The Werewolf Whisperer (The Werewolf Whisperer Series Book 1) Read online

  Shortly after midnight, Lucy, once more in uniform, headed back to Los Angeles.

  Chapter 7

  Socialization is important in the early stages of the Hound and Hound parent relationship. You might want to keep your Hound at home, keep your Hound safe from harm and prying eyes. It is normal to feel protective of your Hound and hesitant about your ability to control your Hound in public. But you must remember that isolation only breeds resentment and insecurity in your furry friend.

  Allow your Hound the freedom to walk with you, on-leash, to secure areas like Hound-friendly coffee shops and retail stores. Check out any Dog Park After Dark programs. Many cities allow Hound free-play after sunset.

  Enroll your Hound in a "new Hound" class at your local pet store or visit our website for the various Werewolf Whisperer Workshops available: www.werewolfwhisperer.com.

  If you are able, it is often a good idea to bring a second Hound into the family, so your Hounds can entertain each other when you are at work. But no matter how large your pack, you must remember that you have to be the alpha at all times.

  -excerpt from Hounds, and Ferals, and Werebeasts! Oh, My! by Lucy Lowell "The Werewolf Whisperer"

  El Gallo roared west, following Bob's black Humvee on the 101 Freeway toward Calabasas. Xochitl drove as Lucy texted Hanna about their unscheduled detour. They were twenty minutes in on the hour-long drive, and the sun was at the point on the horizon that made visibility difficult.

  Squinting as the blinding rays shone through the windshield, Xochitl pulled her visor down and angled it to block the sun. "I can't see a thing," she mumbled.

  "Hanna says 'Make it snappy,'" Lucy read off her cell phone, then flipped it shut and stuffed it in her front pocket.

  "Yes, ma'am. We'll be right quick, ma'am," Xochitl drawled. "She's a peach."

  "Thought you'd like that." Lucy sounded amused. Her phone buzzed, and she groaned.

  Xochi glanced at her friend, who had pulled her cell out once more and checked the Caller ID.

  "My damn shrink again." Ignoring the call, Lucy tossed the phone on the dash and began tuning through the stations.

  "You know, you're gonna have to talk to her some time," Xochitl said, looking down at the country radio station Lucy was about to select. "Um...no. Pick another one." Xochi reached for the dial.

  Lucy swatted her hand away. "Eyes on the road, hands at ten and two." She continued her search for something they could agree on.

  Their road music war had begun one night on the way back from Bakersfield after a particularly strenuous workshop series. It had nearly come to blows.

  "How come every station in L.A. plays the same Red Hot Chili Peppers song over and over?" Lucy gave a hard twist on the tuner knob. "Patsy Cline, Johnny Cash, now that's music."

  Xochi waved her hand in a big arcing motion over the dash. "You need to expand your horizons."

  "I'm surprised a tech junky like you hasn't put a better radio in this car." Lucy smirked. "It's mostly static on this thing."

  "¡Cállate!" Xochitl gasped. "That's blasphemy."

  She patted El Gallo's dashboard. "Don't you worry, baby. No lo dijo en serio...Mean ol' Lucy." Xochi stuck her tongue out at her friend.

  "Fine." Lucy tried to tune to the one station they both could tolerate.

  A soft, smooth voice came over the radio. "This is Nancy Fleming and you are listening to Fleming's Beltway Report on KNUZ 88.3 FM."

  "Nice." Xochitl sat up straighter in her seat as if it would help her listen better.

  "...If you are just tuning in, our topic of discussion this evening concerns the rumors that the California Kyon Virus quarantine will be lifted soon. My guest is political pundit and now Co-Founder of the Anti-Werebeast Commission or AWC, Rebecca Richards," Nancy Fleming said with more of a breathy whisper than an announcer's voice. "In addition to the ACLU's ongoing fight for Were rights," she continued, "the country now faces imminent economic disaster predicated upon keeping California isolated due to the Werebeast catastrophe. Some suggest it is now time for the country to embrace California's resilience and ability to thrive under extreme circumstances. Spearheaded by Representative Adam Gerard, a bill is being put forth before Congress to reincorporate California. How do you respond?"

  "Myself and Reverend Dr. David Barns believe in the complete eradication of the Werebeast population, including those Weres referred to as Ferals and Hounds."

  "Ugh, I saw this puta spouting this shit two years ago on TV." Xochitl groaned.

  "Shh..." Lucy put her hand up and leaned in closer to the radio.

  "Some say that Ferals and Hounds are no threat and should be granted rights under the Constitution of the United States of America just as other 'races' have been in the past." Nancy played devil's advocate.

  "Call them what you will, but werewolves are demons and an affront to God," Rebecca Richards replied. "The AWC's Co-Founder, Reverend Dr. Barns, a learned theologian, would attest to their evil nature. Werewolves are the embodiment of Original Sin."

  "And?" Nancy Fleming coaxed her guest.

  "And," Rebecca Richards continued, her voice going up in pitch. "If indeed California's borders are reopened, the American people should not have to put their tax dollars toward the care and education of these monsters. At this very moment, my colleague is protesting against such education at the Greystone Mansion in Los Angeles where that werewolf harlot is conducting a workshop."

  "¡Híjole!" Xochitl turned up the volume on the radio.

  "You are referring to Lucy Lowell, The Werewolf Whisperer?" Nancy asked in clarification for her audience. "We actually have a live feed from the Greystone Mansion where UR.LA's Enrique Baldwin is reporting...Hello, Enrique."

  "Hello, Nancy!" Enrique Baldwin's shouted over what sounded like chanting in the background.

  "I thought the protesting was done?" Xochitl turned to Lucy, who looked concerned as she leaned against the dashboard, intently listening to the news reporter.

  "Nancy? Are you there?" Enrique shouted again.

  "Yes, Enrique, I'm here," Nancy replied. "It's quite loud where you are. Can you tell us what is happening?"

  "Yes, Nancy," Enrique Baldwin said excitedly. "But first, may I say, it is such a pleasure to be on your show today."

  "What a pendejo." Xochitl shook her head.

  "Shhh..." Lucy half-raised her hand to shut Xochi up.

  "That's nice," Nancy Fleming replied to Enrique. She asked again, "So, what can you tell us Enrique?"

  "Right," Enrique said, in what Xochitl thought was as fake a professional voice as a "reporter" could have. "What you hear behind me are the remnants of a violent protest that broke out at the Greystone Mansion earlier today—"

  "Violent!" Xochitl yelled.

  "Shush!" Lucy chided Xochitl.

  "Okay. ¡Híjole!" Xochitl put her hand up in surrender.

  "...Lucy Lowell, The Werewolf Whisperer and her partner, Xochitl Magaña, fled the scene after their workshop was overrun by protestors against Were rights. I was actually interviewing Ms. Lowell when the protest turned violent."

  "Was anyone hurt, Enrique?" Nancy asked.

  "Not seriously, but I interviewed one protestor, a Dan Walters, who said he was run over by The Werewolf Whisperer's car..."

  "What!" Xochi yelled louder.

  "...Said it wasn't the first time he'd been injured by The Werewolf Whisperer and her companion," Enrique continued.

  "Companion! Why that fat cabrón!" Xochitl's anger was reaching its tipping point. "If I ever get my hands on that pinche choncho Dan, I'll..." Xochi swatted the air as if she were backhanding Fat Dan in the face.

  "...See, Nancy." Rebecca Richards interrupted the interview with Enrique Baldwin. "This is exactly what we are talking about. Werewolves and the charlatan Werewolf Whisperer by their very nature are evil and dangerous. The truth is, Lucy Lowell has been covering up Were crimes for years. My colleague—"

  "Enough." Lucy shut the radio off.

  "Well, chal
k another one up in the win column," Xochi grumbled. "If Hanna keeps sending us to these 'public relations' events, we're gonna wind up being burned at the stake."

  "It's not Hanna's fault." Lucy sighed.

  "Not directly. But it's our asses on the line out there." Xochitl put her hand up to Lucy. "She uses this book tour to drum up business and leaves you, us, vulnerable to crap like that." Xochitl pointed to the radio. "Hanna's your Anita, Luce."

  "No she isn't!" Lucy shouted. "Hanna's not a drunk. You don't know what you're talking about."

  Startled by Lucy's uncharacteristic outburst, Xochi turned her attention back to the road.

  "That's not what I meant," she backtracked in an attempt to smooth things over. "I mean she's a manipulator, a user."

  "Oh, that's so much better." Lucy crossed her arms and stared out the window.

  "It's how I see it, Luce," Xochitl said calmly.

  "She's my family." Lucy seemed to catch on her words as she leaned her head against the passenger window. "You of all people should understand."

  "I get it." Xochitl reached over and patted Lucy on the shoulder. "I do...Doesn't mean she's not manipulating you."

  Xochitl's last words hung heavy in the space between her and Lucy. While Xochi didn't want to hurt her friend's feelings, she had a hard time refraining from expressing her misgivings about Hanna.

  "I'll lay off the subject for a while." Xochitl sighed.

  "I'd appreciate it," Lucy said bluntly.

  "Well, at least Punk Girl Megan and Were Boy Troy like us," Xochitl said, trying to lighten the mood.

  "Ugh, Troy's tattoos," Lucy groaned.

  "I know, right. They looked like he did them himself." Xochitl glanced at Lucy. "Do I really look that pissed off?"

  "Yes," Lucy stated matter-of-factly, and the two women burst out laughing.

  "Well, you looked like a MILF with a Mohawk!" Xochitl roared, shoving Lucy's arm.

  "Yuck and ow." Lucy, still in hysterics, rubbed her arm.

  "Ow, my stomach." Xochitl leaned against the steering wheel and clutched her belly.

  "Hands!" Lucy laugh-shouted, and Xochitl tried to calm her breathing so she could straighten up and drive safely.

  Xochitl caught her breath, and her thoughts turned from Were Boy Troy to Travis and then to Miguel. The idea that her brother could change permanently unnerved her.

  Lucy appeared deep in thought.

  Xochi broke the silence. "So, whaddya make of this Kyon Knows?"

  "Not sure," Lucy replied but added nothing further.

  Expecting more of an answer, Xochitl glanced at Lucy who was now resting her head on the back of the seat with her eyes closed.

  "Judging from the website," Xochi continued, "he or she seems loco to me. I didn't go through too much of it, but there were equations and formulas, kinda like the ones I told you about. You know, when I broke Miguel outta that pound." Xochitl snapped her fingers. "Are you even listening?"

  Lucy popped an eye open. "I'm thinking."

  "Well, wanna share?" Xochi invariably felt annoyed when Lucy wouldn't share what she was thinking right away. Xochitl had always been one for talking out the problem rather than contemplating it silently for hours like Lucy was prone to do.

  Lucy sat up in her seat. "The not-a-virus idea has me puzzled."

  "Yeah, the fact that it gels with Bob's findings has me wondering if we're looking at this Were thing all wrong," Xochi said.

  Up ahead, Bob pulled into the right lane. Xochitl checked to see it was clear before doing the same.

  "Do you mean that kid back at the Hamlet?" Lucy asked.

  "Well, yeah. How come Were Boy Troy can talk if he's more Hound than Feral? And how come Jimmy, a Feral, can't?"

  "That we know of," Lucy said.

  "Huh?" Xochitl eyed Lucy.

  "We never heard him speak, but that doesn't mean he can't," Lucy explained. "But something else is definitely at play here."

  "You mean if it's not a virus?" Xochitl asked, noticing the sign indicating another half mile to the Parkway Calabasas exit.

  "That, but it could also be how the Hound or Feral is treated in their respective environments," Lucy said. "I saw that a lot with the rescues my mama..." Lucy's voice caught at the mention of her mother.

  "Or, they're evolving," Xochi said nonchalantly, pretending she hadn't noticed the change in Lucy.

  Lucy snapped out of her momentary funk. "How so?"

  "Not sure." Not elaborating, Xochitl smirked at Lucy, who — in turn — smacked her in the arm. "Kinda sucks doesn't it?" Xochi chuckled.

  "Yes, well, maybe it has to do with how long they're afflicted," Lucy said, ignoring Xochitl's last question. "Seems every time we think we've got a handle on this thing, something new happens." Lucy exhaled a frustrated sigh.

  "Yeah," Xochitl agreed. "I'm gonna keep an eye on this Kyon vato and continue following little @KyonKnows751k."

  "Follow who? What?" Lucy asked. Xochi rolled her eyes.

  "Híjole, woman. Punk Girl Megan." Xochitl shook her head in disbelief. "I'm going to follow her."

  "How are you gonna track her? You don't even know her last name?" Lucy asked what Xochitl knew to be a sincere, albeit annoying, question. She pointed ahead. "Bob just got off."

  "Ugh, by her Twitter handle. She's @KyonKnows751k and I'm @NoFConLaGuera." Xochitl would find Lucy's confusion comical if it weren't so frustrating. "And thank you, I can see that." Xochitl flicked on her blinker and veered El Gallo onto the Parkway Calabasas off-ramp.

  "How is it that someone so technologically inept that if you had a GPS in your hand you couldn't find your own location can track a mouse miles ahead of you with no problem?" Xochitl ranted, glancing over at Lucy who snickered quietly to herself.

  "What?"

  "@NoFConLaGuera!" Lucy cackled.

  "Yes." Xochitl pointed at Lucy. "And I'd take that to heart if I were you."

  Xochitl turned onto Parkway Calabasas. Bob's Humvee paced a few cars ahead of them.

  "I hope we get there soon," Xochitl grumbled.

  After weaving through miles of lush green landscapes and an exclusive-looking country club, Bob's Humvee stopped at the entrance of a large gated community. A stone pillar with a plaque reading The Oaks flanked the oval front driveway and at its center stood a four-columned, Spanish-style security station with French doors. It was the most beautiful guardhouse Xochitl had ever seen.

  Lucy whistled in amazement.

  "I know, right." Xochitl watched a tall, muscled guard step out of the French doors and greet Bob. "Who knew?"

  The two men exchanged a few words, and Bob stuck his arm out the window and pointed in their direction. The guard nodded and waved Bob and El Gallo through.

  Xochitl glanced at her partner who gawked slack-jawed at the opulence of the exclusive community. "Beverly Hills ain't got nuthin' on Calabasas."

  "Yeah, lots of room for dogs to run." Lucy's eyes lit up.

  "Really? That's what comes to mind?" Xochitl shook her head. "You and pinche perros."

  They drove slowly onto the grounds. Xochi peered up through the windshield trying to get a better look at the first massive estate. She couldn't see its roof. "¡Híjole! We're not in Kansas anymore."

  "You got that right," Lucy said.

  "Wow!" They gushed in unison.

  They followed Bob for several more minutes, weaving through streets lined with enormous mansions and sprawling landscapes.

  "Are these houses getting bigger?" Xochitl asked, glancing over to Lucy.

  "I think so." Lucy sat back in her seat.

  El Gallo was about a car length behind Bob's Humvee when it suddenly sped up, veering left onto Prada De Amarillo.

  "What the hell?" Xochitl put her foot down on the gas, taking a hard left. El Gallo's tires screeched in protest.

  Xochitl noted a yellow diamond-shaped NOT A THROUGH STREET sign as Bob's Humvee made a sharp right onto a private road.

  "Over there," Lucy said and pointed to an o
pen iron gate.

  "Yep. I'm on it." Xochitl cranked the wheel, hitting the curb a little hard, jarring the women in their seats. "Sorry, baby." She patted El Gallo's dash.

  "I'm fine, by the way," Lucy grumbled.

  Bob's Humvee slammed to a screeching halt in the driveway. He jumped out of the vehicle, leaving the door open and dashed up the stone steps to where a middle-aged blond woman stood crying hysterically. Bob threw up his arms, put his hands on his head and began pacing.

  "This can't be good." Xochitl parked her Toronado across the road.

  "You see what's up," Lucy said as she unlocked her door. "I'll get the gear."

  "Better get the Remi." Xochi took the rooster key chain out of the ignition and handed it to Lucy.

  "You sure?" Lucy asked over her shoulder as she reached back for the keys.

  "Better me than Bob." Xochitl exited the car and jogged across the private road to Bob's estate.

  The Tanner's home was by far the biggest in The Oaks. White stucco walls and a red terra-cotta roof created the framework of the Mediterranean-style estate. Crescent shaped stone steps led to the entryway, accented by arches with columns on either side. Fuchsia colored bougainvillea crawled up one side of the mansion, which was framed by perfectly manicured hedges and a lush green lawn.

  Xochitl slowly approached Bob and the woman Xochi assumed was Bob's wife. He seemed slightly calmer and was whispering in his wife's ear, rubbing her back.

  Awkward.

  Xochitl felt like a voyeur intruding on their intimate moment.

  Trying to find a distraction, she glanced across the road and saw only Lucy's legs sticking out from behind El Gallo's large trunk, the rest of her body having been swallowed up while she gathered their tools.

  "¡Ándale, chica!" Xochitl called after Lucy.

  "Xochitl, this is my wife Helen." Xochitl turned her attention to Bob.

  Helen pulled away from her husband; tears streaked down her face.

  "Hello." Helen dabbed at her eyes with the back of her hand, attempting to compose herself. "Bob's told me so much about you."