Mad World
Delores
Inside the building, the soundscape changes.
Hallways in this building swallow up voices and footsteps, so even when there are people, it sounds deserted.
Posters of upcoming school events are spaced at perfect intervals along the walls, each one so boringly on-brand I want to gnaw through the drywall.
We walk in silence past the bursar’s office, past the admissions office, and past the nurse’s clinic.
It feels like the name on this building should credit the Society for all it controls, or maybe just say ‘Abandon hope, all ye who enter’ instead of the school motto.
But it doesn’t, and no matter how appropriate that is, I have to navigate this fucking place as if I’m walking through a field of landmines.
Chess takes me to the elevator, and we get in, pushing the button for the floor where Rockland’s lair awaits.
When we get off, my stomach twists into a knot of primal instincts that are hard to put aside.
My cheetah takes my hand, squeezing it as we slowly walk to the end of the hall.
The door is exactly as I remember it. Opaque glass with rainbow decorations around it and a name etched into it that says ‘C. Rockland, M.E.S.C.’ in similar colored lettering.
There’s a potted plant next to the door that looks like it died of embarrassment, and who could blame it?
My heart hammers, and I realize my hands are a little shaky now that I’m here.
Chess was right about coming here, and despite the physical reactions I’m having, I needed to do it.
I refuse to be this weak tomorrow, so we’re staying here until I’m under control.
Staring at the door as if it’s going to open and swallow me whole, I blow out a long, slow breath to calm myself. My mate leans in, close enough that I can feel his breath on my cheek, as he lends me strength through his proximity.
“Are you okay, Angel?” He’s not patronizing—he’s just ensuring that I will not pass out on the spot. I can tell by his tone.
“No,” I whisper. “But I want to be. No, I need to be. You were right about coming here.”
A muffled voice leaks through the door. Two voices, actually, but one is instantly familiar and sets every hair on my arms standing at attention. Chess tenses, which means he hears it too.
Rockland is in there—mid-tirade, based on the way her voice fluctuates from syrupy sweet to nuclear—and we’re going to be discovered.
I close my eyes, talking my bunny and my magic down inside.
The last time I was in that room, she tried to get me thrown out of l’Academie for using AI.
The time before that, she tried to bully me into getting rid of my legal counsel because I was stealing from her.
The time before that, she accused me of being a whore, and that’s why Capital Prep sent me to l’Academie when she damn well knew it was my mother pulling strings that got me sent here.
The record of Rockland behaving like a sane professional is zero for infinite so far, and I doubt it will change today.
Her voice gets louder. “If you don’t bring me the proper forms, I’m going to call your wife to explain what the words ‘predstasy addict and hebophile’ truly mean. Don’t test me, Leo; you’re not as safe as you think just because you’re an Antonovich wolf. Fix this shit now.”
The sound of a chair scraping, and then footsteps are clear as day.
Something hits the wall hard, and I wince because she’s having a tantrum in the outer office.
If Chessie were working today, he’d be ducking that, and it riles up both of the forces inside me again.
I bite my cheek to hold on, working to calm them as they band together in their protective feelings about my mate.
Rockland’s silhouette moves closer to the glass. I see her through the distortion, a lanky shape with the messy bun and spindly limbs of her species. Chess squeezes my hand, but my whole body feels like a stretched rubber band. I can’t leave now, but it’s risky, and if she comes out…
That’s when the door wrenches open fast enough to make me gasp.
The first thing I notice is the hair. Rockland has enhanced her penchant for emulating me in the least fashionable way possible, and it’s almost a mockery of the style my friends help me maintain.
She’s bleached her curly locks over the summer—not a subtle, highlights-only kind of bleach, but an all-in-one, napalm-the-scalp type of bleach job that makes her head glow like the world’s worst halogen lamp.
What’s worse, there are streaks of rainbow colors—pink, green, blue, purple, and more—crudely layered in.
She’s stealing my life, my sanity, and now even my appearance, including dressing like me in a faux school uniform-type outfit.
Okay, it’s based on my appearance, but on her it looks like a costume store wig that got peed on by a sick cat paired with a Halloween costume preferred by a guy who likes ‘young girls’.
Everything about her makes me recoil internally, and I’m sure that’s running across my face.
Fucking disgusting, that’s what this is. I wonder who it’s for.
Gone is the pretend mask of professional detachment as she looks at me. In its place is pure, undiluted hatred—so much so that her lips are almost white around the edges. She bares her teeth at me. “Well, if it isn’t the little slut herself. Excited about your schedule, I take it?”
Chess steps in front of me, blocking her as he growls softly, “Back off.”
The loony vulture shoves past him with surprising strength. She jabs a finger at my chest, nearly poking a hole in my sternum. “You’re ruining my life, you little bitch. I don’t know how you’re doing this, but I know you’re responsible for it.”
I blink, speechless. “What the hell are you talking about? I haven’t come near you for months, and I wouldn’t now if it weren’t mandatory.
You’re the one stalking me and smearing my reputation every chance you get.
How am I possibly ruining your life when you are the one who cannot stop trying to destroy me? ”
Rockland ignores my statement, the volume ramping up in her shriek with every word.
“I’m going to make sure everyone in the world knows you’re a nepo baby thief with no talent.
I’ll see to it that you’re thrown out of school and never set foot on a campus again.
As for the Pred Games, I’ll make sure you’re banned from every match in the world and your little harem of losers won’t be able to save you. Bank on that.”
“Try it, and see how far you get,” Chess bristles, almost hissing as he stands his ground.
Damn, that’s hot even if I can do this myself.
The lunatic spits at me—literally spits, though she misses my face to hit my arm—as she stares at me with wild eyes.
“I’m the talented and beautiful one. I’m the one everyone adores and wants to be.
You’re nothing but a freak show living off mommy and daddy’s money and stealing everyone else’s ideas.
You want to see what a real scandal looks like?
Keep showing up, and I’ll make sure you’re so miserable that you’ll quit on your own. ”
She turns on her heel and heads back into her office, slamming the door behind her hard enough to rattle the glass.
I don’t even have time to react before Chess is gripping my arm tightly, as we both gape at the space where the woman was a moment ago.
She’s most definitely lost the few marbles she had over the break, and being required to see her every day is more dangerous than we thought.
I cannot be in this office alone with her—ever.
She’s too far gone to trust that she won’t escalate even further.
“Take this,” my cheetah says, his eyes still on the door as he hands me a handkerchief to wipe my face. “She’s going to pay for that—believe me.”
I feel the spot where her finger stabbed me throb, my hand coming up to get the saliva off of me mechanically. “Am I having a nightmare? Did that actually happen?”
My mate nods, his usually kind eyes glinting with a predator’s calculation. “That’s not the act of a stable person, much less a counselor of troubled students. I’m reporting it, though we won’t have video and they’ll say it’s our word against hers. I want my complaint on record for later, though.”
A nervous laugh bubbles out of me, somewhere between relief and absolute shock. “She looks like she lost a bet with a circus clown.”
“She looks like she wants to step into your skin like a fucking pod person,” Chess corrects me with his gaze still fixed on the glass door.
“It’s dangerous how unhinged she is now.
Farley may need to consider orders of protection from the local authorities, especially since that could possibly derail this daily session thing. ”
I nod, swallowing hard as I grab his hand. “Okay. Let’s get out of here before something else happens. I need to wind down from this shit or I’m going to lose control of my powers right here in this ugly hallway.”
We’re halfway down the hall when the door behind us bursts open again.
Rockland storms out, her face red, mascara running down her cheeks, and her voice level at a screech only animals can hear.
“Do you think you can just walk away? I am reporting this harassment and abuse to the standards committees and the entire fucking Prednet you chubby tramp!”
I freeze at her ultimate insult. For a half-second, I’m caught in a loop of hearing that shit from Lucille.
She loved to taunt me about my weight and my appearance as a parting shot, and Rockland just triggered that trauma.
Before I can move, Chess drops my arm and shifts into his cheetah with fluid grace.
One second, there’s a friendly man in a tight shirt and chinos; the next there’s a two-hundred-pound spotted cat between me and Rockland.
He hisses, teeth bared, and the sound echoes in the silent corridor like a warning from the end of time.
Again, super fucking hot and my bunny needs to calm her shit down because it’s not the time.
The vulture stops cold. Her eyes go wide, and her lips peel back in a silent scream.
She takes three steps backward, hands up as if we’re going to maul her.
Chess stalks forward, his lithe body low, and tail twitching like a rattler.
I don’t think he’ll attack, but he’s not pretending to be polite, either.
Rockland bolts back into her office and slams the door so hard that the plant next to it falls over, spilling dirt onto the tile.
There’s a beat of pure, unfiltered silence, and then, slowly, Chess turns back to me and licks his chops, as if to say, “That’s what you get, bitch.”
I laugh, even though I’m standing there shaking. It takes a minute before I can move, and when I do, I reach down to ruffle the fur on the big feline’s head. The hope that I can get myself together before we have to leave is strong, and I think touching him is part of it.
Chess shifts from full to half, allowing him to cover up some things I wouldn’t be okay with everyone getting a peek at. I smile a bit, knowing he can’t speak, tilting my head as I ask, “Can we have something decadent when we get home? I need the endorphins.”
He nods, and I sigh in relief as I take his half-humanoid, furry hand. We walk away together, leaving the echo of Rockland’s meltdown to haunt the empty hallway.
This isn’t what we expected, but at least I know what I’m up against now and I can plan for it.