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 direction 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?”