Murder Mittens

by R. J. Blain

  “Your lion wants to take care of you, and it seemed wrong to deny him of such an opportunity. And anyway, you don’t get catch your colds until the end of your mating season. During it, you’re just a hormonal tyrant. Had we known how serious your lion was about taking you home with him, we would have bought him some presents to show our gratitude.”

  My face flushed. “Damn it, Alan.”

  “What? It’s only fair to warn him what he’s getting into. He’s not a lynx, but he dresses well. Uncle Henry confirmed he makes his own suits, so basically, he’s perfect for you, and we can’t argue against perfection.”

  I eyed my lion. “My brothers seem to have developed a crush on you. What were you doing in the house? How did you seduce them all into adoring you? What dark magic have you been doing to my family?”

  Sebastian chuckled. “No dark magic was required. I took videos of you purring in your sleep after I tucked you in at night, and I took pictures of when you were having a good time at the spa. As you have them all wrapped around your finger, I scored some serious future brother-in-law points. I simply planned to dodge a beating, as I’d rather not be beaten. Will I fight? Absolutely. I’m a lion. But if I can avoid the fight and save the fighting for something worth fighting over, I will.”

  “We’re not sure about this whole marriage thing, but if his only flaw is a desire to be trapped in unholy matrimony, we can cope with that,” Alan stated in a rather serious tone. “He also came armed with advice on how to approach uninfected women without automatically eliminating ourselves from the dating pool. He’s smart, Harri. You know us. We like smart.”

  I could see Sebastian being good at that, and considering how many of my brothers had fancy degrees, they did like smart people. “You do realize you did not have to dodge having a love life because I’m hopeless, right? You all are idiots.” I peeled the remaining chains off my car, careful not to bang the links into it. Sebastian helped, and it was his idea for all of us to lift the entire canvas tarp up, move it, and dump the chains on the ground.

  It worked, and Sebastian folded the tarp while I attacked the paper.

  I tore off the wrapping to uncover a cherry red convertible, and I frowned, trying to figure out how I’d wiggled under it, as it rode low to the ground. Puzzled, I inspected the tires, then the ground, and got on my hands and knees, patting at the undercarriage, which somehow seemed high enough for me to fit underneath it. “What sorcery is this?”

  My brothers snickered, and either Alex or Andrew crouched beside me, pointing at the mags. “We put your car up on blocks, but we recruited the troublemakers of the fifth litter to layer on some illusions so it looked proper. We stayed away so we wouldn’t accidentally reveal the nature of the illusion.”

  “Okay. That’s cool.” I did a walk around, purring at the Corvette’s iconic body, although from the shape, they’d gotten a fairly new Corvette—or a brand new one. I couldn’t tell.

  Corvettes were well outside of my area of expertise, although I knew enough about them to recognize one when I saw it.

  As I would find some way to trash my new car without being able to see through the illusion, I handed my keys to Alan. “I demand this be brought down to its proper level by someone who can actually see what they’re driving. Fix this! I must cuddle with it, and I must cuddle with it now.”

  Alan lifted his hand to his mouth and let out a piercing whistle. “Elijah! Come move your sister’s car. Also, we may as well open a path for her. She’s going to want to take that lion off with her sometime tonight.”

  “Yes, I plan on taking my lion off somewhere tonight. But I have to mark my territory first.” I rubbed my hands together and admired the Corvette. “Who’d you mug to get this? It’s pretty. This is really pretty. This is the prettiest car to have ever prettied. Is it really mine?”

  “It’s really yours. We didn’t mug anyone. We had Uncle Henry buy it, and we set up a loan with him to pay him back. He’ll sign off the title and everything, but right now, you’re on his insurance for it. You are not permitted to reject this car, nor are you allowed to indulge in guilt. Yes, we bought it new. We hope you like red, because this was one of two Corvettes anywhere near us, so we picked this one because we thought you’d like it better than the black one, which wasn’t as nice as this one.”

  While black was fine, red was fun, and I needed fun. “Sebastian, get naked and pose against my car. That’s the only way this is getting better.”

  “No.”

  I pouted at him. “Please?”

  “If I get naked, your brothers will be struck down with an overwhelming sense of inadequacy. As I happen to like your family, I don’t want to hurt so many of them at one time.”

  Unable to help myself, I laughed. “But I like you naked.”

  “You can help me out of my suit when we get to our hotel for the night.”

  “Get the stuff, load the car, we’re leaving,” I announced.

  “Your mother is making fried chicken, and I believe she expects us to eat before we leave.”

  Only a fool angered my pregnant mother or refused to eat her chicken, no matter how creative she got with the spices. “Okay. We eat, and then we flee. I need naked lion time.” I ran for the house to take a shower, as the only way I’d be able to get naked lion time was if I hurried up and shoveled as much of my mother’s chicken as I could stomach into me before I left. With luck, someone had taken her saffron, but I’d cope if I needed to eat creatively spiced chicken. Somehow.

  Dressed in one of my old, worn pairs of sweats, I helped my mother finish dinner while Sebastian entertained the rest of my family. Instead of saffron, my mother had gone for the throat, using cinnamon, chili, and curry to create a tongue-incinerating dish I’d need several weeks to recover from. Fortunately, she understood she made a hellish concoction, as she’d recruited Uncle Henry to buy out the local stores of milk, yogurt, and anything else that might cut the heat to tolerable standards.

  Sebastian loved it, and long after the rest of us had waved the white flag of surrender, he devoured the leftovers.

  My mother regarded Sebastian in disapproval. “You were supposed to breathe fire so we could laugh at you.”

  The lion chuckled, and while I wanted to flop across the dining room table, he snagged me around the waist and pulled me to him before I could indulge. “My father loves spicy food. Our strain of lycanthropy is from the northern part of Africa, and most of us develop a love for a lot of spice. My mother claims it’s a genetic fault, as she doesn’t like spicy food that much. Not even the virus can conquer her tongue, apparently. But all of us children of hers? Obsessed with all things spicy. The hotter, the better.”

  “What species of lion are you?” Uncle Henry asked, and as one of the older adults, he’d gotten to eat at the table rather than wherever a spot could be found. “I’ve seen your lion form before, but I wasn’t sure what kind you are. You don’t look like a regular lion. You’re, well, bigger. Even for a lycanthrope.”

  Damn. Uncle Henry had seen Sebastian in his lion form? How rude. I stared up at my mate with a scowl. “What were you doing shifting for Uncle Henry?”

  “Fighting him, of course.”

  Of course. Right. Because it was natural for a lion and a lynx to fight each other. “At work?”

  “Yes. We were training, and the CDC likes watching different species brawl. It’s good for us to work out our tempers. Single male lycanthropes can be surly, and sanctioned fighting helps keep us a little more sociable. For the record, I always win.”

  My uncle sighed. “Well, yes. You’re huge. Thank you for not beating my family within an inch of their lives, because I know full well you can.”

  My entire family eyed Sebastian with interest.

  “I don’t mind a mock fight after we come back from our trip,” the lion replied. “It’s good exercise and practice. But to answer your question, we’re Barbary lions. Some call us Atlas lions. Outside of the lycanthropes, we’re extinct except in zoos, and
it’s unlikely the population will recover, although conservatory breeders are trying to help the species. They actually monitor our general behavior to see how they can improve conditions for the lions and if there are any breeding pairs that might be able to survive in the wild. They’re not at that point yet, but the goal is to release twenty breeding pairs into the wild in the future. Unfortunately, there’s not that many lions left, so it’ll be a while. And genetic diversity is an issue.”

  “I seem to have caught an endangered species. Nice.” I debated taking a nap on Sebastian. “Are you full yet? I want to take my new car out for a spin, and we have to head off to the next spa. And I have presents to unwrap tonight in our room.”

  “Presents implies you’ll unwrap more than one. You are not good at unwrapping more than one.”

  “I’m going to try for two, but I’m expecting to be rewarded for stepping outside of my comfort zone.”

  “You are such a cat,” Sebastian informed me before dislodging me from his person and getting to his feet. “Tell your family goodbye while I load the car?”

  “Sounds like a plan. Goodbye, family! I am running away now.” I got up, grabbed my lion by his suit jacket, and held on in case the mob of brothers swarmed me and tried to make me stay longer. “I love you, please do not check in with me for at least a week, and I’ll let you know when I’m moving on to the next spa, where I’ll spend an entire week whining I have to send my lion back to work. Also, I’m quitting my job and finding one that won’t drive me to homicide. I’m relying on the lion to feed me until I find a new job. You can help me move for Christmas. That is a present. Helping me move is like twenty presents, at least.” I tugged on Sebastian. “You could give them your house keys and address, and they could move all of my stuff into your house. Then I can call my landlord and move out. I’m month-to-month. Then they can make sure my place is okay, too. I’m a defenseless woman, I’m not sure I can handle such horrible tasks.”

  Sebastian twisted around, stared at me, and raised a brow. “You just hate moving.”

  “Passionately.”

  Shaking his head and grinning, Sebastian pulled out his keys, pulled off two fobs, a car key, and a house key, and he handed them to my uncle. “The dark blue fob controls the alarm system, the other one will get you into the garage, and that key will get you into the house through the garage. My piece of shit is so old it doesn’t have an alarm system. However, it’s mostly sound, so if one of the kittens learning to drive wants to work on fixing it up, they can have it, just send me insurance information on the kid so I can add them until I can transfer it. It would make the Corvette faint from shock and horror.”

  Uncle Henry took the keys. “I’ll make sure everything gets moved safe and sound, Harri. Have a good time, and if you indulge in any behavior that might result in a litter of kittens, try not to kill your lion. We’re not sure if he’s lynx tough yet.”

  Sebastian chuckled. “She hasn’t won an arm wrestling match against me yet, so there’s some hope for my survival.”

  “Never underestimate a lynx during mating season,” my uncle warned.

  “I’ll try not to do that.” Sebastian slipped out of his jacket and left me to my family, who converged before I could escape. “I’ll get the car ready while you tell your family goodbye properly.”

  “You are a very bad man, Sebastian Sumners!”

  Thirteen

  I fail to see how this is revenge.

  The Corvette drove like a dream. The engine growled, purred, and did everything I expected a sporty car to do, and when I hit the gas—or the brakes—the car meant serious business. I almost pitied Sebastian, who handled my exploratory driving with grace, punctuated with alarmed although infrequent hisses.

  Everything we needed for the week fit into the trunk, including my prized box of cheese and other goodies. A few extra presents from my family had also found their way into the vehicle.

  “Are you hissing at me because I’m learning this car doesn’t need me to apply my full bodyweight to the brake in order to get the damned thing to stop? Because honestly, I had to, and it was getting pretty unsafe to drive. It didn’t understand how to go well, either. I’ll get used to it, I promise. By the time we get to Chicago, I will be a master of every road I see, zipping along in my pretty red Corvette.”

  “I’m hissing because I gave your family the keys to my house, and my bedroom has a shameful number of your pictures just about everywhere. Fortunately, none of the pictures implicate you in bounty hunting, but there is one where you were wearing some fuckwit’s blood, and I forget about it. And I don’t have my spare keys with me. I have to go back to work to get them out of my office.”

  Crap. “Which fuckwit?”

  “One of the ones who wanted you to be their mate and didn’t want to give you an option in the matter. Your violent refusal offered me hope, as earlier that week, you’d spent an entire hour with me in a coffee shop talking business, and you only hissed at me once. I got several purrs out of you that day.”

  Oh. That fuckwit. “Yeah. He was a wolf. It’s fine. I’ll just tell the bastards I gave you the picture as a challenge or something. With my makeup skills? They’ll believe it’s fake blood. You should see what I do for Halloween. Once, I showed up with no face, just exposed bone and flayed muscle and blood. I made people faint. It was amazing. Once I finished laughing, I stole their candy, wrote messages in lipstick on their foreheads, and had a great time. They got revenge, but I’d gotten them so damned good it was worth tolerating.”

  “Dare I ask what sort of revenge they got on you?”

  “They filled my fridge with cans of whipped cream. That’s it. Just cans of whipped cream. They stole my food and replaced it with whipped cream. One of them took mercy on me and left some hot chocolate out. I had to go bum food off my mother for a week because they cleaned the whole place out, and I was between paychecks. They knew this, too. They waited for a slim week to get their revenge. It was also in the middle of January.”

  “I fail to see how this is revenge.”

  “Well, I had to go to my parents’ place every day several times a day if I wanted food, but the hot chocolate with whipped cream part of that week? Quite nice, actually. I gained five pounds, but I was a little thin anyway.”

  “So, you’re saying, their version of revenge was treating you with something you like but making you go home for a week to be properly fed?”

  “When you phrase it like that, it was a very odd choice of revenge. I did like it more than I should have.”

  “We’re going to have rules in our house, Wells. One of those rules involves you eating a proper diet. I will feed you by hand if I must.”

  “You just signed up to spend a ridiculous time feeding me, Mr. Mane. Will you drag me home if I’m late for dinner?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “It’s good to be me. Just don’t let me get fat. I need to be in good shape to hunt idiots.”

  “I can work with that condition.” Sebastian stretched. “They didn’t joke around on your new car. I had no idea Corvettes were this nice. I didn’t really put them in upper end luxury sports car territory, but this feels like a luxury sports car.”

  “It’s fun to drive, but I’m really not used to how responsive it is. I feel like I’m driving a cloud, and it’s disconcerting. Have you ever driven a luxury sports car before?”

  “A few times. I don’t own one because I know how much they cost to maintain. I’m guessing your family checked into the maintenance costs and figured you’d be able to afford the bills—or your uncle would be footing the bills while your family pays him for them.”

  “And unbeknownst to them, I can afford my own bills.”

  “Right. Still, I’m pretty impressed with your family. They have a really streamlined process of feeding the whole family, although I’m a little shocked your mother tried to wipe everybody out with spicy fried chicken. And how enthusiastic you all were about making all that chicken disappear.”r />
  “We love fried chicken. We love spicy food even more than we love fried chicken. We love when our fried chicken is spicy. Unfortunately, we’re weak, weak felines, and we cry when we eat spicy food.” I sighed. “But it was so good. But so hot.”

  “My spicy dishes are about twice as hot, Wells.”

  “You are cooking for me the instant we get home. And you will provide milk for me. In exchange, I will purr for you.”

  “Perhaps I should have just told your brothers to make sure they can cook and clean. That would have a lot of women knocking on their doors. If you want me to cook for you, I’ll cook for you. If you can’t cook, you will learn. Or at least learn enough to not starve if I have to go on a business trip and can’t take you with me. But if you can’t cook, you will learn.”

  “I can handle basic survival on my own, but I suspect I do not cook up to your standards.”

  “It doesn’t have to be up to my standards, you just have to be competent.”

  “I am barely competent. So, Chicago. Where am I taking us tonight?”

  “There is a nice hotel about two hours from here, and I’ve already gotten a reservation. I did it while you were unwrapping your car. I’ll admit, I indulged. This is my first vacation in a while, and I tend to be rather frugal. I also get paid bonuses like your uncle does on bounty handling, and I take on some bounties directly, but I tend to work specialty jobs. Although you’ve become a bit of a specialist.”

  “At what? Going into coffee shops, waiting for the asshole I want to take out to come in and start something, and beating him into submission? If so, I’m definitely a specialist.”

  “I’m really hoping you’re going to use a different tactic on this job.”

  “I absolutely am not going to use a different tactic. That’s how he operates. I’m going to use a temporary microchip, trackers in my clothes, my purse, and so on, and have you handle the tracking portion of my adventure while I set myself up to be the latest addition to his little black book of death. I’m also going to put in a request for any tricks the CDC has on resisting mind-altering substances and temporary immunities to pixie dust. While I’m doing that, I want you to check the local black markets for repeat buyers of top-grade pixie dust.”