Cheetahs Never Win

by RJ Blain

  “We keep confrontations non-lethal, Aaron. That’s flat-out going for the kill. Fix Dad’s teeth before you worry about Aaron, Joe,” Charlie ordered.

  “Hell no! Dad can fucking look at his teeth in a jar. You did what to Aaron?”

  Joe wisely hooked his arm around his sister’s waist to keep her from attacking their father. “Aaron got his hit in, so call it even, Sassy.”

  When her father refused to look anyone in the eyes, I had no doubt the sneaky bastard had done as Joe believed. “We’re going to have a talk about this later,” I promised. “Sneaky, conniving bastard.”

  “Oliver Chetty, what have you done?” Sassy’s mother howled from the kitchen.

  I grimaced. “Or not. I’ll just let her take care of it.”

  Joe grimaced, too. “That’s harsh, Aaron. Let me see your hand.”

  I held out my throbbing hand to him. “I definitely broke something.”

  “Well, considering two of your fingers are pointed the wrong way, I’ll say I agree with your assessment. You need to learn how to punch without breaking your hand on your opponent’s face.”

  “Think I hit him hard enough?”

  “You broke your hand. You hit him hard enough. I’m going to have to check his face for breaks now.” Joe sighed. “Charlie? You up for a splint job? You need to practice, and he needs to take a shower and get the blood off. No trailing blood through the house, and keep the uninfected away from him until everything’s cleaned up. Sassy, get the neutralizer and make sure nothing’s left over.”

  Sassy growled but headed for the house, and Dean followed at her heels. Her storming off did a good job of distracting me from my hand.

  “Dad?” Joe growled.

  “Fine.”

  “You really did it? You really busted your knuckles on Aaron’s face to intentionally infect him?”

  “A father’s gotta do what a father’s gotta do. Look at him. It was only a matter of time anyway. I was just helpin’ him along.”

  Joe shot me a glance and mouthed a ‘I told you so’ in my direction.

  As I’d already rattled my brain enough, I turned to Charlie and used his shoulder rather than give myself a concussion banging my head into one of the picnic tables. “Why me?”

  “Good men are few and far between, and with daily exposure to Sassy, your virus wouldn’t want anyone else. He’s a bastard, but he’s a clever bastard. Are you going to charge him?”

  “No, I’m going with early onset and planning a complicated and utterly feline version of revenge,” I muttered.

  Charlie slapped my back. “It’ll be fine. Let’s get you upstairs and cleaned up. Don’t drip blood on the carpet. It’s a bitch to clean up, and Mom’ll get cranky if her carpet’s pink for a week again. I keep trying to tell her she’d just be better off buying pink, shimmering carpet with how often we use neutralizer around here.”

  “Sassy’s mad.”

  “I noticed you noticing. You tensed from head to toe. Doubt you noticed, mad as you are, but you need to take a shower and cool your heels. Sassy’s going to read your body language and want to commit murder because you’re upset.”

  “I’m contemplating some form of non-lethal revenge. Sassy would cry if I killed her daddy.”

  “Revenge is better than planning murder, and yes, Sassy would cry if you killed her daddy. She’ll forgive him eventually. She’s more mad she didn’t catch the bastard doing it.”

  Sassy’s mother stormed into the yard wielding a pair of barbecue-covered tongs. “What’s this I hear about you healing your knuckles, dear?”

  Oliver Chetty would die at the hands of his wife in the back yard with a pair of tongs, and I gaped with wide eyes, unable to fathom how she’d do it.

  “If Aaron can’t kill Dad, you can’t kill Dad, either. Right, Joe?”

  “Tit-for-tat, Mom. Dad broke a few of Aaron’s teeth, Aaron broke a few of Dad’s. He’ll be less hissy after Sassy calms him down. Sassy!”

  “What now?” Sassy howled from inside the house.

  “Come claim your kitty and help Charlie splint his hand.”

  “First you want me to neutralize the damned grass, now you want me doing what?”

  “Stripping your male out of his clothes and splinting his busted hand. If I set the bones right now, he’ll pass out, he’ll miss dinner, and Dad really will die at Mom’s hands.”

  Storming out of the house with a white bag, Sassy wound up and busted the bag open on her father’s face. “You are such an asshole!”

  Pink sparkling powder erupted everywhere, and I sneezed as it scattered, billowing and coating everything in the area. My hand stung, and the rest of my skin tingled. Sneezing and breathing it in turned the tingle to a more nefarious itch, but it subsided within a few breaths.

  Sassy’s father sighed. “Did you really have to hit me in the face with the bag?”

  “Yes, sir, I most certainly did.” To make her point clear, she smacked him with the empty bag. “We are going to have words later, Daddy.”

  Was there anything more appealing than watching Sassy swear vengeance on her father?

  Growling, Sassy’s mother waved her tongs in her mate’s face. “What have you done, Oliver Chetty?”

  “Do you want to tell her?” Joe asked.

  “No, no. I don’t want a round with the tongs, and I’m pretty sure I’m partially responsible for how that went down.”

  “Smart bastard,” Joe muttered. “Remember that scuffle Aaron and Dad got into not long after Sassy graduated college?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “He bled and closed the wounds with his magic and didn’t bother to tell anybody.”

  Sassy’s mother frowned, and she narrowed her eyes. “What’s the problem?”

  “Judging from Aaron’s memory and changes in his behavior, he was infected.”

  Sassy’s mother smiled, her expression relaxing. “What’s the problem? And here I thought it was something serious.”

  “Dad’s head is so hard Aaron broke his hand.”

  That earned Sassy’s father a whack with the tongs upside his head. “What have I told you about that damned thick skull of yours?” Then, since hitting him wasn’t enough to satisfy her, Sassy’s mother seized his ear with the tongs. “Inside, and don’t you be bleeding on none of the guests. Someone make sure all his teeth are picked up and bring them to the downstairs bathroom. That’s easiest to clean. Joe, don’t you be slacking on your father’s teeth. Those damned things ain’t cheap.”

  “Yes, Aaron’s incident taught us that very valuable lesson,” Joe replied, and he went on a hunt for his father’s teeth in the grass, stirring up neutralizer. “Sassy, you keep Aaron’s temper cooled. Go put on a pair of heels for him. That’ll keep him distracted while Charlie straightens his fingers and sets the bones.”

  Sassy hissed at her brother.

  “What? It’s true. That man loves nothing more than you in a pair of good heels. You didn’t think he bought all those shoes just because he’s disgustingly nice, did you? Underneath that disgustingly nice exterior is a sexually repressed man.”

  “Joe!”

  Sassy’s mother reached out and smacked the back of her son’s head. “Stop goading your sister. Dinner’s going to be late enough as it is, and we’ve guests in the living room.”

  “Sorry, ma’am,” Joe mumbled.

  “Move it! I’ve hungry mouths to feed sometime today.”

  Charlie put his hands on my shoulders, turned me around, and marched me towards the house. “I’ll take care of Aaron. We’re gonna need some time, Mom.”

  “Take all you need, Charlie. I’ll keep your supper warm, don’t you worry none. I suppose it’s a good enough thing I was running behind anyway, entertaining while doing the cooking.”

  I fled while I could.

  Maxwell, the DA, several other cops, and my parents joined in the dinner mayhem, and I waved my newly splinted hand at the unexpected guests. “If Joe gives me any more of those small pill
s, you’re going to have to write me up for drug use.”

  Maxwell sighed, Rob shook his head, and the other cops grinned. “What did you do to your hand?”

  “Punched a lycanthrope in the mouth. Seemed like a good idea at the time. Didn’t realize he had steel in his skull.”

  That caught the DA’s attention, and he arched a brow. “Lycanthropes tend to be durable, Aaron. Why did you punch a lycanthrope?”

  “He tricked me. Punching him seemed the only appropriate response, and I refuse to be sorry.”

  Sassy’s father stepped out of the house, and I spotted zero evidence he’d had a few of his teeth knocked out. “Early onset lycanthropy, a short temper, some drugs, and a good reason. We already cleaned up the mess.”

  “That explains why the grass is pink and glittery,” Rob admitted. “We’re sorry for interrupting you at dinner time, but when Maxwell told us about the truck, I thought it was worth a trip out here in person. Chief Braneni is on the way, too.”

  “You’re still involved with this case way too early. We don’t even have an actual suspect yet,” I complained. “You’re supposed to only annoy me when there’s an actual suspect.”

  “Remember what he just said about those small pills I gave him, Rob?” Joe said holding out his hand to shake with the DA. “I got that bottle directly from the hospital with a waiver from the CDC because he’s early onset.”

  “How early are we talking?” Maxwell asked.

  “With his temper as it is? Something’s going to either piss him off or startle him into shifting by the end of the week. I’ve already registered him with the CDC. I’ve got clearance for him to work on the force as he’ll be partnered with an experienced lycanthrope. We’ll work with him to teach him how to avoid spreading the infection. I’ve got a list of waivers, the documentation to send to his insurance company, and I got my hands on the licensing records to prove he wasn’t registering the virus a few months ago.”

  Rob rubbed his brow. “Well, Chief Braneni wanted to test lycanthropes. He’s getting exactly what he asked for. How long until he’s off the serious medications, Joe?”

  “I’ll fuse the bones in his hands after dinner, after which he’ll probably be keen on violating my sister in some fashion or another.”

  “Joe!” Sassy screeched, lunging for her brother.

  I hooked my left arm around her waist and hauled her to me. “No killing Joe. He holds the drug supply, and without those, I hurt.”

  While Sassy growled, she didn’t struggle in my hold. “That’s not fair, Aaron. He’s badmouthing you.”

  I would never understand women, but I wasn’t going to argue with her. Then again, what I had in mind wasn’t a violation but rather a mutually beneficial exploration of the benefits of clothing removal. “I’m not into any forms of violation, but I am keen on other things.”

  Joe rolled his eyes. “Don’t, Aaron. Please. She’s my sister.”

  “You shouldn’t have started it, then.” I gripped Sassy a little tighter so she wouldn’t try to kill any member of her family. “I’m hungry, Sassy. If you try to kill Joe, we miss supper.”

  “Aaron,” she complained.

  “I already broke my hand on your dad’s face. I don’t want to have to break my hand again on Joe’s face. He’ll stop wanting to treat me, and then you’ll be stuck hoping I don’t bleed to death.”

  Sassy stiffened. “Fine.”

  I released her. “It’s okay. I’m not even mad at the jackass. I’m just going to plan payback at an unexpected time and place.”

  “Let me help?”

  “Sure. But you can’t attack Joe or anyone else today.”

  “You got to,” she grumbled.

  “Extenuating circumstances.”

  “Still not fair.”

  “I’m hungry, Sassy. Have mercy.”

  “You’re a hungry whiner. Fine. I’ll delay my assault for when the DA and the cops aren’t watching.”

  I laughed. “Good idea. We’ll tag team the bastard later.”

  “That works.”

  As Maxwell, the DA, and the cops wouldn’t leave until I gave them what they wanted, I said, “I gave Joe permission to use his magic on me, and due to his military training, he’s adept at seeing through illusionary magic. He says the truck is red, had produce painted on the side, and had a different tag number than anything I remember—or that Mr. Chetty remembers.”

  “We ran the tags. The truck was reported stolen a day before the crash and is still missing. We’re going to be on the lookout for it, but it was probably scrapped to hide evidence.”

  “A junkyard would have to have noticed a transport coming in for scrapping,” I replied. “Call for angelic verification no transports were scrapped at the yards.”

  “We probably will,” the DA admitted. “You still think the truck was white?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know what I think, but I had Joe go through my memories up until the shooting, and we’re going to go over the pictures later. If they don’t match up, we might find something to help us pinpoint the killer. It lends credence to the idea this is a mercenary hit, a vengeance killing, or a cover up and not a standard serial killer.”

  “Aaron also figured out what one of the newspaper clippings might be referencing,” Sassy announced. “We checked articles from a victim’s birthday, and there was one about the victim’s mother. Tom Heatherow is in the background of the image the newspaper used, and the article implies she was pregnant and having a child. The layout leads me to believe they wanted to suggest Heatherow was the father.”

  The DA’s eyes widened. “That might justify the warrant needed to do a paternity test. Good work. Got anything else?”

  “Aaron had found that right before we took a break for dinner,” Sassy admitted. “We’re looking into it.”

  “Good. What do you need from us?” Maxwell asked.

  “Access to the original newspapers,” I admitted. “I was using the digital copies online, so I can’t verify if they match the font and style of the dates used. Were the fonts different between killings?”

  “Somewhat. We’ve established it’s from different newspapers, but we’re not sure which ones. We were looking at the dates listed, though, not fast-forwarding to the date of the child’s birth. That potentially opens a lot of possibilities.”

  “I’ll handle checking the newspapers. I’m stuck on bedrest for the next few days anyway. Mark is making contact with Sharon Gray to throw any unwanted visitors off her trail. We’re hoping Mark can play the part of an old acquaintance.”

  “Acquaintance?” Rob asked.

  “My brother’s a slut, Rob. Hell, for all I know, maybe he did sleep with her. I’m pretty sure he’s slept with half the women in Dallas.”

  “Right.”

  “He’ll find the whole thing a challenge, plus it’s something right up his alley. Frankly, it’s astonishing I’m not an uncle twenty times over yet.”

  Rob sighed. “Someone needs to lock him up.”

  “Or send notices to the fathers of young women that he’s more promiscuous than the average prostitute.” I considered my options, found little I could say or do about my brother’s reputation, and hoped he didn’t hear from anyone about my blunt admissions about his sex life. “It is what it is. If he can remove Miss Gray from the target list, I’m all for him using his slutty ways for our benefit.”

  The doorbell rang, and I turned towards the house. A moment later, Maxwell’s phone chimed.

  “That would be the chief,” Maxwell said before he checked to confirm on his phone. “Yep. It’s the chief.”

  Sassy’s father excused himself and went around the house to fetch the police chief while the rest of us settled at the picnic tables. While I expected the police chief, who carried a leather briefcase with him, I hadn’t expected Mark to be with him. My brother blew kisses at me.

  The temptation to show him my middle finger stirred, but I resisted the urge and waved him over. He detoured long enoug
h to kiss our mother’s cheek where she sat with Sassy’s mother, likely planning grandchildren.

  “How did you break your hand?”

  “Payback for my teeth,” I announced. “It was strangely satisfying.”

  “You broke your hand on Oliver’s face?”

  “Since when have you been on a first-name basis with Sassy’s father?”

  “Since forever. What got you to man up and take a swing at him?”

  “The lycanthropy virus made him do it,” Joe said. “He’s riled up. Don’t mind him, just don’t provoke him unless you want to sprout a fur coat in a few decades.”

  “No, but thanks for the offer. A severe case of lycanthropy would give me a severe case of monogamy. That’s so against my personal religion.”

  My mother sighed, and my father turned on the bench to arch a brow at Mark. “Is there something you’d like to tell us, son?”

  “I’m considering a job in prostitution so I can be paid for my good work.”

  One day, I’d understand why my brother wanted to give our parents a heart attack. “What brings you over, Mark?”

  “Work.”

  Chief Braneni took the seat across from me, chuckled, and made himself comfortable. “I asked him to come over so we can discuss the case and your future employment opportunities. I wasn’t expecting to see you adding to your injuries, however.”

  “Mr. Chetty’s face demanded rearrangement. Unfortunately, Joe undid my hard work, but I have to wait until after dinner to fix this mess.”

  “You need to learn how to punch properly, son.”

  “Yeah, I figured that out about the same time I broke two fingers on his face. Does the academy teach us how to punch people properly?”

  “No. As a general rule, we don’t punch civilians. We do try to keep all force used to reasonable levels, and we’ve found punching people in the face is bad for publicity.”

  Sassy coughed, likely to smother a snicker. “Aaron told me about the offer. It’s real?”

  “It’s real. I brought some papers for you to review. I got a call early about your condition, Aaron. Early onset lycanthropy?”

  “Yeah. That seems to be the case. Joe thinks I’ll be shifting by the end of the week.”