Obsidian Butterfly ab-9

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  "He could have worked in a morgue," Edward said.

  I shook my head. "But he didn't, did you, Olaf."

  "No," he said, and now he was looking at me. His eyes had been turned into two dark caves by the deep set of his face and a trick of light, or would that be darkness. He stared down at me, and without seeing his eyes I could feel the intensity of that stare, as if I were being studied, measured, dissected.

  I kept my gaze on Olaf, but asked, "What is his specialty, Edward? Why did you call him in on this particular case?"

  "The only person I've ever seen do anything close to this, is him," Edward said.

  I glanced at him, and his face was calm. I turned back to Olaf. "I was told you went to jail for rape, not murder."

  He looked right at me and said, "The police arrived too soon."

  A cheerful voice called out from the front of the house. "Ted, it's us." It was Donna, and the "us" could only mean the kids.

  Edward left at a goodly walk, trying to head her off. I think Olaf and I might have still been staring at each other when she walked in on us, but Bernardo came in, and said, "We're supposed to hide the pictures."

  "How?" Olaf asked.

  I took the candelabra off the table and said, "Put the table cloth over the door." I stood aside and let Bernardo drag it off the table.

  Olaf said, "Aren't you going to help him? You are one of the boys, after all."

  "I'm not tall enough to hold it up over the entire door," I said.

  He gave a small smile, derisive, but he moved up to help Bernardo block the open doorway with the tablecloth.

  I was left standing behind them with the black iron candelabra in my hands. I stared at the tall, bald man and was half-regretful that I wasn't tall enough to smash the heavy iron candelabra into his skull. Just as well. I'd owe Edward another favor if I killed one of his backups just because he'd scared me.

  30

  ICOULD HEAR EDWARD in his best consoling Ted voice, trying to convince her that she didn't need to say Hi to everyone. She argued, polite, but firm, that of course she did. The more he tried to keep her away, the more she wanted to see. Call it a hunch, but I was betting it was me she wanted to see. The house was arranged so that you couldn't enter the three guest bedrooms without going through the dining room. Donna wanted to make sure where I was, and that I hadn't been in anyone's bed but my own. Or at least not in Ted's. Did she think that I was racing ahead of them to my room to throw clothes over my nakedness? Whatever the motive, she was coming this way. I heard Becca's voice.

  Shit. I ducked under the rug across the door and nearly ran into them. Donna stopped walking with a small oomph of surprise. Her eyes were wide as she looked at me as if I'd scared her. Peter was watching me with cool brown eyes, as if it was all too boring for words, but underneath the perfect teenage boredom was a light, an interest. Everybody wondered why the tablecloth was in front of the doorway.

  It was Becca who said it. "Why is the rug in front of the door?" I kept calling it a tablecloth because that's what Edward was using it for, but it still looked like a rug. Kids stick to the basics.

  Donna looked at Edward. "Yes, Ted, why is the tablecloth in front of the door."

  "Because we're holding it," Bernardo said from behind the improvised curtain.

  She stepped close to the cloth. "And why are you holding it?"

  "Ask Ted," Bernardo and Olaf said together.

  Donna turned back to Edward. I usually know what Edward will say, but with Donna I was out of guesses.

  "We've got the pictures from the case spread all over the room. They aren't something I want you or the kids to see." Gee, he went for the truth. It must be true love.

  "Oh," she said. She seemed to think about it for a second or two, then nodded. "Becca and I will take the goodies through to the kitchen." She lifted a white, string-wrapped box, took Becca by the hand and went towards the kitchen. Becca was straining backwards, saying, "But, Mommy, I want to see the pictures."

  "No, you don't, sweetie," Donna said, and very firmly led the child away

  I thought that Peter would follow but he stood there, looking at the door way, then glanced at Edward. "What kind of pictures?" he asked.

  "Bad ones," Edward said.

  "How bad?"

  "Anita," Edward said.

  "Some of the worst I've seen, and I've seen some awful stuff," I said.

  "I want to see," Peter said.

  I said, "No."

  Edward said nothing, just looked at him.

  Peter scowled at us. "You think I'm a baby."

  "I wouldn't want your mom to see them either," Edward said.

  "She's a wimp," he said.

  I agreed with him, but not out loud.

  "Your mother is who she is," Edward said. "It doesn't make her weak. It just makes her Donna."

  I stared at him, trying very hard not to gape, but I wanted to. I'd never heard him cut anyone any slack for anything. Edward was not just judgmental He was a harsh judge. What chemical alchemy did the woman have to have won him over? I just did not get it.

  "I think what ... Ted is trying to say is that it isn't your age that makes us not want to show you the pictures."

  "You think I can't handle it," Peter said.

  "Yeah," I said, "I think you can't handle it."

  "I can handle anything that you can handle," he said, arms crossed over his thin chest.

  "Why? Because I'm a girl?"

  He actually blushed, as if embarrassed. "I didn't mean that." But of course he had. But, hey, he was fourteen. I'd let it slide.

  "Anita is one of the toughest people I've ever met," Edward said.

  Peter squinted at him, arms still hugging his chest. "Tougher than Bernardo?"

  Edward nodded.

  "Tougher than Olaf?" And I thought more of the kid that he'd put the two men in that order. He knew instinctively which was the scariest man, or maybe it was just Olaf's size. No, I think Peter had a feel for the bad guys. It's something you either have or you don't. It can't really be taught.

  "Even tougher than Olaf," Edward said.

  There was a disgruntled sound from behind the rug. The sound of Olaf's ego getting bruised.

  Peter looked at me, and the look had changed. You could almost see him thinking, trying to put my petite female self in the same category as Olaf's aggressive male presence. He finally shook his head. "She doesn't look as tough as Olaf."

  "If you mean arm wrestling, I'm not."

  He frowned and turned back to Edward. "I don't understand."

  "I think you do," Edward said, "and if you don't, I can't explain it to you."

  Peter's frown deepened.

  "Part of the problem with the tough-guy code," I said, "is that a lot of it can't be explained."

  "But you understand it," Peter said. He sounded almost accusatory.

  "I've spent a lot of my time around very tough guys."

  "That's not it," Peter said. "You're different from any girl I've ever met."

  "She's different from any girl you will ever meet," Edward said.

  Peter looked from one to the other of us. "Mom's jealous of her."

  "I know," Edward said.

  Bernardo's voice came from inside the room. "Can we lower the rug now?"

  "Don't tell me you tough he-men are getting tired," I said.

  "Lactic acid builds up in everybody's muscles, chickie," Bernardo said.

  I'd started the name calling so I let the "chickie" comment go. "You need to join your mom and Becca in the kitchen," I said.

  "Do I?" He was looking at Edward, and I realized he was appealing to Edward, asking permission.

  "Yes," I said and looked at Edward, trying to tell him with my eyes, not to do this.

  But he had eyes only for the boy. They stared at each other, and something passed between, some knowledge, something. "Drop the cloth," Edward said.

  "No," I said and grabbed Peter's arm. I spun him around, so his back was to the door. I'd caugh
t him by surprise, so he didn't struggle. Before he could decide what to do about me, Edward spoke. "Let him go, Anita."

  I looked at him around Peter's shoulder and realized he was taller than me by a few inches. "Don't do this."

  "He wants to see. Let him see."

  "Donna won't like it," I said.

  "Who's going to tell her?"

  I looked into Peter's dark eyes. "He will when he gets mad enough at you or her or both."

  "I wouldn't do that," Peter said.

  I shook my head. I didn't believe him, and that more than anything made me let go of his arm and back off. If Edward showed Peter this little corner of hell and word got back to Donna, it might be enough to break them up permanently. I was willing to trade some of Peter's innocence for that. Harsh, but true.

  The rug fell away on Olaf's side first, then Bernardo was left holding the rug in his arms like a limp child. He looked at Edward and shook his head, but he stepped back beside Olaf and let Peter walk into the room. I followed behind him and Edward.

  Olaf had moved back near the far door. Bernardo laid the cloth on the table and stepped back to the far end of the table. I took up station to the far wall, almost mirroring Olaf, but at the opposite door. We'd all moved to separate corners of the room, and all of us tried to separate ourselves from what was happening. I don't think even Olaf approved.

  Peter took in all the pictures, turning around and around. He paled, and his voice was a little breathy. "Are those people?"

  "Yes," Edward said. He stayed right beside Peter, not touching, not too close, but very definitely with him.

  Peter walked to the nearest wall, to the pictures I'd just been looking at "What happened to them?" he asked.

  "We don't know yet," Edward said.

  Peter looked at the pictures, eyes flicking from one horrible image to another. He didn't walk the room or study any one picture as closely as I had, but he looked, he saw what was there. He didn't scream or faint or throw up. He'd proven his point. He wasn't a wimp. I wondered if I should warn him about the possibility of nightmares. Nah, he'd either have them or he wouldn't

  He was still pale, with a light dew of sweat on his upper lip, but he was mobile, and his voice was breathy, but calm. "I better help Mom in the kitchen." He walked out still hugging his arms around himself as if he were cold.

  No one said a word as he walked out. When I was pretty sure he was out of ear shot, I walked up to Edward. "Well, that went better than I thought it would."

  "It went about the way I thought it would," Edward said.

  "Shit, Edward, the kid is going to have nightmares."

  "Maybe, maybe not. Pete's a tough kid." He was looking out through the doorway as if he could still see the boy. His gaze was faraway.

  I stared at him. "You're proud of him. Proud of the fact that he looked at this," I motioned at the pictures, "and didn't freak."

  "Why shouldn't he be proud?" Olaf asked.

  I looked at him. "If Edward were Peter's dad, maybe. But he's not." I turned back to Edward. I stared at him. His face was its usual blankness, but there was a flinching around the eyes.

  I touched his arm, and the touch was enough. He looked at me. "You're treating him like a prospective son." I shook my head. "You cannot have this family."

  "I know that," he said.

  "I don't think you do," I said. "I think you're actually beginning to think about doing it, for real."

  He dropped his gaze, not meeting my eyes.

  "Shit, Edward, shit."

  "I hate to admit it, but I agree with her," Olaf said. "If it was just the boy, then I would see no problem. I think you can make of him what you will, but the woman and the girl ... " He shook his head. "It will not work."

  "I don't understand why you even want a family," Bernardo said.

  "For different reasons. Neither of you believe in marriage," Edward said.

  "True," Olaf said, "but if men like us do marry, it should not be a woman like Donna. She is too ... " he struggled for a word, and finally said, "innocent, and you know that I do not say that about many women."

  "Maybe that's one of her attractions," Edward said, and he seemed as truly puzzled as the rest of us.

  "You're already screwing her. Why marry her?" This from Bernardo.

  "If all I wanted was sex, I'd have gone elsewhere," Edward said.

  "She any good?" Bernardo asked.

  Edward just looked at him, one long look.

  Bernardo raised his hands. "Sorry, sorry, just curious."

  "Don't be curious about Donna," Edward said. He turned to me. "You believe in marriage. Underneath all that toughness is a midwestern girl that still believes in the white picket fence."

  "I do believe in marriage, but not for people like us, Edward."

  I don't know what he would have said to that, because the phone rang and he went to answer it.

  "Saved by the bell," I said.

  "He intends to marry this woman," Olaf said.

  I nodded. "I'm afraid so."

  "If he wants to marry her, it's his business," Bernardo said.

  Olaf and I stared at him until the smile on his face faded to a look of puzzlement.

  "What?"

  "Olaf may be a serial rapist, Bernardo, or even a serial killer, but in his own twisted way he has more scruples than you do. Doesn't that worry you?"

  Bernardo shook his head. "No."

  I sighed.

  Edward came back into the room. His face was back to his normal "Edward face," as if all the near revelations of just a minute ago had never happened. "The monster did another couple in Albuquerque last night."

  "Shit," I said. "Are you going without me?"

  Edward was watching my face just a little too closely, so I knew there was a surprise coming. "Your presence has been requested on site."

  I could feel the surprise on my face. "Is Lieutenant Marks not in charge anymore?"

  "It was him on the phone."

  "You're kidding me," I said.

  Edward shook his head and smiled.

  "I don't get it."

  "I'd guess that someone up the feeding chain chewed his ass for kicking you out. They probably gave him a choice of working with you, or being off the case."

  I had to smile. "A case like this can make a career."

  "Exactly," Edward said.

  "Well, we know Marks' price now."

  "Price?" Bernardo asked. "You guys bribed him?"

  "No," I said, "but his principles that he so kindly spat in my face yesterday weren't as precious to him as his career. Always nice to know how strong a person's convictions are."

  "Not that strong," Edward said.

  "Apparently not," I said.

  I heard Donna coming down the hallway, talking loudly to Becca, but I think it was to warn us that they were coming. The men grabbed the rug and went for the doorway. Edward said in his loud, cheerful Ted voice, "Saddle up, boys and girls. We got work to do."

  I went for my room. If we were going to go outside the house, I needed more weapons.

  31

  I SAT IN THE front seat beside Edward. It was probably my imagination but I could feel someone staring at the back of my neck. If I wasn't imagining it, I was betting on Olaf.

  I'd added the shoulder holster complete with Browning Hi-Power. Usually it was the only gun I wore until someone tried to kill me, or some monster showed in the flesh. But I'd kept the Firestar in its inner pants holster. Too many pictures of dismembered corpses for comfort. I even took all the knives which tells you how insecure I was feeling. Being stared at hard enough to bore a hole through my flesh was beginning to get on what nerves I had left It wasn't my imagination. I could feel it.

  I turned in the seat and met Bernardo's eyes. There was a look on his face when I turned around that was nothing I wanted to see. I had an uncomfortable thought that he was fantasizing and I just might be in the starring role

  "What are you staring at?" I asked.

  He blinke
d, but it seemed to take a long time for his eyes to really focus on me rather than whatever was inside his head. He gave a slow, almost lazy, smile. "I wasn't doing anything."

  "Like hell," I said.

  "You can't tell me what to think, Anita," he said.

  "You're presentable enough. Go get a date."

  "I'd have to wine and dine her, and then I couldn't count on sex at the end of the evening. What good is that?"

  "Then get a hooker," I said.

  "I would if Edward would let me out on my own."

  I turned and looked at Edward.

  He answered the question without me having to voice it. "I've forbidden Olaf from ... dating while he's here. Olaf resented it, so I told Bernardo the same thing."

  "Very even handed," I said.

  "It is totally unfair to punish me because Olaf is a psycho," Bernardo said

  "If I cannot meet my needs, then why should you be able to?" Olaf said There was something in his voice that made me look at him. He was staring straight ahead, no eye contact to anyone.

  I turned around in my seat and looked at Edward. "Where do you come up with these people?"

  "The same place I find vampire hunters and necromancers," he said.

  He had a point. Enough of a point that we finished the drive to Albuquerque in silence. I felt I had enough moral high ground to throw stones, but evidently Edward disagreed. Since he knew Olaf better than I did, I wasn't going to argue. At least not now.

  People talk of ranch-style houses, but this really was a ranch. A ranch as in cowboys and horses. It was a dude ranch for tourists so whether it counted as a really real ranch, I wasn't sure. But it was the closest thing to an actual working ranch that I'd ever set foot on.

  The ranch really wasn't in Albuquerque, but in the middle of nowhere. In fact the house and corrals sat in the middle of a whole lot of nothing. Empty space with bunches of dry grass and strange palish soil stretching out and out to the horizon. Hills ringed the ranch like smooth piles of rock and brush. Edward drove us under an entrance that had a cow's skull nailed to it and said, "Dead Horse Ranch." It was so similar to a hundred western movies I'd seen on television that it seemed vaguely familiar.