Murder Mittens

by R. J. Blain

  “It’s a convertible.”

  “You’re too damned old to be having a midlife crisis, Dad.”

  “My little kitten is mean today.”

  “Just give me the keys to your truck, please. Maybe I want to go find a mud puddle on the way and splash the truck through it.” Mud puddles made excellent excuses to clean out bloody evidence from the bed.

  “You’re going to return my truck filthy, aren’t you?”

  “I’ll wash your truck lovingly before returning him. I’ll even wash him by hand, and I’ll wax him and tell him sweet nothings in his ear. If you give me the keys without a fight, I’ll clean his interior, too. If you’re nice to me and hand over your lunch money, I’ll polish the chrome and do the tires while I’m at it.”

  My brother snickered and went back into the house. “Harri is here, and she’s stealing Dad’s truck.”

  I held out my hand for the keys and smiled. “I love you, Daddy.”

  He scowled but handed over the truck’s keys. I removed the keys to my piece of shit from my keychain, gave them a parting kiss, and handed them over. “Have fun trashing the asshole. Just make sure you clean out the glove box and the trunk before you go to town. Milo’s right. I don’t want a Toyota unless it’s their truck, because their trucks are pretty solid right now. But that’d have to be a new truck, and nobody can afford that. Get me something reliable with rust proofing.”

  “So, a Toyota.”

  Damn it. “Fine. I’ll deal with an antique Toyota, but I’m going to decorate it, and a t-rex will eat our stick family.”

  “You’d blow your entire budget getting the stickers needed if you tried that.”

  “That’s true. When are you having the next litter?”

  “Your ma’s two months in and happy as a clam, if you must know.”

  Damn. No wonder Dad had wanted me to come visit. At two months in, they would’ve gone to see a doctor within the past week or two. “Got a head count yet?”

  “There’s four of the little rascals, and she’s already picked out names.”

  After O came P, which meant my little brothers would be a matched set as usual. Knowing my parents, they’d pick the most common names they could think of to proudly carry on the family tradition. “Peter, Paul, Philip, and Patrick?”

  “I see you’ve been paying attention to how your momma likes to name our boys.”

  “I will be very unhappy if Philip isn’t actually a Paige.”

  “I’ll make sure your momma knows you want a sister named Paige.”

  “And if you get an entire litter of girls, they’re Paige, Patricia, Pamela, and Pandora.”

  My father laughed. “All right, little kitten. I’ll tell your momma you’ve named the girls should we have a litter of them this go around. Seems only fair you get a chance to name them, as you’ve told us many a time we failed you most bitterly when picking your name.”

  “Harri is a boy’s name, and my sisters deserve good names. But you can tell them what their boy names are if they want to use them, and then you’ll pay the legal fees to change them if they want.”

  “We did too good a job of raising you,” he grumbled.

  I pocketed his truck’s keys and waggled my fingers. “Lunch money.”

  Muttering curses under his breath, my father dug into his wallet and handed me a twenty. “We ran the ATM machine at the gas station clear out of money today, I’ll have you know.”

  I grinned. “Then you shouldn’t have used poor little Otis to have Uncle Henry attempt to dictate where I go on vacation.”

  “Yeah. He’s already prepared to be mugged. He pulled a hundred for you, and he’ll even let you fight him for it. I suggested you might need to work out your virus’s temper, as you’d sounded pretty riled up on the phone upon learning he tried to interfere with your vacation plans.”

  Sometimes, life could be nice to me. “Who’d he rob for that?”

  My father leaned close and whispered, “He’s handling contractors for the CDC, and they’re paying pretty well. Truth be told, he seeded a bunch of our wallets today as an apology, but don’t you be acting like you know that. Some of those suit wearers contributed extra, too. It seems we’ve all got a serious case of guilty conscience today, and we want you to have play money to go with your spa time.”

  While the lycanthropy virus could make a mess of things, it had its good points sometimes. “You know I was only going to shake people for a buck or two, right?”

  “We know. That’s why we handed in our change anywhere that’d let us swap out for twenties in town. You’ll just have to accept twenties, because that’s all we’ve got on us. Go start your shake down, little kitten. I recommend you start with Otis and the littles. They made us take them out to buy you some toys.”

  I loved my little brothers, who weren’t all that clear on how money worked; the appearance of toys meant money was doing okay in the family, and to them, nothing came above getting new toys. “You’ve had a busy hour.”

  “We divided and conquered. One of the toys is meant for grown-ups, and you can thank Uncle Henry for that one.”

  “What’s gotten into Uncle Henry?” Uncle Henry didn’t do nice. He would offer loans, and he’d give reasonable repayment plans, but he didn’t do nice. “It’s too early for Christmas. He does Christmas as early as October, and not a day sooner.”

  “Your birthday is coming up soon.”

  “In three months.”

  “How many months away from December is October?”

  Oh, right. Uncle Henry’s three-month rule applied to birthdays, too. “I acknowledge my stupidity and wish to be forgiven.”

  “That’s my kitten. You’re getting coal for your actual birthday, so you run on in and accept your presents now. Your brothers are getting coal, too. They deserve it.”

  I laughed at that. “What’d they do now?”

  “Mating season,” my father grumbled.

  “As evidenced by the fact Mother is pregnant again. And? We’re technically always in season, Dad. Our typical mating season is over. That was, oddly enough, around two months ago. In February and March. It’s now early May.”

  “And your twin brothers tend to go into season in late May to June, unlike your mamma, who likes following the more natural order of thing. She blames me.”

  Mom always blamed Dad for everything. “Just because my brothers lose all common sense in May and June doesn’t mean I have that problem.”

  I was a little liar, but as my virus was picky, my daddy’s nose never picked up on my mating season. As long as asshole lions named Sebastian didn’t cross my path and put up a fuss and roar, it didn’t matter if my virus got rowdy two months each year. When Sebastian came around, I had a purring problem, which led to more roaring until the lion ran away due to the frustration of a lynx taunting him. I enjoyed winning, and without fail, I won.

  I enjoyed hating the lion.

  The mention of mating season did remind me I needed to pick up a new bottle of my perfume when I reached Cincinnati; my old one had a spritz or two left and wouldn’t last through my chain of bounties. I had no idea how the CDC had done it, but it did a good job of confusing interested males and diverting their attention to elsewhere.

  I wondered if the perfume would work if I sprayed it in Sebastian’s face.

  “Harvey’s having that problem right now, and he’s having a particularly troublesome season.”

  I sucked in a breath and bounced on my toes. “Did he find a girl?”

  “She’s thinking about it.”

  I squealed, abandoned my father, and dove into the house. “Harvey, you mangey mutt, where are you?” In a five bedroom house, cramming in more than forty people meant someone occupied every inch of available space, and I needed to step over bodies on my way to the kitchen, the most likely place Hugh and Harvey would hide. “Come out, come out, Harvey. Daddy says you’ve been bothering a lady.”

  “I am not bothering her!” my brother replied from the di
rection of the kitchen.

  All right. I could get to the kitchen. It involved dodging a mix of men, mostly my brothers, but I could get there.

  Uncle Henry, who took tall and handsome to the extremes, waved from his spot sitting in the hallway, a hazard for anyone trying to reach the kitchen from the living room. I delayed from accosting my brother long enough to hold out my hand. “The contents of your wallet, sir. You’re a bad man, and you deserve to be mugged for your lunch money.”

  “This is more like your food budget for the entire time you’re in Cincinnati,” Uncle Henry complained, but he shifted his weight off his back pocket, retrieved his wallet, and handed me his cash. “I’ve learned my lesson. Please don’t kick me too hard.”

  I pocketed the money without counting it before jamming my toe into the side of his leg. As requested, I kept my kick on the softer side. “You can think about mugging my brothers for vacation money for a trip to Hawaii as a Christmas present, but this trip is to Cincinnati, and I won’t be tolerating any changes to my current vacation plans.”

  “I can work with that. You’re hard to shop for because you won’t usually accept presents. But you’ll accept presents from the little ones, so I abused my authority as your favorite uncle to utilize this loophole in the Uncle-Niece Relationship Contract.”

  Heaving a sigh, I nudged him with my toe again. “What did you buy, Uncle Henry?”

  “A laptop. You’re the only brat from this house over eighteen without one.”

  Technically, I had a laptop, but I made certain my family didn’t discover it, as I used it specifically for filing and claiming bounties. Having a computer that didn’t belong to my work would make my life a lot easier. “Really?”

  “Really. It’s a nice one, too. It made your fellow prisoners jealous.”

  I giggled over how Uncle Henry referred to Hugh and Harvey as my fellow prisoners. “Those jerks, evicting me from prison early. I could’ve used the few extra weeks.”

  “I heard that, Harri,” my mother complained from the kitchen. “My womb has not and never will be a prison.”

  “Tell that to the current inmates,” I shot back. “They better be girls this time, and I’ve already named them.”

  “Did you?” My mother, all five feet and zero inches of her, strolled out of the kitchen while dodging my brothers, who remained in various states of sprawled across the floor. “Did you discuss this with your father?”

  “He okayed my choices. If Philip isn’t a Philip, she’s a Paige, Patrick will be Patricia, Peter will be Pamela, and Paul will be Pandora.”

  With narrowed eyes promising vengeance, my mother looked me over. She, dressed in a frilly white and blue apron over a plain white farm dress, wouldn’t intimidate most folks, but I knew better.

  My momma was about to take a few chunks out of my hide for getting uppity.

  I braced for the worst.

  “I’m going with this on a single condition.”

  Yep, something was about to go down, and it wouldn’t end well for me. “What is your condition?”

  “You have a month. Bring home a man and make him a good one.”

  If I brought Sebastian home with me, the clan of lynxes would ensure he’d never bother me again. He’d also roar at least once before they took him down. He’d go down while I purred, and I saw zero problems with killing multiple birds with one stone. “What kind of man?”

  As long as she said lycanthrope or listed any decent qualification, I could probably jury rig it so Sebastian fit the bill.

  “One you hope to keep around, of course. What else use do you have for a man? If you can’t take him to bed, what would you do with one? All they do is complain, complain, complain.” My mother aimed a kick at Uncle Henry’s ribs, and he dove out of her reach. After a brief scuffle, he hid behind my legs. “I’ve never heard worse whining in my life before today, Harri.”

  Well, Sebastian might be useful in bed; he turned heads, and half the reason I enjoyed poking him with a stick involved sticking around to admire him while goading him. Roaring brought out his best attributes, and I bet any witnessing ladies would thank me if they learned I annoyed him on purpose. “Is that why I’m allowed to shake everybody down for their lunch money? Because honestly? I was expecting to be greeted at the door with an edict to pick my switch.”

  “You’re too pretty to switch,” my mother replied.

  My poor mother already suffered from pregnancy brain. Still, I could con the annoying lion into cooperating with me. All it would take was challenging his masculinity and courage to get him roaring and dancing to my tune. Making the inquiry would likely trip his trigger. How many times could I make the lion roar? Some games needed to be played, and I’d have a great time. “I will attempt to bring home a man, but I make no promises that my attempt will be successful. But I will make one genuine attempt to bring home a man while I am on vacation, presuming you keep all of the whining, infected males in your turf and away from my spa.”

  “Your brothers, father, and uncles will be thoroughly educated should they come within ten blocks of your spa.”

  “Five miles,” I countered, which would cover the entirety of planned hunting grounds in Cincinnati.

  “Very well. Five miles. Hear that, you wretches? You go within five miles of your sister’s spa, and there’ll be hell to pay. Now, get out your wallets and pay her off, and stop your damned whining already. Harri, darling, I’ve fried chicken in the kitchen for you for your drive, and so help me, if any of those monsters stole any of yours, they’ll live to regret it.”

  “I’ve been guarding her chicken, Ma,” either Hugh or Harvey replied from the kitchen.

  Damn them both, sounding, acting, and looking identical.

  “Thank you, Momma.”

  “I figured you could use a good meal, and that brother-in-law of mine was easy prey today. I told him if he was going to frame one of your little brothers to buy you a present, he’d butter you up with some proper fried chicken. Then I made him get enough to feed everybody.”

  “Did you clean the butcher out of chicken, Uncle Henry?”

  “I put in the order, and he laughed at me, and told me I may as well clean him out, as he’d only have four birds and some parts left over, so I did just that. It shouldn’t surprise me how fast so many cats can clean out a single butcher. If I’d been smart, I would’ve hit more than one, but I wasn’t. I’m still not sure how our little town keeps so many lycanthropes fed.”

  “We pay them to feed us,” my mother replied. “Now, pay the girl so she can hit the road with her chicken. She’s got a lot of driving to do.”

  “I promise I’ll clean the truck of any grease, Momma.”

  “Got him to give you the keys, did you? Good girl. What’d you have to concede to that old skinflint?”

  “He has the keys to my car. I already kissed them goodbye, as for some reason, I don’t think it’s going to survive.”

  “Good. It’s past its expiration date. Oh, Henry had something he wanted to talk to you about, so you let him fuss while I get your chicken ready. I made some tenders for you, too, so you can drive while you nibble. And don’t you go trying to eat the rest while you drive, missy. You can pull over and eat your fill like a civilized being.”

  “Yes, Momma,” I replied, aware she’d somehow figure out if I’d tried to gnaw on my favorite pieces of chicken while driving. The tenders would do a good job of keeping me amused until my virus demanded a proper feeding.

  My mother left, and I nudged Uncle Henry with my toe while my brothers got out their wallets and started gathering my lunch money. “What’s going on?”

  “There’s some new activity on the bounty hunter front, and this one’s targeting lycanthropes. The hunter has a pretty far range and has hits all over the United States. The CDC won’t tip me off on the name, gender, or race of the hunter, but this one targets lycanthropes in particular, and the CDC is looking for a handler. I’ve applied to be considered, and word on the wire is t
here’s a temp until a permanent one is found. I was given a warning due to being infected that I should drop a word to the clan, as this one will go after any lycanthrope guilty of ethics violations.”

  Crap. That sounded frighteningly familiar. “Ethics violations?”

  “Illegal or forced infections, illegal or coerced matings, violent crimes, and anything that warrants a kill bounty is their typical preference. While I have the code name, I’m not permitted to share it yet. I’ve only been authorized to notify everyone that the CDC has a bounty hunter who specializes in keeping us in line.”

  Yep, that definitely sounded familiar. “Momma would beat us if we even thought about breaking one of those rules, anyway. Why the warning?”

  “It’s a gentle reminder for the young lady and her brothers, all of whom are going into season this month.”

  I sighed. “Damn it, Uncle Henry. I’m not going to violate some man. And anyway, you know what happened the last time a man came sniffing around the house.”

  The poor bastard had seen my scarred face, yelped, and ran away.

  My brothers growled, a rather noisy affair with so many crammed into the same room.

  “There’s nothing wrong with you, Harri.”

  “I’m going to take your lunch money to pay for the consultation for scar removal.” The stack of twenties my brothers gathered would more than pay for the piddly fee, something they’d been trying to get me to do for years, unaware I had met my surgeon the day I’d escaped the house and moved into my own place over an hour away. “Then I won’t break mirrors or incite crying fits from the new kittens.”

  It usually took a few weeks for the kittens to get used to my mangled appearance.

  “You’re actually going to go?”

  “I may as well find out how much it costs to fix this disaster, and none of your bullshitting today, any of you. It’s a disaster. An in-season wolf saw my face, yelped, and ran away. When a virus-hopped lycanthrope is scared off, it’s bad. I’ve accepted this, so it’s time you all did, too. But I’m going to skim some of the lunch money for actual lunch, and then I’ll find some reputable doctor to tell me the damage. Which, unless there’s some super rich bastard among you all, I probably can’t afford, but at least I’ll know, right? Reminder: I work customer service for a cable company. I am not Mr. Fancy Attorney.”