The Werewolf Whisperer (The Werewolf Whisperer Series Book 1)

by Camilla Ochlan

  "What do you mean it took him twelve hours to change back!" Xochitl, carrying a full basket of folded laundry on her hip, dashed into Lucy's room. "It takes him time to change back?"

  "He didn't want me to call you," Lefty said. "Or The Werewolf Whisperer. But I promised I'd watch out for him...Xoch, this's never happened before."

  Xochitl felt her stomach tie in knots, and her knees go weak. Thoughts of Travis, of sending him off to his certain death on a run-down ship, flashed through her mind, and she dropped onto the overstuffed chair across from Lucy's bed. She cradled the laundry basket on her lap, and stared out the window.

  Kai was tossing his red ball up in the air, while Tau and Thandi took turns catching it. Xochitl watched as one puppy's body came into view of the window and then the other. It was strangely soothing — peaceful, and she understood why Lucy loved it here so much.

  "Xoch?" Lefty's voice brought her back to reality.

  "How long does it usually take, Lefty?" Xochitl brushed her hand through her long hair, her fingers working through the knots that mimicked the ones in her stomach.

  "Usually an hour. Three tops."

  "Three hours!" Xochitl leapt up from her chair, the laundry dropping upside down onto the floor.

  Great. I hate laundry.

  "Just listen, please." Irritation mixed with alarm shaped the tenor of Lefty's voice, and Xochitl remained silent, waiting for the other shoe to drop. "Two nights ago, Miguel fought a really hard match..."

  And there it is...Pinche Werefights.

  "There was a lot riding on this fight," Lefty continued. "Our shot at the pro circuit. He won, Xoch! Made our business legit."

  "Sorry, if I can't celebrate your success." Xochitl loved Lefty, but right now she wanted to smack him.

  "Don't be like that, Xo." Lefty sounded hurt. "Miguel's...we've...worked really hard for this. And he was doing really well. His focus. His control were never a problem...until—"

  "Until now," Xochitl finished for him.

  "Yeah."

  "Do you have any idea why?"

  "I don't know. Maybe it was the stress...You know, because the fight was so important," Lefty replied.

  He's grasping at straws.

  "Xoch?" Lefty sounded like a lost little boy.

  "Yeah."

  "Could you...maybe...ask your friend if she would know what might be happening?"

  "Fuck that. I'm coming down!" Xochitl hung up on Lefty.

  She scooped up the pile of laundry and tossed it on the bed. She dropped to her knees and grabbed Bob's black duffel bag from underneath it. Xochitl swept Lucy's clothes into the bag and raced to the bathroom. She slid Lucy's toiletries haphazardly into the duffel and rushed back into the room to her closet. Flinging the door open, Xochitl yanked Lucy's hanging clothes off the rack and crammed them inside the bag.

  Xochitl scanned the room one last time, making sure she'd gotten everything Lucy might need. Her eyes fell on the photograph of little Lucy holding the golden puppy. She snatched the picture off the nightstand and tucked it safely between Lucy's clothes.

  Xochitl always knew the sheltered cocoon that was Lucy's childhood home — the serenity it brought to both women — was fleeting, and the day they'd need to leave was inevitable. She just hadn't expected it to be under these circumstances. There would be a part of her that would miss this place — miss Tau and Thandi — but this wasn't her home. Xochitl had had both her and Kai's things packed to leave since day one.

  She rushed into the adjoining guest bedroom, opened the closet door and pulled out her go bag. She left, never looking back.

  Chapter 26

  "Lucille Elizabeth Lowell, how do you plead?"

  "Guilty."

  21 months ago

  Lucy is at Snowflower with Mama and her first-ever puppy Biscuits. The campground feels peaceful and idyllic — another happy summer day. She finds herself on a raft in the middle of the lake, unsure of how she got there. Mama waves to her from the shore. Biscuits dances in clumsy puppy circles, his fluffy golden fur gleaming in the afternoon sun.

  Lucy jumps into the lake, but instead of swimming to shore she sinks helplessly down into the murk. She feels cold, and above her stars blaze in a black sky. As the darkness folds around her, she struggles to take a breath. Terror shakes her.

  "Do it." Hanna's voice rings in her head like a gong.

  Lucy woke shivering and covered in cold sweat. Tears were streaming from her closed eyes. Her heart beat fast and hard. The sharp scent of antiseptic made her gag, yet she felt staggering relief as if she'd barely escaped something unspeakable. She felt dazed and unable to lift her head. Her eyes were caked shut, and a searing pain made her aware of her arms. Sluggish, as if submerged in mud, Lucy tried to move her left arm, but found that she couldn't. Flicking her eyes open the tiniest bit, she saw that she was strapped to a hospital bed. Her forearms wrapped in heavy gauze, dried blood told the story of the cuts underneath. Since she couldn't wiggle her feet either, she gathered her legs were strapped down as well. She felt the heaviness of a belt around her midsection. The fruitless effort to get up made her tired, and she closed her eyes again, shutting out the sting of the bright fluorescents.

  I'm in the prison infirmary. Can't get anything right.

  Shame and deep exhaustion tormented her equally. Confusion whiplashed her awareness as her senses snapped into high alert at the sound of faint, disembodied voices.

  "She's starting to come out of it." Lucy recognized the mellow resonance of the woman's voice.

  Myra, nurse or inmate orderly or candy striper. Definitely Myra.

  She'd said, "I'm Myra and everything is gonna be okay now, honey." And Lucy had believed her.

  Myra, Myra, angel of mercy.

  "We've been weaning her off the Valium," Myra continued. "She's been in dreamland for days."

  That explains why I'm so dizzy.

  She'd been drugged. Nausea coursed through Lucy like an ocean current; she'd experienced this feeling once before. Her thoughts shot back to that morning on the ranch with Mama...

  Lucy labored to steady her breathing. Soon she felt like she was floating, the unfamiliar sensation causing a deep-rooted knot of panic to form in her gut.

  "She may continue to need anti-anxiety medication. Or maybe valerian root and lemon balm will do...Warden Bucknell said she took the glasses from that poor pregnant girl," a high-pitched voice cooed with what Lucy took for studied concern.

  "Dr. Friel, you talkin' 'bout Celia, that axe murderer? She's not even showin'," Myra interrupted.

  "Celia said it was an accident...the murder not the pregnancy. Well, maybe the pregnancy was an accident too. Regardless, it's not for us to judge." The tone of the second woman's voice reminded Lucy of crotchety old Mrs. Brennan, her neighbor.

  "Lucy Lowell, did you let my chickies out of their cage?" Lucy heard Mrs. Brennan's voice as if she were standing on her pillow.

  Some accusations just stick with you. Even if they are true.

  "Celia cut off her boyfriend's head with an axe. Then stabbed him forty-eight times with a butcher knife. Got any idea what that would look like? She's in for life. Somebody judged."

  "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone, Myra."

  "I'm innocent. You know that Dr. Friel. My husband dared me to shoot him..." Myra's voice faded into silence.

  Myra, Myra, angel of death.

  "Anyway, Lucy Lowell swiped Celia's glasses and cut herself with the plastic shards during lights out. It's a miracle Doctor Cormier-Renault was able to save her." The voice trailed off into a squeaky but rhythmical hum.

  "I was there when they brought her in. I helped with that Code Blue. Frenchy had a hell of a time stitching up the mess Lowell made," Myra came back strong.

  "Well, you're a treasure, Myra. The warden knows how valuable you've been." Dr. Friel's voice paused, searching. "I can't imagine the pain that poor girl had to be in. If the guard hadn't walked into the women's dorm right then for bed check
—"

  "More like beaver check. I say, Peklar wasn't even supposed be in the women's dorm. He's a pig, always tries to catch the women naked or having a private moment, Dr. Friel."

  "Call me Imogen."

  Lucy forced her eyes open once more, but the glare hurt so much she shut them again tightly.

  She remembered sawing away at her left arm with the jagged piece of plastic lens and then changing sides to work on the right until she saw blood. She felt mortified and sick all at once.

  What was I thinking?

  Through her eyelids, she saw colors blurring and spiking. The voices were coming closer, and she battled to stay sharp but felt herself spinning and being dragged under by the incontestable return of slow-wave sleep.

  Chapter 27

  The Regents of the

  International New Age University

  have conferred on

  Imogen Agnes Friel

  the Degree of

  Doctor of Psychology

  with special concentration in

  Psychodynamic Therapy

  and

  Electro Magnet Homeopathy

  with all the rights and privileges thereunto appertaining

  Bags in hand, Xochitl bounded down the porch stairs toward El Gallo. Parked in his usual spot on the small patch of gravel off the driveway, the flaming orange Toronado gleamed in the morning sun. Xochitl felt a surge of adrenalin pulse through her body at the prospect of revving his engines and tearing down the highway again. It had been too long for either of them, and they needed to stretch their legs.

  Rounding the back of her muscle car, Xochitl almost tripped over her own feet as she gazed upon the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen — a brand new cherry red Tesla Roadster parked next to El Gallo. She dropped the bags on the ground. As if she were a piece of metal and the Roadster a giant magnet, Xochitl was uncontrollably drawn to the supercharged electric car. She ogled the exquisite convertible, running her hand down the two-seater's sleek body and over its velvety black leather interior, which strangely had a child safety seat strapped to it.

  Who in Empyrean owns a hundred thousand dollar Tesla? And why would the pendejo have a car seat inside?

  Xochi took one last longing look and sighed before tossing her bags in El Gallo's trunk.

  "Don't worry, baby," she patted her own sweet ride, "Mama'll never leave you."

  "Hi," a high-pitched voice shrilled from behind Xochitl.

  "¡Híjole!" Xochitl spun around.

  A forty-something woman with dark, thick-rimmed glasses and streaked hair, concealed under a floppy hat, wiggled her fingers in a prissy wave. A cross between schoolmarm and flower child, she looked like a confused mess.

  Please God, don't let her be the Tesla's owner!

  "Kennels are in the back." Xochitl pointed toward the rear of the ranch house.

  "You must be Xochitl," the woman cooed and offered Xochi a limp hand.

  Am I supposed to shake it or kiss it?

  She did neither.

  "Do I know you?"

  "Of course!" The woman's hand lingered in the air for another moment before dropping to her side. "It's me. Imogen."

  Stunned by the realization that Lucy's psycho psychiatrist had somehow found them, Xochi threw her hands up in disgust.

  "¡Híjole! I don't have time for this!" She stepped around Imogen and headed back to the house. "Kai! ¡Vámonos!" she yelled over her shoulder as she took the stairs two at a time.

  "Quite an interesting Aztec name." Imogen matched her stride to Xochitl.

  "Uh, huh." Xochitl flung open the screen door and entered the ranch foyer. The scent of freshly baked cookies filled the living room.

  "Gerri," she called out. "We gotta leave. Will you pack us up some food?" She grabbed Lefty's military jacket off the coat rack.

  "Sure thing, Xoch," Gerri replied from the kitchen. "I'll throw in some chocolate chip and lemon bars."

  "I myself went the traditional route," Imogen continued, oblivious to the exchange, "picking a name more befitting a person of Hispanic heritage...So, this is Lucy's home."

  Xochitl reared on the crazy woman invading Lucy's haven. "Out!" Xochitl shooed Imogen, who nearly tripped over her sandals, outside and down the stairs, backing her up until they'd reached the side of the house.

  "Kai, now!"

  Just then, a pretty little girl with raven ringlets, dressed like a doll, ran around the corner of the house, Kai, Tau and Thandi following behind.

  Kai threw his red ball high in the air as the life-sized doll leapt up five feet off the ground and caught it square in her mouth.

  "Hands!" Imogen cried. "Lupe not with your mouth!"

  Lupe spit the ball out and ran to Imogen's side.

  "Mommy! Mommy!" Lupe howled, her voice, though high in pitch like Imogen's, was more pleasing to the ear. "Did you see? Did you see how high I jumped?"

  "Yes." Imogen doted, taking Lupe by the hand. "What a special little girl."

  "¡Híjole!" Xochitl rolled her eyes.

  "Kai's been playing with me, Mommy." Lupe squirmed out of her mother's grip and raced over to Kai, who patted the child on her head.

  Tau and Thandi circled the two Were kids, and a chase game was on. Kai dashed toward the kennels with Lupe close on his heels as the ridgeback puppies loped alongside.

  "No running, Lupe!" Imogen called after her daughter. "I really must see Lucy."

  "Well, she's busy right now." Xochitl threw Lefty's jacket on. "I know. Why don't you email her whatever it is you need to ask, and she'll get back to you."

  "I got the impression Lucy wasn't much for emailing," Imogen said, not realizing Xochitl was mocking her.

  "Exactly." Xochitl cupped her hands to her mouth. "Kai, we have to go!"

  Kai instantly came to a halt and headed back to Xochitl and Imogen. Lupe stayed right where she was with her head drooped and her arms crossed.

  "Lupe Rosita Agnes Friel!" Imogen yelled. "You come here this instant."

  Lupe stood her ground and stomped her feet.

  How adorable.

  "Excuse me a moment." Imogen put up an apologetic hand.

  "Take all the time you want." Xochitl waved Imogen on, and was about to turn back toward El Gallo when she saw Lupe's head fly up, her nose sniffing the air. She stood still for a moment, then darted up the hill where Lucy was saying goodbye to her mother.

  "Bubala, stop!" Imogen yelled.

  "Crap!" Xochitl pointed to Kai. "Stay here. Get ready to leave." Then she sprinted after Imogen.

  Tau and Thandi howled as they ran past Xochitl.

  *

  Bewildered, Lucy watched Imogen Friel hike clumsily up Skylark Hill. The bedeviled woman looked like a refugee from the Renaissance Faire, costumed as she was in a billowy blouse, a patchwork skirt, leather sandals and a ridiculous hat. This was a far cry from the professional pantsuits she had worn at Folsom Prison. Imogen had also grown her chin length bob out into a mess of long hippie hair streaked with shades of cotton candy pink, fuchsia and cerise.

  A little girl with perfect sable ringlets, outfitted in a velvet dress complete with matching blue cloak and shiny black patent leather Mary Janes ran in circles around the out-of-breath Imogen.

  The girl pointed at Lucy and yelled, "See, see. I found her Mommy. I found her. I'm a good girl!"

  Imogen smiled indulgently at the child and cooed, "Who is just the best little girl in the world?"

  The child preened. "I bet it's me."

  "Yes, my little Lupe. You are the best little girl in the world." Imogen sounded serious.

  Lucy protectively stood in front of her mother's stone heart. "What are you doing here, Imogen?" She felt antagonistic toward the shrink for intruding.

  "Oh, you know, the mountain comes to Muhammad and all that." Imogen paused to take in the panoramic view of the Empyrean Valley. "This place is fantastic. Taking up permanent residence will look very good on your report, Lucy."

  "Nothing is permanent," Lucy started but
thought better than to give Imogen a hook. "I can't leave California, so here I am. For now."

  "Oh, but this is beautiful," Imogen said and took a long look around. "Fresh air, biodynamic farming. Which reminds me, the solstice is coming. Paradise. Well, Empyrean was the highest heaven to the ancient Greeks after all. You deserve this, Lucy. And it's so wonderful you still get to work with the animals."

  Lucy looked at the woman, then at the child. "Is this the—"

  "Lupe!" Imogen jumped in. "Lupe, this is your Aunt Lucy. She was there the day you were born."

  A wave of nausea coursed through Lucy at the uninvited memory of Imogen standing over the ripped-open body of a woman in a pink jumpsuit.

  "Did you know my real Mommy?" Lupe asked shyly and batted her preternaturally long black eyelashes.

  Imogen looked hurt by the child's casual cruelty but recovered quickly and put a possessive hand on Lupe's shoulder.

  "Not well." Lucy dismissed the little girl. "Excuse me." She started back down the path.

  Xochitl arrived at the crest with Tau and Thandi behind her. Xochi wasn't out of breath, though she had clearly been running.

  "The pups took a side trip," Xochitl explained her late arrival. "Sorry I couldn't stop that bitch." She gestured toward Imogen. "And the little kid has a nose like a bloodhound. Can't even guess where she knows your scent from." Xochi looked at the little girl with annoyance.

  "I see you've met the Werebaby," Lucy said.

  "Baby, my ass! Kid looks like she's five." Xochitl stopped and took another measure of the child.

  "Oh, thank you. Lupe is growing like a weed," Imogen squawked. "It's the good organic, gluten-free diet I think. People poison themselves with preservatives and don't even know it. Have you tried chia seeds, Xochitl?"

  Xochitl sharply turned her back on the woman and the child and caught up to Lucy.

  "I had a call. Miguel's in trouble. We have to go," Xochitl said, dread in her voice.

  "Tell me in the car," Lucy agreed without needing to hear more. She knew Miguel was Xochitl's Achilles heel. Lucy didn't want to return to L.A., but she would walk through fire for her friend. And if Xochitl needed to help Miguel in L.A., they'd go to L.A. to help Miguel — no matter what.