rufus and I staring at her with our mouths open. “Right. I forget what an unregulated hellhole this place is. Yes, I suppose itispossible a few bad apples could wreck your GPA and make your bitch mother go bonkers.”
I nod, chewing on my lip. “It’s like Bash and Nico are the only ones besides you guys who give a shit if I make it through this experience.”
“Oh, honey. If you mean Sebastian Romulus, I’m sure he cares—right until you give up what he’s hunting. At least, that’s been the buzz in the beehive since I arrived.” Rufus holds up his finger and pauses. “Speaking of which,Best Little Whorehouse, anyone? We have ourselves a Dolly.”
Even though I’m not worried about Bash since Nico told me he’d stopped prowling, I still smack Rufus with my book. “You asshole! I have enough people calling me a whore; I don’t need to star in a show where it’s accurate!” The two of them giggle as I cross my arms over my chest, huffing. I may be a blonde, but I’m notthatblonde. Painting a target likethaton my ass would be as bad as the stupid bunny tail already there.
Cori reaches over and pets my hair, her expression rueful. “Aw, Dolly Bear. We didn’t mean to make you pissy. Rufus was just being… well, Rufus. He’s a grade-A bitch.”
I roll my eyes at her, giving up a smile. “I know that. I’m not mad at either of you—the joke was funny, but the people after me aren’t. If it weren’t for you picking up the phone when I ran from the caf to the nurse’s office, I might not even be here to choose the musical.”
That’s when I see the change in my friends for the first time—the preds they keep underneath. Rufus’ face morphs under the tattoos, somehow looking even scarier than he already does, and Cori’s bulk grows as white fur sprouts on her limbs. I back away a little, not because I’m afraid of them, but I’m well aware my scent might provoke their animals. Within seconds, a giant polar bear and a half-shifted honey badger are sitting amongst Clawway songbooks and notebooks, as if it’s perfectly normal.
“Um, guys? Guys? I didn’t mean... " My butt scoots along the wooden stage slowly, not wanting to look like I’m giving chase, but still wanting to be ready to run if need be.
My friends aren’t first-years like me, but that doesn’t mean they have full control over their shifting yet. It takes years for that to happen, which is why Shifter Studies is a five-year class. Mastering your animal and your emotions at all times isn’t learned in a semester. Or at least, that’s what Professor Cassius says when he’s not purposely riling me up to see if I’ll flunk whatever test he’s got planned for that day.
Rufus morphs back to human first, plopping back down on the boards like nothing happened. “Shit, girl. I haven’t lost my cool like that for non-business reasons for months. You really have the damsel in distress thing on lock.”
The enormous bear heavily sits on its haunches next to me, leaning in to lick my hair. I blink. “Uh... "
“Don’t worry. It’ll take Coco a mo’. She’s not an alpha/pack leader/what have you. Shift control is much harder to learn when you’re not destined to take the throne, so to speak. I, however, already look fabulous in a crown,” Rufus drawls, winking at me.
I turn to look at the polar bear, blinking again when she places a paw on my shoulder, almost like she’s comforting me. “Ooookay. That's not weird at all.” We go back to paging through the books in silence, and after a few minutes, our curvy friend is back to normal. Of course, that’s when I realize they’re both naked and my eyes widen. “Um, guys… clothes?”
Cori laughs, her rainbow curls shaking as she clutches her chest. “You were definitely raised by weird shifters, Dolly. It’s perfectly normal for us to be naked after we shift. Most of us learned that the hard way as kids, when our parents hulked out and went ‘animal’ when we were bad.”
I feel like the dumbest person in the room. Again. Lucille and Bruno shift all the time—though usually what people here call ‘half-shift,’ so it never causes a clothing problem. Their control must be superb, which matches up with their claims of importance within their families. The Heathers never invited me over to their homes, so I have no baseline to judge other shifter households by, but now my new besties are telling me full shifts and nudity are basically so normal they’re blase.
Hera, help me, I’ve been so sheltered I may never fit into this society, bunny or not.
Frowning, I wonder what other parts of ‘normal’ life I’ve missed, and how stupid I’m going to look as they get revealed, one by one. My confusion will make prime gossip material if the Heathers figure out I don’t actually have a clue what ‘real’ shifters do when they’re not in public.
“Dollface, whatever you’re sweating about, stop. Every clan, pack, or whatever does things differently. You don’t have to know everything right away—that’s what classes are for. The curriculum may be half-bullshit and half-reality, but you’ll figure it out. Stop making a face like Coco murdered your yappy dog.”
Great. Now they think I’m a cloistered little rich girl with a pocket Yorkie.
So much for being a badass at Apex.
I sigh, reminding myself that Rufus and Cori are just looking out for me. “Thank you for sharing, but I’m really concerned the tiny sphere Lucille kept me in will make it easier for people to target me. I don’t even know what to look for or what things might get me in trouble.”
“Eh, we’ll help you learn. Besides, you can’t look any stupider than the dimwits you used to hang out withjoining the school paper.They seem like they’re barely able to string five words together without their brains melting,” Cori says, her eyes dancing with mirth. “Can you imagine? They have to be planning to use it as a vehicle to spread the ‘pred lives matter’ shit they’ve been going on about. Trust me, that will go over like a lead balloon with old Professor Cormac. That platypus is fierce.”
A giggle escapes before I know it. She might be a social justice warrior, but Cori can be as catty as the rest of us when she’s not in public. “I know! I was going to major in English first, so I visited the paper during my tour and her spurs are no joke. That’s why I used the office for the change of major form; I was afraid she’d come after me!”
What Cori doesn’t know is that Heather B. doesn’t really need the newspaper to spread rumors and lies—her father owns all the legitimate news outlets and most of the social media platforms. She can spew her venom anytime, anywhere, without fear of reprisal. Their plans for the paper have to be Apex-specific, and I’m not sure if the ‘pred lives’ thing is interesting enough for them to warrant making that one of their extracurriculars. They certainly can’t be cheer-monkeys anymore because post-secondary Pred Games don’t have squads. Professional ones do, but none of the Heathers are good enough dancers or tumblers to get picked for that level of performance, no matter how much money their parents throw at the Leonidas family.
So why the school newspaper?
Grimacing, I look over at my friends, giving them a shrug. “It’s hard to predict what those girls are planning. They aren’t book smart, but their cunning lies in being raised to be so ruthlessly ambitious that they’ll do anything and everything to win. They don’t even care if you’re not playing their games; their parents expect them to be victorious, so they willmakeyou play so you can lose. Their drive to prove they deserve their Council seats is completely ingrained in their personalities; hell, that mightbetheir personalities.”
“They don’t scare me a bit,” Rufus says, leaning back on his hands again. “They might play rich girl games, but in my family, the games aren’t so civilized. Let them show their hand. I won’t hesitate to show them how real gangsters operate.”
