The Werewolf Whisperer (The Werewolf Whisperer Series Book 1)
Read The Werewolf Whisperer (The Werewolf Whisperer Series Book 1) Online
Authors: Camilla Ochlan,Bonita Gutierrez
Copyright
The Werewolf Whisperer
This book is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places and incidents are the products of the author's imagination
or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons,
living or dead is coincidental.
Copyright
© 2014 by Camilla Ochlan and Bonita Gutierrez
All
Rights Reserved
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website at
www.werewolfwhisperer.com
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For P.J.
C.
For my boy. Kumite!
B.
Contents
Without
warning, the creature turned sharply away from Lucy and bore down on Hanna at a
dead run.
"Do
it!" Hanna's voice had a hard edge.
Lucy's
finger squeezed the trigger. A single shot rang out. The creature dropped. It
was over.
Kyon Virus
From
Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
The
Kyon Virus
(also known as
KV
,
Wereflu
,
or
The Affliction
) is a sudden-onset viral infectious disease that
attacks the entire body, transforming the muscular and skeletal structures of
the host. Typically, the first signs of KV begin with extreme muscle and joint
pain and a temporary loss of equilibrium, followed by the development of canine-like
features. Symptoms include excessive body hair, unnaturally vibrant colored
eyes, lupine snout, sharp fang-like teeth, over-developed musculature, clawed
hands and feet and preternatural strength. There may be a loss of
inhibitions in the Afflicted, and in some cases, KV may cause extreme
aggressive behavior.
The Kyon Virus
manifests in hosts in a variety of ways, leading to the three-tiered
classification of the Were: Hound, Feral and Werebeast. For further
classification information see
Lucy Lowell
. See
The
Werewolf
Whisperer
. See
Xochitl
(Socheel)
Magaña
(Mah-gah-nyah).
No
known cure for the Kyon Virus exists, nor can the symptoms be treated. It is
estimated at the initial outbreak (see
K-Day
) one in twenty Californians
contracted the disease.
Arms
and legs pumping, lungs burning, Lucy Lowell sprinted up the Beverly Hills
street due north toward Sunset Boulevard.
I hate when they don't listen to me!
Xochitl
Magaña, her long blond hair whipping her cheeks, ran hard on the parallel sidewalk
and cursed loudly in Spanish. The awkward weight of her Remington 12 gauge
forced Xochitl to lag just a few feet behind Lucy. A great runner, Xochitl was
obviously furious she hadn't caught up to Jimmy Stanton and Fat Dan Walters
yet, but the shotgun was a necessity in case young Jimmy decided to bite his
neighbor's face off.
"Why
won't Jimmy listen to you?" Xochitl hurled the question at her friend.
"He
thinks it's a game," Lucy replied between sharp breaths, exasperated. "Jimmy
chases Dan. We chase Jimmy. To a Wereboy, it's hilarious."
Fat
Dan Walters knew the neighborhood inconveniently well and had managed to elude
Jimmy Stanton for the better part of half an hour, ducking behind fences and
hiding in the long deserted alleys reserved for the Beverly Hills trash cans.
Unable
to shake Jimmy, Fat Dan disappeared behind the tall cypress trees partitioning
off a mansion under renovation.
They'd
come halfway up Sierra Drive, and Lucy was sure Jimmy's parents had alerted the
Beverly Hills Police Department by now.
"Keep
after him!" Lucy crossed the lawn at a wind sprint, leaving Xochitl to
pick up her pace as well.
The
shaggy teenage boy ahead of them tore over the newly poured concrete
foundation, leaving well-defined tracks — a narrow human foot with deep
impressions accounting for the pads of four toes and deep gouges made by the
extended claws.
Fat
Dan, a thirty-something man with a beer belly and jowls of pudding, was nearing
a heart attack, Lucy feared.
Lucy
pushed herself harder, seeing Fat Dan fall to his hands and knees by the back
fence of the property.
"Don't,
man. Just please don't," Fat Dan gasped. "I don't care about the cat.
Please don't." He put up one weak hand.
"OFF!
JIMMY, OFF!" Lucy skidded to a stop and scrutinized the boy.
Jimmy
Stanton stood still, his gangly form taut as if ready to leap. Teenage acne
splotched his pale complexion, and his thin face was flushed from running. His
wide mouth open slightly as if tasting the air, he revealed small but very
sharp looking canines. The Wereboy's arms were exceptionally long, forearms
poking halfway out from the sleeves of his plaid shirt. His hands were covered
with silky brown tufts, and his fingers tapered into long, hard claw-like
nails. His skinny jeans showed signs of extreme wear, scuffed and ripped,
though Lucy wasn't sure if that was because Jimmy played rough or because the
designer had favored the lived-in look. Jimmy shook his brown mane and let a
chilling howl rip through the silence.
"Show
off." Xochitl racked her shotgun. Unlike Lucy, she was not breathing hard,
just having hit her stride.
"Jimmy,
to me!" Lucy shouted. "Heel, Jimmy. Heel!"
The
boy's naturally hazel eyes glowed amber, and he huffed with exaggerated
irritation.
"Hey,
Gordito!" Xochi shouted to Fat Dan. "Roll to me, you big tub of lard."
Her
eyes still on Jimmy, Lucy stifled a smirk as Fat Dan curved toward Xochitl in a
lumbered crawl. He moved with the grace of a dung beetle.
They'd
just met Fat Dan Walters, but he'd made an unforgettable impression, arriving at
the Stantons' mansion during a training session to accuse young Jimmy of eating
his mother's cat. Lucy had seen more rational tantrums from four-year-olds. No
wonder Jimmy had flipped out and chased after him.
"Jimmy,
to me." Lucy pointed to the ground in front of her. The boy started toward
her, head down and dragging his feet.
"BHPD!"
a strident voice bellowed from the street, startling all four of them.
"Pinche
cops!" Xochitl spat on the ground, barely missing Fat Dan. "Now they
show up. ¡Ay carajo! Useless!"
"Ms.
Lowell? Ms. Magaña? Is everything under control?" The officer stepped onto
the lawn from behind the tall front hedges and returned his Taser to his
utility belt. "Dr. Stanton called. She and her husband reported you were
chasing down a Hound by Beverly Gardens Park."
"I
want to report a wild — ow!" Fat Dan shut his mouth as Xochitl's
boot ground down on his hand.
"Pardon
me," she said sweetly. "My bad."
Fat
Dan cradled his bruised hand and rose slowly. His baby blue T-shirt with the
big-eyed cartoon horse looked damp with enormous sweat patches. Xochitl took an
obvious step away from him. "I hate Bronies."
"We're
good. Thanks," Lucy told the officer, distracting him from Fat Dan, and
closed a leather collar around Jimmy's neck. "Rebellious teenagers. What
are you gonna do?"
A
second BHPD officer made her way to the back lawn where Lucy and Xochitl now
congregated with Jimmy Stanton and Fat Dan.
"Dan
Walters?" The officer addressed the man, who was quietly shaking. "You
live on North Maple? Next to Dr. and Mr. Stanton?"
Fat
Dan looked at her gratefully and inched away from Xochitl toward the officers.
"Did
you ever find your mother's cat?" the female officer asked with surprising
interest.
Lucy
looked at Fat Dan sharply.
"I
don't...I don't know...Maybe...I don't know anymore." Sweat streamed down
Fat Dan's face, and his voice cracked. Lucy thought he might rupture something.
He stared at the ground and shook his head.
"Well,
if we are done here, we are going to take young Jimmy back home. Maybe Dan can
get a lift from you, Officer..." Lucy peeked at her nameplate. "Sharon.
Officer Sharon." She gestured toward Fat Dan with her free hand. "He's
not looking so good. And, by the way, if you have time, why don't you stop by
Greystone later. We're doing a pet parent seminar up at the mansion this
afternoon.
Understanding and Training
Your Hound
."
Lucy
smiled and fastened the clasp of her leash on Jimmy's collar.
"Bring
friends," Xochitl added.
"Hey,
that's great." Officer Sharon looked eager. "If I come, will you sign
a copy of your handbook?"
The
male officer looked less enthused and made himself busy with Fat Dan,
respectfully calling him "Mr. Walters" and inquiring about his mother's
health.
Lucy
gave Jimmy's lead a sharp tug. "Let's go!" Her voice was higher and
more sing-songy. Now that the immediate danger had passed, Lucy went right back
into trainer mode.
The
officers directed Fat Dan to their cruiser, giving polite nods to Lucy and
Xochitl. Lucy noticed the male officer's eyes linger on Xochi's shotgun just a
moment too long.
"Maybe
we should get badges," Lucy said thoughtfully as she and Xochitl walked
Jimmy down Carmelita toward North Maple. Xochitl looked at her with a smirk but
didn't bother to say it.
"I'm
just saying sometimes if the cops aren't friendlies, they could freak about the
shotgun...if they don't recognize us."
"Long
gun open carry is not prohibited as of twenty months ago. Read your
Federal Werebeast Defense Mandate
again,
chica." Xochitl switched the Remington to her other shoulder. "Pendejos
are lucky I keep the semi-automatic in the trunk."
"Pizza
after we drop off Jimmy?" Lucy yanked on Jimmy's leash to stop him from
pulling. "Don't trample on the grass, Wolfboy. You can use the can at
home. I'm not picking up after you."
Jimmy
made a face and took his hands away from his belt.
The
Stanton's place on North Maple Drive was a Mediterranean-style mansion, built
— according to Dr. Stanton — in the 1920s. The Stantons had
retrofitted the three thousand five hundred square foot, four-bedroom home last
year after Jimmy had shown signs of the Kyon Virus. Lucy considered the human
sized doggie doors in the garage and the den a waste of money. Xochitl had
noted the built-in self-feeder in the kitchen, filled to the brim with Hound
Chow, and the strategically placed perpetual water fountains.
"At
least he has fresh water." Xochitl had sneered and checked the cupboards
for chocolate, onions and any other food theoretically hazardous to a Hound.
"So,
are you going to tell them Jimmy isn't a Hound?" Xochitl looked at Lucy
who was coaching Jimmy to heel by her side and walk with a loose leash instead
of pulling.
"Yeah,
have to." Lucy combed her fingers through her hair, painfully catching a
few red strands on the buckles of her leather wrist cuff. She winced. "He's
a Feral, no doubt in my mind." She pointed to Jimmy who was unsuccessfully
working on opening the gate to his front yard.
A
group of lady speed-walkers raced by. Their leader, a fit, white-haired Beverly
Hills matron sporting a leathery tan, waved to Lucy and Xochitl with great
enthusiasm.
"Hi,
girls!" the rail-thin lady shouted and smiled a big, perfect smile.
"Hello,
Mrs. Siperstein!" Lucy returned the wave.
"My
Maedel has been so good! No more counter surfing!" Mrs. Siperstein gave
them a double thumbs up. "You just have to get The Werewolf Whisperer. The
girls saved my life," she instructed her gaggle of followers.
"Thanks
for the endorsement!" Lucy shouted back to the passing throng. "Have
a Werebeast-free day!"
"Really?
Have a Werebeast-free day?" Xochitl asked, shaking her head slowly. "Is
that your idea of PR?"
Feeling
self-conscious, Lucy returned her full attention to Jimmy.
"He
is so independent. He doesn't even look to the human for help. Not at all like
a dog, more like a wolf. That's clearly Feral behavior. His parents are gonna
freak."
As
if on cue, Dr. Stanton and her husband Frank galloped down the garden path, and
Xochitl bit back her response.
"Oh
thank goodness, you caught Jimmy." Dr. Stanton threw her arms around the
boy exuberantly. Jimmy struggled in his mother's embrace.
"No
prob." Lucy cocked her head to the side. "Dr. Stanton? Maggie, we
talked about how you can't smother him. He really doesn't like hugs. Hugging
makes you feel better. It makes him feel trapped." Dr. Maggie Stanton
backed away and looked at her husband.
"So
many rules," Frank Stanton interjected for his wife's benefit.
"Common
sense, really." Xochitl had lost her patience with the Stantons right
around hour two of their three-hour in-home training session, and the
unexpected jog clearly hadn't improved her mood.
"Let's
discuss this some more over coffee," Maggie Stanton suggested, sounding
tense.
A
short while later, Lucy settled back into the Stantons' bleached snakeskin
living room couch and ran a hand over the unusually soft scales. Unimpressed,
Xochitl had made herself comfortable on the arm of the couch, balancing Dr.
Maggie Stanton's fancy china cup — Limoges the woman had pointed out
— precariously on her knee.
Lucy
thought she and her partner looked out of place in the tastefully furnished
great room. Floor to ceiling windows revealed a pristine garden, softening the
stark design of the ultra modern interior. Lucy would never have guessed that
the sharp edges and hard black and white of the inside of the house could have
complemented the stunning Mediterranean outside, but it worked somehow.
"Postmodern
Chiaroscuro," Frank Stanton said, glancing around his home. "I'm a
designer."
"He's
so modest," Maggie Stanton cut in. "Frank is brilliant. Brilliant."
Lucy
looked down at her worn camo pants and black Doc Martens. The laces were
fraying a bit, she noted.