Murder Mittens

by R. J. Blain

  As far as negotiations went, we both won, and I could easily imagine my entire family having a catastrophic meltdown should a lion make me purr to that degree. “That better not just be some threat. If that is not a promise, I’m warning you now that there is nothing worse than a lynx caught in the throes of utter and complete disappointment.”

  Sebastian chuckled, and he circled the truck to the passenger’s side, climbing inside. On my way to the driver’s side, I checked on my excessive collection of yarn, sewing supplies, and everything I needed to craft my way to heaven. “I owe you for my share of this.”

  “You owe me nothing, but I will accept positive attention. I have decided your share of the bill is that I must be present when you’re crocheting or quilting, and it’s better if you do your work while near me. I am a lion, and lions require a great deal of attention. I am a lonely lion, so you have to pay extra attention to me. If you do not have a couch sufficient for two lycanthropes who are engaged in crafting activities, I will change that. Or I will bring rope, and I will enjoy your struggles while I tie you up to my satisfaction and drag you to your new home, after which I will recruit the lynx clan to move your things into the space I have chosen for you to live. I have already begun planning my takeover of the lynxes. This plan is exceptional, especially when they come to fruition. I get the woman, and I get control of an entire clan of moody cats. I will become a king of the jungle in an unconventional way. Bonus, I suspect lynxes do not have the general restrictions on number of children lionesses tend to come prepackaged with.”

  The disturbing possibility of having gotten my ass kicked by the wolf I was supposed to brutally murder kicked in. I pinched myself, and it hurt as expected. I triple-checked the present vehicles, which by number and type implied somebody had died.

  “Well, my mother gets upset when there aren’t kittens under her feet tripping her up, and the latest litter has gotten old enough she violated my poor father for more kittens. I do not think my father minded being used and abused for more kittens.” I hesitated, considering his threat—or promise. Hopefully promise. “Can I demand you must bring the rope? Because honestly, moving sucks, and the only way I’m moving is if someone forces me to move. And if my brothers do all the moving parts I don’t like while I get to struggle, this sounds like moving won’t be as bad as it usually is.”

  “We’re lycanthropes, Wells. If you want rope and a struggle, I’m happy to provide the rope and will thoroughly enjoy your struggles. And I’m tired of being a good, patient lycanthrope, and I can’t help but notice you have not rejected me or ejected me from your personal space.”

  “I have a week worth of spa and bounty hunting ahead of me, during which you can convince me I should investigate all ways of making you roar. But I’m not giving up annoying you into making you roar during business hours. That makes it worth putting up with you when I’m working.”

  “If I had known all I needed to do to keep and hold your attention was roar at you, I would have yanked your tail a little more before indulging you, to make you properly earn those roars. Then again, I probably would have caved early, as a cranky Wells is a lot more of a pain in the ass than a purring one.”

  “For the record, I will be purring while my brothers try to kick your ass, but then I’ll go from purring to snarling and yowling as soon as they do kick your ass. We’re cats. And I mean, we’re really cats.”

  “As you did an excellent job of subduing your target without injury to yourself, I have decided you can pick what you have for dinner for two nights. Truth be told? That was flawless.”

  I showed him where I’d poked my finger. “I did cut myself.”

  “You were testing the shears for their viability as a murder weapon, and it would be wrong of me to use that against you. I realized I gave you an unfair option, as you might have wanted great chicken instead of steak. But really, pick what you want. You did that job as cleanly as I could ask for. Actually, I thought you were gonna dance around the point for a while before killing him.”

  “I had the shears, she gave me the code, he matched my intel on him, so I saw no reason to give him a chance to surprise me. He deserved it, although he got off a lot lighter than he should have for being such an asshole.”

  “Well, it looked like you probably severed his spine with your first hit. I wasn’t really sure why you decided to stab him so many more times, but I’m giving you full points for being thorough.”

  “I wasn’t sure of the kill with the first hit, so I kept hitting him until I was sure of the kill.” I gestured to my wet shirt. “I got chicken all over my shirt when my parents inevitably ask why my shirt is wet. But because my shirt is wet, dinner should probably be takeout or fast food. We can do something nice on the way to the spa—or once we get to the spa. It’s a lycanthrope-friendly spa.”

  “Will your shirt still be wet by the time we get to your parents’ place?”

  Hmm. “I really don’t know. But I would totally wash my shirt in a bathroom sink because I got chicken grease on it, so they won’t think twice about it.”

  “Or lycanthrope blood.”

  “Chicken grease, lycanthrope blood… close enough.”

  As I didn’t want to shame myself or Sebastian with my wet shirt problems, we hit up a fast food joint and got enough to tame our stomachs before heading to my parents’ house, arriving a little before midnight. We could have gotten there faster, but I had needed an hour to convince myself to finish the final twenty minutes of the drive.

  “This is the first time you’ve brought someone home to see the family,” the lion guessed when I pulled into the driveway and parked the truck at the end of the line of vehicles, of which there were many. “Honestly, I’m surprised there aren’t more cars and trucks here.”

  “A lot of the litters share vehicles, especially the ones who are just learning to drive. It keeps costs of insurance somewhat down. And my brothers end up having to buy their own vehicles. It’s expensive enough feeding the dependent kittens. Anyway, my family usually brings men home to meet me, they run away because of my face, and I pretend I don’t cry or get mad, somebody gets beaten, and it goes to hell in a hurry. If you’re carrying the sewing machine, you’ll live longer.”

  Sebastian chuckled, got out of the truck, and headed for the bed.

  After some debate, I left the yarn and quilting supplies in the cab and went to help him free the stand, which I would carry, as it would help lengthen my lifespan, too.

  Every light in the house was on, and I bet the only reason a stampede of brothers wasn’t running out involved my dad growling a threat of death and murder should they swarm me.

  Them swarming me led to one inevitable outcome: a cat fight partnered with a hissy fit. The hissy fit usually outlasted the actual fight, but the last thing I needed was to spend until the wee hours of the morning hissing at the entire clan for being, well, cats.

  It took us ten minutes to free the stand and ease it off the bed without damaging it, and I took over carrying it while Sebastian freed the precious Singer from its carry box and carried it in his arms. “All right. I’m ready. Hopefully the sewing machine will discourage my outright assassination.”

  “It will, or I’ll be destroying them all with my sewing machine and making them pay the obscene amounts to repair it.”

  “I just thought you should know that’s blatantly flirting with me, Wells.”

  Damned lion. “If I walk out of this with any substantial bruising, as I absolutely will fight with every last one of the bastards if they get mad I brought home a lion, you will owe me.”

  “Do I owe you dinner, pampering, a calmer trip to a yarn store, or all of the above?”

  “All of the above. I’m greedy, and I don’t want to choose between those options.”

  “You’re hardly greedy. Wells, you’ve never once asked for a raise. Not once.”

  I stopped and stared at him. “That’s an option?”

  “And I’ll be making sure I prompt yo
u as appropriate for you to ask for raises,” the lion muttered. “When your uncle asks how we met, just tell him we met at a coffee shop, and that you would go for a rare indulgence getting coffee because the shop offers catnip for a fraction of the price of pixie dust.”

  As I’d forced him to meet me at a coffee shop for our first meeting to get through it without wanting to claw his face off because he was male, lycanthrope, and in my territory, I chuckled. “Not even a ghost of a lie on that one, but it was hot chocolate. I even got my first roar out of you in like ten minutes flat. And the baristas didn’t even care.”

  “One of the baristas at that shop is a lioness, and she’s related to me on my mother’s side. It is friendly towards cranky lions, which was why I had suggested that you meet me at that specific shop. She was rather surprised you’d gotten a roar out of me.”

  I regarded him with a frown. “Really? But you roar often.”

  “I roar often for you. I roar significantly less often for anyone else. I was using my nose, Wells. You smelled miserable, and when you started to annoy me, and I allowed my annoyance to show, you got progressively more lively and no longer smelled as miserable. I gave you a roar to see what you would do, and you flat-out purred at me. And then caught yourself and stopped purring, but I had you figured out from the start. I should be more concerned than I am that someone finds making me miserable is enjoyable, but I am a lycanthrope.”

  “You are such a lion.”

  “I really am. I’m shameless, too. Assuming this goes well and we get through our upcoming activities unscathed, I’ll take you to meet my family. You will be encouraged to beat the snot out of all of them.”

  “That is the greatest pitch ever, Mr. Mane. Come meet my family. Or meat them. How would you like your family served?”

  He chuckled. “Thoroughly tenderized but still kicking.”

  “Bold preparation choice, Sumners.” Giggling over the idea of taking out an entire pride of lions, I hauled my sewing machine’s stand to the front door, and as I didn’t have a free hand, I yowled, “Open up, you furry freaks. And don’t you dare scratch my baby.”

  My father opened the door. “You do realize it’s midnight, right? Don’t wake the neighbors.”

  “Dad, we screech and yowl at each other at night often. They’re used to weird sounds coming from here. Someone screaming to open up is tame compared to our normal.” I set the stand for my sewing machine down and gestured to it. “Marvel at its beauty.”

  “It’s a desk.”

  “No, Dad. It’s a stand for a vintage 1901 Singer. My new pet lion is carrying the Singer, and he has joint custody rights to it.” I moved the stand so Sebastian could join me. “Dad, this is Sebastian. He is a lion. He is my new pet lion. He made his suit, Dad. He made it. Then we went to a yarn store, and we found this Singer.” I bounced on my toes and waited for Sebastian to ease the sewing machine into place. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

  My father didn’t even give the sewing machine a cursory glance, instead eyeing Sebastian from head to toe. “I’m going to require proof you can sew, son.”

  “I haven’t used the Singer yet, but if you have a modern machine and the fabric, I’m sure I can put together something for you to demonstrate I do have the ability to sew as claimed.”

  “He helped me pick yarn, Dad.”

  “That doesn’t mean he can sew, my little kitten.”

  “He helped me pick yarn, Dad,” I repeated through clenched teeth.

  Sebastian chuckled, reached over, and flicked my hair out of my face. “If it makes him happy, I’ll sew something. How about a pillow? Those are quick and easy, and you can claim it as your territory and beat someone with it. I’ll make it extra durable for said purpose, and I’ll make sure you have a good place to grip it. It won’t take long, and he can see I’m a man of my word.”

  “Put a few books inside so it has some heft,” I muttered.

  “How about a pouch for a book so when you’re taking your new pillow somewhere with you, you can put the book inside. And use it as an unconventional weapon. And when you’re not using it for carrying a book, it’s good for ice or heat packs.”

  “Sold,” I announced. “Go sew me a pillow with a fancy pouch. Dad, show him the sewing machine, and as punishment for making him sew a pillow at midnight, you must provide me with some ice cream. And since Sebastian will be busy sewing, none of you cats will touch a hair on his head.”

  Sebastian chuckled. “Had I known there was going to be a sewing test, I would have gotten supplies while we were at the store. You don’t have to defend me from your family, Harri.”

  “Come on, Sebastian. You’re basically the only lycanthrope male on the planet I have any interest in defending. My brothers? I just make some popcorn when they get into fights. Give me my moment in the sun. Or beneath the moon, as apparently, the sun has gone to bed.”

  The lion chuckled. “Okay. If doing that makes you happy, you can defend my fragile male ego while I introduce myself to the sewing machine and make you a pillow.”

  In normal households, I bet the lion would have been mocked to a near-death state. My family eyed the interloping male with interest. I joined eyeing the interloping male with an equal blend of scholarly interest and a healthy dose of lust. Most male lycanthropes would fight to the death before even thinking about being defended by a female. Of any species. At least all the male lycanthropes I knew, in and out of my family.

  At the rate the lion kept talking, I’d end up dragging him into the spa through any means necessary, where I’d use him to educate myself on how best to have my way with a man.

  Then, because life couldn’t go my way for once, my uncle joined my father, caught sight of Sebastian, and stammered something before recovering enough to ask, “Sebastian? You’re her manly lycanthrope?”

  If I went to the kitchen to fetch popcorn, I’d miss the fireworks, so I stayed put and prepared myself to defend the precious sewing machine from two male lycanthropes duking it out.

  “You know each other?” my father asked.

  “Mr. Sumners works with Interpol, although he also works with the CDC. He’s a liaison, but the part about him working with Interpol is important.”

  Of all the things my uncle could say, he fixated on Sebastian’s liaison status with Interpol? Was he unaware of Sebastian’s other work with the CDC, FBI, and basically every law enforcement agency worth notice? Then again, Interpol made a good cover for the lion.

  The only drugs my family appreciated were catnip, pixie dust, and alcohol, and we used them in legal fashions. Usually.

  I wouldn’t tell the lion about the illegal fashions cats might mix catnip and pixie dust when at home, and at absolute worst, it counted as a minor misdemeanor. Could anyone really blame a clan of lynxes from indulging in catnip and pixie dust at the same time?

  We purred, as once we mixed catnip and pixie dust, we rarely could do anything other than purr.

  Sebastian grinned and held his hand out to my uncle, who played nice. “Hopefully, that counts as a good thing today.”

  “Only if you aren’t stealing my thunder. Again. It’s bad enough when Interpol comes knocking because one of my hunters has a case that is found to be linked with your work. But to run off with my niece?”

  “Proud lions deserve only the best.”

  Had I hit Sebastian in the head sometime after coaxing a few roars at him? Had he hit his head while roaring? I considered him through narrowed eyes. “The best at what, precisely?”

  “Testing my patience,” he replied.

  As that was true, I shrugged. “Right. You’re a masochist. I keep forgetting that. It’s not my fault you have a spectacular roar. Dad, tell him roars are a mandatory part of maintaining my good health.”

  My dad turned and bellowed, “Betty? Are you really sure this girl is actually ours?”

  Sebastian picked up the precious sewing machine and took several steps back. Then, with a thoughtful expression, he abandoned the porch entire
ly and headed for the relative safety of the parked cars and trucks littering the front lawn. My uncle grabbed the Singer’s stand and likewise got out of the way. As I valued my life, I hopped off the porch and backed away until I was out of range of my brothers.

  It took five long seconds for my brothers to comprehend what my father had said, and with ear-piercing yowls, they converged on him. Some transformed. Others went for my father’s throat with their bare hands. My twin brothers sprouted ears, which turned back while they battled to join the fray.

  “I see some of your brothers have preliminary hybridism,” Sebastian said with interest. “Do I want to know which litter they’re from?”

  “Those two idiots are Hugh and Harvey, and they’re about to get their asses handed to them by my daddy.” Even with all of my brothers ganging up on him, my father would emerge the victor, and if my mother wasn’t already pregnant with the next litter, she would be at high risk of pregnancy afterwards.

  Lynxes. I heaved a sigh and bowed my head. “We should have just taken the Singer to my place.”

  “But then it wouldn’t be guarded by a dedicated clan of lynxes,” the lion replied. “I’m sure they’ll come to their senses eventually. Cats always come to their senses eventually. We might be here a while, though. Judging from their names, Hugh and Harvey must be from your litter.”

  “The excess exposure to estrogen in the womb must have done them in.”

  Sebastian headed for my father’s truck and put the sewing machine back inside the cab in its box. “You may as well put the stand in the bed, Henry. It should be safe enough there until they settle down. While I had been expecting a fight, honestly, I’d expected them to be fighting with me. If they want to fight with each other while I watch, I’m quite all right with this. I never thought meeting her family would be this entertaining, though. Had I known how entertaining this would be, I would have pushed sooner. I’m getting one hell of a woman and good entertainment out of this deal.”

  “There are medications for your delusions,” I informed Sebastian. “However, I’m delaying any treatments until it’s too late for you to get away.”