The Werewolf Whisperer (The Werewolf Whisperer Series Book 1) (21 page)

"Sounds
like a plan." Lucy gripped the flatbed's handle. "I'll tilt it on its
side and you flip him on top.

"Hey,
Mac," Xochitl called to the guard standing off to the side. "You
wanna lend a hand?"

"Sorry."
Mac touched his lower back.

"Of
course." Xochitl rolled her eyes. She hooked her arms under Travis' head
and shoulders as Lucy tilted the dolly on a slant. Xochitl managed to flip
Travis' torso belly-side up onto the flatbed, his too-long legs dangling over
its edge.

"Great."
Lucy smiled. "Let's get this done."

"Captain's
waiting," Mac added.

Duh!

Xochitl
glared at the old man.

Lucy
was about to push the dolly, when Xochitl remembered the duffel of money. She
leaned over to Lucy and whispered, "Where's the dinero?"

"Still
in the backseat, I guess," Lucy stated, matter-of-fact.

"Still?"
Xochitl asked, shocked they'd left a bag loaded with cash in an unlocked car.

"You're
in charge of the money." Lucy raised her hand, acquitting herself of any
blame and nodded to Travis. "I'm in charge of this."

"Fine."
Xochitl turned and stomped off toward El Gallo. She opened the door and looked
into the back seat but didn't see the black duffel bag of money. Panic gripped
her. She scrambled into the back of the car for a better look.

"Oh,
thank you God." Xochitl sighed, spotting the duffel jammed on the floor
between the front and back seat. Slinging the bag over her shoulder, she
shimmied backward out of the car. She nervously scanned the underpass before unzipping
the bag.

Relief
washed over her. The stacks of one hundred dollar bills were exactly where Bob
had left them. "That's a lot of dough," she mumbled.

Just
as she began to zip up the bag, Xochi noticed something white peeking out from
under the bundles of money. She dug through the wads of cash and retrieved a thick
envelope with a note written on the front.

Kiddo
— I knew you would never accept payment for saving my boy. But I feel I need
to give you this for helping me. Save it for a rainy day and watch your six.

Love,

B.T.

Xochitl
opened the unsealed envelope and stared at the money inside. She thumbed
through the bills —
all Benjamins
— estimating the amount to be somewhere in the ballpark of twenty-five
grand. "Híjole, Bob." Her eyes welled up with tears. She blinked them
away.

"What's
that?" Lucy's asked.

"Shit!"
Xochitl jumped, dropping the envelope. "Stop doing that."

"So?"
Lucy seemed unconcerned that she'd scared the hell out of her friend.

"Oh."
Xochitl snatched the envelope and slung the duffel across her body. "Your
new pants." Unlocking the trunk, she crammed the envelope inside the
pocket of Lefty's tan military jacket.

Hope Lefty and Miguel's Werefighting is
going better than our Were smuggling.

She
clutched the jacket, and her thoughts drifted momentarily to her brother. She
wondered if she'd be back here someday sending him off to the Island of Misfit
Weres.

Or will I have to put him down?

Xochi
shuddered.

"We'd
better get a move on." Lucy nudged Xochitl back to their present task. "Boat's
leaving in ten."

"Shit."
Xochitl tossed the jacket in the trunk and locked it before she and Lucy walked
to Mac and an unconscious Were Travis.

Together,
they grabbed the handle of the hand truck and began to pull Travis. At first
the dolly moved smoothly, and Xochitl thought they'd finally caught a break.
But of course, as the night had proven time and time again, this was not an
easy job.

The
dolly jammed on Travis' lanky legs, almost tipping both hand truck and Werebeast
on their sides.

"Crap."
Xochitl groaned, keeping her emotions in check and quelling the urge to jump up
and scream to the heavens "Why me, God?"

"Take
his legs," Lucy said, sounding just as irritated as Xochitl felt.

"I
always get the ass end of things," she mumbled and hoisted him off the
ground. "Good to go."

Grunting
in pain with each step, Lucy pulled the dolly as Xochi held onto Travis' legs. Mac
seemed to have taken pity on Lucy and grabbed onto the handle to help her pull.

Guess your 'ol back's not so bad after
all.

As
they approached the dock terminal, Xochitl's danger meter spiked. Gang tags and
graffiti marred the once pristine whitewashed walls of the building. Cut up
cardboard boxes, the remnants left by vagrants, were stashed in what remained
of the doorway to the terminal, and garbage was strewn about the grounds. The
prevalent smell of urine wafted on the ocean breeze.

They
pulled the dolly around the side of the building and walked through a rusted
gate to the port side of the harbor.

To
the left of the old Catalina Express Terminal, a long pier jutted out from the
main port. A forty-foot fishing schooner with what appeared to be a crane at
its stern moored alongside the wharf. The engines were running.

Lucy
shot Xochitl a worried look, and they double-timed it across the dock's cracked
cement. They snagged on a pothole as they took a sharp turn onto the
salt-weathered wooden pier. The hand truck tipped over and toppled onto Travis,
knocking Xochitl to her knees while Lucy stumbled into Mac who caught her
before she fell.

Xochi
stood slowly; her wrist stung. She saw a large abrasion on the palm of her hand
where she'd broken her fall.

"You
okay?" Lucy asked Xochitl who was blowing on her palm.

"Yep."
Xochitl wiped her hand on her pants. She looked up to the boat — the
words
The
Charon
painted on its hull.

"The
Sharon. Who's Sharon?" Xochitl wondered aloud.

"It's
pronounced Kha-ron, with a k sound," a male voice said with what sounded
like an Eastern European accent.

Xochitl
peered around Lucy who was helping Mac lift the hand truck off Travis and saw a
stocky man who appeared to be in his sixties — his tanned face
leathery-looking from years on the open sea. He wore navy blue dungarees that
flared at the bottom and a white cable knit sweater with a white turtleneck
underneath. A navy colored skullcap covered a seemingly bald head, completing
his uniform. He might have looked as if he'd walked out of a Norman Rockwell
painting if it hadn’t been for the fat cigar he held between his fingers.

"It's
the name of the Ferryman who carries the souls of the dead across the river
Styx." The man pointed to the side of the boat. "Apropos, don't you
think?"

Xochitl n
either
liked the name of the boat nor the callous nature of the man whom she assumed
to be its captain.

"Captain
Azov." Mac stepped forward. "This is The Werewolf Whisperer and her
partner."

"Please,
Lucy and Xochitl." Lucy stuck her hand out for the Captain to shake.

 
Captain Azov took Lucy's hand. He bent
down slightly and placed a light kiss on the top.

Gross!

Xochitl
wrinkled her nose.

Lucy
took it in stride.

"Mac,"
Captain Azov said to his man. "Take the dolly to the boarding ramp and
tell Mills to lower the crane."

"Yes,
sir." Mac veered the dolly around Lucy and his captain and headed toward
the bow of the boat.

As
Mac neared the loading ramp, Xochitl noticed a large metal cage on the pier.
Her eyes continued to follow him as he made his way up to the deck and back
toward the stern, stopping at the entrance to the bridge. Beyond Mac, several
oversized metal cages had been stowed at the bow.

Xochi
nudged Lucy.
"Looks like
Travis isn't the only one with a golden ticket."

"Are
you going to hoist him up with the crane?" Lucy asked before Xochitl could
mention the cages.

"Yes,"
the Captain replied. "We will harness it then lift it—"

"Not
it. Him." Xochitl scowled at Captain Azov. He grinned and stuck the cigar
in his mouth.

Xochitl
moved toward the captain. Lucy touched Xochi's arm, stopping her. Xochitl
glanced at her friend. Lucy eyed Azov's hip where he holstered his pistol.

"Has
been out cold for a while, yes?" Captain Azov blew out a puff of smoke and
pointed his cigar at Travis.

Xochitl
felt dizzy from the mix of tobacco and seaweed in the air and took a step back
from the captain.

"Yes,"
Lucy replied abruptly. "We shot Travis with enough tranquilizer to keep
him down for another eight hours."

"No
matter." The captain waved his cigar in the air. "We have our
methods...should we need to use them."

A
sick feeling bubbled up in Xochitl's stomach.

Are we doing the right thing?

Over
the captain's shoulder, Xochitl watched Mac approach with a large harness
attached to a long chain and hook bundled in his arms.

"Mills
gave me this, Captain." Mac dropped the harness at Lucy's feet.

"Good,
good. Hook him up." Azov waved his cigar toward Travis and grinned at
Xochitl once more.

She
knew he was toying with her, and she desperately wanted to kick him in the
groin. She'd been underestimated by men like this her whole life and was not
intimidated by Captain Azov, from God knows where, at all.

Lucy
grabbed part of the harness and helped Mac place it around Travis' torso. As
the crane lowered, Mac lifted the chain's hook and latched it to a large rusted
clasp that protracted from the rig.

"Okay,
Mills!" Mac yelled up to a man on the deck, and Travis was lifted off the
pier, his arms and legs dangling lifelessly in the air.

"So,"
Captain Azov stuck his cigar in his mouth and slapped his hands together. "You
have something for me, yes?"

Xochitl
glared at the man as he stared at the black duffel strapped across her body. His
eyes gleamed with greed. She wanted to spit in his face.

"Yes."
Xochitl gritted her teeth as she pulled the bag over her head and held it in front
of her. She unzipped the duffel, spreading it open for the captain to inspect.

"Very
good." Captain Azov reached for the bag. Xochitl pulled it away before he
could take it.

"Not
so fast." She handed the duffel to Lucy and got face to face with the captain.
They were close in height. Xochitl stared straight into his eyes and lowered
her voice.

"And
there before me was a pale horse! Its rider was named Death, and Hades was
following close behind him." She let the words linger in the captain's ear
and watched for the moment when she knew he'd gotten her meaning. It wasn't
much more than a flinch of his eye, but it was enough to tell her he knew she
was serious.

"See
that Travis gets to the island alive and in one piece." Lucy closed in and
handed the duffel of cash to the captain.

Captain
Azov tipped his fingers to his cap. "Ladies." He turned and walked
away.

"Az-hole!"
Xochi muttered.

No.
I will not be bringing Miguel here.

They
turned and walked back to El Gallo.

Chapter 14

Corrido Del Gallo Feroz

Dicen, por este valle, lo han nombrado,

"El Gallo" más feroz por aquí,

Sin temor, de las quijadas de la Bestia,

rescato a los lobitos, creo que sí.

Con un tirazo a la frente de la Bestia,

Mató Chatero en un, dos, por tres,

En fin, la Bestia no pudo dominarlo,

Faltó la fuerza de un gallo superior.

(El estribillo)

Esta leyenda la cantan sus admiradores,

Si lo ven, por Díos, deben de correr,

Y deben d'esconderse d'este Gallo,

Con su pistola, no será muy juguetón.

Este mito, recuerdan los viejitos,

Para que los niños deben de creer,

Existe este Gallo gavilante

Con su pistola, bravura y poder.

23 months ago

In
the middle of a makeshift dogfighting ring, Xochitl hung limply between Tuti
and another East Los. She didn't know which one. She didn't care. They were all
a bunch of animals to her now.

Relief
had washed over her when Tuti finally brought her to Memo. The beatings that
had left her belly bruised and swollen would stop. Memo would make good on his
promise to kill her.

I
need to lie down.

Xochitl
tried to lower herself down to the floor, but Tuti and his little helper kept
her from moving.

Why
won't they let me sleep?

Xochitl
found it hard to concentrate as random thoughts clouded her mind like a thick
fog. She tried to focus with the one eye that wasn't swollen shut. Memo's feet
paced back and forth in front of her. She found the movement strangely
comforting — though funny that he still couldn't make a move on her.

El
Gallo. Shit. Should have called himself El Pollo. Ha!

Xochitl
smiled at her own joke.

Memo's
feet stopped in front of her. "¡Oye puta, mira!"

Xochitl's
hair pulled at her skull as her head snapped back. Blood dripped down her chin;
her grin still plastered on her face. Memo stared at her, turning red with
rage. He was holding something in his hand.

Is
that a remote control? Are we gonna watch TV now?

Xochitl
didn't know why she thought that was funny, but she chuckled, spitting up more
blood in the process.

"You
think this is funny, bitch!" Memo barked.

She
didn't see the back of Memo's hand come at her. The sting on her cheek sent
shockwaves of pain through her body. But she didn't yell out or say a word.
Instead she kept smiling, daring him to finish the job.

Let's
get this over with, "El Gallo."

"Want
something to laugh about?" Memo moved to her side and grabbed her chin,
making her stare directly ahead. "Laugh at this."

She
heard him snap his fingers. "¡Feo, venga!"

From
across the warehouse a steel door flew open with a bang. Confused, her vision
blurred, Xochitl barely made out the two figures entering.

What's
happening?

As
the figures approached them, Xochi could see that one of the men was a huge
gangbanger with a pockmarked face. He was holding onto a thick chain leash that
was attached to a dog collar around the neck of a teenage boy.

Boy?...Oh,
God! Miguel!

The
hulking banger stopped outside the ring, several feet away from her.

Miguel,
wearing only dirty, torn chinos, stood motionless beside his jailer; her
brother's eyes were cast to the ground. Despite Miguel's defined chest and arm
muscles, Xochitl was shocked by his gaunt appearance. His once beautiful brown
skin was now dull and pale.

Xochi's
heart raced at the sight of her little brother chained like one of Memo's dogs.
As if she'd just been shot up with adrenaline, her brain immediately cleared of
any fogginess.

"See
baby. I told you, if you betrayed me, I'd take everything. I took your
bar...now, your little bro." Memo pressed the remote control in his hand.
Miguel dropped to his knees, screaming and writhing in pain.

"I'll
kill you! Kill you!" Xochitl lunged at Memo, desperately trying to free
herself from Tuti's grip. "Miguel!"

Xochitl
watched in terror — her little brother's body contorting, shifting.

Oh
God. No!

Miguel's
back arched, his arms splayed at his sides. His muscles expanded, shredding his
pants. Miguel raised his hands, curling them into tight fists at his temples,
and looked as if he were fighting the transformation. All at once, his hands extended,
elongating into razor-sharp claws while his face lengthened, forming a snout
where his nose and mouth had been. His eyes glowed bright amber.

Miguel
rose from the concrete floor and let loose a bloodcurdling howl.

The
sound echoed in Xochitl's ears, sending a chill down her spine. She had
witnessed Lucy Lowell's partner, Gabe, transform. He had similar features to
Miguel, but his awareness — his spirit — had seemed more human. Gabe
had seemed like he was trying to save Lucy, not hurt her. He'd responded to her
voice, her touch. But this creature's eyes appeared to be filled with pain and
rage. There was nothing of her little brother's joy behind them.

Every
fiber in Xochi's being shouted out for her to look away, but she could only
stand there, staring at the monster that had once been Miguel and scream
— scream for the loss of her brother, her family, her life.

"That's
better, little güera." Memo moved away to stand midway between her and
Miguel.

Xochitl
stifled her screams.

Don't
give him the satisfaction.

Vaguely
aware of the laughing and hollering from the bangers behind her, all Xochi
heard was the low growl emanating from the large, black Werebeast pacing before
her, as Memo's lackey held on to its chain for dear life.

"You
know, I always knew the kid had something inside him. Who knew it was dog."
Memo laughed as he moved closer to Miguel. "Turned out to be a good little
killer too. I should know. I trained him."

"I'm
gonna kill..." Xochitl's voice cracked as she struggled to get the words
out. "Cabrón."

"I
always loved to make you scream." Memo licked the air with his tongue. "But
first things first." Memo nodded to his man with the leash. "¡Mátela!"

"Kill
her," was ringing in Xochitl's ears as she watched the gangbanger release
the leash, sending Were Miguel charging across the room toward her.

She
threw her head back, connecting with Tuti's face and knocking both of them off
their feet. Xochitl rolled to her side just as her brother grabbed Tuti's leg,
dragged him through the ring fencing and tossed the banger up in the air like a
rag doll.

Holy
shit!

Tuti
landed on the cement floor with a thud. His body twitched and spasmed. Blood
pooled around his head.

Xochitl
scrambled to get to her feet, as Were Miguel, with one powerful leap, soared
over the perimeter of the ring and landed next to her.

Were
Miguel lunged at Xochitl. She raised her right arm in front of her face to
block his attack. His teeth missed her throat but sunk into the flesh of her
shoulder. The bone cracked. Blinding pain wracked her body. She screamed.

"Miguel!
Stop! Miguel!"

Miguel
straddled her, his chain whipping across her thighs. His jaws snapped at her
face and throat, the force of his body weight pinning her legs down.

Xochi
struggled to breathe, as she tried to push him off her. "Pleeeease...Mi...guel."

Xochitl's
arms were giving way. She didn't think she could hold her brother off much
longer. Tears mixed with blood and sweat rolled down her cheeks, stinging the
cuts on her face. She knew she was going to die. Her baby brother — the
love of her life — was going to kill her.

Xochitl took one last look into her
brother's blazing amber eyes and whispered, "Te amo, mijo."

*

A
crisp spring breeze blew through North Hollywood, momentarily creating the
illusion of a luscious, urban paradise. Glimmering sunshine and clear skies
highlighted the bright red splashes of ubiquitous bougainvillea plants climbing
the buildings and made the Vineland warehouse row look almost cheery.

Lucy
jumped out of the cruiser and hurried to the arriving SWAT truck. On the drive
from Gyssell's and with Rice's cooperation, Burch had assembled a six-man SWAT
team at lightning speed.

"Why
can't we have a full team?" Lucy complained, meaning to tease.

Burch
just shrugged, taking her seriously. "Rice gave us what's available. But
he sent us dogs, just for you."

Two
familiar German shepherds greeted Lucy at the truck. The dogs pulled hard on
their leashes, clearly agitated and ready to tear into someone. Lucy clicked
her tongue, and they settled.

"Why
don't you just join K9 SWAT already? Rommel would trade me in for you in a
heartbeat." Jake Garlit playfully offered.

"I
don't have the right temperament. That and I don't want to carry my partner's
poop bag." She grinned at the handler and adjusted the Kevlar vest another
SWAT officer had handed her.

Wonder what Rice's planning for the K-9
unit.

"We're
entering from both sides of the building," Burch briefed her. "Stay
behind the dogs. SWAT is going in first."

Lucy
nodded and readied her Beretta, then, once Burch looked preoccupied, scooted in
front of the canines.

"You
don't mind," Lucy said.

"Alpha
bitches first is my motto," Jake Garlit answered with a wink.

"Just
don't let Donner bite you in the ass," the other K9 officer quipped
lamely.

"Alec,
I'd keep a tight hold on Donner if I were you. We don't know how the dogs are
gonna react if there are Werebeasts in there. They'll either go nuts and
attack, or they'll try to hide up your asshole," Lucy replied evenly.

The
thick reek of blood and sweat hit Lucy even before the SWAT officers broke down
the warehouse door.

Playtime's
over.

The
crash of the metal door hit by the battering ram bounced off the concrete and
gave way to screaming and snarling — the horrible sounds of a dog attack
in progress.

Memo's
men bellowed as SWAT swept into the building.

"LAPD!
LAPD! DOWN ON YOUR KNEES! DOWN ON YOUR KNEES!" Lucy heard Burch through
the intense barking and yelping of the shepherds behind her. She didn't turn
but sensed the dogs were sorting out their fight or flight instinct.

The
scene before Lucy looked grotesque with broken bodies strewn around an
expansive fight ring. A large Werebeast ripped into a person crumpled on the
ground.

"OFF!"
Lucy shouted and tore ahead of the other officers. The Werebeast reeled as if
flung backward.

"SIT!
STAY!" Lucy turned her full attention to the person on the ground. Blond
hair spilled over the face; the woman's ripped up shoulder and arm spurted
blood.

"XOCHITL!"
Lucy screamed.

Please
be alive!

"He's
got a device!" someone else called out.

Lucy
spun to see Memo Morales, now down on his knees, clamp his hand around a remote
control before dropping it on the ground and lifting his arms again.

"Shock
collar!" Lucy got out the words just in time for the Werebeast to throw
its head back and release a deafening roar. Obvious agony coursed through it,
interfering with Lucy's hold, and it turned on her with murderous rage.

"He's
my Miguel." Xochitl raised her head, voice desperate. "Don't shoot."

Instead
of backing up, Lucy stepped into the Werebeast and smashed her Beretta into his
snout.

"SIT!
I said, SIT!" She growled the last "sit" and looked directly
into his eyes.

Were
Miguel stumbled back onto his haunches and froze.

"Guillermo
'El Gallo' Morales, you have the right to remain silent; anything you say can
and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to
an attorney." Lucy heard an officer read Memo his rights as she tried to
help Xochitl.

Lucy
glanced over to see a SWAT officer zip tie Memo while another trained his Heckler
& Koch MP5 on the row of Memo's lackeys.

Other
members of the team worked on the large dog crates lining the wall. Lucy
shuddered when she saw people awkwardly crawling out of the confinements. The
mix of throaty growls and broken words confirmed that these were the people
Memo had taken.

Those
that are left, anyway
.