The Werewolf Whisperer (The Werewolf Whisperer Series Book 1) (18 page)

Xochitl
peered through the grid of her cage. Several large, vacant kennels had been
stacked in the room where she was being held.

This has gotta be the place Memo keeps
the kids.

Xochi
hadn't seen them. She hadn't seen Miguel either.

"Miguel, I'm sorry." Xochitl
coughed, tasting blood in her mouth.

*

"Gyssell
Sandoval? It's Officer Lowell. We spoke on the phone." The buzz told them
to enter.

Burch
had easily called up Anita's sister's address when they'd returned to the squad
car. Like her sister, Gyssell had a colorful arrest record that highlighted her
scintillating accomplishments — drunk and disorderly, solicitation,
possession and shoplifting. Burch's information showed her remaining at the same
address and staying out of trouble for several years.

"DCFS
probably got to her. I see it all the time," Burch had added in the car.

The
Department of Child and Family Services can sometimes help. Wish we had that
option for crap dog owners.

Lucy
looked around the ramshackle apartment complex as she and Burch ascended the
outside stairs to the open door on the second floor. The white stucco walls,
spotted with rust stains, had taken on a yellow hue. Bars secured each
apartment window they passed, and security doors covered each entrance.

Gyssell,
dressed in a short, pink terry cloth robe, stood in the doorway and cradled an
infant in her arms. Lucy spotted another child babbling away happily in a
secondhand playpen when Gyssell ushered them into her small but immaculate
kitchen.

"Anita
sleeping," she whispered, looking uncomfortable. "She don't want to
talk, but I don't care." Gyssell held her baby close to her chest and
tilted her chin up at Lucy and Burch. "I look out for mi familia first."
She gestured for Lucy and Burch to sit at the creaky kitchen table and poured
each of them coffee from a stained thermos. Lucy could see Gyssell's hand
shaking as she poured. The coffee smelled odd and looked cloudy with fatty
cream. Lucy brought the nauseating concoction to her lips but only pretended to
drink.

"Gracias,
Señora Sandoval." Burch attempted the charming angle but didn't touch the
greasy-looking brew.

Doesn't
help that you made that sound like "grassy ass." Your Spanish sucks,
but at least it's sincere.

Gyssell
smirked quickly, visibly relaxed and sunk down onto one of the metal kitchen
chairs.

Burch,
you sly dog. Pretending to be all incompetent. Maybe Gabe's charm isn't the
only way to gain people's confidence.

Gyssell
took a long indulgent drink from her cup. Lucy finally placed the odd smell as
the slightly alcoholic sweetness of Irish cream.

Not
exactly on the wagon, Gyssell. DCFS can figure that out on their own. I've got
Werebeasts and gangbangers to sort out.

A
few minutes passed. Gyssell scooted her coffee cup around, and fussed with the
baby's brown curls. Lucy heard the kitchen clock tick away the seconds, the
occasional coo from the baby in the playpen and a deep snore —
Anita's most likely
— echo from
the back bedroom.

Momentarily
Lucy flashed back to Bear County. Hanna had taken her when she was six. They'd
ridden the teacups for hours and then picnicked in Frontierland. She'd laughed
hysterically as only little kids can at the hidden snoring bears, and Hanna had
made up an elaborate story of how they would go hunt for the bears after the
park closed. Lucy stifled a smirk.

Burch
cleared his throat and shoved a wad of bills across the table towards Gyssell.

If
all else fails, I guess. That should speed things up.

Almost
instantly Gyssell stopped her fidgeting. She snatched up the cash and stuffed
it into her bra. Primly she pulled the front of her robe closed again and hugged
the baby. She took a deliberate breath.

"All
I know's neighborhood kids is missing after El Gallo's place got tossed. He's
around but no one's seen him. East Los is here and there. But they no do
nothing." Gyssell's breath caught, and Lucy saw the fear in her eyes
return.

"That's
not what we're hearing," Lucy pressed. "Where is Memo holed up,
Gyssell?"

Gyssell
shrugged her narrow shoulders.

"Then
who knows?" Lucy looked at the back bedroom.

"Anita
went," Gyssell admitted bluntly. "But you gotta promise to help me if
I make her tell you. I hear stuff on the news and then my neighbor went lobo
last week. He's just this guy one minute. Then he went all crazy and hairy and
strong. Tore the shit outta his apartment, screaming and screaming. Some men
came with guns — not Memo's boys. Los Choteros. Shot the guy down. Dumped
the body in the empty lot. Burned it. We all watched." Gyssell shifted the
baby to her hip. "I saw a black truck, the soldier kind, drive around and
pick up people. Some turn lobo right then. Some's just regular like me. I'm
afraid to leave my house." Gyssell crossed into hysterics. Burch looked
helpless and reached out to pat Gyssell's hand.

"Listen,"
Lucy said and took the baby from Gyssell's arms. "You are doing the right
thing here. I can help. I am the only one who can help, but you are going to
have to help me. Do you understand, Gyssell?"

The
young woman nodded, but Lucy could tell she wasn't convinced. Her eyes were
dull, and no energy remained once the wave of hysteria subsided.

"Memo
took my man. Yesterday. I don't know where. I don't know what to do. Las Bestias
is gonna kill mis niños." Sobbing, Gyssell reached for her infant. Lucy
returned the child and looked to Burch, who tipped his chin toward the back.

He's right. We can't coddle her. It's too
serious.

Lucy
steeled herself for the next move.

Without
a word, she sprang from her chair and darted toward the back bedroom. She flung
open the door and, seeing only Anita Magaña wrapped in her sheets with a pillow
over her face, swooped into the room and pulled down the dusty quilt covering
the window. The putrid smell of alcohol infused sweat filled the room.

"Hey,
Anita. Wakey, wakey!" Lucy yelled and ripped the pillow from Anita's face.
"Stories to tell. Get up!"

Anita
screeched and pulled the thin sheet up to her wrinkled neck.

"I
have to piss," Anita croaked through extreme cottonmouth.

"Piss
on your own time!" Lucy hovered close to Anita's face, regretting it
instantly. The woman's breath had the sharp stink of vomit and nicotine. Lucy
took a quick step back.

"Get
the fuck outta my house you chota whore." Anita spoke slowly as if trying
to overcome the slurring. "I know my rights. You got to get out." She
unsuccessfully fumbled for the pack of cigarettes on the shoddy nightstand.

"Memo
has Xochitl, and you are going to tell me where he's keeping her!" Lucy's
words came out harsher than she'd planned, but the sight of Anita made her
blood boil. This was the woman Xochitl had had to deal with as a child. Lucy
had seen too many of these types of "mothers" — abusive,
destructive drunks making their kids' lives hell because of laziness and
narcissism. These were the women responsible for the likes of Tuti, Flaco and
Memo. These were the women who allowed their children to torture animals and
terrorize the weak. This ruin of a person explained in one instant why a woman
like Xochitl had ended up with trash like Memo. It spoke volumes that Xochitl
was trying to extract herself from the neighborhood and the life. Lucy felt
real rage rise in her.

Anita's
eyes could barely focus, but for a heartbeat she leaned in and looked straight
at Lucy. With a sharp intake of air, Anita shrank away, huddled closer to the
wall like a hurt animal and mumbled, "Padre nuestro que estás en los
cielos santificado sea tu nombre—"

"Cut
that out," Lucy interrupted. In that moment Lucy realized how scared Anita
looked and how pathetic. She also knew that given an inch, Anita would lie and
wheedle and give her nothing. "You're going to tell me where Memo is. You're
going to tell me now. If not for Xochitl, do this for Miguel."

Invoking
Miguel's name shifted Anita's fear to deep sorrow.

"Miguel
hates me." She nearly choked on her own tears. Lucy waited, listening to
Gyssell in the kitchen curse Burch out in Spanish.

Guess
we've overstayed our welcome.

Lucy
couldn't care less. These women were the key to locating Memo and Xochitl.

"Okay,
listen." Lucy took another run at convincing Anita. "Memo wants to
hurt Xochitl. And what would hurt Xochitl more than Miguel being hurt? I bet
Memo is using Miguel to get to Xochitl. So, if you know where Miguel is, tell
me. I can help."

Anita
let out a defeated sigh. "El Gallo's got a warehouse in North Hollywood. The
address. I wrote it in my matchbook."

Lucy
snatched the matches from the nightstand and folded back the small cover. She
could make out an address in shaky handwriting.

7041 Vineland, North Hollywood

"Burch,
we're leaving!" Lucy turned away from Carlos Magaña's widow, shutting away
any trace of sympathy.

You
made your bed.

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Xochitl
and Lucy raced outside the convenience store and were met by loud banging as if
something was throwing itself against the steel frame of the horse rig.

Travis!

"We
gotta get the rig away from the gas pumps!" Lucy yelled over the racket. "And
quick...before someone calls the cops."

"Or
the Catchers," Xochitl added, and they looked at each other sharing an "oh,
shit" moment.

"Quick,
keys!" Xochitl cupped her hands and caught the rooster key chain.
"I thought he was supposed to stay
sedated!" She made a beeline to El Gallo.

"Guess
the trip took too long," Lucy said, running around the front of the
Toronado.

Travis
was working hard to rip his cage apart, and the pounding the horse rig was
taking reverberated through El Gallo and into Xochitl.

"¡Hijo
de puta!" Xochitl revved the engine and pulled the car forward, away from
the gas pump island.

She
threw El Gallo into park, turned off the ignition and shoved the keys into her
pocket. The car rocked with the turbulence of an out-of-balance washing
machine, tossing Xochi from side to side. She reached for the door handle but couldn't
grab it.

"Lucy!
I...can't...get...out!" Xochitl pounded her fists on the window, panicked.

Lucy
yanked the door open and pulled Xochitl out of the car. She lost her balance
and stumbled, but Lucy's grip kept her from hitting the pavement.

"We
gotta tranq him again," Lucy said, a look of dread plastered on her face.

It was hard enough catching Travis with
four people.

Xochi
choked back the bile rising in her throat and nodded.

Her
hands trembled as she removed the keys once more from her pocket and wobbled unsteadily
to the back of the Toronado.

For
the moment, El Gallo's rocking had waned, and Travis' relentless banging had
ceased.

"Finally,"
Lucy said with a sigh.

Gripping
her right hand with her left, Xochitl steadied herself and unlocked the trunk.
Inside she saw Rollins' modified tranq gun lying next to their green duffel of
weapons. She looked over to Lucy who shrugged as if to say "I couldn't
help myself." Xochi shook her head and tossed the tranq gun to her partner
before selecting the smaller pistol tranq. She also grabbed her Remington and a
few extra shells.

Just in case.

"Looks
like we've got an audience." Lucy nodded to a small group of people
gathered by the gas pump — a cook, a waitress, a couple of truckers and Todd,
who had his cell phone out.

No doubt recording tonight's
entertainment.

"Great."
Xochitl set the shotgun on El Gallo's trunk and loaded her tranq gun.

As
she and Lucy made their way to the back of the rig, the horse truck suddenly lifted
a foot off the ground and slammed down on the cement with an enormous crack.

"Crap!
The axle!" Xochi slapped her hands to her head.

As
the spectators ran for cover, Xochitl and Lucy darted to the back of the
trailer, guns locked and loaded.

Lucy
stood a short distance away from the rig, her modified tranq gun aimed at the doors.

Setting
the Remi on the pavement, Xochitl carefully and quietly unlocked the latch.

"On
three." She held up three fingers and silently counted. "One...Two...Three."

Xochitl
hoisted the latch, threw open the trailer door and ran back to Lucy.

Were
Travis' eyes glowed an absinthe green though the darkness.

Lucy
fired.

The
dart hit its target. Travis reared up, howled ferociously and slammed against
the trailer wall.

"Shit,"
Lucy whispered. "I think I got him."

"You
did." Taking point, her tranq pistol aimed, Xochitl inched slowly forward in
an effort to see where Travis had fallen.

Over
her shoulder a light shone into the trailer, and she heard Lucy yell, "NO!"

Time
slowed for Xochitl. Were Travis' eyes glowed florescent green as he charged
toward her. All she saw was a giant Beast with tan fur leap through the air. Xochitl
let off round after round until her pistol clicked empty.

A
single shot suddenly rang out. Were Travis flew backward into the trailer.

Adrenaline
pumping through her veins, Xochi shook uncontrollably as she turned around to
face Lucy.

Xochitl's
legs gave way, and she dropped to the ground panting. Heart racing and pulse
pounding, she rolled onto her butt and put her head between her knees, the
tranq pistol dangling loosely from her grip. She inhaled and exhaled slowly to
calm herself.

"You
okay?" Lucy knelt beside her.

"So,
not a backfire then." Xochitl raised her head.

"Guess
not." Lucy looked apologetic, but Xochi waved it off.

"Gracias,
by the way." She patted Lucy on the shoulder.

"De
nada," Lucy replied, rising. She held out her hand for Xochitl.

"Very
good, Grasshopper." Xochitl clutched Lucy's hand.
Lucy heaved Xochitl to her feet.

"We'll
make a Mexican out of you yet," she said.

"I
thought I already was." Lucy feigned shock.

"Oh,
no." Xochitl grabbed her shotgun. "You haven't performed all the
rituals yet."

"You
ladies alright?" a male voice twanged from across the parking lot.

Xochitl
and Lucy turned around and watched, perplexed, as a forty-something man dressed
in jeans, a plaid long sleeve shirt, cowboy boots and cowboy hat skipped toward
them. As he got closer, Xochitl noticed a huge silver belt buckle adorning his
waist. The man was in good shape, only a slight paunch protruding from
underneath his tucked-in shirt.

"We're
fine." Lucy put her hand up.

"Ooowee!"
the man howled. "That was some shot! Name's Willard. Willard Hardy,"
Willard, Willard Hardy said. "But you can call me Tex on account I'm from
Texas." He tipped his gleaming white ten-gallon cowboy hat.

"Thanks,
Tex," Lucy replied, squirming at the compliment.

"Man,
I thought it was you when I saw your ride from my rig parked over yonder,"
Tex drawled. "But I weren't sure 'til I saw what you two ladies were doin'...Then,
I knew, just knew...The Werewolf Whisperer." As if saluting the flag, Tex
removed his hat and placed it over his heart.

"Yep.
That's me." Lucy gave Tex a weak smile.

"So,
Tex." Xochitl stepped in. "I'm—"

"Xochitl
Magaña and Lucy Lowell...and that's," Tex pointed at Xochitl's car. "El
Gallo...1966 Olds Toronado...a classic." Tex
turned his attention back
to the two women. "I'm a huge fan." He offered his hand.

Xochi, shocked yet pleasantly surprised the man had both
pronounced her name correctly and knew his muscle cars, shook Tex's hand. "It's
a pleasure, Tex."

"I've
read your book." Tex turned to Lucy. "Well, me and the Mrs., that
is...And watched your instructional videos online."

"Really?"
Lucy cocked an eyebrow, her fan phobia modulated by genuine interest. "How
come?"

"My
girl, Billie," Tex's voice quavered, "turned Hound about six months
ago."

"Near
here?" Lucy asked. "Do you need some..."

Xochitl
frowned at her partner.

Don't say it. Don't say it. Don’t say it.

"...help?"

"No,
ma'am," Tex replied.

"Great!"
Xochi rubbed her hands together enthusiastically.

"My
daughter and the Mrs. live in North Texas...Denton, to be exact."

"Wait...How
the hell are you here?" Xochitl asked, shocked.

He's so far from home.

"Well,
ma'am, I got stuck behind state line 'bout a week after K-Day."

Xochitl
and Lucy looked at each other.

"Lots
of us truckers did," Tex said. "We run whatever goods make it through
the line up and down the state now, sendin' money home when we can."

"We'd
better...you know..." Xochitl nodded to the open trailer with the tranqed
Werebeast inside.

"Yeah,"
Tex agreed. "That's some big feller in there...Looks like he did a number
on your rear axle." Tex walked around, inspecting the rig. He bent down
and looked underneath.

"I
know." Xochitl kneeled next to Tex. "Should still be able to drive
it, right?...If I take it really slow?"

"Well,
I wouldn't go over twenty miles per hour and I wouldn't go for more than a few
miles." Tex stood and scratched his head before he put his hat back on. "But
it's doable."

"Great."
Xochitl stood. "What do you think?"

"It's
getting late," Lucy said. "When was the boat leaving again?"

"Bob's
text said it leaves the old Catalina Express dock at midnight sharp."
Xochitl sighed. "With or without Travis."

She
checked her phone. "We're cutting it close."

"Looks
like we don't have a choice." Lucy rubbed her eyes.

"I
got some chains in my truck," Tex said. "I can jury-rig your axle to
the frame. Should get you up the road a piece."

"We
just gotta make it to the bridge by the port." Xochitl felt relieved and
grateful for Tex's help.

"Great,"
Lucy said.

"Well,
hot damn. I'll be right back." Tex hop-skipped back to his rig.

Lucy
turned to the open trailer and slowly moved in for a closer look.

"How's
Beastie Boy looking?" Xochitl leaned around Lucy, trying to glimpse
inside.

"Can
you shine your phone near the back?" Lucy asked.

At
first Xochi couldn't find Travis in the shadows, but as she moved in closer,
she saw what appeared to be a twisted lump of brownish fur lying on its side
with its long sinewy legs extended outward. Travis' torso was curved in on
itself, and his lupine head was tucked toward his chest, which rose and fell to
the rhythm of his steady breathing.

"He
looks peaceful," Lucy said.

"Well,
at least one of us is." Xochitl panned the light over to the back wall. In
the corner, crumpled in half, was Travis' gurney. "Well, that's not an
option."

"Let's
just leave him where he is." Lucy grabbed the trailer door and latched it
closed again.

"What
about when we get to the port?" Xochitl took out her keys and locked the
latch.

"Let's
cross that bridge when we get to it." Lucy smirked.

Xochitl
groaned.

Lucy
chuckled and nodded. "Tex."

Tex
held a thick chain in his arms as he lumbered across the parking lot. His hop-skip
clearly not a quirky canter but the result of an injured leg.

"I'm
gonna go help him," Xochitl said.

"Okay."
Lucy took the guns and the keys and headed for El Gallo as Xochi jogged over to
Tex.

"Help
you with that?" she asked, falling in step with Tex.

"I'm
good," Tex said, though he looked a little strained by the weight. "Have
to do this all the time when I'm up in the mountains."

"Oh."

How should I say this?

"So
Tex, what's up with your leg?"

"That?"
Tex smiled. "Used to ride bulls back home."

"You
did?" Xochitl was impressed. "¡Híjole!"

"Yes,
ma'am." Tex nodded. "Got my foot stuck in a stirrup. Damn bull dragged
me around for a bit, nearly took my leg off. Ended my career on the circuit."

"¡Híjole!"
Xochitl shook her head. "Is that where you got your buckle?"

"Yes,
ma'am." Tex said, his eyes twinkling with pride. "Denton County
Champ...ten years ago."

They
got to the horse trailer, and Tex dropped the chains with a clanking thud.

"I'll
have this up in no time." Tex unclipped a walkie-talkie hooked on his belt
and set it on the ground next to the chains.

"What's
that for?" Xochitl nodded to the radio.

"CB.
I like to monitor the chatter." Tex smiled. "Helps me work." He
sprawled flat on his back and looked up at Xochitl. "You remind me of a señorita
I met down in Guadalajara...before the Mrs...that is. She was a real spitfire
too." He scooted underneath the trailer.

Xochitl
shook her head, stifling a giggle.