The Werewolf Whisperer (The Werewolf Whisperer Series Book 1)

by Camilla Ochlan

  He could give Beckham a run for his money.

  What also surprised Xochitl was Kai's focus. Nothing seemed to matter to the kid but the simple act of kicking the ball. It was peaceful, calming to Xochitl. Perhaps to Lucy too, because the noise never woke her.

  "¡Oye, Hound Chow!" she called to Kai. The teen Were swiveled around, swatting the ball between his feet. "You'd better stop or Hanna's gonna stick you in the kennel."

  Kai, though not understanding the words, seemed to understand her meaning, and he immediately abandoned his activity, opting to sit on his haunches beneath Lucy's window.

  "Don't worry, kid," Xochitl said, standing in front of the boy. "Lucy's fine. Doc said she'll be up in no time."

  Kai perked up at the news and gave Xochitl a wide smile.

  She patted him on the head. "Dinner's soon. I'll come get you when it's time."

  As she turned the corner, she saw Kai tossing the red ball in the air, playing catch with himself.

  She made her way to the screened-in back porch leading into the kitchen and was met by Brisco and Maggie, the chocolate labs, lying on the stoop.

  "Hola, perros." Xochitl scratched Maggie behind the ears. The dogs wagged their tails in greeting. Unlike Tau and Thandi, these dogs were older and contented to relax in the evening sun. Xochitl liked that about them.

  She crossed the porch, which acted as an outdoor living area complete with Rattan sofa, two matching chairs and a beautiful coffee table made of whitewashed reclaimed wood. Orange and blue pillows added pops of color, lending vibrancy to the space.

  One thing's for sure, Hanna's got taste.

  Xochitl entered the kitchen through a pair of French doors. Hanna stood over a six-burner stove, heating up oil in a large cast iron skillet. Another pot steamed, filling the air with the wonderful aroma of chiles. The prevalent smell of garlic and fresh paint made Xochitl wonder if the kitchen had been remodeled recently.

  "Need some help?" She crossed to the kitchen island and set her laptop on the quartz countertop.

  "No, that's okay," Hanna said. Always graceful, she flowed from one counter to the other, dicing vegetables and slicing strips of steak on a stone cutting board.

  A cross between ninja and master chef.

  The clattering of paws on the hardwood floors echoed down the hall. Xochi braced herself as Tau and Thandi barreled into the kitchen, rounded the island and threw their paws onto her chest, knocking her into the counter.

  "¡Ay, perritos! Off!" Xochitl pushed them away, trying to regain her balance. "Sit."

  The puppies obeyed and sat staring up at her, their happy tails swooshing from side to side.

  Xochitl took two cookies out of her pocket, pointed to the ground and commanded "Lie down." The ridgebacks complied, and she held out one treat for each of them.

  "I'm surprised," Hanna said, staring at her and the pups. "Lucy told me you're not much of a dog person."

  "Yeah," Xochi pulled out a bar stool from under the island and sat down. "Well, I'm of the mind that people come first. But with these two, I don't think I have much of a say."

  "It's like that when a dog picks you to be its person." Hanna chuckled. She slid a wood chopping board topped with red and green peppers toward Xochi and handed her a knife.

  "So I gather," she said, slicing into a crisp pepper.

  "Then why do you do it?" Hanna asked. "Is it because of your brother?"

  Xochitl stopped, taken aback by the question. She eyed Hanna for a moment. To Xochi's surprise, the woman seemed utterly sincere.

  Xochitl wiped her brow with her arm and returned to cutting the vegetables. "At first, I guess. But then...I don't know...I'm good at it." She searched for the words to explain to Hanna something that Xochi didn't quite understand herself. "And Lucy's really good at it," she added. "I guess she takes care of the animal side and I take care of the human side...and together...we help the whole person."

  "So, you think Lucy's really good at her job?" Hanna asked, sliding the chopped meat off the stone board and into the pan. The steak sizzled, and oil spat out from the impact.

  "I wouldn't call it a job." Xochitl grabbed a red pepper and began slicing it into long thin strips. "For Lucy, it's a calling. I mean you should have seen her the other night." She put down the knife, too caught up in the recollection of the Vigi Boys fight to cut peppers.

  "She was like a wild thing. Wailing away on this guy that outweighed her by fifty pounds. It was incredible. I think she even howled at one point..." Xochitl picked up the knife again. "Or maybe that was Kai...or both of them. I don't know." She fell into the chopping rhythm of the knife. "I was so caught up." She stopped in mid cut. "I do remember Lucy took command of the situation. Not like when she was a cop. This was different."

  "How so?" Hanna asked.

  "Oh, uh..." Xochitl, lost in her own thoughts, had almost forgotten the woman was there. "I guess it was just her presence...no, power...that's what it was. She had power...Huh." Xochitl shook her head, amazed by her discovery.

  "You two make quite a team," Hanna said and took the chopped peppers from Xochitl.

  "Yeah. Just a couple of strays that found each other, driving up and down California, fighting El Lobo Feroz!"

  Xochitl's laughter was cut off by a loud clank from a pan Hanna had dropped on the floor. "You okay?" she asked, leaning over the island to see Hanna on all fours scooping up the chopped peppers.

  "I think we need more peppers," Hanna grumbled.

  "I'm on it." Xochitl opened the refrigerator and selected two ripe peppers from the crisper drawer. "So, what are we making?" She dropped the new peppers onto the cutting board.

  "Carne asada." Hanna set the soiled pan in the sink and grabbed a clean one from under the island.

  "Really!" Xochitl said, impressed. She loved carne asada. "I thought I smelled chiles."

  "Yep." Hanna smiled, pointing to the steaming pot. "Y arroz." She pointed to another pot. "Y carne." She pointed to the sizzling iron pan. "Tortillas are store bought, though."

  "No worries." Xochitl breathed in the smell of frying steak and chiles.

  "My mom and I used to make tortillas every Sunday. I'd help roll out the masa. It took all morning, but it was my favorite time of the week. And when they were cooked, hell, even when they weren't cooked, they were the best things you'd ever tasted. They'd melt in your mouth."

  A swell of emotion rose at the memory of her mother. "My papa would brag to his buddies that his Polish wife cooked the best Mexican food any Mexican ever tasted."

  "What was your mother's name?" Hanna seemed caught up in Xochitl's memory.

  "Alice." Xochitl handed the second batch of cut peppers to Hanna. "Alice Deka Magaña." She said a silent prayer to her mother.

  Enough of that.

  Xochitl shook off the emotion, plopped back down in her seat and watched Hanna prepare the rest of their meal.

  Hanna wasn't entirely what Xochitl had expected. Though she looked like an updated sixties hippie straight out of Haight Ashbury, she was more Princeton than Berkeley — more Microsoft than Apple. But there was a softer side to her personality. She had eclectic tastes as was evident in how she decorated her home, making it feel old and new, comfortable and chic. And she loved to cook fried, greasy, yummy comfort foods, not wheat grass, oats or some other tree-hugger meal, as one would expect judging from her appearance.

  "How do you stay so thin?" Xochitl asked. "Eating the way you do?"

  "Good genes, I guess." Hanna let out a huge bellowing laugh, startling Xochitl, who had hardly even seen the woman crack a smile let alone howl with delight.

  Maybe I've been too hard on Hanna.

  *

  Lucy woke, hearing laughter. The savory scents of home cooking wafted through her room, sending Poppy and Chasselas to scratch at the bedroom door. Lucy watched as Bonn trotted up to them. The other dogs gave way to the German shepherd as if he were a celebrity on the red carpet. Bonn easily floated onto his hind legs, reached out with one
paw and fluidly pushed down on the door handle, hooking it slightly as he returned to his natural four-paws-on-the-ground state. He scooted through the open door, and without missing a beat, the pack followed behind. Lucy suspected getting out of the bedroom herself would take far more effort, but for a chance at Hanna's carne asada, Lucy was willing to try a little heavy lifting.

  Chapter 24

  Dr. Lynn Weisman — Audio Notes

  Day forty-five of KV Stabilizing Serum Testing. Lost five more — Unsure of the cause. However, subject HCXY151 responding well to beta tests. Control is increasing though not stable.

  Hypothesis: Subject has developed additional DNA pathways and generated one or more additional base pairs from initial exposure to KV. Provided HCXY151 survives next round of tests, I will extract more DNA to be certain.

  21 months ago

  We're gonna have some fun now, little güera! ¡Mátela! No! Miguel! Oh, God! Help me!

  Xochitl shot out of bed, short rough breaths coming fast. She felt dizzy. Her heart raced. She sat down on the edge of the bed, closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

  After a few minutes, she opened her eyes again and reoriented herself to her surroundings. The room was almost completely dark except for the red glow of the digital clock on the nightstand.

  2:58 A.M.

  Xochitl groaned and flopped back on the mattress.

  Almost time.

  Shortly after Bob had texted the location, Xochi and Vern had arrived at the Fontana fleabag motel. It had been late and the ride over had been quiet. Xochi had wanted to ask questions. She wanted answers about Ames. About the plan. About the deal. But she'd held her tongue, afraid she might ruin her one chance of getting Miguel back.

  Vern hadn't been forthcoming either. He'd spent the few hours of the trip going over the specs of the "pound" they were about to infiltrate.

  After dumping what little they'd brought in their rooms, she and Vern had met up with Bob and Lefty, and two of Bob's men, Mick and Prez, at a greasy spoon next door. Amidst half-eaten pancakes and cups of bitter coffee, Vern had laid out their plan.

  They were going in under the cover of darkness when personnel and security were minimal. The plan was to get in, find Miguel and get out without drawing attention.

  "Operation Wham Bam Thank You Ma'am is in effect!" Prez had joked, instantly endearing himself to Xochi.

  Where Prez was boisterous and outgoing, his counterpart, Mick, seemed stoic and deadpan.

  Opposite sides of the same coin. And I bet lethal.

  "Xoch." Vern knocked on her door. "Thirty minutes."

  "Okay," she said, her voice sounding raspy.

  She sat up and grabbed the plastic cup she'd filled hours earlier. The liquid tasted warm and stale, but it did the trick. She switched on the table lamp.

  The room was nothing special. Just a bed, two nightstands and a chair by the door. A small television chained to the dresser added to the rent-by-the-hour ambiance. She was glad she'd decided to remain dressed and had lain on top of the covers instead of under them.

  "Great place you found, Bob," Xochitl mumbled and crossed the room to a black duffel bag sitting on the chair.

  In addition to Mick and Prez, Bob had brought her and Vern their own "go bags," as he'd put it. Xochi unzipped the duffel. Inside was a plastic sandwich bag with toothpaste, toothbrush and a comb. She tossed it on the dresser. She pulled out a black, long sleeve crew neck, black cargo pants, black socks and a black beanie cap, which she spread out on the bed. Combat boots completed the ensemble.

  Not quite my style, but it'll do.

  "I feel like ass," Xochi said out loud and stripped off her tank top, flats and jeans. She walked into the bathroom.

  ¡Híjole! I'm not getting into that fungus-infested shower.

  She snatched a dingy washcloth from the towel rack and sniffed it before wetting it under the faucet and pressing it to her face. The cool terry cloth felt good on her nearly healed scars. Her shoulder wound was another story, and she gingerly wiped behind her neck and under her armpits, mindful not to get her bandage wet. She brushed her teeth and combed out the knots in her hair.

  Satisfied with her appearance, she gathered up the various sundries, placed them in the baggie and walked back into the room to dress in the all black outfit. She twisted her blond hair up into a bun, securing it under the cap, and was shocked to find the clothes a decent fit.

  "Not bad, Bob." Xochi scrutinized herself in the mirror.

  She gathered up her few possessions and stuffed them into the duffel. Taking a last look around the room, she picked up her go bag and headed out the door.

  Vern and the other men were congregated around Bob's black Humvee.

  Bob must be loaded.

  Vern handed her a cup a coffee. She took it eagerly.

  "You are a god." Xochi breathed in the aroma of French Roast.

  "Another slave to the caffeine." Mick smirked.

  "Another pendejo." Xochi blew on the hot brew and squeezed between Bob and Prez, who shook with laughter.

  "Sweet!" Lefty whooped as he busily typed away on a small computer resting on the Humvee's dash.

  So that's what was inside Ames' case.

  "New toy?" Xochitl looked over to Vern.

  "Lefty's good with tech stuff," Bob answered.

  "So what now?" She took a sip of coffee.

  "Now, you need some war paint." Prez approached Xochitl with a fat tube that looked like black lipstick.

  She took a step back and gazed up at Prez.

  An African-American man of indeterminate age, Prez was six five and two hundred thirty pounds of pure muscle. The massive man dwarfed Xochi, the top of her head barely reaching his chest.

  "You've not been blessed with natural night camouflage like me," Prez said, popping the cap off the stick.

  "Please, all you'd have to do is smile and I could hit you from three hundred yards," Mick jibed.

  "You're just jealous your lily white ass ain't mocha choca lata like mine," Prez hit back over his shoulder and brought the stick to Xochi's face.

  She stopped his hand.

  "Let me do it. Scars still healing." Xochitl took the paint.

  "Oh, right. Sorry."

  "No problema." Xochi leaned toward the Humvee's side mirror and applied the paint in strips, spreading it over her forehead, nose, chin and cheeks.

  I look dirty, not camouflaged.

  "So much for washing my face." Xochitl turned to Prez for inspection.

  "No, that's good." Prez dropped the stick into his utility belt pouch.

  "Everyone over here," Vern called.

  Xochitl and the men gathered at the front of the vehicle. Lefty rested the computer on the hood and began enthusiastically demonstrating the equipment.

  "This thing is like next gen's next gen," Lefty said, looking like he's was about to jump out of his skin. "She's a thing of beauty. I mean just look at the screen display. It's beyond XD! It's a gamer's wet dream!"

  "Private." Vern scowled. "Get on with it."

  "Sorry, sir." Lefty picked up a small camera device no bigger than half an inch long sitting next to the computer. "I'll be able to monitor you and the guys remotely with the mini cams."

  He handed the device to Vern. "I can hack into their feed and block any security cameras at the same time as running their facility systems," Lefty continued. "The decryption code on this baby could get me into the Pentagon."

  "I want you to record everything," Vern interrupted.

  "No problem."

  "Good." Vern turned his attention to Xochitl and the men. "Ames' intel notes light security at this hour. The morning rotation starts at zero-five-thirty." Vern checked his wristwatch. "That's approximately two hours and twelve minutes from now."

  Simultaneously, the men each checked their watches and marked the time.

  "As you can see," Vern pointed to the specs, "we've got a large cinderblock building fenced in by chain-link. Shouldn't be too much of a problem getting in
if Lefty's right about being able to control their systems."

  "Shoot, I could control their shits with this thing," Lefty blurted.

  Vern glared at Lefty. Bob's men burst out laughing.

  "Boys and their toys." Xochitl rolled her eyes.

  "We're OR so let's get our heads in the game," Vern commanded.

  "Yes, sir!" All four men replied in unison.

  Xochitl swelled with pride, watching her uncle in action. She'd never seen him operational before, and he was impressive. He could muster these men — men he'd not worked with in a long time or even at all — and form them into a unit.

  She studied the team assembled around the Humvee. Save for her and her uncle, the group was comprised entirely of ex-military — mercenaries — with no personal reason to volunteer for a dangerous mission and risk their lives other than being dedicated, honorable men.

  Papa would be proud.

  For the first time since her world collapsed, a little spark of hope kindled inside Xochitl.

  She'd get her Miguel back.

  Xochitl rolled El Gallo up behind Lefty's truck and parked along the side of the animal shelter. She squinted as the bright lights of Bob's Humvee flashed in her rearview mirror.

  "Thought we were approaching from the front once Lefty takes out the cameras?" Xochitl asked Vern, cutting the engine.

  "Yes. But Xoch," Vern patted her shoulder, "I need you to stay with Lefty."

  "The hell I am." Xochitl flicked the door lock. Vern grabbed her arm.

  "Xochitl, please."

  "Is this about your deal with Ames? I don't trust that cabrón."

  "Neither do I. That's why I want you to stay with Lefty."

  Vern reached for Xochi, but she shied away and turned her head toward the window. From the side-view mirror she watched Bob, Mick and Prez pull several large duffels out of the Humvee.

  "Xoch, I don't know what we're getting into here. And I can't risk you getting hurt...or worse," Vern continued.

  "I can take care of myself."

  "I know you can. But I can't worry about you and Miguel and—"

  "Do what you have to do for Ames," Xochitl finished for Vern. "Es mi familia, Vern."

  "And you and Miguel are my family. ¿Entiendes?...¿Verdad?"