The Werewolf Whisperer (The Werewolf Whisperer Series Book 1) (29 page)

Chapter 21

Hey little Kiddies,

Kyon is back

It's been a while

And that's a fact

Had to move

Was being tracked

Beasties huffin' puffin'

Wanna blow my house down

But I won't give in

I'll stand my ground

So, here's today's lesson

Better listen up well

They've hacked the code

Rewritten the cell

The Monsters are here

They're under your bed

Don't step in the lava

Or you'll be dead

So run little Kiddies

You've failed the test

Tell all your friends

I'll tell all the rest

And always remember

Kyon Knows best

The
familiar scent of night blooming jasmine drifted in through the open window. Lucy
knew she was home, in her own bed. Her jersey cotton sheets felt cool against
her hot skin. In the darkness, she couldn't make out the color of the bedding,
but remembered that Mama had always purchased white sheets.

"They
bleach better, Lucy," Mama had said when little Lucy had begged for sheets
with colors or patterns. "Little girls who sleep with dogs need sheets
that can be bleached." Lucy could still hear her Mama's voice. She smiled
as exhaustion lured her deeper into transient sleep.

Lucy looks up at the blazing stars
overhead. She feels warm. The heat of the stars burns like a thousand suns. She
looks down at the scorched earth at her feet. Brown and black dirt, a river of
dried mud below her. She takes a step and sinks into the sand dunes all the way
to her hips. Her eyes see the ocean. Almost sunrise, the darkness takes on a
blue shimmer. It won't be long now. A big hole gapes in her heart. Dirt on
form. Dirt on face. Sorrow overwhelms time and space. She closes her eyes and
sees flames.

*

"Are
you sure about Travis?" Vern's voice crackled through Xochi's earbuds as
she reclined on the overstuffed living room sofa, sandwiched between Tau and
Thandi. A perfect napping spot, the deep in-set couch had become her —
and subsequently the pups' — favorite place in the house.

Four
days had passed since she, battered and bruised, and Lucy, delirious with
fever, had arrived on Hanna's doorstep — Kai in tow. Lucy's Empyrean home
was tranquil, idyllic even. Nonetheless, Xochitl was growing increasingly uncomfortable
hanging around the unfamiliar surroundings with a woman who was neither fond of
her nor the stray she and Lucy had adopted.

"Yeah,"
Xochi replied and lightly rubbed the purplish-black welt on her arm, which
matched her now less-swollen black eye.

"Travis
never changed back. Vern, I'm frightened."

"For
Miguel?"

"Yes,"
Xochi said, mindlessly stroking the female ridgeback's head, as had become
their habit. "This Werefighting business...if he keeps changing..."
Xochitl's throat constricted, and she coughed to clear it.

What if Miguel stays a Werebeast forever?

"What
happened to Travis doesn't have to happen to Miguel," Vern said.

"But
we can't know that for sure." Xochitl gazed out the window and watched the
shadows form on the gravel.

It'll
be evening soon.

"We
do know the Kyon Virus doesn't affect everyone the same way," Vern
replied. "We've seen it."

"This
Kyon Knows guy seems to think the Wereflu isn't a virus at all. Bob's lab geeks
came up with a similar conclusion." Xochitl needed to grasp at any theory,
even one by a kook like Kyon Knows. She needed to make sense of the world again.

"Bob
said he told you what he found out before Ames took it all."

"I
read what he gave me." Vern sounded guarded.

"And?"

"And,
I didn't give him everything I had the night we sprung Miguel. Now, before you
say anything, hear me out, Xochitl."

"Fine."
Xochitl pinched the bridge of her nose.

"I
gave Bob most of the intel, but I sensed he had another agenda, and I couldn't
risk Miguel or you to whatever that might be. So I held onto a few things.
Asked some connections to run what I gave Bob and what I kept from him."

"What
did your connections find out?"

"Similar
to what Bob's people concluded, but there is a viral element. I'm still waiting
to hear what that's all about." Vern paused.

"Xochitl,
this thing is big. But no one knows who's behind it or what the agenda is. We
know Ames took the laptop, which means Washington has it. From the chatter I'm
hearing, they want to figure out a way to use it."

Xochitl
felt a wave of nausea hit her. "So what now?"

"Keep
working with Lucy!" Vern yelled over the thwapping of helicopter blades.
"How's she doing?"

"In
and out, but mainly still unconscious," Xochitl whisper-shouted, trying to
speak loud enough for Vern without disturbing Hanna and Doctor Howard. "Doc's
checking on her right now."

Best not tell Vern the "doctor"
is a veterinarian.

"Don't
worry!" Vern shouted. Xochitl hissed, momentarily tugging the headphones
away from her ear.

"She'll
be fine! You two will be back in business in no time! I'll keep poking around
on my end, maybe we'll figure a way out of this mess!"

Xochitl
heard loud popping noises like gunfire in the background. "Where are you?"

"On
The..." Vern's voice started to break up. "Great Wall of Mexico!...Coyotes
running...Werebe...through un...groun...pi...line!...Amazing thin...the
wall...up so fast!"

"Well,
my people did build pyramids. A little wall's nothing!"

"Ha!
Good...n...Got t...go...Head...back...on our side!"

"Okay.
Watch your six!"

"Al...ays do...aby...gir—"
Vern's voice cut off.

*

Lucy
kneels on the forest floor. Her hands on the bark of the tallest tree. It is
time, she knows. Lowering her body to the ground, she crawls on her belly over
hard earth and sharp stones. Her hands and arms ache; cuts draw blood, but she
creeps ever forward. The call drives her on and on. She rolls behind a tree,
looking into the vale below. She smells a campfire. Mama and the sweet golden retriever
puppy Lucy loves. Biscuits. They are sitting by the fire. Lucy smells the
melting sugar of the marshmallows. Mama makes the best s'mores. Biscuits chews
on a bone bigger than his head. The happy little blond pup settles next to
Mama. Lucy wants to run to them, but a jagged hand reaches out and grabs her
ankle, wounding her again. She can't run. She can't scream.

Chapter 22

to do list:

1.recruit
Morales (remember to send cigarettes)

2.make
contact with Vern Jones

3.requisition
computer at Langley

4.meet the
girlfriend

5.buy milk

21 months ago

About
thirty-five miles north of Oceanside, on the El Camino Real, sat
Jasper's
— a run-down watering
hole. As Xochitl and Vern parked El Gallo, she eyed the chipped blue and brown
paint of the salt-weathered building. The small bar reminded her of a scuttled
skiff.

Other
than the Toronado, only a couple of Harleys and a four-by-four truck were stationed
along the dust-laden strip of road.

"Nice
place," Xochi said.

"Yeah,
it's a fine establishment," Vern uttered sarcastically.

The
crunching sound of gravel scratching beneath her shoes, like bone scraping
against bone, sent a shudder through Xochitl's body. The memory of being
stuffed in the trunk of a car and nearly beaten to death flashed in her mind.

"You
okay, baby girl?" Vern placed a hand on her back and escorted her up the path
toward Jasper's.

"Yeah,
fine," Xochitl's stomach churned. "There food in this joint?"

"Not
sure you'd call it food, but you can eat here."

"So
long as it's fried, I'm good." Xochitl brushed a stray hair away from her
face. "Your buddies meeting us here?"

"Yeah,
just passed their truck."

"So,
not a hot spot, then?"

"That's
the point."

"Uh
huh." Xochitl followed Vern up the steps and into the bar.

The
inside of Jasper's was about what Xochitl had expected — bar counter on
the right with taps of Coors, Bud, Miller, the basics and booze on the shelves
behind it. The barkeep, an average size man with a paunch, wiped the counter
with a towel. Upon seeing Vern, he slung the rag over his shoulder, leaned
against the bar and nodded toward the back where floor to ceiling sliding glass
doors opened up to a breathtaking view of blue ocean. The orange sunset spilled
through the transparent wall, adding warmth and expanse to what otherwise would
have been a cramped, dingy space.

The
aroma of stale beer and fried food wafted through the air. Wooden tables and
chairs were placed haphazardly about the center of the bar, and two booths
lined a section of the back wall.

The
doors led out to a deck which looked as weathered as the rest of the exterior. Along
the low railing three men sat around two tables that had been pulled together
to create one large one. The youngest man turned his head toward them and
smiled, raising his beer bottle in a salute.

Vern
acknowledged the men with a slight nod. "Jasper, two of the usual."
He walked out to the deck with Xochitl on his heels.

"I
hope the 'usual' involves food," Xochi mumbled as they approached the men.

"Bob!"
Vern slapped one of the men on the back and shook the youngest man's hand.

Oh, that guy's only got one arm.

 
"Lefty. How the hell are ya?"

"Vern!"
Xochitl yelled, surprised by her uncle's insensitivity.

All
four men turned to Xochi and began laughing.

"Good
to see you, sir." The man called "Lefty" stood, still chuckling.

"What
the hell's so funny?" Xochitl put her hands on her hips.

"Xoch."
Vern threw an arm around Lefty's shoulders. "This is Private First Class
Pedro Delgado."

"Lefty,"
PFC Delgado interrupted, "on account I'm a south paw. Good thing too,
because..." He gestured to his missing right arm and burst out laughing
again.

The
men were in hysterics.

Marines.

Xochitl
rolled her eyes and pulled up a seat. The man her uncle had called "Bob"
jumped up and offered her his chair.

"Ma'am."
Bob smiled at Xochitl.

"I'm
not your grandma. Name's Xochitl."

"I
like her Vern," Bob said.

"She's
one of a kind, for sure," Vern replied and sat down next to Lefty.

Xochitl
leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms and inspected Vern's recruits.

Average
in height and well-muscled, Bob appeared to be close to his mid-sixties. With a
buzz cut and clean shaved face, Bob was impeccably dressed in Armani.

Fancy suit. Ex-military. Probably a merc.

Pedro
"Lefty" Delgado was another story. He wore a faded, desert camo jacket,
two sizes too big for him — the right sleeve pinned up. A lanky Mexican
kid, Lefty had a distant look in his eyes despite his smile.

Xochitl
knew that look. It was the look she'd seen in the mirror — the look of
someone who'd been through hell and had come out the other end.

Lefty
caught Xochi staring at him. She quickly shifted her gaze to the man sitting
directly across from Vern. The man hadn't said a word. And if he hadn't been
sitting right in front of her, Xochitl wouldn't have noticed him.

"So,
Vern, I know Bob here and Lefty. Who's this gentleman?" She nodded to the
third man.

"Right.
Introductions." Vern sat back in his chair. "As you said, Xoch, this
is Robert Tanner."

"Bob."
Bob Tanner smiled at Xochitl.

"And
Lefty, of course," Vern continued. "And this is John Ames. Jack and I
go back a ways."

John
Ames was an average looking, mid-to-late forties white male. There was nothing
distinctive about him. He just was — and that made Xochitl uneasy.

He's
either a serial killer or CIA...probably both.

Xochitl
noticed a subtle exchange between her uncle Vern and Ames. She had the feeling
that the word "classified" defined the relationship between the two
men.

She
thought it odd that men so varied in age could have worked so closely together.
She was about to ask when Jasper came out with a tray of burgers, fries and
beers. Without ceremony, he set the tray on the end of the table and left.

The
smell of grilled meat was heaven to Xochitl, and she took in a deep breath and
sighed with happiness.

"Dig
in." Vern motioned to the group to serve themselves.

Xochi
grabbed a burger from the tray and sunk her teeth into the warm bun.

Holy
Crap!

"Oh,
my God, this is amazing!" her words mushed between bites of burger.

Once
again, Xochitl had Bob and Lefty rolling with laughter. This time, she didn't
care. All she wanted was food.

"Slow
down, girl." Vern laughed and tried to grab her burger.

Xochitl
swatted Vern's hand, turning her burger protectively away from him. "Get
your own, old man!"

"Old
man? She's sure got your number, Vern," Bob said and grabbed his own
burger.

"Here."
Lefty passed Xochi a beer.

"Thanks."
Not looking up from her food, she took the beer and set it aside to finish the
last couple of bites.

When
she was done, Xochitl raised her head up from the empty burger tray and saw
four pairs of eyes staring at her in astonishment.

"What?
I'm hungry."

"We
gathered," Bob replied. "Vern, don't you feed this girl?"

"She
could eat us all under the table," Vern teased.

On
cue, Xochitl reached across the table, grabbed a fry from Vern's tray, stuffed
it in her mouth and smiled. She took a sip of her beer and leaned back in her
chair, content.

"So
Vern," John Ames broke in, "I've got the information you wanted. Why
don't you tell everyone what we're here for, besides the great
hamburgers."

Xochitl
stiffened. She wanted to know Vern's plan, but she didn't like the way Ames
spoke to him.

Something's up with this guy. I don't
like him knowing about Miguel.

She
caught Vern's eye before he answered. By the look he gave her, Xochitl knew
Vern was all business now.

"Right,
let's get down to it." Vern pulled himself up straight and moved the empty
trays off to the side. "As you all know, I asked you here as a personal
favor. Bob, you served with Xochitl's father and me during our later days in
Nam."

Bob
gave a terse nod.

"You
did?" Xochi leaned in.

I though I knew all of Papa's friends.

"Yep,"
Bob said. "On his second tour and the toughest Marine I'd ever met. I was
sorry to hear of his passing. Too young. What was it he used to call you, Vern?"

"El
Novato," Vern and Xochi replied in unison. They looked at each other
— the memory of her papa both fond and melancholy.

"That's
it." Bob chuckled.

"You
let him get away with that, sir?" Lefty asked, almost choking on his drink.

"I
didn't know what he meant." Vern pointed his bottle at Bob. "And it
sounded cooler than 'cherry,' which I know you called me behind my back."

"Ha!"
Bob cackled.

"Hell,
I was." Vern laughed. "But Carlito could've called me anything. Saved
my skin more than once back in those days."

Bob
gazed down at his beer, seemingly lost in thought.

"To
Carlito." Vern raised his beer in salute.

"To
Carlito." Bob clinked his beer to Vern
'
s and took a long swig.

Xochitl
couldn't believe she was sitting next to another one of her father's Vietnam
buddies. Until five minutes ago, Vern had been the only man she still knew from
her papa's service days. Her papa had never spoken of his time in combat but had
talked often about the men who'd served with him.

He never mentioned Bob.

Her
papa had been drafted at eighteen. He had served under Vern, his LT, and had returned
home with a Bronze Star she'd seen only once.

Never knew why he got it.

By
the time Xochitl had come along, her father was a Gunnery Sergeant — "Gunny"
to his men. Then her mother had died, and Xochi's father had left the Marines,
moving her to Los Angeles. Uncle Vern had been reassigned to D.C. sometime
later. When Vern returned, he was a Colonel, stationed at Camp Pendleton, and her
father was dying.

Xochitl
felt something nudge her side and looked down to see Lefty's elbow at her ribs.

"Xoch?"
Vern asked.

"Huh?"
Xochitl saw Vern looking expectantly at her.

"I
was asking you to tell Ames about the black trucks and what the neighborhood
people told you," Vern prompted.

Ames
sat in his chair, hands folded over a file that rested on the table. Xochitl
did not like this man and didn't want to tell him any more than necessary.

Wary
of Ames, Xochitl looked to Vern. He smiled the smile he always gave her when
she was unsure or frightened. Vern wanted her to trust his judgment.

I do. I just don't trust Ames.

"How
about if I start, Ms. Magaña?" Ames asked curtly. "Xochi, right?"

His
patronizing tone startled Xochitl and reminded her of Memo. She glared at the
man, trying to figure out his angle.

Just
stay cool, Xoch. Don't give him any ammunition.

"You
were having an affair with gun trafficker Guillermo Morales.
Is that correct?" Ames asked, an
arrogant smirk on his face.

He's trying to goad you.
Don't bite, Xochi.

She
bit her tongue instead and nodded.

"And
he was...unbeknownst to you...expanding his operation by stealing kids from the
neighborhood?" Ames didn't wait for Xochitl to answer.

¡Hijo
de puta!

"He
used your brother. That's how you got that little souvenir."
Ames pointed to the bandage on Xochitl's
shoulder. His smile broadened.

Vern's
head snapped around, and he stared at her with angry disbelief. Rapid murmurs
skirted her consciousness. But all Xochitl heard was Memo's rabid command
—
¡Mátela!
— as it clawed
its way through her brain, shredding her control.

"Don't
you fucking talk about my brother, pendejo!" Xochitl shot out of her seat.
Her chair crashed on the deck.

Fucking
great Xochitl!

"That's
why we're here, isn't it?"
Ames leaned in,
looking pleased with himself. "You want to find your little lost Werebeast
brother, and I know where he is."

"Jack.
That's enough!" Vern pounded his fist on the wooded table.

"What
did you tell him?" Xochitl reared on Vern. She felt betrayed.

"What
he needed to know to get us the information we need," Vern spat out
between clenched teeth. "You should try it some time."