Copyright
Beast Out Of Hell
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 by Camilla Ochlan and Bonita Gutierrez
All Rights Reserved
Cover Design by Carol E. Leever * caroleleever.deviantart.com
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Also in the series:
The Werewolf Whisperer
The Werewolf Whisperer: ¡Feliz Navidad!
The Alpha & Omega
FREE PREQUEL NOVELLA
The course of true friendship never did run smooth.
https://dl.bookfunnel.com/3yo88lc1da
For P.J.
C.
For my boy — the chips to my salsa.
B.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
Hey Kiddies,
Kyon’s back.
Been keeping track.
Stories to tell
Of Lucy and Xochi's highway to hell.
The road is long.
The traffic's slow.
Tho' they try so hard
There's miles to go.
Were Santa made a gruesome mess,
And left our girls with a lot of stress.
With bloody elves in El Gallo's wake,
Christmas in September takes the cake.
But more secrets hide in Granny's nest:
Hippie artists, carny folk,
Teenage love and Howler coke.
Will our badass chicas pass the test
Against biker Weres in leather vests?
Only Kyon knows which way they go.
I'm telling you, "You reap what you sow."
Tho' a promise kept and lessons learned
This is their road of no return.
The Werewolf Whisperer
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
The Werewolf Whisperer is the moniker used by the press and the general public to refer to the Were behaviorist Lucy Lowell. Along with known associate Xochitl Magaña (See La Güera), Lowell has aided, rescued and rehabilitated The Afflicted in California (See California Quarantine) under the umbrella of Hanna's Rescue and Rehabilitation since shortly after K-Day (See Kyon Virus, KV, Wereflu) and the implementation of the Federal Werebeast Defense Mandate (See Folsom Prison Riot).
A former LAPD Animal Cruelty Task Force officer, Lucy Lowell outlines her Were training philosophy and methods in her handbook Hounds, and Ferals, and Werebeasts! Oh, My! — currently on the New York Times Best Seller list. See Were classification: Hound, Feral, Werebeast.
Chapter 1
Marin County
Broglie
Right now
The warm September sun's glare bounced off El Gallo's flaming orange hood and directly into Lucy's eyes. Squinting, she fumbled with the muscle car's visor and wished she hadn't lost her sunglasses. She quickly considered where she'd last seen her dark shades.
Peaches' dressing room before the whole Santa fiasco.
Lucy groaned, wishing away the memory. She patted the burn on her calf through her cargo pants.
Seems to be healing pretty fast.
Not long after crossing the Golden Gate Bridge, they had hit Marin's Panoramic Highway. Xochi had white-knuckled it around blind curves, past sheer drop-offs, and through miles of what she had cursed as "the rollercoaster from hell." She hadn't even bothered to turn on the radio.
"Our father who art in heaven," Xochi prayed out loud, "please don't let me drop seven hundred feet to my death."
Lucy stared longingly at the expansive redwood-filled canyons. In the far distance, Northern California alpine ranges jutted out, looking pristine and untouched since the beginning of time.
"How fun would it be to go hiking in those hills? Poppy and Chasselas would so be down with that," Lucy murmured.
"Who? What?" Xochi smacked on her bubble gum in a panic.
"Just daydreaming about taking my dogs for a hike."
"You and your pinche perros." Xochitl's voice rose. "I'm sure Granny's got all the furry four-foots you could ask for. A whole ranch full of them."
"I guess." Lucy sighed a little.
But her dogs are not my dogs.
"Where's the turn? Where's the turn? Where's the turn?" Xochitl chanted. "Granny's directions said something about passing Mountain Home Inn. Stay on Gravity Car Road. Pass Zig Zag Trail."
"You sure?" Lucy asked.
"No, I'm not sure. This whole fucking place is a zigzag."
"I haven't even seen a road sign in ages." Lucy glanced from side to side. The road they traveled on was paved but in desperate need of repair. They'd passed abandoned house after abandoned house.
Guess people don't want to live near the woods with all the Werebeasts running around.
"There aren't any pinche signs," Xochi huffed. "Granny said the geniuses around Broglie are pretty reclusive. It’s all unmarked roads. They voted."
"And they decided not to have road signs and markers?"
"Uh-huh."
"Can they do that?"
"Apparently," Xochi said and flung both hands in the air. "Oh, shit!" She immediately slammed them back on the wheel, barely keeping El Gallo from careening off the sheer embankment.
Lucy's eyes wandered over the tips of the evergreens that blanketed the mountain and stretched for miles on either side of the crumbling road.
"Just weird how close this is to The City," Lucy said, "and yet—"
"It's totally secluded," Xochi finished her sentence. "Granny said the town itself is only one street with a couple of shops and a post office."
"Oh...No restaurants?" Lucy's stomach had started rumbling miles ago.
"She said there was one diner between her ranch and the town." Xochi leaned forward, the tip of her nose nearly touching the glass. "But I'm sure she'll feed us. She seems like the feeding type."
"I hope so." Lucy spotted a fork in the road ahead. "Is that the hotel?"
A ramshackle wooden lodge sat on the edge of the mountain, overlooking the scenic view. Its many large windows were broken, shattered glass sparkling on the ground. Caution! Werebeasts! had been spray-painted in red on the inn's sky blue sign.
They drove by slowly.
"The directions say the dirt road is just past an apple grove." Xochi frowned.
"How do you have an apple grove on a mountain side?" Lucy wondered.
"Ask me if I care!"
They rode on in silence; each lost in thought.
"What are those?" Xochi said after several miles. "I can't tell from here."
"Apples," Lucy said. "Nice and pink too. Ready to be picked."
Xochi arched a quizzical eyebrow at Lucy and stared for a moment. "Whatever." Her stomach let loose a huge growl, and she seemed to re
consider. "Maybe Granny will make us some apple pie."
Xochitl turned the car down a long, narrow road lined not only with apple but also fig, peach and pomegranate trees, all heavy with fruit.
"Mature trees. Looks like they've been here a while." Lucy noted the thick trunks and gnarled branches. She rolled down the passenger window. "Just fill your lungs with that. Smells like fall. Ripe fruit, green fields, the redwoods—"
"Dog piss," Xochitl said mercilessly.
"Sure, there's a whiff of that too," Lucy agreed. "It's a dog kennel. Unless you constantly bleach, it's going to have a doggy odor."
"So, your Empyrean ranch smells like piss?" Xochi said and popped a pink bubble with her gum. "Awesome!"
"Hell, no!" Lucy yelped. "Mama made me scrub every inch of every kennel every morning. I must have washed a million dog blankets." She thought back to the never-ending banging of the washer and dryer. "'Cause if you don't...It's just mud and piss and drool and vomit and fleas and ticks and diarrhea—"
"¡Híjole! Enough already."
"Mama was a clean freak. I swear, you'd never know it was a dog ranch," Lucy said, her voice getting thin. "That was just Mama."
"So, Mama was awesome and clean. Is Hanna like that too, or is she a sloppy little piglet like you?" Xochi pointed to Lucy's empty twenty-ounce to-go cup on the floor.
Lucy smiled sheepishly and rolled the cup under the seat with her foot.
Xochi exhaled tragically.
"Hanna hired a couple of ladies to help keep the place up," Lucy said, undeterred. "I can't see Hanna scrubbing Were cages on her hands and knees, now that the ranch is—"
"Hanna's Rescue and Rehabilitation," Xochi grumped.
They passed two old barns situated perpendicular to each other. The more square of the two had a fenced corral attached.
"Does Granny have horses?" Xochitl slowed the Toronado. Lucy and Xochi both studied the layout.
"Could, I suppose," Lucy said. "But I think that enclosure is for training dogs. Look at the wire between the boards."
"Seems elaborate."
"Not unusual on a farm, but mostly it's used for the back forty. To keep animals out... Foxes, coyotes—"
"Wolves?"
"Not in California since the early 20s, you know." Lucy tried to remember Mama's talk about wolf conservation. Mama had become very engaged in the effort after befriending a few UC Davis grad students and helping them with a coyote study. "I guess there used to be wolves all up and down California. Wolves show up all over native tribal art, in the language, in the myths. To the native people where I grew up, the wolf was sacred. But with all the building..." She shrugged. "Hunters took out the prey that the wolves lived on. And then there were bounty laws put in place to eradicate wolves and coyotes."
"Sounds like a little bit of history repeating," Xochi said.
They pulled up to the main house shortly after they'd passed the barns and the enclosure. Healthy orange trees, the fruit not yet in season, dotted the side of the road and shielded the house from the barns.
"Pretty house." Xochi rolled her window down too. "Logs and stone work. Look at those giant windows. Granny must have great views."
"Hmm," Lucy considered. "Large windows plus dog paws equal slimy dog prints on glass."
"You gotta learn to live a little, chica," Xochi said while steering the Toronado around the circular driveway. "Looks clean from here. And that's the nicest carport I've ever seen."
"Like a little wood cabin with the walls taken out," Lucy agreed. "And river rock pillars."
Xochi tilted her head, "Hey...What's with the Harley?"
Half hidden in the shade of the carport, a matte black chopper perched alongside the house.
Xochi chuckled. "I am getting the weirdest picture of Granny on a Harley with a giant dog on the back, wearing one of those black German army helmets."
Curious, Lucy studied the biker graphic on the motorcycle's tank. "What about that wolf skull and flaming chain?"
"Local club?"
Lucy's gaze flew up to the porch. Three white plastic outdoor chairs sat pristinely arranged near a little white plastic table. A coffee can had been positioned conveniently next to one of the chairs.
Lucy's nostrils flared at the acrid stink of cold cigarette butts. "Granny smokes? At her age?"
"What?" Xochi grabbed the gold rooster key chain and opened the car door.
"Coffee can on the porch." Lucy scrambled out the passenger side. Her legs felt stiff, and her ankles ached.
"Cop," Xochi teased. "You can take the girl out of the uniform, but—"
"Front door's slightly ajar too," Lucy said in a low whisper and doubled back to grab her Beretta from the glove box.
"Hold up," Xochi said under her breath. She popped the trunk and swung her shotgun into the air.
A short gasp sounded in Lucy's ear. She shot Xochi a this-doesn't-sound-good look, pointed directly at her and then indicated the front door.
Xochitl nodded and edged up the stairs, quietly but quickly.
A series of urgent screams resonated from around the side of the house.
Lucy crept around the front, keeping below the line of the porch and the rock foundation skirt. Rapid splashing of water followed the screams. Sudden pained groans followed the splashing and a raspy murmur, "That's good. Just like that."
Lucy stuck her head around the corner.
A redwood deck ran the length of the house, a narrow lap pool cut neatly into the center. Two figures grappled in the rectangular hot tub on the far side of the pool. A square-shouldered man with longish blond hair held someone under the water. The smaller person was mostly blocked, but Lucy caught the flash of a thin wrist and black lacquered nails grasping on to the side of the hot tub.
"Break it up!" Lucy hollered — Beretta trained on the assailant.
"Luce!" Xochi dashed onto the deck from the side sliding door. Gun down, she carried a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt in one hand.
What?
The man straightened up immediately. "Hey!" he yelled at Xochi.
"It's not—"
The girl he'd been attacking squealed and dove under the water.
"Turn around slowly!" Lucy commanded. She regretted her words as soon as he faced her.
The man was young, barely out of his teens, cut and — completely naked.
"Ahem." Lucy's eyes involuntarily roved over the young man's athletic shape.
Muscular shoulders, bulky arms, cut six-pack. That's either from grueling workouts and a well-balanced diet or—
She caught sight of the skull and flaming chain tattoo on his shredded chest.
'Roids.
Her gaze locked on his groin.
Nope. Not 'roids.
She looked up so fast she nearly bit her tongue.
The young man's eyes flashed bright amber.
"Werebeast!" she called out a warning to Xochitl.
Still standing behind the young man, Xochi dumped the parcel of jeans and T-shirt she'd been holding and racked the slide of her shotgun.
The tinny sound of a musical car horn blasting reveille blew through the lot.
"Van," Xochi called out, allowing Lucy to keep her gun on the Werebeast, who other than the flashing eyes was still just a young, naked man.
The girl in the hot tub bobbed up again and shook her wet hair off her face.
"It's Granny," Xochi gave the blow-by-blow as Lucy heard a car door open and the rapid hobble step of the old lady's distinct gait.
"Granny's got her gun on you," Xochi warned, instantly redirecting her shotgun at the old woman coming up behind Lucy.
"Both of you," Granny spoke slow and low. "Drop it!"
Chapter 2
REAPER
Broglie
Granny's Ranch
9 hours ago
Reaper rolled onto his back, panting. His arms and legs felt like lead weights, his skin damp with sweat. The sce
nt of strawberries and honeysuckle filled the air. He felt dizzy. High.
He shut his eyes and listened to the early morning rain trickle against Jamie's bedroom window. The patter lulled him into a half-waking, half-sleeping dream.
Reaper runs through the forest, zigzagging around giant redwoods. His fur brushes against dense fern bushes blanketing the ground. He smells each tree, each flower. Hears each birdcall, each animal scurry as his powerful hind legs vault him forward. For the first time in his life he feels strong. Free.
He runs for miles. Faster. Faster. All the way to the edge of the woods. To the edge of the world.
A warm breeze drifts through the air. He sniffs. Strawberries. Honeysuckle…Dog...No, many dogs.
He skids to a stop.
There. A small ranch. A pack of yipping dogs…A girl. Long lean legs dangle off the bed of a pickup truck. Barefoot. She tosses her white-blond hair over her shoulder, leans back and tilts her face to the sky. Sun washes over her pale skin, giving her a soft glow.
Reaper sucks in a quick breath. She looks in his direction. Dark eyes flash amber. She smiles, and he knows he is hers.
Jamie sighed softly, stirring Reaper back to the present. He loved that sound. The easy, light moan that told him she was happy.
I can’t believe I make her happy.
They had only been together for a short while, but Reaper felt like he'd always known Jamie. Like somewhere deep within him he knew she existed, waiting for him, wanting him. And Reaper knew it was the same for Jamie. No one knew him like she did. She understood him completely because she'd been just like him. Was just like him.
We're the same…Bonded…Mates.
Jamie inched alongside Reaper's body. He pulled her closer, resting her head under his chin.
"Mmm…That was…" She nuzzled him and giggled.
"Yeah," Reaper exhaled the word. He lazily stroked her long silky hair.
Jamie shivered, and he pulled the bedsheet over their bodies. They lay quietly intertwined, content to just hold each other.
I want this…her…forever.
A deep bellow rumbled through the soft drizzle, jolting Reaper from their afterglow.
"Shit!" he yelped and shot to his feet. "What time is it?"
"Early." Jamie reached for him. "Come back to bed."
"He's back already?" Reaper stumbled around the room, looking for his jeans only to find them shoved under the bed. "He's gonna be pissed."
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