The Werewolf Whisperer (The Werewolf Whisperer Series Book 1) (23 page)

BOOK: The Werewolf Whisperer (The Werewolf Whisperer Series Book 1)
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"Mac,
you said your shift is over. Why don't you keep walking to your car? We'll get
it done."

"I'll
stay, Miss Lucy." The old man's voice shook, but he sounded sincere.

"We
got it from here, Mac." Lucy wanted to keep him out of danger. "Go
home."

Mac
wavered. Lucy guessed good sense and sense of duty were playing tug-of-war
inside of him.

"You'll
just get in the way." Xochitl sounded annoyed, but Lucy knew she was just
trying to help Mac make the smart choice.

"The
Hound's been holed up in a little grove of trees straight down by the tracks,"
Mac said quietly. He didn't point but nodded his head down the street. "Good
luck."

Mac
didn't wait for any final words from Lucy but walked toward his car on the far
side of the parking lot. Lucy thought his gait was lighter. Perhaps he felt
like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

And
firmly mounted on ours.

Ahead
Lucy saw four Catchers jump out of their van and head for the door of the guard
shack where a young blond security guard, presumably Aaron, waited for them.

"Let's
do it," she said to Xochitl, who had already picked up her stride.

"Well,
I'll be damned to a hell of rotting fish," a tall Catcher yelled out and
pointed at Lucy and Xochitl. "It's The Werewolf Whisperer and her La
Güera." He laughed in a dirty way and spat on the ground. Like the other
three Catchers, he wore the new black Catcher jumpsuit, black army boots and
had a tactical AK-47 slung over his shoulder.

"Assault
rifles," Xochitl commented under her breath. "Don't you feel
wonderful about your little tonfa classes with Gabe now, Luce?"

"Fuck
me." Lucy said nothing else.

"Lucy
Lowell," another Catcher, a powerfully built black man with a platinum
Mohawk walked up to meet Lucy and Xochitl at the curb.

"Xochitl,"
Lucy spoke through her teeth, "this is Micah Tolbert. He used to be one of
my fellow ACTF officers."

"When
there was a Animal Cruelty Task Force, bitch." Micah's tone was mocking
and superior.

"Hey
Ann!" he called to a female Catcher with a shaved head. "ACTF reunion
time."

Ann
McNeal left the other two Catchers by the truck and strode over.

"What
do you want, Lowell?" Ann wasted no time. "The Catchers are here now,
girly girly. Why don't you hit the road before you break a nail?"

"Why
don't you shut your mouth, before I shut it for you?" Xochitl said in a
bored tone. "Puta."

Ann
reached for her gun, but Micah held out his hand. "Don't be a stupid cow,
Ann. You can't just shoot them down like a dog in the street." He laughed
bitterly.

"You're
upsetting my team, Lowell," Micah continued, looking at Lucy. "Why
don't you and your friend do the smart thing for once? Beat it!"

"No
big, Micah. We're just looking for a little girl's lost Hound," Lucy lied.
"We got an anonymous tip that one was spotted somewhere in the container
terminal. Give us a break. Let us look around." As much as she wanted to
put her fist through Micah's smug face, she knew tangling with the Catchers
would just lead to endless delays and mountains of red tape.

"A
little girl's lost Hound?" Micah guffawed. "You're so freaking
pathetic. I used to think you were the shit, ordering those dogfaces around.
But you're just a fetch and carry now." He preened. "You have any
idea the kind of bonuses we make? Moola, baby, moola. And the bennies? We're rock
stars on the force now. Just look at our guns."

Lucy
knew becoming Catchers had brought out the worst in both Micah and Ann, but
Micah's rabid edge was unexpected.

"How
are the others?" Lucy hoped to rekindle a sense of camaraderie in the man,
just long enough for him to let her and Xochitl go about their business.

"Others?"
Ann answered in an ugly tone. "There are no others. Goddamn Weres killed
them all. It's just us, the desk jockeys and the new recruits, like Herrero and
Cojuangco over there."

"And
that's what's up, bitches." Micah was clearly running out of patience. "There's
a Werebeast out there with my name on it. The guard kid Aaron told us he saw a
Werebeast here earlier. Stole his lunch or some guano. My AK's gonna tear that
Wereshit a new asshole."

"If
I don't get the fucker first," Ann cut in aggressively.

"What
if this Aaron's wrong and it's a Hound?" Lucy asked simply.

"Whatever
tickles your twat. Werebeast. Hound. Dead is dead." Micah waved the other
two Catchers over.

"My
old friend Lucy and her GF want to go looking for a lost Hound," Micah
announced while smiling indulgently. "What if we make a little wager? If
you catch the Werebeast first, you give it to us. And if we catch it first, we
arrest you for trespassing and impeding an investigation."

"What
if it's a Hound?" Xochitl asked with uncharacteristic calm.

"It's
not a Hound, little gallina," the Catcher Ann had called Herrero answered
her with a leer. "The rent-a-pig swore to me it was a Werebeast. Do I look
like the kind of hombre someone would lie to?"

"Vete
a la verga," Xochitl replied with a sweet smile on her face, though Lucy
saw the smile did not reach her eyes.

"Enough
flirting." Micah signaled the Catchers to move out toward the water. "Scream
if you need help, Lucy Goosey." He dismissed her with a wave.

"I'd
like to hear you scream," Ann added before walking away.

"Choteros
are all batshit crazy," Xochitl said when the Catchers were out of
earshot.

"Let's
just avoid running into them again." Lucy glanced at the guard shack as
they walked in the opposite direction.

"Wonder
why that Aaron guard lied about the Werebeast." Lucy hesitated.

"Unless
it was Mac who lied about it being a Hound," Xochitl said, a bitter sound
to her voice.

It
was well past one in the morning, and Terminal Island was quiet, except the
occasional vehicle rolling by them as they made their way down Ferry Street to
check out what Mac thought was the Hound's hiding spot.

Coming
back another time wasn't an option; Lucy squashed the impulse to leave. She
felt herself starting to fade. Her bones ached and tension clamped down on her
neck muscles, causing what felt like the beginnings of a migraine.

The
light from the street lamps felt like someone was stabbing her brain with
toothpicks, but thankfully it provided enough illumination to do away with the
need for their flashlights.

The
sea air had grown much colder since they had wrestled Travis onto the dock. The
wind picked up, and Lucy felt a light drizzle hit her face.

"It
could be worse...It could be raining," Xochitl quoted their favorite
Frankenstein movie.

On
the other side of a low fence, what Mac had called a grove turned out to be
nothing but a scraggly piece of dry land with a few clumps of anorexic looking
trees and scattered patches of weedy brush. The streetlight didn't reach as far
as the desolate lot, and Lucy had to strain to see past the scrawny trees to
the train tracks. She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. At the
same moment, Xochitl hissed, "There!"

A
dark figure shot out from behind some low bushes and, yawping a wild howl, ran
toward and then past Lucy and Xochitl.

Lucy
stumbled back one off-balance step, reached out her hands to grab the figure as
it flew by, and, missing it, sprang forward in pursuit.

Xochitl
at her side, Lucy gained on the Hound as they barreled down the middle of the
road, dodging a black Town Car at the last moment. The driver hit his horn, the
honk sounding like an alarm through the quiet night.

The
Hound ducked in between two large buildings, still howling and yipping as if he
enjoyed the chase.

"It's
a game to him!" Lucy got the words out between sharp breaths. Sprinting
from a standstill forced her lungs to work overtime and spiked her heart rate.

Pursuing
him at a dead run, Lucy and Xochitl cut through a narrow parking lot and
emerged on Terminal Way.

Across
the street the Hound, Lucy was fairly certain he was a Hound, scaled the tall
chain-link fence surrounding the massive container yard, swung himself over the
top and disappeared behind rows of blue and red steel containers.

"Son
of a bitch!" Xochitl yelled and came to a stop.

With
no thought in her head, except for catching the Hound, Lucy bounded across
Terminal Way and threw herself at the fence, gripped the chain-link with her
fingers and put all her effort toward climbing. Adrenaline carried her over the
top. Gravity did the rest.

"Hmmm."
Xochitl appeared on the inside of the yard, next to where Lucy had crashed
down. Picking herself off the ground, Lucy felt jarred and winded, but detected
no injury. She wasn't entirely sure how she hadn't broken anything.

"There's
a gap in the fence by the lamp post, ninja," Xochitl said and pointed to a
rolled back section of chain-link, half hidden by the angle of the street lamp.
"Sometimes, it's better to look at your surroundings first."

"Ow!"
Lucy gingerly touched her leg, which had started to bleed again. She winced,
causing Xochitl to give her a concerned look.

"Where
did he go?" Lucy focused on the walls of the intermodal containers lined
up straight ahead with long alleys running between them.

"Round
the right. Down the blue row." Xochitl stared into the darkness. The light
from the street lamps did not reach into the container yard.

"You
flush him out. I'll try to head him off around the other side." Lucy took
a long thin whistle from the inside pocket of her bomber jacket.

"This
carries over four hundred yards." She blew into the dog whistle.

"I
dunno, sounds broken to me." Xochitl smirked and took off in the direction
the Hound had fled. Lucy saw a steady stream of light coming from the cell
phone in Xochitl's hand as she disappeared behind the enormous steel boxes.

Lucy
felt she could see just fine and started to run toward the section of red
containers stacked high to her left. She quickly learned she'd have to pace
herself. Her body was stiffening from the abuse of the day and the impact of
her fall, the sum total sending shocks through her with every step. At more of
a fast walk than a run, Lucy entered the container alley with only the light of
the moon to guide her.

"Here
boy," she called and made clicking sounds with her tongue. "Where are
you?"

A
loud bang reverberated from the next alley, followed by Xochitl's trumpet-like,
nearly incomprehensible rapid-fire rant.

"TuestupidoperroifIgetmyhandsaroundyourlittleneckIamgonnaestrangulartu."

A
jubilant howl followed, and the Hound came racing around a far corner, moving
so fast he nearly flattened Lucy. She grabbed for his white T-shirt and swept
his ankle with her good leg. His momentum tripped them both, and Lucy went down
painfully for the second time that night.

The
Hound squirmed and twisted his body to break free. Luckily, Lucy had landed on
top of him. She forced her elbow into his solar plexus. He took a large,
involuntary breath, forgetting to struggle for a split second. She seized the
opportunity and stuck her face right into his face so they were nose to nose.

"Down!"
She growled so hard and so low in her throat, she sounded like something out of
a nightmare to herself.

The
Hound went limp instantly, his golden wolf eyes gleaming in the darkness.

"You
got him?" Xochitl weaved around the corner at a slightly impaired rate.
Her nose was bleeding, and she held her hand to her forehead.

"What
did he do?" Lucy asked, trying to decide whether or not to leash the
Hound.

Xochitl
hit the Hound and Lucy with the beam of her cell phone flashlight, causing him
to whimper and Lucy to rear back.

"Pinche
perro ducked when I went to grab him, and I went face first into the corner of
the damn container." Xochitl sounded angry at herself. "He's...fast."

"Get
up." Lucy gestured to the Hound.

He
stood up and took a slow step back. "Stay!" She coaxed and held up
her hand. The Hound stood with his back against a container, bathed in the
light of Xochitl's phone.

The
Were was an Asian teenage boy about Lucy's height. He looked thin and pale. His
black hair fell straight to his shoulders, but unlike all the Hounds and Ferals
Lucy had run across, no hair covered his face, neck, arms or hands. His white
T-shirt was filthy and ripped where Lucy had grabbed him; his jeans looked worn
but not faded. He was barefoot, but — again to Lucy's surprise — he
did not have the characteristic clawed Hound/Feral feet. But his glowing golden
eyes told her that he was not human.

"What
are you?" Lucy asked out loud, not expecting an answer.

The
Hound tilted his head to the side, as if trying to get a better look at them.
Then he stood tall and let out a stream of words that Lucy did not understand.
He gesticulated wildly. Peppered throughout the unfamiliar language was the
familiar sounding "Kai-an." The boy said it over and over while
nodding fiercely.

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