It worked.
"You're making a mistake." Lucy tried to stall, pulling Mac's baton from her belt and putting herself in front of Kai.
A severe look cast over her face, Xochitl closed in, her curved Karambit knives held tight to her body, her knees bent, ready to launch. "This is gonna be fun."
A third figure broke from the passenger side of the pickup. He was much taller and skinnier than the other two. He wore a black leather duster and a black motorcycle helmet sprouting a spiky red Mohawk. Instead of a bat, he carried a long lead pipe.
"Get the fuck outta here," Xochitl yelled.
"You can't tell us what to do!" Motorcycle Mohawk Man sounded catty and spiteful. The turn of phrase made Lucy think he was young, maybe college age.
"Am I supposed to laugh myself to death?" Xochitl shouted rashly and took an aggressive step toward the tall man in the ridiculous outfit.
The man stepped back into an exaggerated fighting stance and raised the lead pipe high.
"Unclean. Black devil Hound dies!" A decidedly young voice cracked, sounding more like the boxer than the other two. A fourth figure climbed from the driver's side of the cab and onto the roof of the truck.
"Are you the leader?" Lucy tried to stall again. Obviously the youngest, judging by his slight build and skater hoodie, his face was covered with a long black and white scarf, which he held to the side to talk. Lucy could make out a little mousey mustache and a pathetic Van Dyke.
"We are Vigi Boys!" he shouted and stretched out his arms as if to embrace the night. A machete gleamed in his right hand. He pointed it up, then slashed down through the air and shouted, "Kill unclean dogs!"
"She's right, this's gonna be fun. Take the blonde. I'll take the redhead." Cowboy Boots came at Lucy, his bat poised.
She stepped aside and pivoted her body to face his back. The momentum of swinging the bat carried him past her as she'd anticipated, but he adjusted to her move. He jammed the bat back sharply, cracking her in the ribs. Pain bent Lucy's body in half, but she spun the baton up by the side-handle and connected with her assailant's face before he could bring the bat down on her.
She kicked the side of his knee with the hard sole of her boot. There was a crunch, and his leg crumpled inward.
Wasting no time, she jumped behind him and, catching his throat with the length of her baton, grabbed the stick from the other end and strangled the air out of him. For a moment, she had the upper hand and could glance at the others.
An unbelievably fast Kai dropped the boxer with a resounding flying spin kick to the temple. The man crumpled to the ground, motionless. Kai let out a triumphant howl.
Xochitl fought in such close range with Motorcycle Mohawk Man that he was no longer able to use the lead pipe. But he must have caught her at least once because one of her arms hung limply. Her other hand led a Karambit knife in wild figure eights, slashing and ripping at the man's exposed neck. He hauled the lead pipe back, exposing his neck further, and plunged the weapon squarely into Xochitl's chest. She fell backward on the ground. He stumbled forward, blood streaming onto the black leather of his coat.
Lucy loosened the grip on her baton, feeling her assailant starting to slack. But she had misjudged because he straightened with enormous power, ran backward and nearly smashed Lucy between himself and the open tailgate of the Vigi Boys' pickup truck. She let go of him and the baton in time to avoid impact and dropped to the ground.
No longer carrying his bat, the man didn't hesitate to kick her in the side. The sharp point of his boot buried itself deep in her oblique muscle, the acute pain blurring her vision.
Barely able to breathe, she pawed at the ground with her open hand, hoping to grab her baton but finding only sand.
The man was on top of her in an instant. He grunted and ferociously grabbed at her crotch with both of his hands as if trying to rip through the material of her sweatpants. White-hot anger rushed through Lucy, and she pushed her body up against him with a sharp thrust. She brought her fist against the side of his head, causing it to swivel to his opposite shoulder. Lucy threw the sand she was still holding in the closed fist of her free hand into his face. He pulled back, involuntarily clawing at his ski mask as he tried to clean the grit from his eyes.
Her leg freed now, Lucy brought her knee up into his groin with all the force she could muster. He screamed like an animal, rolled to the side, grabbed himself and heaved.
Lucy jumped to her feet and grabbed the bat lying on the ground. In the blink of an eye, she saw Kai dancing around Motorcycle Mohawk Man, delivering unanswerable blows to any exposed areas. Kai pulled tendrils of the ridiculous fake Mohawk attached to the man's helmet, yanking him off balance.
Xochitl was now locked in a blur of flashing blades with Machete Hoodie Boy. She was fast with her one good hand. She twisted her wrist and made the blade dance up her attacker's arm in tight circular motions. His sleeve was already shredded and covered with splotches of blood.
Before the tide could turn again, Lucy picked up Cowboy Boots' bat and delivered a solid swing down onto his kneecaps. The impact was devastating, and he screamed unintelligible profanities at her. She bent down, rolled him over, and swiftly restrained him with the zip ties from her utility belt.
The Vigi Boys' vile death metal still roared, now spewing an earsplitting but clear chorus: "Annihilate the Kyon Plague!" over and over and over.
Following a perverse impulse, Lucy stood tall, shook her head from side to side and let out a fierce wail. It felt good, luxuriant even, to let her voice play through the chaos.
Kai answered with a howl of his own, ripped Motorcycle Mohawk Man's helmet off and brought it against the back of his head with a loud crunch. For a second Kai's opponent wavered, his lips curled back from his large buckteeth and his giant, light eyes grew wide with shock. He fell forward.
Xochitl had Machete Hoodie Boy down on the ground now, holding his blade to his throat.
"Stop playing with the little douche bag," Lucy called to her.
Xochitl looked up as if she didn't comprehend the words, still lost in battle madness.
"You done good, chica," Lucy said to Xochitl, then whistled for Kai, who was riffling through his downed prey's pockets. Kai came running with the energy and zeal of ten puppies.
"Help Xochitl," Lucy told Kai and scooted Xochi out of the way. Lucy knelt down next to Machete Hoodie Boy. His hoodie was shredded, blood flowing from multiple deep cuts on his arms, which just flopped on the ground next to him.
"She shredded you up good," Lucy said with a nasty little laugh.
Kai helped Xochitl to her feet.
"Hog tie the SOBs, Xoch. There's still rope in El Gallo and more zip ties if you want," Lucy said, looking up and nodding toward the Vigi Boys' pickup. "And turn that horrible racket off. Bloody awful!"
Putting her attention on the gang's noxious little leader, Lucy ripped the black and white scarf off his face. In the shadows and covered in grime and blood, he still struck her as having traditionally attractive features. His shaggy dark hair curled past his shoulders. His skin was creamy pale, contrasting bushy eyebrows and large dark eyes. He was young, she had assessed correctly. His paltry facial hair was so sparse she guessed the boy could be no older than eighteen. His full lips quivered with mumbled words she couldn't understand.
"Why?" she asked, knowing there would be no answer.
Removing the scarf exposed his neck, and Lucy spotted odd shapes under the material of his zippered hoodie. She put one knee on his chest and leaned in.
Slowly she zipped the pull-tab away from his neck and down. On his bloodstained white T-shirt lay a row of two dozen or so long, curved shapes tightly strung together on a silver chain. Some looked dark and opaque, some white. Most looked sharp. Lucy gingerly picked the necklace up and examined it. The teen took the opportunity to wiggle, but she ground her knee down into his chest. He fought to catch his breath but otherwise held still.
"Claws," she whispered, "and teeth." She dr
opped the necklace as if it had burned her and looked into the young man's dark eyes, wanting to hurt him.
"These are too small to be from Werebeasts. You took trophies from Hounds." It was a statement, and he didn't deny it. Instead he smiled weakly.
"Proof. I kill unclean dogs. For my father. I kill them all."
Lucy's anger flamed hot, and she could hear her own blood coursing in her ears. Before she could think, she had crammed his scarf deep down into his throat.
"If I ever see you again, I will kill you. If I ever hear of the Vigi Boys again, I will kill your family." The words came out as a guttural growl.
"Hey, Luce." Xochitl had walked up next to them without Lucy noticing. She sounded calm and even in contrast to Lucy. "It's enough. Let's just get out of here." She put a hand on Lucy's shoulder.
"He took trophies, Xoch." Lucy stood up, running both hands over her moist eyes and through her hair.
Without a word, Xochitl ripped the horrible necklace off the young man.
"Get Kai into El Gallo. I'm taking care of this," Xochitl said, yanked the scarf out of the teen's mouth roughly and slapped his face twice, letting her rings cut into his cheekbones.
Lucy stood still, a part of her wanting to kill him more than anything, another part fighting the waves of despair that were crashing through her.
Claws and teeth will slice them. Bring them to their knees.
The bizarre words whispered through the recesses of Lucy's mind. Her hands trembled, and she clasped them together.
Kai came alongside her and lightly bumped her shoulder with his. He pointed to the other three men, all neatly hogtied beside their truck. The loud music was finally off, and Lucy could hear the rain coming down hard.
"Noh warry, láng jiějie." He grinned at her with a smile so brilliant it traveled all the way to his sparkling golden wolf eyes.
"Yeah. No worries, little buddy," Lucy said, took Kai's arm and started walking to El Gallo.
"You're garbage." She could hear Xochitl mutter, as she hogtied the last Vigi Boy. "Hide, boy. Run away and hide. Our Hound has your scent, and my friend was not kidding. If you assholes do anything else, hurt a hair on a Hound's head, I mean anything, we will find you and end you. You...are...done!"
Moments later, El Gallo roared to life in the quiet of the night. Xochitl drove past the aftermath of the fight at a crawl, taking quick shots with her cell phone camera.
"For the scrap book?" Lucy asked and reached for the radio.
"Just insurance. I took pictures of each of their ugly mugs, and their license plate. In case this comes back to us in any way, we know who to ground and pound." She tucked the phone into her pocket and engaged the windshield wipers.
They pulled onto the Vincent Thomas Bridge, heading toward the freeway. The pretty blue LED lights caught the cloudburst, making the raindrops look like silver rills coming down the windshield.
Lucy tuned the AM dial to the classic country station. The unmistakable voice of Johnny Cash filled the car. Kai, who had curled up in the back, stuck his head over the seat.
"Hmmm?" He looked at Lucy with raised eyebrows.
"Now that's music, buddy. That's real music." Lucy ruffled his hair. "Go back to sleep. We have a long drive."
"About that?" Xochitl gave Lucy a sidelong glance. "Where are we going?"
"Empyrean," Lucy said firmly. "We're going home."
Chapter 18
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Your offer
Omega—
I'm in...and I have information for you.
— Oracle
21 months ago
Xochitl stood in the middle of Memo's chop shop, staring at the gold rooster key chain in her hand. Eight weeks had passed since her near death experience at El Gallo's warehouse, and the cops still hadn't found this garage.
Got to hand it to him, the man knows how to cover his tracks.
The past several weeks were a blur to Xochi. She had woken up in the hospital having suffered a ruptured spleen, three cracked ribs and contusions to her eye, face and legs.
All compliments of Memo and that cabrón, Tuti.
But the worse wounds she'd received were the bites to her right shoulder and forearm, both of which still experienced shooting pains regularly. The doctor had told her the nerves were regenerating, that the healing process could take up to a year, sometimes more. Xochitl knew it would take much longer to get over the night her baby brother almost took her life.
"Miguel, where are you?" Xochitl sighed.
She'd spent two agonizing weeks in the hospital. The cops who had taken Xochitl's statement would not tell her what had happened to Miguel. She'd requested to speak to Officer Lowell but had been denied access to her. Even Captain Burch, whom Xochitl had called after her release, didn't know where Miguel and the other Werebeasts were being detained.
Anita and her sister Gyssell, with whom Xochitl had been living while recuperating, told her stories about squads of officers snatching up the Afflicted from their homes, schools and work — never to be seen again.
Of course, the stories usually followed one of their benders.
Xochitl had brushed them off as drunken exaggerations until the night she had come out of her room for a glass of water and had found Anita, sober, lying on the couch, cradling Miguel's baby picture. Anita had looked so frail, vulnerable — the pain in her eyes unmistakable. Without a doubt, Anita was a horrible mother. But in that quiet moment, Xochi had witnessed Anita's love for her son.
Not knowing what's happened to Miguel is killing her too.
For days, Xochitl had spent hours being shuffled from one department to another until she'd reached Captain Burch. She'd accused Burch and his cops of kidnapping people from the neighborhood, fully expecting his denial. Xochitl had been shocked when Burch had told her that the squads were real, military and not under his control. He had sounded sorrowful, dejected, having clearly been shut out too. Xochi pitied the man.
He's a good cop.
Pain shot through Xochitl's arm, jolting her from her thoughts. She dropped the keys and clutched her throbbing limb. She sucked in a breath and waited for the stabbing sensation to subside.
"¡Híjole! That was a bad one." She shook out her hand.
Her ribs still bruised and tender, she bent down, exhaling slowly and picked up the rooster key chain. Always athletic, Xochi was frustrated by her inhibited movement.
"Be patient. Give it time to heal," the doctor had said.
But Xochitl was running out of time to find Miguel. The cops were no help. She had exhausted all conventional avenues.
Papa always said, "Mija, if you ever need help go to mis hermanos. The Marines."
And that was exactly what she intended to do.
Xochitl took out her burner phone, flipped it open and dialed the one man who would never let her down.
"Uncle Vern?"
"Xochi? Baby girl. Are you alright?" Xochitl's eyes welled up with tears, hearing the voice of her papa's best friend — Colonel Vernon Jones, Retired.
"I'm okay. You know a few broken bones won't stop a Magaña."
"I swear, if I ever see that Memo Morales again. I'm gonna rip his heart out and feed it to him!"
"I'll help." Xochitl waited for her uncle to laugh, but there was only silence. "Vern? You there?"
"I'm so sorry...I couldn't come see you in the hospital...I..." An anguished grunt divulged the guilt he couldn't verbalize.
"It's okay." Xochi said sincerely.
"No it's not. It's just this Werebeast thing..."Vern sighed sharply. "Well, it's FUBAR. Until last week, the base was on lockdown."
"Wait. Base? You're not at your cabin at Arrowhead?"
"Not for two months now. Military's invoked Stop Loss. My retirement's on indefinite hold."
"They can't do that, can they?"
"Xochi, we're in the middle of a crisis. Washington doesn't know what the hell to do. So, they
call on us Devil Dogs. Oorah!"
"Oorah." Xochitl tried to mimic her uncle's bravado, but even she could hear her fatigue.
"Xochitl Maria Magaña, I know you. What's going on?"
"You mean, besides L.A. being infested with werewolves?"
"Besides that, yes. You didn't call just to catch up."
"No. I'm kinda having a crisis of my own." Xochitl tried to collect her thoughts. "What do you know about military squads rounding up the Afflicted?"
"Not much. Just that they're going in whenever there's a report of someone turning and taking care of the situation. Why?"
"Miguel..." Xochitl's throat tightened as she attempted to explain that her brother was one of the Beast creatures.
"What about Miguel? Is he okay? Is he in trouble?"
"He's a werewolf...Werebeast...whatever they're called. He's one of them—"
"What do you mean he's one of them? Anita never said—"
"You called La Borrachona? How did that go for you?"
"It didn't," Vern admitted. "What happened?"
"After the raid, they took Miguel away. La chota. They took him away. I can't find him. No one will help me. I don't know what to do." The realization that she felt utterly alone slammed into Xochi like a Mac truck. She began to sob.
"Shhhh...Cálmate. Cálmate, mija."
Xochi focused on her uncle's soothing voice and slowed her breathing, calming her self. Vern had always been a source of strength for Xochi, especially after her father's death. He knew how to talk to her — make her feel safe.
"Can you help me, Uncle Vern?"
"Of course, baby girl. I've still got a few colleagues in D.C. who owe me a favor or two. I'll make some calls. Can you get here?"
"Yeah. I'm leaving now." Xochitl leaned on the garage counter and stared at the draped behemoth parked across from her. "I'll see you in a few hours."
"Okay. See you soon."
The call disconnected. Xochitl flipped the receiver back down and walked to the rear of the car.
"You ready for a road trip?" She pulled off the tarp with a snap and marveled at the bright orange 1966 Oldsmobile Toronado, shining like new — Memo's pride and joy.
The Werewolf Whisperer (The Werewolf Whisperer Series Book 1) Page 23