The Werewolf Whisperer (The Werewolf Whisperer Series Book 1)

by Camilla Ochlan

  Lucy bent down to support Xochitl who was struggling to get up on her own.

  "Better stay down, Xochitl. Ambulance will be here soon," Lucy said and brushed a strand of blood-smeared hair out of Xochitl's eyes. Getting a good look at Xochitl's bruised face and bleeding shoulder and arm, Lucy feared for the woman.

  Those sons of bitches beat her before siccing her brother on her.

  "Help me up," Xochitl said firmly, biting down on the pain.

  Lucy helped Xochitl up, clamping her hands tight to keep pressure on Xochitl's bleeding arm. Xochitl just stared at her little brother who was slowly changing from Werebeast to teenager again.

  They passed Memo on their way out of the ring. Before Lucy could stop her, Xochitl lurched at the kneeling Memo and kicked him in the crotch.

  "¡Memo, chinga tu madre!" Xochitl spat blood from her torn mouth in his face and careened backward. Memo yelped and fell over writhing. Lucy thought she heard him retching but was too busy catching Xochitl to gloat.

  Undeterred, Ignacio continued, "Si Usted quiere un abogado antes de o durante nuestras preguntas pero no tiene medios para emplear un abogado, se le asignará uno, sin costo, antes de iniciarse las preguntas."

  Hands came, as if from out of nowhere, and helped steady Xochitl. Two paramedics lifted her onto a gurney, leaving Lucy to follow wordlessly.

  "¿Entiende Usted cada uno de los derechos que le he explicado?" Lucy could hear Ignacio conclude.

  I don't understand. I don't understand any of this.

  She walked from the darkness of the warehouse into the glare of the day.

  The scene outside had blown up into a circus; beside the parked SWAT truck, several police cruisers, an armored vehicle, the prisoner transport box truck and several ambulances had pulled in. The Los Angeles Coroner van arrived followed by a number of news crews. Officers rushed around to set up a police tape perimeter, and Lucy saw Captain Burch hold back the early-bird reporters with a terse, presumably empty statement.

  The younger of the two paramedics paused before the ambulance. "Is this one human or Were?" The older paramedic glanced up at Lucy.

  "Human," Lucy answered quickly. She felt panic rise up in her. "Why?"

  "'Cause the Catchers are taking the Weres. It's a separate vehicle," the young man said and got to work on Xochitl. "We'll take this lady to the hospital."

  A different truck for the Weres? What about Miguel?

  Reluctant to leave Xochitl with emergency services, Lucy circled around the ambulance. At a distance, a black truck was being loaded with people in various stages of transformation. Lucy thought she spotted Miguel Magaña being hoisted up by two Catchers. Lucy recognized them as two of her fellow ACTF officers, Tolbert and McNeal, but instead of their LAPD uniforms they were now clad in grey camouflage and carried submachine guns.

  "Hey Micah, what's going on?" Lucy approached the truck with feigned levity.

  "What's going on is that you got us a hella huge Were haul." Micah Tolbert, a tall, green-eyed man of Caribbean descent, slapped Lucy's back in approval. "You are one solid bitch. Hardly back, you deliver the grand slam package."

  "Rice is gonna hand out bonuses you keep this up," Ann McNeal chimed in, tossing her dishwater blond braid over her shoulder. "Damn dirty dogs, I say." She cackled at her own joke.

  "Where are you taking that kid?" Lucy stepped up to the open truck door and pointed to Miguel who was hunched over, sitting with nearly a dozen people — all human looking and dressed in torn and dirty clothes. They sat zip tied on hard truck benches facing each other. Two guards with submachine guns manned the front, ready for trouble.

  Didn't Gyssell Sandoval say military was picking people up and forcing them into black trucks? Choteros! Crap, that's us.

  "You guys are all Catchers now?" Lucy asked Micah and backed away slowly.

  "Yeah, all of us except Heckman and Dawn. Dawn's pulled desk duty. Wouldn't shoot a beast critter, said it looked at her like her beagle. Puppy eyes, or some shit." Micah snickered. "Dumb blond bitch."

  Lucy ignored him and turned to Ann. "Where are you taking them?"

  "The pound, the clinic, jail. What do you want I should do? Drive them up to Lancaster and set them free in the desert?" Ann scoffed.

  "Why don't I take Miguel Magaña off your hands? I have questions. He has answers. And his sister is my CI. I can take care of the paperwork," Lucy said, trying to sound casual.

  "Are you kidding with that? Rice would kick my ass into next week if I let that little prick go," Ann McNeal shot back forcefully. "You think I'm a moron, don't you? Next you're going to tell me the thing has rights or some sanctimonious malarkey. Get stuffed, Lowell." Ann seemed to savor her words, as if she had planned them.

  I thought you were my friend.

  "Leave her be, Ann. You know Rice has a hard-on for her since the thing at the station. Learn to make friends, you silly cow." Micah turned to Lucy, leaving Ann to slam the truck doors. "But she's right, Luce. You don't seem fully committed to the cause here. Shit or get off the pot, Lowell." He strode away, whispering something to Ann that made the woman look back at Lucy and laugh like a hyena.

  Lucy had never seen this ugly side to Micah or Ann.

  What's changed so fast?

  For years, these two had been her comrades, her peers, her fellow officers. They'd seen things together. Awful things. She could never trust them as her backup now that she'd witnessed their deep callousness and true cruelty. What the likes of Micah and Ann didn't understand, but what Lucy sensed was that these Were creatures, no matter what, were still people.

  She looked around for Burch, but he was busy with the impromptu press conference. Deep concern drove her toward the reporters flocking around her boss, sticking microphones in his face and shouting out questions.

  "Hey, Burch!" Stress robbed Lucy of all decorum. She knew she was stepping over a line, but she couldn't help herself.

  "They loaded Miguel Magaña on that black truck." She pointed at the Catchers. "I want him out, and I want to know where they are taking the rest of those people."

  An audible swell in jibber jabber rose from the gaggle of reporters. Burch just turned to Lucy very slowly.

  "Not now!" He spoke clearly and loudly but looked at her with apology. They locked eyes for a moment before he turned back to calm the rising speculations flung at him at excessive speed. Some reporters had taken his pause as an opportunity to lurch toward the black truck, waving to their cameramen to get it all on tape.

  Soldiers flooded from the sidelines, protecting the perimeter and closing access to the black truck, which was starting to drive off slowly. Three Humvees followed it to the street, and two more escorted it up Vineland.

  Unsure what to do, Lucy started toward the squad car she'd arrived in. Her intention was to follow the black truck, to follow Miguel for Xochitl.

  "Don't go there, Lucy." Ignacio Ramos jogged over, surprising Lucy with his close proximity. "Don't go back to the black-and-white," Ignacio murmured. "Get in your car and go home. Not your apartment, but home."

  "What are you—" Lucy started, her adrenaline instantly spiking again.

  "Rice sent a report about you and the Were at the station to his superiors. I typed it for him," Ignacio spoke quickly, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "It's not good, Lucy. He asked them to lock you up. Study you. Rice said, since the National Guard has been federalized, we're all under his command."

  Lucy felt like she was about to be shoved into a cage. Her breathing came fast; only self-preservation counted now.

  "I had Dawn drive your Jeep down here. Hot-wired it myself," Ignacio said with a slight ring of pride.

  Lucy fought to pull herself together. It all made sense: The Catchers, Rice's sudden cooperation, even Burch's apparent friendship.

  I'm a freak to them!

  They'd shape her into what they wanted her to be before she'd even have a chance to figure out what she was — a specimen to be studied, a tool to be used in their wer
ewolf apocalypse.

  "Where is it?" Lucy looked around for her Jeep.

  "Dawn parked it between the warehouses. Get out of here. I'll cover for you." Ignacio started to walk away.

  "Thank you," Lucy said quietly. She felt rattled and couldn't be sure that he had heard her.

  Lucy hit the freeway a few minutes into rush hour traffic. It would take an extra thirty minutes or so, but she'd get to the ranch before dinnertime. In the rearview mirror, Lucy watched L.A. city limits disappear behind her.

  Now what?

  She flicked on her radio for the long drive ahead.

  Maybe somebody's broadcasting some sanity. Maybe somebody has a clue what's goin' on. Maybe somebody can tell me why insane, slavering horror creatures obey me.

  "...tame Werebeast who appealed to Governor Holly Hollis at Sacramento's Capitol found out to be fraud in fur coat." Click. "Vancouver halts Hollywood film productions as our neighbors to the north shut the Canada-U.S. border." Click. "What do you say caller?" "I say round 'em up and skin 'em all." Click.

  'Course not. Nobody knows. Nobody knows anything. Time to gather intel and plot a course of action. Time to go home.

  Chapter 15

  The wolf flu strain that has health officials concerned is now confirmed in Hong Kong's New Territories. Our government is doing its part to fend off the spread of the virus, but we also have an important role to play by using common sense and being vigilant.

  Of the 153 people so far stricken, all have died. That is 100% fatality rate. The wolf flu is an emerging human virus and much is still to be learned. It has undergone genetic changes that suggest it could evolve and a pandemic would then loom. But alarm is not needed. Our scientists are world virus virtuosos and our government is as prepared as possible. Co-operation with the Mainland is robust.

  -South China Sea Daily

  Lucy frowned at the messed up rig. "You sure you want that beaten up piece of crap, Mac?" She shoved the trailer door closed, hoping it would stay shut this time.

  Lucy and Xochitl had abandoned the horse trailer with its broken axle on Swimford Street under the Vincent Thomas Bridge, before dragging Travis to the dilapidated Catalina Express building where Captain Azov's crew had crated the boy and shoved him below deck — an inauspicious start to a journey that was more of a gamble than a guarantee.

  Exhausted, Lucy felt sad for Travis. In one night, the teen turned Werebeast had lost his home, his family and his girlfriend. Even if he lived through his first few days on the island, his life would be a nonstop contest for survival with other refugee Weres.

  Lucy's thigh throbbed where Travis had clawed her earlier.

  The gas station fiasco didn't help either.

  "I'm gonna have to get my leg looked at after all, Xochi," she said to her partner, who was still fiddling with the lock.

  "Close, pendejo!" Xochitl spat at the unruly lock, too cranky with exhaustion to keep her voice down. She acknowledged Lucy with a sympathetic turned-up lip and scrunched-up face.

  Lucy took in the wrecked trailer with its bulged walls and broken axle. Travis had not gone gently.

  "Give it a rest, Xoch."

  Lucy let out a long slow breath meant to focus her. She looked at Mac.

  The old security guard could have been sixty or six hundred years old for all she could tell. He stood up straight, wiry muscles showing through his security uniform, but his skin gave away his age. The tone was more grey than black, matching the iron grey of his very short hair. He seemed frail to Lucy, barely hanging on somehow.

  "That thing's gonna be a pain to haul outta here." She wanted to give Mac an out.

  "My brother's got a flatbed. He'll come get the trailer in the mornin'," Mac said, dismissing further discussion. He seemed agitated.

  "Meantime, why don't you pull your ol' car around. Let's take a ride. I got somethin' you oughta see on Terminal Island, just over the bridge."

  Xochitl bristled. "Hey Mac, you might be like a thousand years old, and you're doing us a solid by getting rid of that paliza trailer, but don't go dissin' my ride." She lovingly ran her hand over the fire orange fender.

  "This is a 1966 Oldsmobile Toronado. Pure power, Turbo Hydra-Matic, and quadrajet. His name is El Gallo. Respect!" She tossed her long blond hair and gave Mac an exaggerated withering stare.

  Lucy tried to suppress her smirk.

  "No offense, miss," Mac said quickly, looking unsure. "Please. I just need you to come over to the container yard on the other side."

  "Why?" Lucy asked. She was cold and on edge from an already long and grueling day.

  Mac visibly made up his mind.

  "We had some trouble," he began cautiously. "Something has been loose in and around berth nineteen for days. It broke out of a shipment from Hong Kong. When Customs inspected the container, it came tearin' out."

  "Call Homeland Security or ICE, homes." Xochitl jangled her gold rooster key chain impatiently. "Lucy's 'The Werewolf Whisperer' not La Migra."

  "Please, you have to listen." Mac grabbed Lucy's arm. "It's a Were, not a human."

  Lucy pushed his hand from her arm firmly. "I'm listening."

  "No one has been able to get close to it, but I saw it earlier tonight at our security shack." He halted, making sure he had their full attention.

  "It's not a Werebeast. It's a Hound. A boy." Mac was starting to sweat. "He took sandwiches. I caught a glimpse of him through the blinds. Looked so human, but not, you know? The eyes just aren't human." The man seemed lost, briefly.

  "I told my boss, thinking he could get ICE to lay off the port for a while," Mac said. "But he called the Catchers instead."

  Lucy shot a somber look at Xochitl.

  "They'll gas him, Xoch." She felt deep bitterness and resentment toward the officially sanctioned Werebeast police. Over the last two years, the Catcher unit had turned from a first line of defense against the chaos brought on by the Kyon Virus into a group of unchecked sadists lacking accountability. Lucy hated dealing with them.

  "Pinche Choteros," Xochitl said. "Show us, old man." She slid into El Gallo's driver's seat and surprised Lucy by fastening her seat belt.

  Lucy scooted to the middle of the bench, leaving space for Mac to join her. He climbed in slowly, as if his legs weren't cooperating. Once seated, he leaned as far away from Lucy as possible.

  Lucy wondered if he was giving her space to be polite, or because sitting next to "The Werewolf Whisperer" was just too weird.

  Of course since her last shower, she'd chased down several Weres, taught a Hound class, sat in mind-bogglingly horrible traffic for hours and hours, and carted about a tranquilized Werebeast weighing about a ton with a creaky hand truck.

  Maybe I just stink.

  Lucy sniffed in Xochitl's direction. She didn't seem to smell so bad.

  "What?" Xochitl asked.

  Flustered, Lucy sharply turned back to Mac who was staring at her intently.

  "You probably don't remember me," Mac started. Lucy shook her head, apologetic.

  Mac held up his hand. "Don't you worry, Miss Lucy. You meet a lot of people, I'm sure." He stopped again, apparently trying to gather his thoughts. "You helped me with my son little over a year ago."

  Lucy strained to remember the man but couldn't come up with anything.

  "It was at Point Fermin Park," Mac continued. Lucy remembered the Point Fermin classes sponsored by Hound Chow. They had been fun.

  "I had to work, but my wife took our son Kenny to one of your workshops. I only came by at the very end to pick 'em up." Mac looked out into the darkness.

  They had pulled onto the Vincent Thomas suspension bridge that connected San Pedro and Terminal Island. Lucy was momentarily mesmerized by the beauty of the blue LED lights illuminating the suspension cables and the sparkling skyline ahead.

  "San Pedro's Golden Gate. That's what they call it." Mac's voice had a warm resonance.

  "Tell me about your son," Lucy said. "Is he a Hound or a Feral?" She hoped for the former.<
br />
  "My Kenny's a Hound." Mac sounded almost proud, Lucy noted. "Kenny always had troubles...drugs, fighting. It didn't get any better when he got older. He was forty and a drifter when he turned. That was two years ago. It was hard at first, but your workshop saved us. Really did. You probably don't hear this a lot, but Kenny becoming a Hound saved his life. After you taught my wife how to train him, he's been so good. He's been living with us, and he's the best kid. Makes me sad we won't be around to take care of him forever."

  Lucy didn't know what to say.

  "I feel for those critters." Mac's voice shook with emotion. "I don't know why any of this happened, the Wereflu, the attacks. It was all so bad for a while. But they're not all violent. Some can be saved. Right, Miss Lucy?" He looked at her, searching her face for answers she didn't have. "I want to help."

  "It's okay, Mac," Lucy said automatically, in her calming tone of voice. It seemed to work because Mac stopped escalating. He looked determined.

  "I want to help, but I can't lose my job. My wife and Kenny are counting on me." He didn't look at her. "Can you get the stray Hound quietly, without anyone knowing?"

  "We'll do our best." Lucy knew she couldn't promise anything, but she didn't know what else to tell him.

  "Take the exit off the bridge at Ferry Street," Mac directed Xochitl. "Then go straight until you get to the grey guard shack. My shift's over. Aaron should be there already. He's pretty freaked out about the Were. Stupid kid almost shot at it when it first broke free. I don't know why they let him bring his own gun."

  "Fabulous," Xochitl said and started to pull into the large, empty parking lot. Mac made an "uh-uh" sound and pointed to a secluded overflow lot hidden under the bridge across the street from the guard shack.

  "Faster to get out. You just take Ferry Street right back onto the bridge from over there," he explained. "In case there's trouble."

  Xochitl let out an exasperated sigh, made the turn with a squeal of the tires, pulled the car into the shadows under the bridge and cut the engine.