Read The Werewolf Whisperer (The Werewolf Whisperer Series Book 1) for Free Online Page B

laughing.
    Greystone
Mansion sat nestled in the verdant hills above Sunset Boulevard, blocked from sight
by gated estates and high stone walls that reminded Lucy uncomfortably of
Folsom State Prison.
    From
Greystone Chapel in Folsom Prison to Greystone Mansion in Beverly Hills in less
than two years. I'm movin' on up.
    Steering
El Gallo up the long, curving driveway, Lucy couldn't look on the stunning
estate without being impressed by its beauty and grandeur. The layout of the
big square main building included several wings, many of which were topped by
orange brick chimneys. The bulk of the manor seemed to have a limestone façade,
with some of the grey stone that gave the estate its name making up the walls
and many levels of the gardens.
    Lucy
remembered glancing at the brochure sent by the Beverly Hills Chamber of
Commerce when they booked "The Werewolf Whisperer" for their annual Family
and Wellbeing Expo .
    "What
does it say?" she asked Xochitl who had her nose buried in the booklet.
    "Just
a sec." Xochitl stopped flipping through the pages and stared out at the
estate sprawling before them. "Sorry, I'm just amazed. I went to La Uni
right up the street. Never knew this was here." She shuffled back to the
beginning of the book.
    "Estate
belonged to Edward Doheny, a 19th century oil man. Bad things happened. His son
was murdered on the property." Xochitl looked over at Lucy and made a
face.
    "Crap.
That sucks." Lucy shook her head with dismay. "Bad things come
knocking whether you live in a castle or a shack."
    "Anyway..."
Xochi continued. "Tudor revival...eighteen acres... stables. You'll like this.
Kennels...tennis court, bowling alley, gatehouse, pavilion, greenhouse, lake,
waterfalls. Blah, blah, blah. Gorgeous." Xochitl shut the brochure. "What
more do you need to know?"
    Lucy smiled at Xochitl's exaggerated brusqueness. She could tell
the opulent charm of Greystone was not lost on Xochitl; she just refused to
make a big deal about it.
    Lucy pulled up to the valet stand at the front of the large
upper parking lot.
    "Hi, we're here for the event. Lucy Lowell and Xochitl
Magaña." She smiled broadly. "I have to keep my keys, boss."
    The young valet's eyes got a little bigger at that request. He
seemed to weigh his options, and then chose to go with the authoritative and
unyielding approach.
    "I'm sorry, ladies. We park all the cars today. Greystone
Mansion requires—" He would have gone on if Xochitl hadn't leaned
over from the passenger seat and looked right into his eyes.
    "This, my young friend, is not a car. This is a 1966 Olds
Toronado in mint condition. The original fly ass ride. His name is El Gallo."
She reached into her vest pocket and pulled out a business card. "And this
lady is Lucy Lowell, The Werewolf Whisperer." Xochitl settled into her
seat again as if there was nothing else to say on the subject.
    The valet's bravado turned to confusion. He looked at the
business card.
    "I can't let you have the keys, boss," Lucy said
again, shrugging as if the decision was out of her hands, which it sort of was.
    El Gallo was loaded down with a number of special "toys"
— as Xochitl liked to call their collection of knives and firearms.
Giving the keys to a stranger was out of the question.
    "Call Mr. Soroush from the Chamber if you have any
questions," Lucy suggested. "In the meantime, why don't I just park
it somewhere. The line behind us must be getting long. This isn't worth holding
anyone up." She indicated to the two identical Mercedes SUVs that had
pulled up behind her during their last few sentences. "You know how people
around here can be."
    Looking like he'd rather be anywhere else, the valet made a
decisive arm gesture, directing Lucy to pull El Gallo to the edge of the lot.
    "Good boy," Xochitl mumbled.
    Lucy backed El Gallo into the parking spot a little more rapidly
than Xochitl would have liked, judging by the small squeak she let out when the
back tires bumped against the curb.
    "Easier to get out