Page 9

Aubrey

Music streams from my DiePhone as I relax on my throne—one of the few things I like about the cursed device.

This is one of my least favorite times of year, and I need the calming influence of EDM to keep from losing my shit as my Smackbook dings with a regularity that defies logic. Giving my newest mochi a squeeze, I inhale deeply, counting to ten slowly. My new stress ball is courtesy of Fitz, as are the new breathing techniques. He’s been strangely helpful in sharing stress relief techniques lately—something I would have never predicted nor believed if you’d told me it would happen.

Of course, until a few years ago, I would have called you stupid if you said I’d be friends with a tiger ambush, much less those from the Khan clan. That family is full of crooked, bloodthirsty criminals, and the entire shifter world knows it. Running Bloodstone for the Council is merely a side hustle that gives them unwilling victims to play with whenever they choose. No pred in their right mind goes anywhere near that wasp’s nest if they can avoid it.

When the three of them first came crashing into Apex, full of resentment and righteous anger, they differed from who they are now. Felix is almost tolerable—when he’s not trying to boss around two royals older than his family line—and Chess has come out of his shell nicely. Fitz is still Fitz, but he’s a lot less overtly psychotic than he was when they first arrived.

Lately, though, he’s been almost… tame.

The start of the school year is a chaotic nightmare for most of us, but he usually spends the first month screwing his way through the first-years like he’s trying to win a contest. Renard actually makes us play ‘Fist, Fang, Claw, Bite’ to decide who has to applaud his conquests, but not this year. It’s very odd, especially paired with his happy-go-lucky helpfulness over the break. Every time we needed anything, Fitz volunteered to run errands or grab supplies in town, jumping on his bike so fast you’d think they were giving away pred-stasy samples.

If it was anyone else, I wouldn’t ponder their motives, but Fitz…

The near silent creak of the main doors rouses me from my musings, and I leap to my feet. Betsy, my ostrich assistant, is working in Admissions this week, helping with passwords and other shit I’d never touch, so the intruder can’t be her. No one should be in my haven right now but me. I’m long past thinking my clan would send someone after me—my detractors have gotten what they wanted over the centuries, be it land, power, or wealth.

However, Apex is still a dangerous place on any day, and after the poisoning of students at the Shifter Secondary prom, I refuse to be surprised.

I know they cloaked the upper level in shadows, so I fold my wings in and quietly creep towards the balcony. Much like my gargoyle companion, I prefer the dark, and my night vision is superb. Whoever is invading my library won’t be able to see me until I?—

“Um, hello? Is anyone here? I’m supposed to be an aide? Hello?”

Who in the hell signed up to be a library aide and why in Anubis’ name wasn’t I consulted?

Rage bubbles up in my gut as I stalk to the railing, forgetting my half-shifted form as I jump over it and crash to the oak floor far below. Shaking my foot out of the hole I created for what might be the hundredth time, I let out a roar of frustration. I hate being unprepared as much as I hate having these idiotic rich prats in my beautiful sanctuary of knowledge.

“I did not consent to having some vapid twit lounging around my?—”

The insult catches in my throat as my gaze lands on the girl standing in front of the main doors. It’s the Botticelli-esque cherub from the prom, clad in the ridiculously sexy school uniforms they insist on putting the girls in. I didn’t get to speak with her that night because some slavering hyena was dragging her around like an accessory, but I’ve thought about her all summer long. Purely intellectually, of course, because she was one of the few students who didn’t barf all over the ballroom like they were trying to recreate the Nile. I’ve been working with the nursing staff and the scientists at the DHHS to identify the toxin and what specific properties of the laced punch counteracted it, so her input would be valuable to our studies.

I’m interested in her for research purposes, that’s all.

Fitz talked Renard and me into letting her reside in one of the lowest floors of the Tower because of an ‘emergency’, but surprisingly, she hasn’t broken our boundaries. Her respectful behavior means this is the first time I’ve spoken to her directly since she got here and I don’t know why that makes me so angry. It’s not like she’s looking up Felix or my gargoyle friend, either.

“Um… are you the librarian?”

Her question startles me out of yet another twisted train of thought that hasn't fully formed, and I rumble in frustration. It would be much easier to find answers if there weren’t so many blasted people trying to speak to me all the time. “I am the caretaker of the Draconis Memorial Library, yes. Who are you?”

A slight furrowing of her brow and a pout forming around her cupid’s bow mouth tells me she’s getting upset. “I’m Delores Drew, sir. When I visited last spring on my tour, they signed me up to be a library aide three days a week, in the evening. That’s why I’m here.” Her blue eyes widen as she looks up at me. “Didn’t anyone… tell you?”

Of fucking course they didn’t tell me.

Our not-so-esteemed dean, Henrietta, is so focused on pleasing the fucking Council and the wealthy donors that she barely sees the inside of a classroom, let alone the library. The Admissions staff is a flock of overworked birds with little concern for anything outside of completing their tasks, with enough time left over to keep the gossip mill churning. And with the volume of goddamn password reset requests from new students and staff—all of which I forward to Betsy before deleting—I haven’t been able to look at my email for a week without wanting to poke my eyes out. Even if they sent a message, I wouldn’t have seen it in the deluge of bullshit I have flooding my inbox.

I suddenly realize the Botticelli-esque girl is patiently waiting for my reply, so I take a breath to calm my dragon.

“No.”

“Oh. That’s why you’re...” She gestures at me with an airy ease, as if being charged at by a half-shifted predator in a mindless fury is completely normal. “No worries. I can come back on Wednesday if this is a bad time. I just wanted to get everything sorted before my classes start up.”

I frown, tilting my head as I observe her more closely. Her gaze is steady and her posture is almost combative, but the scent of prey emanates from every pore. Someone like her shouldn’t even be here at Apex; it’s damned near a death sentence. But here she is, flitting into my library without a care in the world, and looking me straight in the eyes despite my scales and snout.

It occurs to me that no prey animal would willingly enroll here as a student, so there must be more to her story. Not for the first time, I wish I had interrogated her—find out what makes her tick. She’s different from the girl I saw at the Vom Prom, and it’s not just her emerged animal.

Delores Drew is idiotic or very brave, and I find myself curious to find out which.

Walking closer, I let my wings spread and my claws dig deeper into the wood. I’ll have to replace the fucking floor again anyway, so why not see how this Council heir reacts to the full display? She maintains eye contact as I approach, though I can sense her heart rate speeding up. Towering over her, I don’t see a sniveling rabbit like I should. Instead, there’s a fire in her blue-eyed gaze that makes my breath catch. She gives me a haughty look that all rich girls seem to master before they can even walk, and I have to suppress a chuckle.

Brave it is, then.

No wonder this slip of a girl, barely alive long enough to be a good scotch, has been dominating the conversation in Renard’s Tower all summer long. Most of that talk has been from Fitz, because out of our band of outcasts, he had the most one-on-one contact with her on prom night. Chess met her the day of the tour, but he’s been noticeably close mouthed about that encounter. I’d find it weird if I wasn’t sure he’s in love with the effusive tiger.

“Does my dragon worry you?” I ask, deciding to test the mettle Delores is showing. My dragon seems interested in her, and since that’s only happened one other time, I’m curious about what her reaction will be to him in return.

She snorts, covering her mouth with her hand. “Are you going to crisp me if I say no?”

I shake my head, wondering again what the hell they made this girl of as I stare at her. “No. I’m unused to people being so… at ease with this form. It is not how I present myself in public. Most shifters are raised to fear or covet those unlike them—nefarious intentions motivate both. I, however, am rare and unused to people being so at ease with this form.”

“I’m not like most shifters; I was raised not to fear anyone.” She lifts her chin defiantly, and suddenly, I can see who she is—who she came from.

This is the daughter of Bruno and Lucille Drew, a shipping magnate and the undisputed queen of Apex society. No wonder Delores isn’t scared by my dragon; her father is known for eating business rivals during negotiations, and her mother is a drunken sociopath. Despite being an heiress, her home life must be hell on earth, especially now that she’s emerged as anything but an apex predator, although it gave her the backbone to not be terrified by any of our beasts.

Even those of us with uncommon shifted forms.

“That’s good, because it would be hard to instruct you in the care and keeping of my books if you couldn’t be near me without fainting,” I reply as I shift into full human form again. “There are many delicate texts here that require frequent monitoring in the basement, and part of your duties will be to assist me with these archives.”

Her mouth drops open, and I frown. I expected her to be excited that I wasn’t forcing her to be nothing but a shelving monkey—which I could, given she’s only a first-year—but she seemed more dumbstruck than anything.

Did I break her brain or something?

Finally, she swallows hard and nods at me. “Yes, I imagine it would be… hard. I’d like to take care of that. Your books, I mean. I want to learn the books.”

Her rapid babble makes me take a step back, unsure if I’ve somehow hit a switch and turned her into the bobblehead who come in here looking for the latest copy of Fifty Shades of Greywolves, as if I don’t know what it’s about. The sound of her heart jackhammering in her chest again makes me wonder if I’ve somehow triggered a response from her past, and I hold up my hand to stop the flow of jabber.

“Delores, it’s getting late. I’m sure you need to get to the cafeteria before the bigger preds scarf up all the good food. But come back on Wednesday and I will instruct you on the different parts of the library. Deal?”

“Yes. You’re right. It’s late and I need to eat because I haven’t had a bite all day and...” She takes a breath and shifts the bag on her shoulder, her knotted oxford riding up to showcase a diamond bunny decorating her navel. “I’m famished. I’m sure you are, too. So, um, have a good dinner, and I’ll be back on Wednesday. Thank you.” Before I can respond, she turns on her heel and practically runs out of the library like she has hellhounds on her tail.

I track the bounce of her hair and flutter of her skirt, considering the walking contradiction that just invaded my space. I’m not sure what whim of Horus or Bast or even Set put this girl on my path, but encounters like this are rarely a coincidence. The wheel of fate turns slowly, but it is always turning. Even a being as old as I am knows that the gods wrote our destinies in the stars long before we were born, and Delores Drew has flounced her way into mine like a fluffy-tailed wrecking ball.

Hmmm. Dinner it is—and I’m starving.