Page 53 of Prey It By Ear

Chester adores providing as much as he can when he sets up meals, so even the leftovers are bountiful when we finish them.

I am in charge of the dishes because Flames abhors that kind of mess, and our ‘leaders’ have taken leave of the building. The hot water doesn’t scald my hands when I let them go to stone, so I’m scrubbing down the remains of a six-person feeding frenzy as Chess and my mate cycle through their assigned roles. Flames would prefer to hide in the library, but he’s not escaping the clean-up this time; that I made certain of.

Chester attacks the countertop’s mess with a surgical sense of purpose, wiping each crumb into a perfectly circular spiral, and then flicking it into the bin as if he is creating art out of garbage. Every three passes, he inspects the surface at multiple angles, his head cocked before he corrects for streaks with a final flourish. It’s almost erotic, but that is a thought for a different time of day and a vastly more complete representation of our family.

I’m tucking the kitchen away for later, though, and I know ma petite will enjoy it.

Fitz is the wild card; he claims to be helping, but this mostly means that he paces a tight, obsessive circuit between the open fridge and the kitchen island, laptop in one hand and a half-eaten berry in the other. His brain is still in overdrive from the all-night coding binge. He’s still wearing the crop top, and the bunny socks our rabbit called so cute she wanted to nibble his toes, and boxers. He should probably get dressed, but no one is going to tell him that yet. He’s too manic to send off on his own, and when he’s here, we can monitor him.

“The pacing is making me dizzy,” Aubrey grumbles as he works. “Make it stop.”

“I don’t think it’s possible, mon amour. You know very well that when our friend gets like this, he simply has to burn himself out.” My grin is knowing, but also a little smug. Dealing with it is a fitting punishment for being snooty about the dishes, I think.

Every ten seconds, Fitz reaches out to tap a key on his laptop, and then resumes pacing. The screen shows a waterfall of scrolling code, and the glow illuminates the lower half of his face with an unhealthy blue tint. This is, according to Aubrey, the hacker-in-the-wild glazed expression, and it was not uncommon in the time before our darling bunny arrived. Fitz would get laid, geek out on Predstasy, and hack whatever caught his fancy in days-long jags.

He hasn’t done any drugs; I don’t believe, but he’s maxed out the caffeine like a champion in an effort to plot his vengeance.

My dragon leans against the far counter, sleeves pushed past the elbows with his coffee mug cradled in both hands like a medieval chalice. The steam fogs his glasses, but he seems content to leave them that way so he can squint at Fitz through the blur in irritation. He’s consumed by watching the younger tiger spiral through his behavioral algorithms at a speed that is both impressive and concerning simultaneously. I think their opposing dynamic is almost peaceful if you ignore the grumbling and ranting.

“Why are you doing all of this now? It seems par for the course for the vulture to treat our girl badly, and we’re all frustrated by our inability to end her life. No one else is on a revenge bender, though,” Aubrey says, his voice mild but velvet-edged. He doesn’t even look up from his mug, but I can tell from the tilt of his head that he already suspects the answer.

The tiger’s hands become a blur of motion as something occurs to him. “Because, my Fiery Furcifer, attacking her physically is the first thing everyone expects, especially in this shithole. If I work my magic in the shadows, making every corner of her life more difficult to manage, it will be blamed on things like password leaks or security breaches or even plain errors. This will punish her every day, all day, for as long as I choose, in an escalating rhythm. And no one will be the wiser.”

Aubrey raises one brow, impressed. “Elegant, and far less aggressive than your digit-stealing norm. What made you decide to switch tactics?”

Fitz’s mouth splits into a feral grin. “I saw the thing that made our girl unhappy in the van on the way home. It’s a thinly veiled book disguised as something else, but it details her past in sordidly false details, and that bitch is making money off my Baby Girl’s pain. Or, I assume she sort of is, and doesn't care enough about the facts to suss it out. I just want to make sure she’s bleeding all the time before our girl realizes what’s happened. Not enough justice, but it’ll hold me.”

“That’s what you were working on while she slept,” Aubrey says, tapping his mug on the counter in a silent toast, and then grimaces. “It’s also probably what set the cunt off yesterday. That kind of stress often brings out the worst in people, and she’s just crazy enough to blame it on the lunchable rather than the normal reasons.”

Fitz rocks back on his heels, bunny socks flexing on the tile. “I realize that, which is why I have other lists of things I can do as well, but I think keeping that woman on the edge of her thin thread of sanity will only benefit us in the end. She’ll do something actionable eventually, Charcoal Cajones. We all know it.”

“Maybe not before she sets my angel off, though, Fitzy,” Chester says doubtfully, not looking up as he polishes the counter to a blinding shine. “We can’t allow her to get hurt by these people. This year has to be different.”

I agree with both of them, and I’m not sure how to reconcile the two extremes.

“Chessie, if Rockland even breathes near a camera in this place, the system pings a rotating chain of proxies I set up for Farley’s legal office. Then it triggers a zero-delay cascade to a local device—Dolly’s phone, or if that fails, one of ours—and flags the Captain’s crew and the nurses here. Someone getting physical with our girl when she hasn’t hit the buttons on her phone escalates the video straight to the Prednet so it streams where Rockland can’t take it down. Trust me, I’ve got as much wired as I can until the extra hidden cams I ordered last night arrive. The only hole was in the office, and having the crew in with her solves it.”

Aubrey takes a sip, nodding as if he gets a damn thing the tiger said. “So you’re blanketing campus and using her phone to… measure her physical responses? That way, someone can rush to the scene if she’s being harmed?”

“Exactly,” Fitz says proudly. “I texted her the link to the on/off app, and it looks like she downloaded it before ballet. It lets her confirm that she’s going to be knocked around in Games practice or whatever beforehand, so we don’t run for nothing. I just figured the more witnesses, the better, you know, bro? The admin has to act if it’s caught on video, especially if it’s public.”

Blinking, I think about that for a moment. “That is quite thorough, Fitzgerald. It’s a good plan for someone who looks as unhinged as you do right now, mon ami.”

He glares and then wrinkles his nose. “Are you still tracking the hidden stuff? Because I can’t put shit in that forest if it’s going to get zapped out by Count Suckula and their crew of Renfields or whatever. It’s a waste.”

I dry my hands slowly, considering my answer. “I am, though you know we have not seen movement since my observation began.”

He snorts. “If they’re real, they’re definitely fucking with us, man. I can’t imagine why we can’t nail those day-snoozing assholes. It seems… specific, you know?”

“We don’t know what kind of assistance they have.” I wipe down the last dish with extra care, leaning against the sink with my arms folded. “However, I don’t like how consistently they’ve avoided us, either. It feels like a dangerous loose end we cannot focus on enough to neutralize.”

Chess finally finishes and sets the towel aside. “If it’s a problem, we can run a sweep every so often when we’re nearby. If all five of us do it, we’re bound to find something, right? You could even go this morning, unless you’re worried about missing your first class.”

“I don’t have to teach until noon,” I say as I tilt my head. “I could make another sweep in the wee hours here. It’s not like it will hurt anything; however, I do not think we will catch them unawares on the first actual day of full student attendance.”

There’s a beat as the group collectively recalibrates. Aubrey runs a fingertip around the rim of his mug before he glances at me with a quick, sidelong look. “Would it be a big deal to check? We’re not even sure how many could be walking among the students once the sun goes down.”

“It’s a full coven, that’s for certain,” I reply without hesitation. “That could range from ten to fifty, depending on how prolific they’ve been about ‘reproducing’ while they stayed hidden over the years.”