The Werewolf Whisperer (The Werewolf Whisperer Series Book 1) (43 page)

Not
sure how Lucille Lowell figures into the equation, or how she is able to do the
things she can do, but it is clear that Kyon Knows she is the missing piece of
the puzzle.

The
words Kyon Knows wrote just a month ago clawed their way up from the recesses
of Xochitl's mind.

"Crap!" She sunk into the couch,
closed her eyes — her mind swimming with images of Werebeasts and
children's rhymes — and listened to Lucy read from Kyon Knows.

Listen to Mother

Don't stray from the path

Red relinquished

Do the math

Mother sent Red with cakes and wine

It was said upon a time

Grandma gave Red the little red hood

Now Grandma's sick — that's no good

Get in from the heat without losing the
way

And don't forget to "Have a good day"

The cakes and wine make Grandma strong

The wolf in the dark woods stifles the
song

Flatters the girl, says look at your life

Hear the birds

Watch the strife

It's more fun in the woods

The bad wolf cries
.

Don't gather the flowers

Shut your ears to the lies

Grandmother alone

He swallows her whole

Can't be stopped

He eats her soul

Now the world ends in a sneer and a howl

Until the wolf sleeps

Our future is foul

By chance a hunter can slit the beast

Put rocks down the body

And end the blood feast

Weigh him down

Watch him fall

Dead must he be

Once and for all

Then take the skin and drink the wine

Mother says now is the time

To run

To hide

To slink

To wait

Listen to Mother

Don't stray from the path

The End is here

The choice is near

Gather your forces

We'll meet in the West

And don't forget

Kyon Knows best

"I
hate poetry," Xochi groaned.

Xochitl's
head snapped up as her cell once again vibrated loudly. She snatched the phone
and was shocked by the countless Twitter notifications filling up her home
screen. She tapped on the app and discovered Punk Girl Megan's earlier tweet
about her re-tweeted over a thousand times in the past five minutes.

"What
the hell's going on?" She clicked on Punk Girl Megan's tweet.

@NoFConLaGuera is all over the news!

Xochitl
had to read the tweet two more times before the words "all over the news"
sunk in.

"Quick!
Turn on the news!" Xochi shouted.

Miguel
grabbed the remote and switched on the television.

Xochitl's
mouth dropped open as random pictures of her and Lucy were plastered all over
local evening news.

"Wanted
for questioning are The Werewolf Whisperer and her companion," Enrique
Baldwin said, as Xochitl and Lucy's faces were replaced by the now news anchor's
slimy smile.

"¡Ay
carajo!" Miguel's mouth went slack.

"I'm
not her companion!" Xochitl shouted at the TV.

"Xoch."
Lucy sounded scary calm. "I think that's the least of our worries."

The
newscast switched once more to a shaky cell phone video of Kai running out of
Empyrean High School followed by two huge men clad head to toe in black
military fatigues.

"Hound
Chow! What did you do? "Xochitl reached for the boy but he ducked under
the table, whimpering, before she could nab him.

"...in
yet another video linked to the now infamous Werewolf Whisperer," Enrique's
smug voiceover not so subtly indicted. "An eyewitness shot this film of a
Werebeast, allegedly thought to be in the company of said Werewolf Whisperer,
running out of the local Empyrean high school."

A petite blond woman in a wheelchair rolled
into view of the amateur video.

"Hey!
That's the chick that was driving the black SUV at Molly's today!" Xochitl
snagged the remote from her brother and paused on the image of the mystery
woman, cutting off Enrique Baldwin's report.

"Looks
like we're going north after all." Lucy dropped down onto her chair.

Xochitl
handed the remote back to her brother.

"I
need a drink." She poured four shots of tequila.

Xochitl,
Lucy, Miguel and Lefty each lifted their glasses in the air.

"To
being wanted!" Xochi downed her drink.

Chapter 32

TROIKA: She is safe
where she is.

OMEGA: i want her out of there

TROIKA: When WE are ready.

OMEGA: make it happen

TROIKA: You have your orders. See they are
carried out.

20 months ago

Warden
Bucknell's office was smaller than Lucy had expected and more utilitarian than
she had imagined. The walls were stark white, and only a few framed photos of
Folsom Prison over the last century broke the severity.

Warden
Harold Bucknell sat behind an oak desk, his full attention on a file marked
with The Great Seal of the State of California. He didn't look up when Lucy
arrived with her court-appointed representation.

A
little man she'd never seen before, Kent Wortham, had shown up in a cheap suit,
with a briefcase full of documents and had forced her release from solitary
before sunrise. Lucy didn't understand many of the convoluted details Wortham had
explained about the re-opening of her case.

Both
Bucknell and Wortham looked exhausted, apparently conserving their energy as if
they still had a long day ahead.

Lucy
hadn't eaten much since the day of the riot; she felt weak. The air conditioner
blew alternating freezing or sweltering blasts directly on her, making her
shaved hair stand up on the back of her neck. She held herself up very
straight, but small tremors shook her body, and the glare of the bright sun
coming in through the windowpane spiked a migraine she hadn't anticipated.

Warden
Bucknell examined the file again, shrugged and signed the last form on the
bottom. He pushed himself away from his desk and looked up.

Wow, he's young.

Square
jaw, bright blue eyes and curly brown hair gave him the air of a high school
football star. His speech was slow and clear, so deliberate in fact Lucy felt
slightly offended.

"According
to the California Penal Code, Section two hundred." He looked at Wortham
and then quoted directly from the papers.
"The
willful extermination of a Werebeast that has been determined to threaten human
lives is not, has not, nor will ever be considered a punishable offense."

Kent
Wortham picked up in a monotonous drone, "Elizabeth Geneva Lowell, mother
of Lucille Elizabeth Lowell, was in a transformational Werebeast state at the
time in question. Final witness testimony signed by one Hanna Khani..."

"Hanna?"
Lucy gasped, and her thoughts drifted to the last time she'd heard Hanna's
voice.

Hello?
Hanna's Rescue and Rehabilitation.

This
is a collect call from Folsom State Prison from *Lucy Lowell* Do you accept the
charges?

No.

Wortham
rambled on "...declares that without a doubt, Lucille Lowell was acting in
self-defense and the defense of others when she shot and killed...her mother."

Lucy
felt like she had been kicked in the head. Mama was dead; she'd shot her mama,
and these men were going to let her out of prison.

"The
State of California has ruled that the previously categorized homicide was
justifiable and excusable in light of the Federal Werebeast Defense Mandate."
Warden Bucknell continued the proceedings efficiently. "No crime was
committed. Further, the State of California formally apologizes for your
incarceration and discharges you as of this moment, with the provisos of
psychiatric evaluations and quarterly reviews conducted by a licensed therapist
appointed by the court. You are free to go. May I just add on a personal note,
keep up the good work, Officer Lowell."

"Just
Lucy," Lucy replied in the barest whisper.

How
am I ever gonna to make this right?

She stared past Bucknell through the
window up at the open sky.

*

Sacramento
county summer heat scorched the air as Xochitl parked in front of Folsom Prison's
East Gate. Having passed the media circus at the front gate, she was taking a
chance on the warden releasing Lucy more discretely.

Huh, no one else here to meet her.

Leaning
across to the passenger side, she looked through the open window at the
temporary home of Lucy Lowell. Any moment, Lucy would step through the gates
— free for the first time in three months.

 
Wonder
how she'll react to seeing me.

Correctional
facilities were not foreign to Xochitl, having picked up more than one of Memo's
Locos from the joint. The prisons in L.A. were modern, cold structures made of
concrete and steel, but Folsom was an entirely different beast. Massive
thirty-foot grey granite walls, thick and impenetrable, stretched into the sky.
Stone spires topped the guard towers on either side of the spiked iron gate,
reminding Xochi of a medieval castle.

Kinda beautiful...well except for the
whole prison thing.

She
turned her attention back to the gate. She didn't see Lucy, but she was a
little early, and the release procedures sometimes took a while.

Too
hot to wait in the car, Xochi decided to get out and stretch her legs a bit.
Her drive up from Lake Arrowhead had been long, and her legs felt stiff. She
pulled the rooster key chain from the ignition. It was hot to the touch. Xochitl
sucked in a breath.

"¡Híjole!"
She quickly crammed the keys in Lefty's military jacket and shook out her hand.

The
heat was even more stifling outside the Toronado. Xochi began removing the tan
camo jacket. She felt a jab at her side. The serrated edge Bowie knife strapped
to her hip reminded her that it and the Filipino Karambit knives hooked on her
jeans needed concealing. She pulled the coat back on, adjusting it to assure
her weapons didn't show.

Xochitl
groaned at the heat the added layer created. She leaned back on El Gallo,
crossed her arms and legs in front of her and waited.

She didn't have to wait long. A few
minutes later, Lucy Lowell approached the gate.

*

"This
ain't the Receiving and Release Gate, Lowell. No reporters back here for the
'hero cop,' bitch." The exit guard grinned, hatred and jealousy in his
eyes. "I'll save a spot for you when the new women's facility opens."

"You
better pray I don't ever come back, Peklar." Lucy held his gaze and
accepted the small paper bag holding her belongings.

Remember
that kick I gave you, you stupid, cowardly son of a bitch?

Officer
Peklar swallowed and involuntarily shuffled backward.

Lucy
pushed away the memories and silently headed for the road. She had expected to
see Hanna waiting, annoyed but happy to have her back. Ready to mourn together,
ready to plan their next step, ready to forgive Lucy.

She'd
also counted on the change of clothes she thought Hanna would bring. The grey
sweatshirt and ill-fitting jeans provided by the prison upon her release reeked
of mothballs. The odd low-cut tennis shoes pinched her toes.

At
least I'm outta that suffocating pink jumpsuit.

After
a mere two steps, Lucy found herself staring at the bright orange gleam of
a ridiculously large 1960s American muscle car. Against the glare Lucy shoved
dark sunglasses on her face, having fished them from her paper bag in a hurry.
As she made out the person who casually leaned against the behemoth, her knees
buckled. Not Hanna. No forgiveness. No reunion.

"Hola."
Draped in turquoise jewelry and encased in tight leathers, a familiar young
woman flashed a broad smile. She straightened up slowly and ran her fingers
through the tangle of her long blond hair.

Xochitl
had changed. Gone were the trendy, girly fashions Lucy's former confidential
informant had favored not so long ago. The camouflage jacket she wore now
easily concealed a sidearm or large knife; Lucy couldn't be sure at a distance.
It was Xochi's manner, however, her stance, the unblinking stare that made her
a striking contrast to the bleeding victim Lucy had peeled off of Memo Morales'
warehouse floor just a few months before.

"Xochi..." Lucy nearly bolted
back through the prison gates.

*

Lucy
stiffened. She brushed her hand through her short, spiky hair.

Last
person you expected.

"Just
me chica."

Not
surprising, Lucy was dressed in typical Goodwill release garb. In the sunlight,
her hair glistened a brighter shade of red than Xochi remembered.

Other than that, she looks the same.

It
wasn't until Lucy reached the car that Xochitl caught a glimpse of the scars
running up from her wrist and disappearing under her grey prison sweatshirt.

Oh.

Xochitl
forced her stare away from the obviously self-inflicted wounds back to Lucy's
face.

Lucy
took a few small steps backward.

"No worries. You're not the first
person I've picked up from the joint. Day one's always weird." Xochi
winked, clicking her tongue.

She crossed to the driver side door,
swung it open and for added effect, jangled the audacious rooster key chain in
front of her.

"You took Memo's car?" Lucy
sounded impressed.

"El Gallo's El Gallo is all mine...as
it should be."

Xochitl laughed and slid in behind the
wheel. She turned the ignition, revving the Toronado's engine. She patted the
dashboard.

"See. She likes you, baby."

For a brief moment, Lucy looked back at
the prison.

What
happened to her in there?

The thought vanished as the door squeaked
open. Lucy scooted in beside her.

Lucy reclined into the leather seats,
looking comfortable. Xochi smiled and punched the gas. El Gallo's engines
roared as he tore down the road — Folsom State Prison in their rearview
mirror.