“I resemble that remark,” Jace called from the kitchen.
“You better be guarding my chicken, Jace.”
“I am. It’s safe. Otis is whining, but he hasn’t taken any.”
“Give him a drumstick for coercing Uncle Henry into buying me a laptop.”
Jace laughed. “I’ll give him one of my drumsticks. That’ll be part of my contribution to today’s fun. I’m also mugging everyone in the kitchen for your money, and I’ll add you to one of my credit cards if you need gradual treatments. You can pay me back with reasonable interest.”
“You’re the one who told me attorneys don’t make all that much. What gives?” I considered abandoning my uncle for going into the kitchen and holding my interrogation of my brother at a reasonable volume. “You can’t afford that.”
“I’m doing pretty well for myself right now. I’m representing older lycanthropes now, and some of those older lycanthropes have a lot of money kicking around, as they haven’t attempted to raise their state’s average number of children per household on their own.”
My father dodged my brothers, who passed around money without bothering to get up from their spots. He patted my back and kissed my temple. “Just let Jace help, little kitten. Uncle Henry can help, too.”
“If I am given a few extra pieces of chicken, I will consider it.”
My mother laughed from the kitchen. “I’ll make sure you’re fed, little kitten. Don’t you worry yourself about that.”
Knowing my mother, she’d send me off with an entire picnic basket loaded with fresh fried chicken. Knowing me, I’d make it a few miles before I pulled over and participated in a feeding frenzy. Food tamed my virus, and if my brothers were sniffing after a mate, I’d heed the warnings and gorge until my virus didn’t care so much about finding an appropriate feline male. “Anything else about this bounty hunter, Uncle Henry? You’ve never really mentioned much about them unless one has done something interesting.”
“This one is interesting, because this one gives almost no warning before accepting a bounty, gets the job done in record time, and vanishes before any of the handlers can catch up. So, limited people know who this hunter is, and it’s driving me a little crazy. I’ve room for a new hunter in my roster, and this one would bring good money to the table.”
Ugh. Right. Bounty hunters with a handler made a lot more, but their handler took a slice of the profits in exchange for helping general operations. If I was the bounty hunter my uncle discussed, I’d be upgraded to more dangerous but profitable jobs, and I’d be able to cut my time to earn enough money to fix my face to months rather than years if I landed a good job.
I loved Uncle Henry, but we wouldn’t get along on the bounty hunter front.
He’d tell my daddy, and my daddy would tell my momma, and I’d be locked up for the rest of my life and then some for doing a dangerous, messy job.
Under no circumstances could my uncle discover my side job.
As soon as I made it out of town and to a decent city, I’d have to check my record to see if I had been blessed—or cursed—with a handler.
I needed the money. The money would fix my face, I’d stop scaring the kittens, and life would be easier.
“How good would the money be if you became this bounty hunter’s handler, Uncle Henry?”
“This one will probably bring in a few hundred thousand a year for the handler.”
Oh. Oh. If the handler was getting a few hundred thousand a year, the hunter would be making millions. A year.
I wanted to run to the nearest CDC headquarters and beg them to give me a handler. I would bring in every damned illegal lycanthrope in the country if needed to earn that sort of paycheck. Long after I had the scars removed to discover what I was supposed to actually look like, I’d still do the job because I liked making sure no one else could be hurt by a renegade lycanthrope.
“That’s a lot,” I muttered.
“This one would be a profitable hunter. I’ve got two higher on the pay scale, so I’ll be expecting you to accept your laptop right along with your chicken.”
“You’ve done good for yourself, Uncle Henry. You work with several bounty hunters who bring you in that much?”
“It’s hard work, and no, I absolutely refuse to teach you how to do it. You would get into trouble, possibly take over, and use your powers for evil.”
“I don’t want to be some bounty hunter’s handler.” Being a handler would put a major damper on my work. And pay less. “Your job is safe. I think I’d rather deal with idiots on the phone.”
My uncle chuckled. “Had a rough call today?”
“It was not particularly enjoyable, but I endured, got through the call, and my boss praised me for handling the idiot with grace.”
“Well done.” My uncle hopped to his feet and caught me in a hug. “Come along, little kitten. I’ll give you your hard-earned presents, and then you can run off with your momma’s chicken and go on your vacation. But mark my words. Next year, we’re coming for your vacation, and we’re going to treat you properly. No matter what you think, you deserve it.”
As arguing would land me in hot water and delay my escape for hours, I surrendered. “I get five days off, and I have to preplan them, so I guess I’ll just tell you what my schedule is.”
“That’s a good girl. And think about the loan. I can afford it, and I don’t care if it takes you decades to pay me back. If you need the scars removed to be happy, then we’ll get your scars removed. It’s that simple.”
I’d let him think what he wanted. I understood my scars weren’t my fault, but I wished I could walk out my door without needing to cover my face to keep people from wincing—or yelping and running away.
Sometimes, I thought my virus hated most males because it recognized when my face repulsed potential partners and spared us both from the anguish of having a partner who couldn’t accept me as I was. Maybe that was why my virus enjoyed making Sebastian roar.
I pissed him off so much from walking into the room that he didn’t give a shit about what my face looked like.
Oh well.
Three
Using the kittens was rather ruthless and drastic, yes.
When my family decided to do something, they forgot their limits, cared little if they drove themselves straight into debt, and could teach demons lessons about excess. The laptop had cost my uncle thousands of dollars; I’d be able to play the latest and greatest games on it without issue. My brothers worked hard to ensure I could play the latest and greatest through forcing me to accept their gifts of said games, using the kittens to win my cooperation. When the kittens gave me boxes wrapped in pretty paper, using their devilishly cute pouts as their weapon of choice, ‘no’ abandoned my vocabulary.
I accepted the gifts along with a new purse my mother foisted on me to carry some of my ill-gotten gains.
Shaking down my family for lunch money scored me almost six thousand dollars, more than enough to go get a new piece of shit vehicle. Or pay for numerous scar-removal consultations.
My bastard family would have to pay for their reckless rampaging of their accounts to spoil me.