Page 120 of Prey It By Ear

The earth quivers like a lover about to come undone as the magic spreads from here to everywhere else. My spellwork is perfect, and I don’t even have to hide my satisfaction. I let myself grin fangily in the way that often makes shifters cross the street and human boys fall in love with disaster.

This is how the end begins, and it is how we will win the war that is now inevitable.

I drink in my victory, scenting the sickly sweet tang of prey animal panic. Somewhere below, alarms howl—real ones, for once, not just the manufactured security alerts that the Council uses to keep the campus compliant. I wonder if the hybrid’s family will investigate or, like everyone else, will believe it’s a weather warning they do not have to worry about. Sliding my phone from my pocket, I check the group chat I have with my traitor network. I despise this technology, but it is useful for those who are not magically gifted, and I need their help to keep our efforts going. I’m about to power down when a message pings in from an unknown number.

Unknown: She’s awake but not moving. Your guess was correct; no one has left the annex building. However, there is magic running into the building and turning bright blue.

I bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing out loud. Delores Drew, the so-called chosen one—has finally burned through her wards and started to draw real magic. I’d bet anything she has no clue what to do with it, and that’s exactly what I need. The tiny displays she’s shown before are nothing compared to what my spell is funneling into her, and it will slowly infiltrate her psyche. That’s the final straw for her transformation, and it will make it so much easier to bring her into the fold.

With a final glance at the campus—now wreathed in ghost fire and humming with unleashed energy the preds cannot see—I gather my coat around me and head down the mountain. I keep to the shadows, feet silent on loose shale, and my cloak trailing behind me like the tail of a comet. At the halfway point, I pause to watch the reflection of the moon on the salt lake. There’s a disturbance out there, concentric rings like something monstrous has surfaced and dived again. I’m not sure what that is, but if it’s been hiding for this long, I welcome it.

I’m close enough now to see the panic spreading through the upper campus amongst what seem to be the guards. Security lights strobe and small packs are converging to examine the buildings. They’re worried and confused, which is good. They won’t assume it’s me or my kin—the last time anyone saw real magic before the Treaty. Every one of these overfed puppies grew up on bedtime stories about those creatures being locked away behind the Veil for good.

Fae justice is always bloody and always final, so they will see the error of those tales soon.

I stop and touch the sigil I burned into the bark of a tree last month. It flares up, giving off a brief, intoxicating rush of nightshade. From here, I can see the annex windows—all of them dark, except for one that pulses with the same blue light as before. She’s not panicking, so she must be alone in that room for some reason. I wonder if she’ll remember being awake in the morning. It would be easier if she does not, as that will keep my presence here secret for a bit longer.

Instead of overthinking, I turn to watch the preds who are supposed to keep this school safe run in circles. I savor the chaos as the Council’s lapdogs scramble around, hunting for a cause for the ‘lightening’ they keep growling about. They won’t find it, of course, and this search party will disband soon enough as they write it off. That’s the problem with using the least intelligent shifters for your security because they are bulky and aggressive—they don’t know how to solve complex problems.

Once the guards have rotated away, I circle to the back of the annex and slip a scrap of purple cloth into the door’s frame. If she’s as smart as they say, the hybrid will find it and wonder what it means. The world’s already changed, and nobody on this campus—not the predators, not the Society, not even the ancient monsters sleeping in lakes—can put it back the way it was. I turn and look up at the sky. The moon’s riding high, so I tip my face up and whisper the closing of my night-time enchantment.

“We’re coming for what’s ours, and this time, we will win.”

The wind rips the words away, but I know they’ll get where they need to go. I shoulder my bag, flex my hands one last time to feel the buzz still crackling under my skin, and set off through the woods. There’s so much to do. But for the first time in centuries, I have hope. I also have nothing to lose, and that makes me the least predictable element in the entire equation.

Predators, beware.

People I Don’t Like

Delores

Morning in the annex kitchen is always a little operatic, but today the six of us have reached a new pitch. We’re all crammed around the central island, battling for counter space like it’s a limited resource.

Felix is in his running gear from the waist down but hasn’t committed to a shirt yet. He’s leaning against the stove with his hair still wet, clutching a mug of black coffee like he’s trying to telepathically absorb its power. Chess is methodically loading my backpack with Tetris-level snack precision while occasionally popping bites of fruit into my mouth. Fitzy is perched on the island in shorts printed with tiny dancing lobsters and a t-shirt that says ‘Come At Me, Bro.’ Rennie is reading the day’s global news and annotating his class syllabus with a fountain pen that is definitely older than dirt. My dragon is sitting next to him, accepting pages from the gargoyle to read as he drinks a huge mug of coffee and snarfs down his food.

I’d love to feel warm and fuzzy as usual, but something is… off… and I don’t know what it is.

I’m in my full ballet uniform—leg warmers, a worn t-shirt, and hair in an aggressively functional bun—because my schedule is up at five-fifteen on Mondays if I want to beat the mat rush at the studio. Chess has already pre-gamed his day with three mugs of tea, so the kitchen smells like a contest between the herbal and the industrial, and I love it because it means everyone is alive and accounted for.

Rennie is the first to break the group's silence, which is rare. “We’re reconvening on the book tonight, correct, mon amours?” He closes the paper with a snap and fixes me with a look. “Assuming our bunny has not been scheduled for any surprise disciplinary board appointments.”

“Unless they’ve invented a new flavor of humiliation that’s even more creatively public than last week’s, you’re on,” I say, doing my best not to sound too bitter about it. “But I’m not betting against their cousin and those nasty canines.”

Aubrey nods, sipping his coffee slowly before he adds, “We should use the time between dinner and bedtime to see if we can glean more, yes. I don’t want to waste our time looking at anything else until we finish it.”

Felix grunts. “You should let us help, Draconis. It’s not like we’re incapable of handling tweezers. Though after the story you told yesterday, move to tongs or something. Chess should have some.”

“Tongs? No, no, that’s amateur hour,” Fitz says with an excited gleam in his eyes. “We have a pair of genuine, food-grade, heat-proof silicone mitts, if we’re worried about magical germs. Before you mock me, they’re rated for up to seven hundred degrees. That has to be better, yeah?”

“You ruined a pan when you tested that claim, and I’m still not happy about it,” Chess says, not looking up from his campaign to pack my backpack. “Plus, I don’t think using my kitchen gloves is going to help, Fitz.”

“That was collateral damage, babe. It was all in the name of science.” Fitz does a little shimmy, knocking the salt shaker to the floor, which I catch with one hand before it can shatter. The guys give me a look of pleased smugness, like I’ve just performed a high-wire act perfectly.

“Anyway,” I say, trying to herd the conversation back to the point, “Tonight's good for the book, provided I don’t get expelled before then.”

“Tonight, then,” Rennie says in a satisfied tone. “Perhaps we will be lucky enough to find new information, oui?”

Chess finally closes my bag and turns to me with the gravity usually reserved for discussing our enemies. “You need to eat more protein today, Angel. I put the chocolate ones in the side pocket for you, and the blue electrolytes. Please don’t trade them away for…” he glances at Fitz, “… a six-pack of chocolate pudding like last time.”