The Werewolf Whisperer (The Werewolf Whisperer Series Book 1)

by Camilla Ochlan

  "I'll take you to the place where I saw the Hound," Mac said, scrambling out of El Gallo.

  Lucy stepped out of the car, stretched and scanned the area with some misgivings.

  Dank, dark and out of sight. Perfect.

  Xochitl popped the trunk and grabbed her shotgun. "Come to Momma."

  Lucy's eyes passed over the AK-47 and their new TAR-21, before resting on the tranq guns.

  "We're out of tranq darts, and we can't take the elephant gun because we don't know the Hound's weight," Lucy pondered out loud and grabbed her Beretta.

  "No guns, please. No guns." Mac started to shake. "I won't take another step if you take guns."

  "Are you kidding?" Xochitl looked completely surprised. "What's wrong with you?"

  Mac looked at Lucy, fear in his eyes. "If someone accidentally gets hurt, gets shot, gets killed even, it's on me." He looked toward the water. "I don't want any trouble. It's just a Hound. You're 'The Werewolf Whisperer.' Why do you need a gun to take in a Hound?"

  "It's not the Hound I worry about." Lucy tried to sound reasonable. "What if you're wrong?"

  "I'm not!" The man was adamant.

  "But what if you are, and it's really a Werebeast?"

  "I read you can control Werebeasts." His challenge gave Lucy pause.

  "Mac, it's not always clear cut. What if there's more than one?" Lucy sounded like a coward to herself.

  The man's face had started to change during their argument. He was losing respect for her; she could tell.

  Maybe he's right. Maybe we've grown too paranoid.

  "Fine, no guns!" Lucy decided impulsively.

  "What?" Xochitl gripped her shotgun tighter to her chest. "Are you out of your mind?

  "You're scaring the man." Lucy looked toward the guard. "Mac, give me your nightstick."

  Mac handed over his side-handle baton with no reservations, a relieved look on his face.

  "¡Jódame! He's scared? I'm scared. This is bullshit," Xochitl muttered but returned her shotgun to the trunk, instead selecting her Karambit knife harness.

  Lucy backed away from the trunk filled with firearms, strapped on her utility belt and slid the nightstick in place. "I've missed my baton," she said, feeling at ease with the familiar weapon at her fingertips.

  "Gabe used to be the tonfa king, Xochi. He studied some Okinawan Martial Art. The name of the school kept changing. I can't remember. But we spent soooooo many breaks practicing with the batons."

  Lucy gave Xochitl a sidelong glance. "You would have liked Gabe. Before he turned I mean."

  "Yeah, I guess I didn't meet him at his best." Xochitl shrugged. "All I remember is him tearing a hole in a gangbanger on my cantina floor."

  Mac looked uncomfortable again. Lucy felt sorry for the old man. He was living in a violent world, trying to keep a small corner of his life peaceful. On the one hand, he was brave and honorable for looking out for a stray Hound. On the other hand, involving "The Werewolf Whisperer" without getting approval from his boss could cost him his livelihood. Or get him killed. Lucy knew that things as a rule had unintended consequences in her line of work. She made up her mind to send Mac home at the first opportunity.

  As they crossed the street to the guard shack, Lucy spotted a black van pulling into the big parking lot.

  "Crap! Catchers are here already." Lucy walked faster, hoping to head them off.

  "Mac, you said your shift is over. Why don't you keep walking to your car? We'll get it done."

  "I'll stay, Miss Lucy." The old man's voice shook, but he sounded sincere.

  "We got it from here, Mac." Lucy wanted to keep him out of danger. "Go home."

  Mac wavered. Lucy guessed good sense and sense of duty were playing tug-of-war inside of him.

  "You'll just get in the way." Xochitl sounded annoyed, but Lucy knew she was just trying to help Mac make the smart choice.

  "The Hound's been holed up in a little grove of trees straight down by the tracks," Mac said quietly. He didn't point but nodded his head down the street. "Good luck."

  Mac didn't wait for any final words from Lucy but walked toward his car on the far side of the parking lot. Lucy thought his gait was lighter. Perhaps he felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

  And firmly mounted on ours.

  Ahead Lucy saw four Catchers jump out of their van and head for the door of the guard shack where a young blond security guard, presumably Aaron, waited for them.

  "Let's do it," she said to Xochitl, who had already picked up her stride.

  "Well, I'll be damned to a hell of rotting fish," a tall Catcher yelled out and pointed at Lucy and Xochitl. "It's The Werewolf Whisperer and her La Güera." He laughed in a dirty way and spat on the ground. Like the other three Catchers, he wore the new black Catcher jumpsuit, black army boots and had a tactical AK-47 slung over his shoulder.

  "Assault rifles," Xochitl commented under her breath. "Don't you feel wonderful about your little tonfa classes with Gabe now, Luce?"

  "Fuck me." Lucy said nothing else.

  "Lucy Lowell," another Catcher, a powerfully built black man with a platinum Mohawk walked up to meet Lucy and Xochitl at the curb.

  "Xochitl," Lucy spoke through her teeth, "this is Micah Tolbert. He used to be one of my fellow ACTF officers."

  "When there was a Animal Cruelty Task Force, bitch." Micah's tone was mocking and superior.

  "Hey Ann!" he called to a female Catcher with a shaved head. "ACTF reunion time."

  Ann McNeal left the other two Catchers by the truck and strode over.

  "What do you want, Lowell?" Ann wasted no time. "The Catchers are here now, girly girly. Why don't you hit the road before you break a nail?"

  "Why don't you shut your mouth, before I shut it for you?" Xochitl said in a bored tone. "Puta."

  Ann reached for her gun, but Micah held out his hand. "Don't be a stupid cow, Ann. You can't just shoot them down like a dog in the street." He laughed bitterly.

  "You're upsetting my team, Lowell," Micah continued, looking at Lucy. "Why don't you and your friend do the smart thing for once? Beat it!"

  "No big, Micah. We're just looking for a little girl's lost Hound," Lucy lied. "We got an anonymous tip that one was spotted somewhere in the container terminal. Give us a break. Let us look around." As much as she wanted to put her fist through Micah's smug face, she knew tangling with the Catchers would just lead to endless delays and mountains of red tape.

  "A little girl's lost Hound?" Micah guffawed. "You're so freaking pathetic. I used to think you were the shit, ordering those dogfaces around. But you're just a fetch and carry now." He preened. "You have any idea the kind of bonuses we make? Moola, baby, moola. And the bennies? We're rock stars on the force now. Just look at our guns."

  Lucy knew becoming Catchers had brought out the worst in both Micah and Ann, but Micah's rabid edge was unexpected.

  "How are the others?" Lucy hoped to rekindle a sense of camaraderie in the man, just long enough for him to let her and Xochitl go about their business.

  "Others?" Ann answered in an ugly tone. "There are no others. Goddamn Weres killed them all. It's just us, the desk jockeys and the new recruits, like Herrero and Cojuangco over there."

  "And that's what's up, bitches." Micah was clearly running out of patience. "There's a Werebeast out there with my name on it. The guard kid Aaron told us he saw a Werebeast here earlier. Stole his lunch or some guano. My AK's gonna tear that Wereshit a new asshole."

  "If I don't get the fucker first," Ann cut in aggressively.

  "What if this Aaron's wrong and it's a Hound?" Lucy asked simply.

  "Whatever tickles your twat. Werebeast. Hound. Dead is dead." Micah waved the other two Catchers over.

  "My old friend Lucy and her GF want to go looking for a lost Hound," Micah announced while smiling indulgently. "What if we make a little wager? If you catch the Werebeast first, you give it to us. And if we catch it first, we arrest you for trespassing and impeding an investigatio
n."

  "What if it's a Hound?" Xochitl asked with uncharacteristic calm.

  "It's not a Hound, little gallina," the Catcher Ann had called Herrero answered her with a leer. "The rent-a-pig swore to me it was a Werebeast. Do I look like the kind of hombre someone would lie to?"

  "Vete a la verga," Xochitl replied with a sweet smile on her face, though Lucy saw the smile did not reach her eyes.

  "Enough flirting." Micah signaled the Catchers to move out toward the water. "Scream if you need help, Lucy Goosey." He dismissed her with a wave.

  "I'd like to hear you scream," Ann added before walking away.

  "Choteros are all batshit crazy," Xochitl said when the Catchers were out of earshot.

  "Let's just avoid running into them again." Lucy glanced at the guard shack as they walked in the opposite direction.

  "Wonder why that Aaron guard lied about the Werebeast." Lucy hesitated.

  "Unless it was Mac who lied about it being a Hound," Xochitl said, a bitter sound to her voice.

  It was well past one in the morning, and Terminal Island was quiet, except the occasional vehicle rolling by them as they made their way down Ferry Street to check out what Mac thought was the Hound's hiding spot.

  Coming back another time wasn't an option; Lucy squashed the impulse to leave. She felt herself starting to fade. Her bones ached and tension clamped down on her neck muscles, causing what felt like the beginnings of a migraine.

  The light from the street lamps felt like someone was stabbing her brain with toothpicks, but thankfully it provided enough illumination to do away with the need for their flashlights.

  The sea air had grown much colder since they had wrestled Travis onto the dock. The wind picked up, and Lucy felt a light drizzle hit her face.

  "It could be worse...It could be raining," Xochitl quoted their favorite Frankenstein movie.

  On the other side of a low fence, what Mac had called a grove turned out to be nothing but a scraggly piece of dry land with a few clumps of anorexic looking trees and scattered patches of weedy brush. The streetlight didn't reach as far as the desolate lot, and Lucy had to strain to see past the scrawny trees to the train tracks. She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. At the same moment, Xochitl hissed, "There!"

  A dark figure shot out from behind some low bushes and, yawping a wild howl, ran toward and then past Lucy and Xochitl.

  Lucy stumbled back one off-balance step, reached out her hands to grab the figure as it flew by, and, missing it, sprang forward in pursuit.

  Xochitl at her side, Lucy gained on the Hound as they barreled down the middle of the road, dodging a black Town Car at the last moment. The driver hit his horn, the honk sounding like an alarm through the quiet night.

  The Hound ducked in between two large buildings, still howling and yipping as if he enjoyed the chase.

  "It's a game to him!" Lucy got the words out between sharp breaths. Sprinting from a standstill forced her lungs to work overtime and spiked her heart rate.

  Pursuing him at a dead run, Lucy and Xochitl cut through a narrow parking lot and emerged on Terminal Way.

  Across the street the Hound, Lucy was fairly certain he was a Hound, scaled the tall chain-link fence surrounding the massive container yard, swung himself over the top and disappeared behind rows of blue and red steel containers.

  "Son of a bitch!" Xochitl yelled and came to a stop.

  With no thought in her head, except for catching the Hound, Lucy bounded across Terminal Way and threw herself at the fence, gripped the chain-link with her fingers and put all her effort toward climbing. Adrenaline carried her over the top. Gravity did the rest.

  "Hmmm." Xochitl appeared on the inside of the yard, next to where Lucy had crashed down. Picking herself off the ground, Lucy felt jarred and winded, but detected no injury. She wasn't entirely sure how she hadn't broken anything.

  "There's a gap in the fence by the lamp post, ninja," Xochitl said and pointed to a rolled back section of chain-link, half hidden by the angle of the street lamp. "Sometimes, it's better to look at your surroundings first."

  "Ow!" Lucy gingerly touched her leg, which had started to bleed again. She winced, causing Xochitl to give her a concerned look.

  "Where did he go?" Lucy focused on the walls of the intermodal containers lined up straight ahead with long alleys running between them.

  "Round the right. Down the blue row." Xochitl stared into the darkness. The light from the street lamps did not reach into the container yard.

  "You flush him out. I'll try to head him off around the other side." Lucy took a long thin whistle from the inside pocket of her bomber jacket.

  "This carries over four hundred yards." She blew into the dog whistle.

  "I dunno, sounds broken to me." Xochitl smirked and took off in the direction the Hound had fled. Lucy saw a steady stream of light coming from the cell phone in Xochitl's hand as she disappeared behind the enormous steel boxes.

  Lucy felt she could see just fine and started to run toward the section of red containers stacked high to her left. She quickly learned she'd have to pace herself. Her body was stiffening from the abuse of the day and the impact of her fall, the sum total sending shocks through her with every step. At more of a fast walk than a run, Lucy entered the container alley with only the light of the moon to guide her.

  "Here boy," she called and made clicking sounds with her tongue. "Where are you?"

  A loud bang reverberated from the next alley, followed by Xochitl's trumpet-like, nearly incomprehensible rapid-fire rant.

  "TuestupidoperroifIgetmyhandsaroundyourlittleneckIamgonnaestrangulartu."

  A jubilant howl followed, and the Hound came racing around a far corner, moving so fast he nearly flattened Lucy. She grabbed for his white T-shirt and swept his ankle with her good leg. His momentum tripped them both, and Lucy went down painfully for the second time that night.

  The Hound squirmed and twisted his body to break free. Luckily, Lucy had landed on top of him. She forced her elbow into his solar plexus. He took a large, involuntary breath, forgetting to struggle for a split second. She seized the opportunity and stuck her face right into his face so they were nose to nose.

  "Down!" She growled so hard and so low in her throat, she sounded like something out of a nightmare to herself.

  The Hound went limp instantly, his golden wolf eyes gleaming in the darkness.

  "You got him?" Xochitl weaved around the corner at a slightly impaired rate. Her nose was bleeding, and she held her hand to her forehead.

  "What did he do?" Lucy asked, trying to decide whether or not to leash the Hound.

  Xochitl hit the Hound and Lucy with the beam of her cell phone flashlight, causing him to whimper and Lucy to rear back.

  "Pinche perro ducked when I went to grab him, and I went face first into the corner of the damn container." Xochitl sounded angry at herself. "He's...fast."

  "Get up." Lucy gestured to the Hound.

  He stood up and took a slow step back. "Stay!" She coaxed and held up her hand. The Hound stood with his back against a container, bathed in the light of Xochitl's phone.

  The Were was an Asian teenage boy about Lucy's height. He looked thin and pale. His black hair fell straight to his shoulders, but unlike all the Hounds and Ferals Lucy had run across, no hair covered his face, neck, arms or hands. His white T-shirt was filthy and ripped where Lucy had grabbed him; his jeans looked worn but not faded. He was barefoot, but — again to Lucy's surprise — he did not have the characteristic clawed Hound/Feral feet. But his glowing golden eyes told her that he was not human.

  "What are you?" Lucy asked out loud, not expecting an answer.

  The Hound tilted his head to the side, as if trying to get a better look at them. Then he stood tall and let out a stream of words that Lucy did not understand. He gesticulated wildly. Peppered throughout the unfamiliar language was the familiar sounding "Kai-an." The boy said it over and over while nodding fiercely.

  "Shit,
what is that? Chinese? What the hell? He can talk up a storm," Xochitl said, flabbergasted.

  "What in the...?" Lucy's mind raced. "They told us the outbreak was confined to North America. Mac said this Hound came from Hong Kong."

  The Hound perked up when he heard her say Hong Kong.

  He nodded fiercely. "Xiāng Găng. Xiāng Găng."

  "Must be his name." Lucy pointed to him. "You, Shiang Gan. Shiang Gan?" She turned to Xochitl. "Am I saying that right?" Xochitl shook her head.

  The Hound shook his head too. He pointed to himself in a panic and repeated, "Kai-an, Kai-an, Kai-an, Kai-an, Kai-an, Kai-an!"

  Lucy pointed to the boy. "Kyon!"

  The boy nodded furiously and went on, "Kai-an, Kai-an, Kai-an, Kai-an!"

  Lucy looked to Xochitl. "Yeah, we get it, little buddy. You've got KV."

  The boy stopped and tilted his head, perplexed.

  "Enough of this," Xochitl said. "Let's just call him Kai."

  Lucy shrugged her shoulders. "Why not?"

  Kai inched to the side, ready to run off again.

  Lucy stepped in his path.

  "Only obedient when watched," Lucy said. "I got your number, Kai."

  "Hey, Xoch, give me something to feed him. Establishes a bond." She held out her hand but kept her eyes on Kai.

  Xochitl dug the bag of pepitas from the gas station out of her pocket and tossed it to Lucy.

  Lucy made a face. "Pepitas? You're nuts." Xochitl barked a short laugh at Lucy's bad joke.

  "Pumpkin seeds, buddy. Pepitas. Yummy." Using her high-pitched coo, she lured him closer.

  Kai stuck out his nose and sniffed at the bag.

  Lucy dumped a small portion onto her hand and offered that to him.

  Kai snuffled at the pepitas, then snatched the bag from Lucy's grip. He emptied its contents into his mouth and chewed ecstatically.

  "See, he likes pepitas," Xochitl pointed out primly.

  "They eat sticks and mud. Not a big stretch." Lucy shrugged her shoulders.

  Before Xochitl could reply, the quick burst of a siren approaching startled them.

  "The Catcher van," Xochitl said. "It's coming from the water."

  "Let's beat it, you two." Lucy stepped very close to Kai, getting right in his space; their eyes locked.