Page 26 of Murder Mittens

If he understood quilting, another hobby I enjoyed because it involved turning scraps into something worthwhile, my virus would be taken out, lost to his wily ways. I brought the black skeins and the hook over, set them on the counter, and hunted for a good weight yarn for a blanket for him. I’d need extra yarn, as it would take a larger blanket to contain the ego—and body—of a lion. I checked the skeins of a dark red and a beige, did the mental math to calculate how much I’d need for such a project, and grabbed the appropriate number before snagging a good hook, one with a well-shaped, silicon handle.

It cost a lot, but it would be worth it.

I set my stash onto the counter and smiled at the woman. My next words would make or break my bounty, as she’d included a confirmation phrase in her request. “I like to quilt, too, but my shears have seen better days. Do you sell any that handle being resharpened well?”

Her eyes widened, and she glanced in the direction of the corner. She pointed in the direction of the wolf, and when I looked, I spotted several sets of shears hanging on the wall. “The gold pair over there is really nice. Good, sharp point, and it holds its edge well. If you take care of those, you’ll have them for life. The brand is excellent, and they come in several sizes. Would you like to see them?”

Yes, I absolutely would like to see the gold pair with the good, sharp point. And I’d enjoy stabbing the wolf, as the woman had confirmed my target with her promised line. “I would, please.”

Sebastian busied himself at the fabric section, and it amused me he shuffled through the scrap material quilters loved, as they were perfect for quilting projects and little else. Given an hour and a single excuse, I could plan an entire new quilt, fill the cab of my daddy’s truck with my ill-gotten gains, and keep happily amused with my new shears.

My family would undergo mass hysteria if they found out what I planned to do with a good pair of shears in the next minute or so.

The woman walked me to the shears, and each pair had one outside of the wrapper, presumably for demonstrations, and she handed me the gold ones. She kept a polite distance, giving me room to deal with her asshole of a suitor. I made a show of checking over the tips, discovering the point would pierce flesh with any amount of pressure. I regarded the droplet of blood beading on my fingertip. “These are nice.”

“Yes, they are. They’re my favorite. They’re expensive, but they’re worth it.”

I made a show of testing the scissors, adjusted my grip on the handles, and plunged the pointy end of the blades directly into the wolf’s throat, hard enough the impact made my wrist and elbow ache from the force of the blow. As a single blow to the throat wouldn’t finish him off, not unless I’d gotten lucky, I systematically stabbed at his throat, giving the woman most of my attention. I even did my best to make sure his blood sprayed only onto himself, the floor, his tablet, and not any of her precious crafting supplies. For a rare change, it mostly worked, although the ridiculous number of holes I added to his throat helped mitigate the overall spray. “These are really nice, I have to say. Fabric just wouldn’t stand a chance against these shears. I think I’ll need two pairs. I’ll also want a smaller pair good for detail cutting, as I’d like to make a nice quilt, and I’d like to work with small pieces on this one. I do enjoy the challenge of fine detail work.”

My first blow must have been enough to sever the wolf’s spine, as he slumped in his chair without raising a hand against me or the woman. “Hi. I’m Murder Mittens, and my partner over there is Mr. Mane.”

“I’m Carol.”

“I am not Mr. Mane,” Sebastian growled. “My name is Sebastian. And your name is Harri.”

“Quiet, Mr. Mane. Unless you’re buying me quilting supplies, you don’t get a say in anything right now.”

“If I buy you quilting supplies, are you saying I get a say in everything?”

I regarded the bloody scissors in my hand, and I shrugged. “Sure. Apparently, I am feeling the need to be domestic today. I’ll just warn you now, I am not my mother, and I am not good at cooking. Mostly because I make the people who might teach me how to cook cry when they see my face.”

I gave Carol a lot of credit; when she comprehended the scars on my face, her eyes widened, but she otherwise kept control over her face.

I expected shock factored into that. Even with her new virus incubating, it likely influenced her and struggled to comprehend the death of her mate.

The CDC would help her with that—and introduce her to wolves worth taking a second look at. It amused me the CDC had attempted the same with me initially, until they learned my face really did drive people away.

The lion sighed. “I’ll call the police and the CDC.”

“You’re such a useful lion.” I set the shears on the wolf’s body, as the CDC enjoyed when they could make bounty-related murder weapons disappear permanently. “Do you have somewhere I can wash my hands?”

I’d have to trash my poor shirt, which had more blood on it than I liked, but the rest of my clothes had escaped unscathed from my murder of the asshole wolf.

I loved a good killing in the afternoon, especially when I got to rid the world of an abusive asshole. His body became Carol’s freedom, and I’d go to sleep with a smile tonight.

Carol pointed at a door in the back, and then after a glance at my hands, she hurried over and opened the door, stepped inside, and turned on the faucet for me before returning to the wolf’s body, which twitched. The body would keep twitching for a while, as bodies tended to do after death. And once the twitching ended, the body would start doing a lot of other weird, disgusting things as putrefaction began.

I headed for the bathroom, hoping I’d be out of the shop before the early phases of decay began. “I recommend plastic to help mitigate how much blood he gets on the floor until law enforcement arrives. It’s no problem, as you have a sanctioned bounty through the CDC, but it simplifies cleanup.”

Carol pointed at the rug under the chair. “He spills coffee often, so I have plastic under the rug. I also know a few good practitioner tricks, as customers come in often with stained fabric. The rug can be washed, but I’d be all right with just wrapping his body in it and throwing him in the dumpster. Thank you. I… hadn’t thought someone would come so quickly.”

“I hate users and abusers.” I pointed at Sebastian, who was rummaging through the quilting scraps with one hand while using his phone with the other. “He’s a pretty good example of how lycanthropes should behave, but he’s a cat, and since you’ll be a wolf, you’ll want a wolf. That said, I can probably introduce you to a few decent wolves. I’m a cat, too, so I don’t really have a use for wolves. I mean, you might want a cat, but you can’t have that cat. He’s mine.”

“Because cats and dogs fight?”

“So much fighting,” I replied with a roll of my eyes. “Wolves can be good friends, though. I don’t mind mated wolves. They’re good to have around, especially if they’ve got puppies around. Wolf puppies are cute.”

The woman’s eyes lit up. “All children are cute.”