The Werewolf Whisperer (The Werewolf Whisperer Series Book 1)

by Camilla Ochlan

  Xochitl walked around to the front of the counter, trying to put distance between herself and Memo. She could see in his eyes he was losing his patience.

  Where's la chota already?

  Undeterred, Memo closed the gap between them and grabbed her arm, yanking her to him. "I said go upstairs and get in that pinche slip, bitch."

  Xochitl pulled her arm back and without thinking threw a right hook to his jaw. Instantly, she felt pain shoot from her fist straight up her arm. "¡Ay carajo!"

  Shaking out the sting from her hand, Xochi looked up and saw Memo stunned, holding the left side of his face.

  Oh, fuck! What did I do?

  Instinctively, she began backing up toward the bar's front door to make her escape.

  As she turned from Memo, Xochi heard a menacing laugh and the distinctive clicking sound of a gun being cocked.

  "Not bad for a little güera bitch. Daddy teach you that?"

  Xochitl grabbed for the door.

  "Don't you fucking move, puta."

  Naked fear blasted through Xochitl's body, leaving her feet bolted to the floor. She had nowhere to go. If she moved, Memo would shoot her.

  He's gonna shoot you anyway.

  Taking a chance, she slowly turned back to face Memo. He stood at close range, his gun pointed at her chest.

  Oh, God.

  Xochi raised her hands in the air.

  "Please, Memo," she tried to placate him. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"

  "¡Cállate!" Memo growled, pacing back and forth in front of her like a wild beast about to pounce on his prey.

  An odd bubble of calm enveloped Xochi, and — as if locked in stasis, she stood immobile, waiting, contemplating her next move.

  "You think you can do this to me and not pay, bitch? I'm El Gallo!"

  Xochitl stole a glance at the bar.

  Behind the counter. Papa's shotgun. If I'm quick enough...

  "I run this—" Memo raged on only to suddenly cut himself off.

  Xochitl brought her attention back to El Gallo. He stared past her at the frosted glass window. She slowly craned her neck to follow his line of sight. A shadow moved swiftly by the front of the bar.

  ¡Híjole! About damn time!

  She turned back to Memo. His eyes again fixed on her. Xochitl could see by the amazed and — hurt? — look on his face that he'd puzzled out she had betrayed him.

  Why Memo hadn't made a move on her yet she didn't understand. She wasn't about to ask. Keeping him in her sights, she began inching her way to the bar.

  Xochitl had almost reached the end of the counter when Manny, a fourteen-year-old boy, one of Memo's lookouts, sprinted into the cantina from the kitchen.

  "¡Jefe! ¡La chota! ¡Afuera!"

  Memo regained his senses. "¿Dónde?"

  "Everywhere. I came from the dumpsters out back," the boy answered.

  ¡Carajo! The cops didn't find the kitchen entrance!

  The side alley door was hidden by the dumpster enclosure. Xochitl's produce vendors constantly complained about the difficult access.

  If I get out of this alive, I'm gonna move those pinche dumpsters.

  "Did anyone see you?" El Gallo asked the boy as he moved toward the kitchen and peeked through the swinging door.

  "No, Jefe," the boy replied, pulling out a 9mm handgun stuffed in his pants like a gangster out of a movie he'd probably watched a million times.

  "The cops will find the kitchen door soon." Memo stepped back into the bar.

  Xochitl eyed El Gallo, as he searched the room for another way out, revulsion churning her guts.

  How did I ever get mixed up with this monster? What am I gonna do if he gets away?

  Memo glanced down the hall toward the restrooms. His mouth turned up into a sly grin, and Xochi knew he had figured out his escape.

  ¡Hijo de puta! Where's pinche Xena warrior cop?

  Unsure, Manny took a tentative step closer to El Gallo.

  Memo put up his hand, halting the boy. "Stay here, homes. Pinche cops can't touch you." The gang leader beat his chest with his fist and shouted in salute, "¡Órale! East Los!"

  "East Los!" The dutiful boy soldier mimicked.

  Some day this kid's gonna get himself killed by these pendejos. That will not be my Miguel.

  El Gallo turned back to Xochitl, "I'll deal with you later." Then he ran down the hall toward the women's restroom.

  Xochi stood next to the bar, staring after Memo. There was nothing she could do now except hope the cops would nab him crawling out the bathroom window. She looked over to Manny, who appeared lost now that his leader had ditched him.

  Poor kid. Doesn't even know Memo could give a shit what happens to him.

  Shouting and gunfire blasted from the back lot.

  Officer Lowell.

  Xochi darted behind the bar, grabbed the Smith & Wesson 12 gauge, checked it was loaded and readied herself. Looking up, she watched Manny cock his gun.

  "Wait," she hissed.

  Manny smiled at her and ran for the back exit.

  "Shit!" Xochitl, shotgun in hand, took off after the boy.

  *

  "LAPD!" Gabe shouted as he and Lucy burst from the shadows.

  Tuti, tilting a red plastic gas can, hunched over the injured pit bull.

  "Down on the ground!" Gabe followed up. Tuti froze.

  An incredulous roar rose from the surprised Locos as Lucy rammed her full force into Tuti, taking him down and knocking the gas can from his hands. She jumped to her feet and buried her boot in Tuti's midsection. He gasped and curled in on himself.

  The crowd of Locos reacted with indecent speed, scrambling down the alley, climbing fences, grabbing dogs and cash as they fled.

  A few took in the fact that all that was threatening them were two cops — alone, and one of them was a woman. Like pack predators they closed in, toothy smiles flashing in the glow of the streetlights.

  The back door of the bar flew open. A skinny teenage boy wildly waving a handgun ran toward Gabe in a straight line.

  "Manny! No!" A screech Lucy barely recognized as belonging to Xochitl Magaña rang out from inside the hallway.

  Gabe clotheslined Manny effortlessly and sent his gun flying through the air. Hitting the ground it went off, prompting other frenzied Los Locos to fire blindly in return. The sound of feet running from both sides of the alley, the whirring sound of helicopter blades overhead, the sudden warning shouts of police and ACTF overlapped with the howling and barking of dogs and hollers from Los Locos escaping over the fence. Bodies in flight and pursuit, knocked over cages, men crashing or being thrown into the chain-link — the chaos all around made Lucy feel a weird calm.

  She noticed Flaco holding up his phone, filming the entire scene, turning his narco-pop to full blast while tears flowed freely down his scrunched up face.

  Freak.

  Near her, Gabe scooped up the injured pit bull and bolted towards the safety of the door propped open by Xochitl Magaña.

  "You idiots weren't supposed to grab the dog!" Xochitl sounded furious.

  Men came at him from all sides, shouting and flailing. Gabe barreled through them as if they were nothing.

  Screeching, Flaco raised his Browning to take aim at Gabe's back. Lucy clocked the boy in the face with her Beretta. He went straight to the ground.

  "You fucking weasel!" she spat and bent down to scoop up his gun.

  Someone grabbed her from behind, but she twisted out of the way, losing her grip on Flaco's 9mm. There was nowhere to go now but to follow Gabe and the pit bull through the open back entrance to Xochitl's Cantina. Lucy sprinted ahead, tripped over the stoop and gracelessly crashed onto the cantina floor, cutting her hands and bruising her pride.

  Crap!

  A shot rang out, and for a moment everything seemed to slow down. Lucy saw Gabe, who'd been in front of her and was already in the room, go to his knees on the blue linoleum. He bent forward unnaturally, releasing the pit bull who scrambled under a wooden table
.

  Lucy lurched forward on the floor to half push and half drag Gabe out of range of the shots that were continuing through the backdoor. From behind the bar, Lucy heard Xochitl scream, "Stop shooting, you assholes!"

  The gunfire stopped.

  "Lucy." The deep rumble of Gabe's voice took her complete focus. Something was very wrong. Gabe's face had turned pasty white and glistened with sweat. Lucy locked onto Gabe's eyes — normally deep chocolate brown, they now glowed a mesmerizing amber.

  Before she could react, five Locos burst into the room, shouting and waving their guns. Gabe sprang up, knocking Lucy on her back, and crashed into the Locos with breathtaking force and speed.

  Gabe's already large frame now appeared monstrous, the muscles of his back and arms bulging and pulsing, his bones lengthening and cracking. Clean-shaven a moment ago, his face looked dirty with dark stubble. His hair, always cut high and tight — a remnant of his time in the service, now brushed his shoulders and rolled down his back like a messy lion's mane.

  Gabe roared like an animal in agony and ripped through one of the men's throats with the startling long, curved claws of his bare hand.

  He grabbed a gangbanger with the other hand, dangling the man off the floor and shaking him by the face like a rag doll.

  Lucy started to black out as what felt like a massive shockwave rocked through her body. She fought to keep her eyes open. The small coherent part of her brain observed that Gabe's Kevlar vest had a small rip in the back. Even if the vest had stopped a bullet from going through, it couldn't have saved his ribs from being broken. Yet Gabe moved unencumbered, with the power of ten men.

  She fixated on the shaggy black layer of fur that covered her partner's head and arms. Just then he turned in profile; large pointed, fur-covered ears swiveled back like those of an aggressive dog. Razor-sharp teeth flashed in a tapered lupine jaw, and he bit down on the last gangbanger.

  My partner's a werewolf?

  Lucy convulsed as hysteria shot through her like an electric shock.

  "SWAT! Drop your weapons! Nobody move!" At that moment, the SWAT team burst through the front door of the cantina.

  Gabe spun on the armed men, ready to attack.

  "No, Gabe! Stop!" Lucy screamed the command, instinct trumping fear. Gabe hesitated and looked at her with curiosity.

  Holy shit! He's listening to me.

  "SWAT! Get on the floor!" an officer roared as the team closed in.

  "LAPD. Don't shoot," Lucy yelled out and lurched ahead to put her body between Gabe and the SWAT officers. "Don't shoot. Don't shoot. Don't shoot." Lucy's voice gave out. Tears streamed down her face as she tried to squeeze sound from her throat, but her vocal chords wouldn't obey anymore and violent coughs shook her.

  She felt Gabe's hot breath on her neck and turned to face him, slowly and deliberately.

  "Down, Gabe." She pointed to the floor. "Down."

  For a split second, everyone in the room stood still and watched Gabe. The massive man swayed briefly and then dropped to the floor like a puppet that had had its strings cut.

  "Officer down. Code 33. Echo Park. North Alvarado and Clinton. Officer down. Start me additional units and medical. Code 3. Officer shot. Approach from northwest."

  "On their way."

  Lucy heard the shouting but didn't comprehend the words. She crouched down beside her partner, holding him tight as convulsions wracked his body. She saw blood drip to the floor. Gabe had been hit despite the Kevlar.

  "Don't die. Don't die. You can't die." Lucy's words ran together in an incessant chant. She was lost in his pain, unable to focus, oblivious to the pandemonium all around her.

  *

  Xochitl barely registered the sting of the zip ties digging into her wrists as she lifted her head from the floor to stare at Officer Lowell's partner. Lowell was cradling him in her arms, rocking him back and forth like a child.

  ¡Madre de Dios!

  Xochi would have crossed herself if she could have.

  She pried her gaze from Lowell and Torres and surveyed the room. With the exception of the officer who had radioed in assistance, SWAT circled Lowell and Torres. Some of the officers still had their guns drawn, others had them hanging at their sides, but all stood with their mouths gaping open in stunned silence.

  What the hell just happened? And how did Lowell stop it...him?

  Xochitl brought her attention back to Lowell. She looked exposed, tears running down her face as she whispered to her partner. This Lucy Lowell was not the same reserved, focused, unrelenting pain-in-the-ass Officer Lowell who had walked into Xochi's bar several months ago, pressing her for information on Los Locos. No, this woman was something different. She was nurturing, vulnerable — unprotected.

  And yet, she still managed to control the situation. That takes cajones.

  Xochitl had a new respect for the woman.

  She heard a loud commotion outside and craned her neck to look at the frosted glass window. A male silhouette pointed a finger in the chest of another silhouette and shouted an obvious dressing down. She couldn't make out what was being said but got the impression things hadn't gone as planned.

  No shit.

  All at once, the cops in her cantina became animated, taking up positions around the bar, guns drawn.

  They probably think they're next.

  Outside, one last command was given, and the dejected subordinate was sent off. The man turned toward the door, stopping briefly before pushing it open.

  Xochitl grunted, feeling the release of pressure from the middle of her back. A sudden rush of air filled her lungs, and she realized the officer who had his knee dug into her spine had stood up. She felt lightheaded as a dull ache formed at the spot.

  That's gonna bruise.

  All the cops, save Lowell and the unconscious Gabe Torres, now stood at attention. Only Xochi watched as a lean African-American man, dressed in blues, bars on his lapel and cap on his head, entered.

  Must be the captain.

  Xochi thought he looked to be in his mid to late fifties. As he approached the other officers, she could tell, even from where she lay, he was on the tall side.

  The captain stood in the middle of the cantina, staring at the spectacle of officers Lowell and Torres.

  "Lowell, report," he said.

  It was eerily quiet while everyone anxiously waited for Lowell to respond, but she never took her eyes off Torres. The SWAT team eyed one another and shifted uncomfortably as the captain grew more irritated with every passing minute. Breaking ranks, a boyish-looking officer with doe eyes holstered his sidearm and double-timed it to his captain.

  "Captain Burch, sir. The bar is secure. Several members of East Los Locos are in custody," the officer said. "The ambulance has been called."

  "And what about that, Williams?" Captain Burch turned Williams toward Lowell and Torres, still huddled on the floor.

  Officer Williams seemed to be at a loss for words. Xochitl felt sorry for him. She didn't envy his position.

  What can you say?

  "Well, sir...I can't be sure, but I think Officer Torres entered the bar from the back and was hit by gunfire. So, umm...when he was hit...well, umm..." Officer Williams stuttered.

  "Spit it out, Williams!"

  "Well...he turned into a..."

  "Into a what!"

  "I think it was a werewolf?" Williams cringed at the last word. Xochitl thought he might faint from the effort.

  "A what!" Burch's eyes looked as if they were about to pop out of his skull.

  "A werewolf," Williams whispered the words this time.

  Xochitl, Williams and the entire SWAT team held their breath, watching Burch in anticipation as he allowed the words to sink in.

  The captain's response shocked Xochitl. Instead of the confused horror she felt, and supposed they all felt, Burch turned toward her, stared directly at her, and burst out laughing. Burch was laughing so hard Xochi could see tears forming in his eyes.

  "First Parker, now
Williams. What's SWAT on? Can I have some?" Burch mocked the officers. "After tonight, I'll need it."

  Anger rose in Xochitl.

  How dare this pendejo make fun of us!

  "It's true!" The words blasted from Xochi's mouth before she could stop herself. She struggled to stand, her hands still tied behind her back. "We all saw it...Saw something."

  Captain Burch stopped short and glared at her. "What?"

  With a last grunt, Xochitl got her feet under her, pressed her back against the bottom of the bar and pushed herself up.

  "I said we all saw it. Officer Gabe...I mean Torres. He became a monster...or something." Xochitl tried to catch her breath. "He was tearing guys apart. Lowell got him to stop. Then, he just went back to looking like that." She nodded toward Lowell and Torres.

  Captain Burch clasped his hands behind him and approached her. Xochi took a defensive step back as Burch loomed over her with a searing stare. The counter pressed painfully against her. The same officers who had zip tied her hands converged on her. Xochitl felt like a caged animal. With a subtle eye motion, Burch signaled to the officer nearest her, and he yanked Xochi by the arm.

  "¡Ay, pendejo! Get off me!"

  Xochitl struggled to free herself from the cop's grasp to get to Officer Lowell.

  "Lowell!"

  The second officer moved in and grabbed her other arm, and together they dragged Xochi toward the door.

  "Lowell!"

  Desperate, Xochi jammed her body between the door and its frame.

  "LUCY!"

  Xochi kicked, as the second officer tried to grab her legs. But with her hands tied, she had little balance. The first cop pulled her off her feet easily, allowing his colleague to seize them. She was hanging between the two men when she heard Lowell.

  "Wait. Let her go."

  Exhausted and out of breath, Xochi twisted her body in an attempt to see Officer Lucy Lowell. She had removed her jacket and was placing it gently under her partner's head, before resting it on the floor.

  Lowell stood and faced Xochi's captors. She stared them down. "I said, let...her...go."

  Still hanging between the two men, Xochi peered up at them. Confusion mixed with — fear? — crossed their faces. The officers relented and set Xochi's feet on the ground.