The Werewolf Whisperer (The Werewolf Whisperer Series Book 1)

by Camilla Ochlan

  She was just filling her days. Keeping her mind off Papa and whatever danger he was in.

  Xochitl's mother had been a brave woman — brave and loving until her end.

  Xochi shuddered at the memory of her mom in the hospital, lying on a bed with tubes running in and out of her. Xochitl had been six and too young to stay with her. Instead she'd spent most of her time with Vern or next-door with her mom's friend, Janis.

  Alice Magaña had passed during the night, succumbing to breast cancer without Xochitl ever having gotten to say a real goodbye.

  Tears flowed down Xochi's face. She looked into the rearview mirror. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her nose was runny.

  Great. Enough Xochitl.

  She wiped her face with the sleeve of her jacket and sat up straight.

  A few minutes later, she pulled up in front of Marine Corps Base Headquarters. She thought it odd, since Vern usually worked for the Major General in the 1st Marine Division Headquarters. She chalked it up — like most things now — to Werebeasts.

  Xochitl stepped out of El Gallo as a tall, bald African-American man, dressed in tan fatigues with his cap tucked under his arm, exited the HQ building. She smiled and waved to her Uncle Vern.

  "Hey, baby girl." Vern strode across the street and threw his arms around Xochitl, squeezing her tight to his chest.

  "Ow." She sucked in a breath, wincing in her uncle's bear hug.

  "Oh, sorry." Vern pulled away from Xochi, holding her at arm's length. "Did I hurt you?"

  "No. I'm okay. Just a bit beat up still."

  At only five feet five inches in height to Vern's six feet two inches, Xochi had to stretch her neck back to look up at him. She felt incredibly tiny next to her uncle.

  Vern eyed her up and down, stopping on the bandage still protecting her healing right shoulder. Uncomfortable, Xochi shifted her weight from foot to foot and waited for the inspection to end.

  "You look good, considering a Werebeast bit you."

  "Yeah, Were bites are becoming all the rage now in L.A." She brushed her hand over the raised pink scar on her forearm.

  How do I tell him it was Miguel?

  "Uh huh." Vern raised an eyebrow.

  Xochitl opened the car door. "At least we know the whole getting bit and turning into a werewolf during the full moon is bull. I haven't had the slightest urge to go furry."

  "Good to know." Vern walked around the Toronado to the passenger side. "Nice ride, by the way."

  "You like?" À la Vanna White, Xochi waved the back of her hand across the top of the car. "I'm going old school these days."

  She slid in behind the wheel, leaned across the front seat and unlocked the passenger door. Vern ducked in and settled beside her.

  "So, where are you livin' these days?" Xochitl revved El Gallo.

  "We're not going to the barracks. We're off base for this one."

  "Okay." Xochitl gave her Uncle Vern a sideways glance and pulled onto the road headed for the San Luis Rey Gate.

  Chapter 21

  Hey little Kiddies,

  Kyon is back

  It's been a while

  And that's a fact

  Had to move

  Was being tracked

  Beasties huffin' puffin'

  Wanna blow my house down

  But I won't give in

  I'll stand my ground

  So, here's today's lesson

  Better listen up well

  They've hacked the code

  Rewritten the cell

  The Monsters are here

  They're under your bed

  Don't step in the lava

  Or you'll be dead

  So run little Kiddies

  You've failed the test

  Tell all your friends

  I'll tell all the rest

  And always remember

  Kyon Knows best

  The familiar scent of night blooming jasmine drifted in through the open window. Lucy knew she was home, in her own bed. Her jersey cotton sheets felt cool against her hot skin. In the darkness, she couldn't make out the color of the bedding, but remembered that Mama had always purchased white sheets.

  "They bleach better, Lucy," Mama had said when little Lucy had begged for sheets with colors or patterns. "Little girls who sleep with dogs need sheets that can be bleached." Lucy could still hear her Mama's voice. She smiled as exhaustion lured her deeper into transient sleep.

  Lucy looks up at the blazing stars overhead. She feels warm. The heat of the stars burns like a thousand suns. She looks down at the scorched earth at her feet. Brown and black dirt, a river of dried mud below her. She takes a step and sinks into the sand dunes all the way to her hips. Her eyes see the ocean. Almost sunrise, the darkness takes on a blue shimmer. It won't be long now. A big hole gapes in her heart. Dirt on form. Dirt on face. Sorrow overwhelms time and space. She closes her eyes and sees flames.

  *

  "Are you sure about Travis?" Vern's voice crackled through Xochi's earbuds as she reclined on the overstuffed living room sofa, sandwiched between Tau and Thandi. A perfect napping spot, the deep in-set couch had become her — and subsequently the pups' — favorite place in the house.

  Four days had passed since she, battered and bruised, and Lucy, delirious with fever, had arrived on Hanna's doorstep — Kai in tow. Lucy's Empyrean home was tranquil, idyllic even. Nonetheless, Xochitl was growing increasingly uncomfortable hanging around the unfamiliar surroundings with a woman who was neither fond of her nor the stray she and Lucy had adopted.

  "Yeah," Xochi replied and lightly rubbed the purplish-black welt on her arm, which matched her now less-swollen black eye.

  "Travis never changed back. Vern, I'm frightened."

  "For Miguel?"

  "Yes," Xochi said, mindlessly stroking the female ridgeback's head, as had become their habit. "This Werefighting business...if he keeps changing..." Xochitl's throat constricted, and she coughed to clear it.

  What if Miguel stays a Werebeast forever?

  "What happened to Travis doesn't have to happen to Miguel," Vern said.

  "But we can't know that for sure." Xochitl gazed out the window and watched the shadows form on the gravel.

  It'll be evening soon.

  "We do know the Kyon Virus doesn't affect everyone the same way," Vern replied. "We've seen it."

  "This Kyon Knows guy seems to think the Wereflu isn't a virus at all. Bob's lab geeks came up with a similar conclusion." Xochitl needed to grasp at any theory, even one by a kook like Kyon Knows. She needed to make sense of the world again.

  "Bob said he told you what he found out before Ames took it all."

  "I read what he gave me." Vern sounded guarded.

  "And?"

  "And, I didn't give him everything I had the night we sprung Miguel. Now, before you say anything, hear me out, Xochitl."

  "Fine." Xochitl pinched the bridge of her nose.

  "I gave Bob most of the intel, but I sensed he had another agenda, and I couldn't risk Miguel or you to whatever that might be. So I held onto a few things. Asked some connections to run what I gave Bob and what I kept from him."

  "What did your connections find out?"

  "Similar to what Bob's people concluded, but there is a viral element. I'm still waiting to hear what that's all about." Vern paused.

  "Xochitl, this thing is big. But no one knows who's behind it or what the agenda is. We know Ames took the laptop, which means Washington has it. From the chatter I'm hearing, they want to figure out a way to use it."

  Xochitl felt a wave of nausea hit her. "So what now?"

  "Keep working with Lucy!" Vern yelled over the thwapping of helicopter blades. "How's she doing?"

  "In and out, but mainly still unconscious," Xochitl whisper-shouted, trying to speak loud enough for Vern without disturbing Hanna and Doctor Howard. "Doc's checking on her right now."

  Best not tell Vern the "doctor" is a veterinarian.

  "Don't worry!" Vern shouted. Xochitl hissed
, momentarily tugging the headphones away from her ear.

  "She'll be fine! You two will be back in business in no time! I'll keep poking around on my end, maybe we'll figure a way out of this mess!"

  Xochitl heard loud popping noises like gunfire in the background. "Where are you?"

  "On The..." Vern's voice started to break up. "Great Wall of Mexico!...Coyotes running...Werebe...through un...groun...pi...line!...Amazing thin...the wall...up so fast!"

  "Well, my people did build pyramids. A little wall's nothing!"

  "Ha! Good...n...Got t...go...Head...back...on our side!"

  "Okay. Watch your six!"

  "Al...ays do...aby...gir—" Vern's voice cut off.

  *

  Lucy kneels on the forest floor. Her hands on the bark of the tallest tree. It is time, she knows. Lowering her body to the ground, she crawls on her belly over hard earth and sharp stones. Her hands and arms ache; cuts draw blood, but she creeps ever forward. The call drives her on and on. She rolls behind a tree, looking into the vale below. She smells a campfire. Mama and the sweet golden retriever puppy Lucy loves. Biscuits. They are sitting by the fire. Lucy smells the melting sugar of the marshmallows. Mama makes the best s'mores. Biscuits chews on a bone bigger than his head. The happy little blond pup settles next to Mama. Lucy wants to run to them, but a jagged hand reaches out and grabs her ankle, wounding her again. She can't run. She can't scream.

  Chapter 22

  to do list:

  1.recruit Morales (remember to send cigarettes)

  2.make contact with Vern Jones

  3.requisition computer at Langley

  4.meet the girlfriend

  5.buy milk

  21 months ago

  About thirty-five miles north of Oceanside, on the El Camino Real, sat Jasper's — a run-down watering hole. As Xochitl and Vern parked El Gallo, she eyed the chipped blue and brown paint of the salt-weathered building. The small bar reminded her of a scuttled skiff.

  Other than the Toronado, only a couple of Harleys and a four-by-four truck were stationed along the dust-laden strip of road.

  "Nice place," Xochi said.

  "Yeah, it's a fine establishment," Vern uttered sarcastically.

  The crunching sound of gravel scratching beneath her shoes, like bone scraping against bone, sent a shudder through Xochitl's body. The memory of being stuffed in the trunk of a car and nearly beaten to death flashed in her mind.

  "You okay, baby girl?" Vern placed a hand on her back and escorted her up the path toward Jasper's.

  "Yeah, fine," Xochitl's stomach churned. "There food in this joint?"

  "Not sure you'd call it food, but you can eat here."

  "So long as it's fried, I'm good." Xochitl brushed a stray hair away from her face. "Your buddies meeting us here?"

  "Yeah, just passed their truck."

  "So, not a hot spot, then?"

  "That's the point."

  "Uh huh." Xochitl followed Vern up the steps and into the bar.

  The inside of Jasper's was about what Xochitl had expected — bar counter on the right with taps of Coors, Bud, Miller, the basics and booze on the shelves behind it. The barkeep, an average size man with a paunch, wiped the counter with a towel. Upon seeing Vern, he slung the rag over his shoulder, leaned against the bar and nodded toward the back where floor to ceiling sliding glass doors opened up to a breathtaking view of blue ocean. The orange sunset spilled through the transparent wall, adding warmth and expanse to what otherwise would have been a cramped, dingy space.

  The aroma of stale beer and fried food wafted through the air. Wooden tables and chairs were placed haphazardly about the center of the bar, and two booths lined a section of the back wall.

  The doors led out to a deck which looked as weathered as the rest of the exterior. Along the low railing three men sat around two tables that had been pulled together to create one large one. The youngest man turned his head toward them and smiled, raising his beer bottle in a salute.

  Vern acknowledged the men with a slight nod. "Jasper, two of the usual." He walked out to the deck with Xochitl on his heels.

  "I hope the 'usual' involves food," Xochi mumbled as they approached the men.

  "Bob!" Vern slapped one of the men on the back and shook the youngest man's hand.

  Oh, that guy's only got one arm.

  "Lefty. How the hell are ya?"

  "Vern!" Xochitl yelled, surprised by her uncle's insensitivity.

  All four men turned to Xochi and began laughing.

  "Good to see you, sir." The man called "Lefty" stood, still chuckling.

  "What the hell's so funny?" Xochitl put her hands on her hips.

  "Xoch." Vern threw an arm around Lefty's shoulders. "This is Private First Class Pedro Delgado."

  "Lefty," PFC Delgado interrupted, "on account I'm a south paw. Good thing too, because..." He gestured to his missing right arm and burst out laughing again.

  The men were in hysterics.

  Marines.

  Xochitl rolled her eyes and pulled up a seat. The man her uncle had called "Bob" jumped up and offered her his chair.

  "Ma'am." Bob smiled at Xochitl.

  "I'm not your grandma. Name's Xochitl."

  "I like her Vern," Bob said.

  "She's one of a kind, for sure," Vern replied and sat down next to Lefty.

  Xochitl leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms and inspected Vern's recruits.

  Average in height and well-muscled, Bob appeared to be close to his mid-sixties. With a buzz cut and clean shaved face, Bob was impeccably dressed in Armani.

  Fancy suit. Ex-military. Probably a merc.

  Pedro "Lefty" Delgado was another story. He wore a faded, desert camo jacket, two sizes too big for him — the right sleeve pinned up. A lanky Mexican kid, Lefty had a distant look in his eyes despite his smile.

  Xochitl knew that look. It was the look she'd seen in the mirror — the look of someone who'd been through hell and had come out the other end.

  Lefty caught Xochi staring at him. She quickly shifted her gaze to the man sitting directly across from Vern. The man hadn't said a word. And if he hadn't been sitting right in front of her, Xochitl wouldn't have noticed him.

  "So, Vern, I know Bob here and Lefty. Who's this gentleman?" She nodded to the third man.

  "Right. Introductions." Vern sat back in his chair. "As you said, Xoch, this is Robert Tanner."

  "Bob." Bob Tanner smiled at Xochitl.

  "And Lefty, of course," Vern continued. "And this is John Ames. Jack and I go back a ways."

  John Ames was an average looking, mid-to-late forties white male. There was nothing distinctive about him. He just was — and that made Xochitl uneasy.

  He's either a serial killer or CIA...probably both.

  Xochitl noticed a subtle exchange between her uncle Vern and Ames. She had the feeling that the word "classified" defined the relationship between the two men.

  She thought it odd that men so varied in age could have worked so closely together. She was about to ask when Jasper came out with a tray of burgers, fries and beers. Without ceremony, he set the tray on the end of the table and left.

  The smell of grilled meat was heaven to Xochitl, and she took in a deep breath and sighed with happiness.

  "Dig in." Vern motioned to the group to serve themselves.

  Xochi grabbed a burger from the tray and sunk her teeth into the warm bun.

  Holy Crap!

  "Oh, my God, this is amazing!" her words mushed between bites of burger.

  Once again, Xochitl had Bob and Lefty rolling with laughter. This time, she didn't care. All she wanted was food.

  "Slow down, girl." Vern laughed and tried to grab her burger.

  Xochitl swatted Vern's hand, turning her burger protectively away from him. "Get your own, old man!"

  "Old man? She's sure got your number, Vern," Bob said and grabbed his own burger.

  "Here." Lefty passed Xochi a beer.

  "Thanks." Not looking
up from her food, she took the beer and set it aside to finish the last couple of bites.

  When she was done, Xochitl raised her head up from the empty burger tray and saw four pairs of eyes staring at her in astonishment.

  "What? I'm hungry."

  "We gathered," Bob replied. "Vern, don't you feed this girl?"

  "She could eat us all under the table," Vern teased.

  On cue, Xochitl reached across the table, grabbed a fry from Vern's tray, stuffed it in her mouth and smiled. She took a sip of her beer and leaned back in her chair, content.

  "So Vern," John Ames broke in, "I've got the information you wanted. Why don't you tell everyone what we're here for, besides the great hamburgers."

  Xochitl stiffened. She wanted to know Vern's plan, but she didn't like the way Ames spoke to him.

  Something's up with this guy. I don't like him knowing about Miguel.

  She caught Vern's eye before he answered. By the look he gave her, Xochitl knew Vern was all business now.

  "Right, let's get down to it." Vern pulled himself up straight and moved the empty trays off to the side. "As you all know, I asked you here as a personal favor. Bob, you served with Xochitl's father and me during our later days in Nam."

  Bob gave a terse nod.

  "You did?" Xochi leaned in.

  I though I knew all of Papa's friends.

  "Yep," Bob said. "On his second tour and the toughest Marine I'd ever met. I was sorry to hear of his passing. Too young. What was it he used to call you, Vern?"

  "El Novato," Vern and Xochi replied in unison. They looked at each other — the memory of her papa both fond and melancholy.

  "That's it." Bob chuckled.

  "You let him get away with that, sir?" Lefty asked, almost choking on his drink.

  "I didn't know what he meant." Vern pointed his bottle at Bob. "And it sounded cooler than 'cherry,' which I know you called me behind my back."

  "Ha!" Bob cackled.

  "Hell, I was." Vern laughed. "But Carlito could've called me anything. Saved my skin more than once back in those days."

  Bob gazed down at his beer, seemingly lost in thought.

  "To Carlito." Vern raised his beer in salute.