Page 90 of Prey It By Ear

“I suppose I did as well,” mutters Aubrey, who goes back to his moss-green square, but there’s a smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. “But I am older than any of you and quite set in my ways, so it is not surprising.”

Dolly peeks at us, her embarrassment faded to a fond annoyance. She says, “You all need to stop making a big deal out of me, or I’m going to make you listen to my old piano compositions or read my oldest lyrics out loud. I promise they’re terrible.”

“I’m game,” says Fitz immediately. “I’d love to see what young, damaged bunny girls write when they’re composing away their emo phase.”

“Bite me,” she shoots back, and then—like she can’t help it—she adds, “But maybe someday, okay?”

It’s that last bit that does me in. I take a second to freeze-frame the moment. We’re six damaged weirdos chatting about our relationship with the TV mumbling in the background, and everyone is working to keep our hands busy. This is the best kind of night, I think. It’s when no one needs to hide what they are and stays in your heart, even when the next disaster is always around the corner.

A beat passes, and then Fitz leans his leg against Dolly’s in this casual way, like he’s holding her down so she can’t float off into space. She doesn’t move away as we go back to our knitting, and the click of needles is the only sound for a minute.

If you asked me, I’d say this is the closest thing to a perfect Wednesday you can get.

The moment the room gets too soft, the universe conjures a disaster to keep things from tipping into sentimentality. Felix makes a noise that would get him banned from most rooms and jerks his knitting needles skyward, trailing an impossible knot behind them.

“Motherfucker, who invented knitting and why do they hate me specifically?” He glares at the mass of yarn, now so entangled it’s developed its own topology. “This is an abomination. I can’t even find the last row.”

Aubrey glances at the knot, then at Felix, and then back to his own project with the face of a man who has decided he will not engage with the problem. He could probably unravel it with one flick of a claw, but this is a matter of principle.

Felix started the war with his project, and he should end it, or he’ll never learn.

I set my project—a ribbed scarf in a burnt orange that exactly matches the color of last year’s fallen leaves—onto the coffee table and get up to deal with it. Unlike Aubrey, I know this tantrum will wreck our cozy evening if the exiled Raj gets too furious. I crouch in front of the tiger, hold out a hand, and he shoves the needles at me without comment. He keeps his chin up, but I can see the embarrassment in the tight line of his jaw. That’s why I don’t tease him, especially since Fitz is doing pretty well on his stupidly hard project choice.

The knot is spectacular. There’s the main thread, a half-dropped stitch looping like a lasso around three other strands, and a full row that has twisted back on itself so many times I wonder if it’s a metaphor for our current life. I use my fingers to tease it apart, carefully, never pulling when I can wiggle, and in under two minutes the knot is gone. I hand the needles back with a soft, “Try not to think so hard about it. Your frustration is making it hard for you to concentrate, bro.”

He doesn’t reply, but the muscles in his shoulders ease, and he gives me the briefest head-nod before returning to his yarn. Aubrey arches a brow, tsking as I head back to my seat. He believes I’ve coddled the elder cat, but his radar for feline irritation isn’t as good as mine. Though he’s far better at knowing his stony mate, and I’ll admit that in a hot second.

Ren uses the lull in conversation to lean forward and look at my angel, his voice shifting from academic complaint to something more personal. “You have not yet told them, ma petite, about the shadow in the woods. You went quiet afterwards. I think it would help if you did.”

Oh, she’s not happy about that being spilled… I see it in her eyes.

Dolly sets her pieces in her lap, her fingers fiddling with a corner nervously. “It’s not much. Just…” She swallows and flicks her eyes up to the group. “There was a shadow at the cabin. Not, like, a random thing—an animal or a person or something tangible. It didn’t match the light, and it didn’t have a scent, but I saw it. I thought it was a trick, but it watched us, and then it left. Neither Aubrey nor Rennie seemed to notice it.”

The dragon leans forward, his forearms on his knees. “I was tracking the cabin, not the periphery. If there was something watching, I didn’t catch it. However, I believe you.”

“I told her the same,” says the gargoyle. “I sensed something faint but saw nothing out of place. Her extranormal senses are growing sharper, it seems.”

Fitz is practically vibrating next to our girl. “This is fucking baller, Baby Girl! If you’re picking up on things the rest of us can’t, you might develop a whole new sense. Like, think about how much fun that will be in a snowball fight or if we’re gambling somewhere or whatever.”

“Or perhaps when we’re doing reconnaissance or checking security?” Felix adds wryly, rolling his eyes at his twin.

Dolly makes a face. “That’s great, except I can’t control it. I can’t even turn on the blue lightning on purpose, and you want me to spot supernatural threats like I have a magic radar? And really, what’s the damn point of this if I can’t use it when I want? It’s stupid and I hate it.”

She looks at Renard, and there’s a challenge in it—like, do you have an answer, smart guy? I wish he did. Instead, the Frenchman says, “I wish there was someone who could actually coach you through this, lapin. An expert in Fae with actual knowledge, but we’re making it up as we go. I have more real-world knowledge than anyone else we trust, but that is not as helpful as I’d like. Je suis desolée, ma amore.⁠*”

My angel shrugs and looks down at her knitting, the needles motionless in her hands. “I just want to do something on purpose for once. Not be a… a weird lightning rod that only works when I’m scared out of my mind. But it’s not your fault that you didn’t memorize everything your tragically, supposedly dead ex said a bazillion years ago.”

Ouch. That was full of unintended pokes, and I bet it smarts.

“Ma cherie, I am not a bazillion years old; that’s Flames.” Ren grins wickedly as the dragon narrows his eyes and goes on. “However, you are correct that I didn’t pay enough attention to what Fionola wanted to teach me. I was too young and brash to really understand how helpful it could be. But… perhaps I can offer something I have not yet because I worried you would be… upset.”

We all look at him suspiciously, and I ask, “What the hell have you been hiding now, Laveaux?”

Sighing, he pulls the amulet out of his shirt, holding it up. “The Fae flutter Fionola was destined to rule made these with our elders for my clutch. Your amulet is infused with magic, ma petite, and perhaps it could help you… direct… things if you speak with it and your powers.”

Fitz, who lets no one wallow for long, growls, “Why the fuck didn’t you mention that? Zeus’ godly baby batter, man… we could have tried it at least!”

Dolly snorts, but doesn’t argue with him as she pulls her smaller one out of her cleavage. “He’s right. Why did you hide it?”