Lefty pulled his hand away and grabbed another beer. "Bob saved my life. He used to volunteer. Trained kids to box at the local Y. I was a street kid and he trained me. I didn't win the title. I thought I'd let him down. So I enlisted. I thought I could fight for the Marines and make him proud. I boxed a bit for the Corps before..." Lefty's hand seemed to involuntarily go to his non-existent right arm before he pulled it back.
Xochitl fought the urge to reach out to Lefty and cradle him like a mother would her child.
He's a Marine. Don't embarrass him.
"Anyway," Lefty continued, a smile once again on his face. "IED hit our convoy, took my arm. I was stateside with nothing to do and Bob asked if I wanted a job. So here I am."
"If you don't mind me asking, how come you don't have one of those prosthetic arms?" Xochitl grabbed for another beer.
"On a waiting list," Lefty replied. "VA's backed up. Lots of us make do until our names come up."
Pinche government.
"Man, why didn't you say anything?" Prez asked. "Bob would hook you up."
"Nah." Lefty took the last remaining pretzel. "I do just fine with one hand." He nudged Xochitl with his elbow. "If you know what I mean."
"¡Híjole! You wouldn't know what to do with this." Xochitl waved her hand down her figure.
"Ay mamí, you could teach me." Lefty made a kissy face at Xochitl. She smacked his arm.
Once again Xochi and her newfound brothers roared with laughter and clinked their beer bottles in salute to one another.
"Good morning! Time for the bottom of the hour weather forecast. It's gonna be a nice one folks! Seventy-three degrees will be the daytime high—"
Xochitl slammed her hand down on the clock radio by her bed, shutting up the obnoxious weatherman. "Ugh." She rolled over and squinted at the clock display.
8:30 A.M.? Who the hell set the alarm?
Next to the clock, she noticed a glass of water with a post-it note sticking to it.
Morning. You're going to need this. — V.
"Ugh, Vern." Xochitl groaned and rolled over on her back.
She rested her arm over her eyes to block out the sun's rays. Soft material brushed against her cheek.
That's weird.
A sudden searing pain stabbed her arm, and she shot up in bed. Directly over the scars on her right forearm was an over-sized, rectangular gauze bandage.
Holy Crap! What happened to my arm!
Xochitl's stomach twisted in a tight knot, making her feel like she'd vomit any second.
"Madre de Dios. Please make the world stop spinning." Xochitl grabbed the edge of the bed.
Gently she pulled the bandage away from her skin, wincing as it ripped the tiny hairs off. Underneath, the words La Güera were drawn in calligraphy — the style akin to Felix's graffiti art.
"¡Ay carajo!" Xochitl swung her legs over the edge of the bed, her head pounding in her skull like a drum. "Where the hell are my pants?"
She tried to focus as she scanned the room for her jeans. They had been neatly folded on top of the chest of drawers. She staggered across the room, tripped over her own feet and slammed into the rustic piece of furniture.
"¡Jódame! Get a hold of yourself, Xoch," she mumbled. She snatched her jeans. Wobbling, she tugged them on and zipped them up.
Cottonmouth in full effect, Xochi licked her lips and downed the glass of water in one gulp. Her stomach immediately flip-flopped.
Maybe I should have sipped it.
Clutching her middle, she walked gingerly to the door and out into the hallway. She leaned against the wall, using it as a crutch, and made her way to the kitchen.
A heated debate echoed loudly down the hall.
"Well, don't you think it's a little premature to pass such a controversial bill?" a male voice asked. "The ACLU has already filed motions with the Supreme Court on grounds that it's discriminatory."
"No, it's not. People are getting hurt. Killed," a female voice responded. "I say it's about damn time. They should all be rounded up and disposed of."
"That's a little extreme," a different male said, clearly trying to keep his voice under control. "What you're calling for are concentration camps."
"I'm just saying what others are too squeamish to say," the female stated as Xochitl leaned against the door jam.
Prez was standing at the kitchen counter in front of a blender. Next to him, a small television tuned to a political talk show featured pundits sitting around a table. Xochi recognized the blond woman but couldn't remember her name. She did remember not liking the woman.
"On that note," the host interrupted, "we'll take a commercial break."
"Shut that off." Mick flipped his newspaper over to read the next page.
There was a time when college radical activist Xochitl would have been glued to the television set, watching the "experts" expound on the political discourse of the day. Saving the downtrodden and disenfranchised was her passion back then. But those days were well past, and she agreed with Mick.
Turn that pinche government crap off.
Now all she wanted was coffee.
"Which one of you pendejos is responsible for this?" Xochitl raised her arm showing off her new body art.
"That would be you, love," Mick said as he snapped his paper straighter, bringing the front-page headline into view.
SENATE PASSES FEDERAL WEREBEAST DEFENSE MANDATE!
That was quick. Add a little fear as fuel to the fire and Washington goes to work.
"You're one crazy chick." Prez turned to her, a glass of some kind of green concoction in his hand.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Xochitl sat down at the table across from Mick, trying to read the front of the paper. "Last thing I remember, I bet you guys that I could beat you at pool."
"Girl, you did more than that," Prez said, crossing to her with the glass of green goop.
On the front page of Mick's paper, Xochitl noticed a small picture of a woman in police dress blues to the right of the main article.
Holy crap! Lucy Lowell!
"Can I borrow that real quick?" Xochi snatched the paper from Mick.
"Hey." Mick threw up his hand.
Hero Cop Released Under The Federal Werebeast Defense Mandate
Officer Lucille Lowell of the former ACTF Division of the LAPD will be released tomorrow morning under the Federal Werebeast Defense Mandate. Officer Lowell was incarcerated three months ago for killing her mother, Elizabeth Geneva Lowell, who had turned into a Werebeast during the initial outbreak of the Kyon Virus. As no precedent for the murder of an Afflicted was in existence at the time of Elizabeth Lowell’s death, it has been determined that Lucy Lowell was accused and convicted of second-degree murder with unwarranted haste. At today’s White House briefing, Press Secretary Raul Schwatzwutz stated, “Now that the decree legalizing the killing of dangerous Weres has been passed by Congress and signed into law by the President, the immediate release of the unjustly convicted has been made mandatory.” However, unofficial sources suggest the national attention garnered by the Folsom Prison Werebeast Riot “forced the hand of the Oval Office.” Corroborating reports of Officer Lucy Lowell saving hundreds of lives, both prison staff and inmates, drove the momentum and “Congress had no choice but to pass a law that would grant her freedom.” Myra Brown, an inmate at the prison, was quoted as saying, "If Lowell didn't hand those Beasts their furry behinds and make those other dog boys sit up and beg, they'd've found our dead bodies in that chapel."
"Hey." Prez snapped his fingers in front of Xochi's face, drawing her attention away from the article.
"Huh?" Xochitl looked up at Prez.
"Good article?" Mick snatched his paper back.
"Here drink this." Prez thrust the green drink in front of her.
Xochitl sniffed the glass. Repulsed, she jerked her head back. "Ugh, smells like ass." She held the glass at arm's length and set it on the table away from her.
"It'll help." Prez slid the glass back
in front of her. "Trust me. Just hold your nose and drink it."
Xochitl eyed the glass and whimpered. She pinched her nose and downed the green guck.
"Ack!" She gagged and handed the glass back to Prez. "That's disgusting." She scraped her tongue with her teeth, attempting to rid herself of the taste. "Coffee. Please for the love of God, coffee."
Prez rolled his eyes but returned with the coffee pot and a mug, setting them in front of her. She eagerly poured the brown nectar into the mug and took a quick sip to test her stomach. She felt fine.
Huh. Prez's hangover potion worked.
"So, you were saying." Xochitl leaned back in her chair, clutching the warm mug.
"You went to get us some beers," Prez said.
"You were very chummy with the bartender. Kept commenting on how you loved his tattoos." Mick smirked at Xochitl over his newspaper.
"The next thing we know," Prez continued, "you come back to the pool table wanting to make a bet. You beat us at pool, we get tattoos. And if we beat you—"
"So I lost." Xochi guessed.
"No. You kicked our asses," Mick grumbled.
"Yeah, were you raised in a bar or something?" Prez asked.
"Yes," Xochitl said, not elaborating. "So?"
"So, we got our tatts." Mick put down his paper and pulled up his shirtsleeve.
Leaning in, Xochitl saw a small two-inch X Man tattoo inked on Mick's right shoulder.
"Holy shit!" Xochitl burst out laughing but stopped abruptly, her head throbbing. "Agh." She put her head down on the table.
"Serves you right." Mick sneered. "We're all scarred for life. Kept saying 'I own your asses now.'"
"Lefty got one too?" Xochi asked, knowing she was in the doghouse.
"Yeah, the brainiac came up with the design." Prez leaned back against the counter, holding his own glass of green goop. "Kid's got a thang for you."
Xochitl would have protested but her head hurt too much. "So if I won, why this?" She lifted her arm in the air.
"Said you wanted to take back your identity, or some shit," Mick huffed. "What does goo...er...ra mean anyway?"
"It's pronounced weh-da," Xochitl replied. "The kids in my neighborhood called me that. It's what you call a light skinned Mexican. Only they meant, white girl, you don't belong."
Xochitl looked up to see both Prez and Mick staring at her with sympathy. Embarrassed, she shrugged them off.
"So, where's Bob?" Xochitl asked, changing the subject. "And Lefty? I want to thank him for marking you for me."
"Bob left early this morning. Said something about needing to get home." Mick folded his paper and took a sip of his coffee.
"Oh, I'm sorry I missed him." Xochitl yawned.
"Lefty's outside by the lake with Vern and Miguel." Prez nodded toward the kitchen window.
"Miguel's up?" Xochitl darted to the mudroom.
The cabin's backyard sloped toward the lake, and through the screen door Xochi watched as Miguel, wrapped in a blanket, stood at its edge, talking with Vern and Lefty. Even from her vantage she could see Miguel looked better, calmer — more like her baby brother.
"Miguel!" Xochi shouted and waved, trying to get their attention. The men looked at her, then turned around. Miguel whispered something to Vern before walking further up the lake.
"Miguel!" Xochitl called after him again and trotted down the hill toward Vern and Lefty. "Where's he going?"
"He just needs some time alone," Vern replied.
"Time alone? He's been alone." Xochitl took off after her brother.
"Xochi!" Vern called out, but she didn't look back.
I'm not letting Miguel out of my sight. Not again.
"Miguel, wait." She grabbed his arm.
"Leave me alone." Miguel shrugged her off and kept walking.
"¿Qué pasa, mijo?" Xochitl jogged around her brother and stopped in front of him. "Dígame."
"I need to be alone." Miguel cast his eyes to the ground.
"Alone?" Fear gripped Xochi, and she hesitated. "Or away from me?"
"Just alone." Miguel glanced at her.
"You're lying." Xochitl looked into her brother eyes. "I can always tell when you lie."
"Like when I told you I didn't work for Memo?" Miguel shot back. "I was working in his chop shop for months and you didn't know shit!" he spat.
"Miguel, I'm—"
"You're what? Sorry?" Miguel turned and headed for the cabin.
Xochitl spun him around to face her. "Yes, I'm sorry. But I'm also trying to help you."
"Help me! How can you help me? I don't need your help!"
"I helped you back at that pound!"
Xochitl regretted the words immediately.
"You don't know a fucking thing about it!" Miguel growled, then doubled over.
He's losing control.
She staggered back a step.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Vern send Lefty up to the cabin before running in their direction.
"Cálmate, mijo." Xochitl raised her hands.
"I'M...NOT...YOUR SON!" Miguel panted. "GO!"
"Please, mi...Miguel." Xochitl reached for her brother, but he waved her off.
"I don't want you here!" Miguel's voice cracked. Terror filled his amber colored eyes. "Please...go."
Xochitl stood frozen in front of her brother.
Miguel shook uncontrollably. He gripped himself as if he'd fall to pieces if he didn't hang on tight enough.
"Xochitl, go." Vern wrapped his arm around Miguel.
Why can he touch him and I can't?
"Xochitl!" Vern yelled and pointed to the cabin. "Go. Now. I've got this!"
It's me! Miguel can't be around me!
Tears streaming down her face, Xochi ran back to the cabin, leaving her brother behind.
Without stopping, she passed Mick, Prez and Lefty — their tranq guns at the ready. She slammed her bedroom door and released the scream she'd been holding inside.
Xochitl dropped to the floor, sobbing until she had exhausted all her tears.
It was mid-afternoon when she woke. Her neck was stiff from the hard surface, and her eyes burned. She felt rejected and empty.
Miguel doesn't want me. Miguel doesn't need me. But what does Miguel know?
What Xochitl knew was that her whole world had been turned upside down by the Kyon Virus, her little brother was a furry monster and the only person who could control any of it was being released from prison tomorrow.
Lucy Lowell.
"Are you sure you have to go today?" Lefty asked. He had insisted on carrying her duffel bag.
"Yeah. It's for the best." Xochi gave him her most reassuring smile. "Besides, I've got some business I need to handle." She clutched the page she'd ripped from Mick's morning paper tighter.
"I'm gonna stick around for a bit. Keep an eye on Miguel for you," Lefty said, as they continued down the long driveway toward Xochi's Toronado.
"Wait up!" Mick called as he and Prez jogged toward them. Prez gripped the handle of a medium-sized black leather case.
"Hey...girl," he panted, bending over out of breath. "You weren't...about to leave...without saying goodbye...were you?"
"You okay there, Prez?" Xochitl hid the paper in her pocket. "You know what I said about working on your cardio."
"I'll get on that." Prez continued to breathe deeply.
"We couldn't find you back up at the house," Mick said. "Thought we'd missed our chance to give you a little going away present." He nudged Prez and nodded to the case.
"Here." Prez held out the gift. "Just a little something to remember us by."
Xochitl examined the present. It had two levers on the front, locking it like a briefcase.
"Thanks?" She was confused. "I guess a girl can't have too many bags."
"Open it, Blondie," Mick mocked.
Xochi hesitated. She didn't know why. She'd always liked receiving presents.
Maybe because it's been a long time since anyone's given you anything withou
t expecting something in return.
"Here." Mick grabbed the case and held it on its side.
Stop being a pendeja and open the damn case.
Xochitl flicked up the latches and slowly opened her gift.
"No way!" Her mouth dropped open at the sight of three shiny, silver blades gleaming up at her. "You guys, this is too much."
"See, that's a Bowie knife with a serrated edge." Prez pointed at the largest of the three weapons with glee. "The other two are—"
"Filipino Karambit knives!" Xochitl interrupted.
"Girl knows her weapons." Mick chuckled.
"You guys." Xochi choked up. "I don't know what to say."
"No need. Just think of us the next time you're beating the crap out of someone," Mick said as he locked up the case and handed it back to her.
"I will." Xochitl threw her arms around Prez and Mick. "Thank you." She reached out to Lefty who joined in on the bear hug.
"Okay, enough of this sentimental crap." Mick pulled away, breaking up the lovefest. "Times a wastin'." He nudged her.
"Thanks guys, really." Xochitl smiled as Prez wiped a tear from his face. "I'm going to miss you." She squeezed Prez's hand, waved to Mick and turned toward her car.
Vern paced next to El Gallo. Her uncle spoke in a hushed agitated tone on the cell Ames had given him.
"I gave you what I had," Vern said. "...Don't give me that crap. We both know you got what you needed...I have no idea what she knows about her."
Who's he talking about?
"If I find out more, I'll let you know." Vern shut the burner phone.
"What's up?" Xochitl asked.
"Oh, hey." Vern looked surprised. "Didn't see you there."
"Everything okay?" Lefty nodded to Vern's phone and dropped Xochi's bag on the ground.
"Yeah." Vern stuffed the cell in his pocket. "Nothing I can't handle." He grabbed the small case from Xochi and picked up the duffel bag.
"Sure you should be lifting heavy things?" Xochi pursed her lips.
"Leg's fine. Ten stiches is nothing," he huffed. "You about ready to go?"
Xochitl nodded and turned to Lefty. "Guess this is it."
"I've got something for you too." Lefty took off his desert camo jacket and handed it to Xochitl. "Here."
"No." She shook her head. "I can't take that."
The Werewolf Whisperer (The Werewolf Whisperer Series Book 1) Page 35