“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 there’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