The Werewolf Whisperer (The Werewolf Whisperer Series Book 1) (31 page)

Xochitl
stopped, taken aback by the question. She eyed Hanna for a moment. To Xochi's
surprise, the woman seemed utterly sincere.

Xochitl
wiped her brow with her arm and returned to cutting the vegetables. "At
first, I guess. But then...I don't know...I'm good at it." She searched
for the words to explain to Hanna something that Xochi didn't quite understand
herself. "And Lucy's really good at it," she added. "I guess she
takes care of the animal side and I take care of the human side...and
together...we help the whole person."

"So,
you think Lucy's really good at her job?" Hanna asked, sliding the chopped
meat off the stone board and into the pan. The steak sizzled, and oil spat out
from the impact.

"I
wouldn't call it a job." Xochitl grabbed a red pepper and began slicing it
into long thin strips. "For Lucy, it's a calling. I mean you should have
seen her the other night." She put down the knife, too caught up in the
recollection of the Vigi Boys fight to cut peppers.

"She
was like a wild thing. Wailing away on this guy that outweighed her by fifty
pounds. It was incredible. I think she even howled at one point..." Xochitl
picked up the knife again. "Or maybe that was Kai...or both of them. I don't
know." She fell into the chopping rhythm of the knife. "I was so
caught up." She stopped in mid cut. "I do remember Lucy took command
of the situation. Not like when she was a cop. This was different."

"How
so?" Hanna asked.

"Oh,
uh..." Xochitl, lost in her own thoughts, had almost forgotten the woman
was there. "I guess it was just her presence...no, power...that's what it
was. She had power...Huh." Xochitl shook her head, amazed by her
discovery.

"You
two make quite a team," Hanna said and took the chopped peppers from
Xochitl.

"Yeah.
Just a couple of strays that found each other, driving up and down California,
fighting El Lobo Feroz!"

Xochitl's
laughter was cut off by a loud clank from a pan Hanna had dropped on the floor.
"You okay?" she asked, leaning over the island to see Hanna on all
fours scooping up the chopped peppers.

"I
think we need more peppers," Hanna grumbled.

"I'm
on it." Xochitl opened the refrigerator and selected two ripe peppers from
the crisper drawer. "So, what are we making?" She dropped the new
peppers onto the cutting board.

"Carne
asada." Hanna set the soiled pan in the sink and grabbed a clean one from
under the island.

"Really!"
Xochitl said, impressed. She loved carne asada. "I thought I smelled
chiles."

"Yep."
Hanna smiled, pointing to the steaming pot. "Y arroz." She pointed to
another pot. "Y carne." She pointed to the sizzling iron pan. "Tortillas
are store bought, though."

"No
worries." Xochitl breathed in the smell of frying steak and chiles.

"My
mom and I used to make tortillas every Sunday. I'd help roll out the masa. It
took all morning, but it was my favorite time of the week. And when they were
cooked, hell, even when they weren't cooked, they were the best things you'd
ever tasted. They'd melt in your mouth."

A
swell of emotion rose at the memory of her mother. "My papa would brag to
his buddies that his Polish wife cooked the best Mexican food any Mexican ever
tasted."

"What
was your mother's name?" Hanna seemed caught up in Xochitl's memory.

"Alice."
Xochitl handed the second batch of cut peppers to Hanna. "Alice Deka
Magaña." She said a silent prayer to her mother.

Enough of that.

Xochitl
shook off the emotion, plopped back down in her seat and watched Hanna prepare
the rest of their meal.

Hanna
wasn't entirely what Xochitl had expected. Though she looked like an updated
sixties hippie straight out of Haight Ashbury, she was more Princeton than
Berkeley — more Microsoft than Apple. But there was a softer side to her
personality. She had eclectic tastes as was evident in how she decorated her
home, making it feel old and new, comfortable and chic. And she loved to cook
fried, greasy, yummy comfort foods, not wheat grass, oats or some other
tree-hugger meal, as one would expect judging from her appearance.

"How
do you stay so thin?" Xochitl asked. "Eating the way you do?"

"Good
genes, I guess." Hanna let out a huge bellowing laugh, startling Xochitl,
who had hardly even seen the woman crack a smile let alone howl with delight.

Maybe
I've been too hard on Hanna.

*

Lucy
woke, hearing laughter. The savory scents of home cooking wafted through her
room, sending Poppy and Chasselas to scratch at the bedroom door. Lucy watched
as Bonn trotted up to them. The other dogs gave way to the German shepherd as
if he were a celebrity on the red carpet. Bonn easily floated onto his hind
legs, reached out with one paw and fluidly pushed down on the door handle,
hooking it slightly as he returned to his natural four-paws-on-the-ground
state. He scooted through the open door, and without missing a beat, the pack
followed behind. Lucy suspected getting out of the bedroom herself would take
far more effort, but for a chance at Hanna's carne asada, Lucy was willing to
try a little heavy lifting.

Chapter 24

Dr.
Lynn Weisman — Audio Notes

Day
forty-five of KV Stabilizing Serum Testing. Lost five more — Unsure of
the cause. However, subject HCXY151 responding well to beta tests. Control is
increasing though not stable.

Hypothesis:
Subject has developed additional DNA pathways and generated one or more
additional base pairs from initial exposure to KV. Provided HCXY151 survives
next round of tests, I will extract more DNA to be certain.

21 months ago

We're
gonna have some fun now, little güera! ¡Mátela! No! Miguel! Oh, God! Help me!

Xochitl
shot out of bed, short rough breaths coming fast. She felt dizzy. Her heart
raced. She sat down on the edge of the bed, closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

After
a few minutes, she opened her eyes again and reoriented herself to her
surroundings. The room was almost completely dark except for the red glow of
the digital clock on the nightstand.

2:58
A.M.

Xochitl
groaned and flopped back on the mattress.

Almost
time.

Shortly
after Bob had texted the location, Xochi and Vern had arrived at the Fontana
fleabag motel. It had been late and the ride over had been quiet. Xochi had
wanted to ask questions. She wanted answers about Ames. About the plan. About
the deal. But she'd held her tongue, afraid she might ruin her one chance of
getting Miguel back.

Vern
hadn't been forthcoming either. He'd spent the few hours of the trip going over
the specs of the "pound" they were about to infiltrate.

After
dumping what little they'd brought in their rooms, she and Vern had met up with
Bob and Lefty, and two of Bob's men, Mick and Prez, at a greasy spoon next
door. Amidst half-eaten pancakes and cups of bitter coffee, Vern had laid out
their plan.

They
were going in under the cover of darkness when personnel and security were
minimal. The plan was to get in, find Miguel and get out without drawing
attention.

"Operation
Wham Bam Thank You Ma'am is in effect!" Prez had joked, instantly
endearing himself to Xochi.

Where
Prez was boisterous and outgoing, his counterpart, Mick, seemed stoic and
deadpan.

Opposite sides of the same coin. And I
bet lethal.

"Xoch."
Vern knocked on her door. "Thirty minutes."

"Okay,"
she said, her voice sounding raspy.

She
sat up and grabbed the plastic cup she'd filled hours earlier. The liquid
tasted warm and stale, but it did the trick. She switched on the table lamp.

The
room was nothing special. Just a bed, two nightstands and a chair by the door.
A small television chained to the dresser added to the rent-by-the-hour
ambiance. She was glad she'd decided to remain dressed and had lain on top of
the covers instead of under them.

"Great
place you found, Bob," Xochitl mumbled and crossed the room to a black
duffel bag sitting on the chair.

In
addition to Mick and Prez, Bob had brought her and Vern their own "go bags,"
as he'd put it. Xochi unzipped the duffel. Inside was a plastic sandwich bag
with toothpaste, toothbrush and a comb. She tossed it on the dresser. She
pulled out a black, long sleeve crew neck, black cargo pants, black socks and a
black beanie cap, which she spread out on the bed. Combat boots completed the
ensemble.

Not
quite my style, but it'll do.

"I
feel like ass," Xochi said out loud and stripped off her tank top, flats
and jeans. She walked into the bathroom.

¡Híjole! I'm not getting into that
fungus-infested shower.

She
snatched a dingy washcloth from the towel rack and sniffed it before wetting it
under the faucet and pressing it to her face. The cool terry cloth felt good on
her nearly healed scars. Her shoulder wound was another story, and she gingerly
wiped behind her neck and under her armpits, mindful not to get her bandage
wet. She brushed her teeth and combed out the knots in her hair.

Satisfied
with her appearance, she gathered up the various sundries, placed them in the
baggie and walked back into the room to dress in the all black outfit. She
twisted her blond hair up into a bun, securing it under the cap, and was
shocked to find the clothes a decent fit.

"Not
bad, Bob." Xochi scrutinized herself in the mirror.

She
gathered up her few possessions and stuffed them into the duffel. Taking a last
look around the room, she picked up her go bag and headed out the door.

Vern
and the other men were congregated around Bob's black Humvee.

Bob
must be loaded.

Vern
handed her a cup a coffee. She took it eagerly.

"You
are a god." Xochi breathed in the aroma of French Roast.

"Another
slave to the caffeine." Mick smirked.

"Another
pendejo." Xochi blew on the hot brew and squeezed between Bob and Prez,
who shook with laughter.

"Sweet!"
Lefty whooped as he busily typed away on a small computer resting on the
Humvee's dash.

So
that's what was inside Ames' case.

"New
toy?" Xochitl looked over to Vern.

"Lefty's
good with tech stuff," Bob answered.

"So
what now?" She took a sip of coffee.

"Now,
you need some war paint." Prez approached Xochitl with a fat tube that
looked like black lipstick.

She
took a step back and gazed up at Prez.

An
African-American man of indeterminate age, Prez was six five and two hundred
thirty pounds of pure muscle. The massive man dwarfed Xochi, the top of her
head barely reaching his chest.

"You've
not been blessed with natural night camouflage like me," Prez said,
popping the cap off the stick.

"Please,
all you'd have to do is smile and I could hit you from three hundred
yards," Mick jibed.

"You're
just jealous your lily white ass ain't mocha choca lata like mine," Prez
hit back over his shoulder and brought the stick to Xochi's face.

She
stopped his hand.

"Let
me do it. Scars still healing." Xochitl took the paint.

"Oh,
right. Sorry."

"No
problema." Xochi leaned toward the Humvee's side mirror and applied the
paint in strips, spreading it over her forehead, nose, chin and cheeks.

I look dirty, not camouflaged.

"So
much for washing my face." Xochitl turned to Prez for inspection.

"No,
that's good." Prez dropped the stick into his utility belt pouch.

"Everyone
over here," Vern called.

Xochitl
and the men gathered at the front of the vehicle. Lefty rested the computer on
the hood and began enthusiastically demonstrating the equipment.

"This
thing is like next gen's next gen," Lefty said, looking like he's was
about to jump out of his skin. "She's a thing of beauty. I mean just look
at the screen display. It's beyond XD! It's a gamer's wet dream!"

"Private."
Vern scowled. "Get on with it."

"Sorry,
sir." Lefty picked up a small camera device no bigger than half an inch
long sitting next to the computer. "I'll be able to monitor you and the
guys remotely with the mini cams."

He
handed the device to Vern. "I can hack into their feed and block any
security cameras at the same time as running their facility systems,"
Lefty continued. "The decryption code on this baby could get me into the
Pentagon."

"I
want you to record everything," Vern interrupted.

"No
problem."

"Good."
Vern turned his attention to Xochitl and the men. "Ames' intel notes light
security at this hour. The morning rotation starts at zero-five-thirty."
Vern checked his wristwatch. "That's approximately two hours and twelve
minutes from now."

Simultaneously,
the men each checked their watches and marked the time.

"As
you can see," Vern pointed to the specs, "we've got a large cinderblock
building fenced in by chain-link. Shouldn't be too much of a problem getting in
if Lefty's right about being able to control their systems."

"Shoot,
I could control their shits with this thing," Lefty blurted.

Vern
glared at Lefty. Bob's men burst out laughing.

"Boys
and their toys." Xochitl rolled her eyes.

"We're
OR so let's get our heads in the game," Vern commanded.

"Yes,
sir!" All four men replied in unison.

Xochitl
swelled with pride, watching her uncle in action. She'd never seen him
operational before, and he was impressive. He could muster these men —
men he'd not worked with in a long time or even at all — and form them
into a unit.

She
studied the team assembled around the Humvee. Save for her and her uncle, the
group was comprised entirely of ex-military — mercenaries — with no
personal reason to volunteer for a dangerous mission and risk their lives other
than being dedicated, honorable men.

Papa would be proud.

For
the first time since her world collapsed, a little spark of hope kindled inside
Xochitl.

She'd get her Miguel back.

Xochitl rolled
El Gallo up behind Lefty's truck and parked along the side of the animal
shelter. She squinted as the bright lights of Bob's Humvee flashed in her rearview
mirror.

"Thought
we were approaching from the front once Lefty takes out the cameras?"
Xochitl asked Vern, cutting the engine.

"Yes.
But Xoch," Vern patted her shoulder, "I need you to stay with Lefty."

"The
hell I am." Xochitl flicked the door lock. Vern grabbed her arm.

"Xochitl,
please."

"Is
this about your deal with Ames? I don't trust that cabrón."

"Neither
do I. That's why I want you to stay with Lefty."

Vern
reached for Xochi, but she shied away and turned her head toward the window.
From the side-view mirror she watched Bob, Mick and Prez pull several large
duffels out of the Humvee.

"Xoch,
I don't know what we're getting into here. And I can't risk you getting
hurt...or worse," Vern continued.

"I
can take care of myself."

"I
know you can. But I can't worry about you and Miguel and—"

"Do
what you have to do for Ames," Xochitl finished for Vern. "Es mi
familia, Vern."

"And
you and Miguel are my family. ¿Entiendes?...¿Verdad?"

Xochitl
canvassed the contours of her uncle's face. Even in the dim light, she could
see the deep worry lines creasing his brow.

She
sighed.

"Sí."

"Good."
Vern stroked Xochitl's hair and left.

Watching
her uncle gather Bob and the other men, Xochi's emotions fought her reason.

I barely know these guys. Can I trust
them? Ames is a snake. But the others…Lefty…No. They're good men. But what if
something goes wrong? What if Miguel…I don't know if I can do this.

"I
hate being left behind." She slapped the steering wheel.

Xochitl
released a long slow breath, put on her game face and strode to the Humvee.

Bob
was issuing firearms to the team.

"High
powered modified 9mm tranq guns, as requested." Bob handed a gun to Vern. "Strong
enough to drop a lion."

"You're
not using live ammo?" Xochi asked as she watched Prez and Mick load darts
into their weapons.

"Not
if we don't have to," Vern replied.

"But
just in case..." Mick rested his hand on a holstered gun strapped to his
right thigh.

"No
lethal action unless necessary." Vern eyed each of the men individually. "Oorah!"

"Oorah!"
Vern's team echoed.

"Good.
Now, Xochitl and Lefty will stay here and monitor the extraction," Vern
continued. "Bob, you and Prez are Bravo Team. Mick, you're with me."

"You
okay with this?" Lefty whispered to Xochitl.

She
gave him a quick thumbs up.

Lefty
offered a sympathetic smile and finished syncing his monitoring equipment to
the team's cameras.

"Okay,
cameras are up," Lefty said. "Systems are coming on-line."

"Bravo
Leader, you copy?" Vern checked his radio one last time.

"Copy,
Alpha Leader," Bob replied.

"This
is it. Let's move out." Vern waved his hand forward, and the men fell in
behind him.

"Here."
Lefty passed Xochitl an earpiece.

Xochitl
placed the small radio device in her ear as she watched the team round the
corner of the building and disappear from sight. She leaned over Lefty's
shoulder and tracked the action on the computer screen.

The
extreme definition monitor split the screen into four saturated color quadrants
like a video game. At the bottom of each square the numbers one through four
indicated which camera belonged to which man. The video feed shook as the team double-timed
it to the front of the building.