Obsidian Butterfly ab-9

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  Red Woman's Husband lay his Spanish helmet on the stone by my legs and went to greet the creature. It lowered its head to be petted, very like a dog. He stroked it just above the eye ridges and it made a low, rolling sound, eyes closing to slits. It was purring.

  He sent it away with a playful push against one muscular shoulder. I watched it vanish back through the tunnel like it wasn't real. "I thought they were extinct."

  "My minion helped bring us to this place, then it slept a magic sleep, waiting for me to awake."

  "I didn't know Quetzalcoatls could hibernate."

  He frowned at me again and came to stand by my head. "I know what your word hibernate means, but it was a magic sleep, done by the last of my warrior priests. The priest sacrificed himself, putting all of us in an enchanted sleep, knowing that there was no one to aid him, and that he would die alone in this alien place long before I rose."

  Enchanted sleep. Sounded like Sleeping Beauty. "That's true loyalty, sacrifice yourself for the better good."

  "I'm so glad you agree. It will make what has to happen much easier."

  Didn't like the sound of that. Maybe flattery wasn't the way to go. I'd try something more normal for me -- sarcasm -- and see if that led us away from the topic of my impending doom. "I don't owe you any loyalty. I am not one of your followers."

  "Only because you do not understand," he said, and those smiling eyes gazed down at me with a look of almost perfect peace.

  "That's what Jim Jones said just before he gave every one the Kool-Aid."

  "I do not know this name, Jim Jones." Then he turned his head to one side, and it reminded me of Itzpapalotl when she listened to voices I could not hear. Now I realized that it might just be a way to access other people's memories. "Ah, I know who he is now." He looked down at me with those calm, beatific eyes. "But I am no madman. I am a god."

  He was getting distracted, as if it mattered to him for me to believe he was a god. If he had to convince me that he was divine before he killed me, then I was safe. He could kill me, but he'd never convince me he was a god.

  He frowned. "You do not believe me." He sounded surprised again. And I realized that for all his power, he seemed young. The ages raged through the eyes on his arms as though you could see back through to the beginning of creation, but he, himself, seemed young. Or maybe he just wasn't used to people who didn't drop down and worship him. If that's all you'd known in your entire existence, then anyone not worshipping might be a shock.

  "I am a god," he repeated, and his voice had that condescending tone again.

  "Whatever you say." But I made sure my doubt showed in my voice.

  The frown deepened, and again I was reminded forcibly of a pouting child. A spoiled, pouting child. "You must believe that I am a god. I am the Red Woman's Husband. I am the body that will be revenged on those that destroyed my people."

  "You mean the Spanish Conquistadors?"

  "Yes," he said.

  "There aren't a lot of conquistadors in New Mexico," I said.

  "Their blood still runs in the veins of their children's children's children."

  "No offense, but you didn't get those turquoise blue eyes from anyone local."

  He frowned again, and little lines formed between his eyes. If he kept talking to me, he was going to get frown lines. "I am a god created by my people's tears. I am the power that is left of the Aztecs, and I am the Spaniard's magic made flesh. We will use their own power to destroy them."

  "Isn't it a little late to destroy them? About five hundred years too late."

  "Gods do not reckon time as men do."

  I believed that he believed what he was saying, but I also thought he was rationalizing. He'd have kicked the Spaniards' butts five hundred years ago if he'd been able to do it.

  Maybe it showed on my face because he said, "I was a new god then, and I did not have the strength to defeat our enemies, so the Quetzalcoatl brought me here to wait until I grew strong enough for our purpose. I am ready to lead my army forward now."

  "So you're saying that it took five hundred years for you to go from being a wee little god to a big bad god, the way soup needs to simmer for a really long time before it's soup?"

  He laughed. "You think very strangely. I am sad that you will be dead soon. I would make you the first of my concubines, and the mother of gods, for children born of you would be great sorcerers, but sadly, I have need of your life."

  We were back to killing me, and I didn't want to be there. His ego seemed pretty fragile for a deity. I'd see how fragile. "The offer doesn't sound very appealing, no offense."

  He smiled down at me, fingers trailing along my arm. "That we will take your life is not an offer. It is a fact."

  I gave him my best innocent eyes. "I thought you were offering to make me your concubine, the mother of gods?"

  He frowned at me harder. "I did not offer you a chance to be my concubine."

  "Oh," I said. "Sorry. I misunderstood you."

  His fingers were still touching my arm, but they were still now, as if he'd forgotten he was touching me. "You would refuse my bed?" He sounded truly perplexed. Great.

  "Yeah," I said.

  "Is it your virtue you are protecting?"

  "No, it's just your particular offer doesn't appeal to me."

  He was really having trouble with the concept that I didn't find him attractive. He ran his fingers down my bare arm in a tickling brush. I just lay there and looked at him. I was giving him some of the best eye contact I'd given anyone this trip because if I looked anywhere else, I kept seeing severed body parts wiggling on their own. Hard to be tough as nails when you wanted to start screaming. He touched my face, and I let him this time. His fingers traced my face, delicately, gently. His eyes no longer looked peaceful. No, definitely disturbed.

  He leaned into me as if he'd kiss me, and the eye lashes on his arms fluttered in butterfly kisses along my body. I gave a little shriek.

  He drew back. "What is wrong?"

  "Oh, I don't know. Severed eyelids fluttering against my skin, intestines that writhe like snakes around your waist, the necklace of tongues trying to lick me. Pick one."

  "But that should not matter," he said. "You should see me as beautiful, desirable."

  I did the best shrug I could with my hands chained higher than my shoulders.

  "Sorry, but I just can't get past what you're wearing."

  "Tlaloci," he said.

  The man in shorts came forward, and dropped to one knee before him. "Yes, my lord."

  "Why does she not see me as wonderful?"

  "Apparently, the aura of your godhood does not work on her."

  "Why not?" And there was anger now in his voice, in that once peaceful face.

  "I do not know, my lord."

  "You said she could replace Nicky Baco. You said she was a nauhuli as he was. You said she had been touched by my magic, and it was the scent of my magic that drew the Quetzalcoatl to her. But she lies under the touch of my hands and does not feel for me. That is not possible if my magic clings to her."

  I thought, what if it's not his magic, but I didn't say it out loud. What if it was Itzpapalotl's? The being standing in front of me had nearly killed me from a distance. He'd roared over my mind and taken me, and I hadn't been able to stop him. Now, he was touching me, and evidently trying things on me, and it wasn't working. The only thing that had changed was Itzpapalotl's power filling me for awhile. Had that made the difference?

  Tlaloci stood, head still bowed. "There must be powerful magic at work here, my lord. First Nicky Baco is lost to us, and now this one is closed to your vision."

  "She must be open to my power or she cannot be the perfect sacrifice," Red Woman's Husband said.

  "I know, my lord."

  "You are the magician, Tlaloci. How can I undo this magic?"

  The magician put some serious thought into it. Several minutes passed while he thought. I just lay there trying not to draw their attention back to me. Finally, T
laloci looked up. "To believe in your vision, she must believe in you."

  "How do I convince her to believe that I am a god if she cannot feel my power?"

  It was a good question, and I waited patiently for Tlaloci to answer it. The longer he thought about it, the more delay time I was getting. Ramirez was coming. I had to believe that because my options were limited unless I could figure out a way to get them to untie me.

  I could feel the pen still in my pocket with its hidden blade. I was armed, if I could get my hands free, and if steel could hurt him. Of course, there were the four helpers, and Tlaloci, and a small army of flayed ones. So even if the god could die, I'd have to do something about everyone else. They'd probably be pissed if I killed their god. I just wasn't sure how to get out of this one.

  If Ramirez didn't arrive with the cavalry, I was in deep shit. Edward wasn't out there looking for me this time. For the first time since I came to, I wondered was Edward alive. Please, God, let him be alive. But alive or not, Edward was out of the rescuing game for tonight. I admitted I needed help on this one, and the only hope I could count on was Ramirez and the police. He'd been late in the hospital. If he were late tonight, I probably wouldn't be around to complain.

  Tlaloci motioned for his god to follow him a little away from me. I think they were whispering things they didn't want me to know. Whydid it matter if I overheard them or not? What could they possibly be talking about that they needed to hide from me? They'd cheerfully told me they were going to kill me. It wasn't like they were trying to protect my feelings. So what was going on?

  The Red Woman's Husband unfastened the necklace of tongues and handed it to the priest. He took off the steel breastplate and one of the skin guys came and took it from him, kneeling in front of him. He took off the skirt of intestines, and another skin guy hurried forward to take it. The "god" never asked them to help him, just sort of assumed that someone would be there to help. He was almost perfectly arrogant, but his ego was fragile, an arrogance that had never been tested in the outer world. He was like one of those fairy tale princesses that had been raised in an ivory tower with only people who told them how beautiful they were, how smart, how good, until the witch comes and lays her curse. Maybe I could be the witch, though truthfully I wouldn't have known a curse if it bit me on the butt. Maybe I could be the prince that comes and takes him away. At this point I wasn't picky.

  The "god" was wearing a maxilatl like everyone at the Obsidian Butterfly had worn. But this one was black with a heavy fringe of golden thread hanging in front. He wore black sandals set with turquoise, which strangely I hadn't noticed when he was wearing all the severed body parts. Funny how you don't concentrate on the small details when you're scared.

  He walked towards me, confidence showing in every step. The maxilatl left his lower body bare on the sides from waist to sandals. It was a nice length of thigh, but you know what they say. Pretty is as pretty does.

  "Is this better?" he asked, his voice light, almost teasing, his eyes back to that peaceful contentment, as if things had always gone his way, and he didn't see why now should be different. Itzpapalotl had been arrogant, but not peaceful.

  "Much better," I said. I thought about remarking on how much I liked seeing nearly naked men, but didn't want to take it to such an obviously sexual tone unless I ran out of other options.

  He came to stand beside me again. The eyelids were still on his arms, blinking at me like the winking lights of fireflies, random, and alien.

  "It's a big improvement," I said. "You can't do anything about the eyes on your arms, can you?"

  He frowned again. "They are part of me."

  "I see that," I said.

  "But they are nothing to fear."

  "If you say so."

  "I want you to know me, Anita." It was the first time he'd used my name. I hadn't thought he knew it, until then. Of course, Paulina had known who I was. The Red Woman's Husband reached down to my right wrist, and he undid that little piece of metal that held the manacle closed.

  The skinned man who was still standing on the other side of the stone took a step forward, hand on the knife at his belt. I froze, not sure if I was really going to be allowed to have my hand free.

  The "god" lifted my hand free of the chain and laid his lips on the back of my hand. "Touch them. See that they are nothing to fear." It took me a second to figure out that "them" meant the eyes on his arms. I was relieved to realize he didn't mean anything below his waist, and so not happy that he meant all those eyes. I did not want to touch them. I wanted nothing to do with anything that had been carved off of a dead body, especially while that person had still been alive.

  He held my wrist and tried to bring my hand over his arm, but I kept a tight fist. "Touch them, Anita, gently. They will not harm you." He began to pry my fingers open, and I couldn't fight him. I could have fought harder, maybe make him break a finger or two, to persuade me, but in the end I was going to lose this wrestling match, so I just let him spread my hand open. I didn't want anything broken if I could avoid it.

  He guided my hand just above his arm, and the eyelids fluttered under my touch. I jumped every time one of them blinked, but the eyelids moving against my skin in a line of butterfly kisses wasn't as scary. The lids felt full, as if there was an eye behind them, and there wasn't. I'd seen that.

  "What's inside them?" I asked.

  "Everything," he said. Which told me nothing. "Explore them, Anita." He pressed one of my fingertips to the edge of an eye. Then he urged me to put the finger inside the eye.

  I pushed my finger into that empty seeming eye, and there was a resistance like pushing against something thin and fleshy, then my finger was through and I could touch what was inside. Warm, a warmth that flowed through my hand, up my arm, and spread like a blanket over my body. I felt safe, warm. I stared up at him and wondered why I hadn't seen it before? He was so handsome, so kind, so ... My finger was cold, so cold that it hurt. It had that stinging pain that you get just before you lose all feeling in the limb, and frostbite settles in and spills over your body, and you fall into that last gentle sleep, never to wake.

  I jerked my hand back, and blinked awake, with a gasp.

  "What is wrong?' he asked, and leaned over me, touching my face.

  I jerked away from him, cradling my hand against my chest, staring up at him, afraid. "You're cold inside."

  He took a step back from me, and the surprise showed on his face. "You should feel safe, warm." He leaned over me, trying to get me to gaze into his blue-green eyes.

  I shook my head. Feeling was coming back into my finger in a stinging rush, the way circulation comes back after frostbite. The throbbing ache helped me think, helped me avoid his gaze. "I'm not safe," I said, "and I'm not warm." I looked away from him, which put me gazing at the skin-clad guy. But truthfully even that was better than staring at the "god." Itzpapalotl's touch was helping me, but it had limits. If I fell into his eyes, wherever they might be, they'd just kill me, and I might go willingly, eagerly into that last dark.

  "You are making this difficult, Anita."

  I kept my gaze on the far wall. "Sorry that I'm ruining your night."

  He stroked the curve of my face. I flinched as if he'd hurt me. I'd thought what I was trying to delay was my death. Now I realized that I was trying to delay falling into his power. They'd kill me after that, but I'd be gone before the knife fell. Had Paulina gone like that, willingly, eager to please the "god?" I hoped so, for her sake. For mine, I wasn't so sure.

  "I want you to believe that your death will be for a great purpose."

  "Sorry, not buying swampland today."

  I could almost feel his puzzlement like a play of energy along my skin, I'd felt anger, lust, fear dance along my skin from vampires and wereanimals, but I'd never felt puzzlement before. I hadn't felt his emotions before I touched that damned eye. He was sucking me down a piece at a time.

  He grabbed my hand.

  "No." I said it through gr
itted teeth. He could break my fingers this time, but I wasn't just opening up and touching him again. I couldn't just cooperate with him anymore, not even to buy time. I had to start fighting him now, or there'd be nothing left of me. I'd had vampires roll my mind before, but I'd never felt anything like him. Once he got a really good hold on my mind, I wasn't a hundred percent sure I'd come back. There are a lot of ways to die. Being killed is only one of the more obvious ones. If he rolled my mind and there was nothing left of who I was, then I was dead or would wish I was.

  I flexed my arm, hugging it to my chest, straining my muscles to keep it there. He lifted the wrist and my whole upper body with it, but I held the arm, fingers closed into a fist.

  "Do not make me hurt you, Anita."

  "I'm not making you do anything. Whatever you do, it's your choice to do it, not mine."

  He laid me back down, gently. "I could crush your hand." It sounded like a threat, but his voice was still gentle.

  "I won't touch you again, not like that, not voluntarily."

  "But lay your hand upon my chest, above my heart. That is not a hard thing, Anita."

  "No."

  "You are a very stubborn woman."

  "You're not the first one to say it," I said.

  "I will not force you."

  The skinned man moved forward until he was directly against the stone, mirroring his "god." He drew an obsidian blade and bent over me. I tensed, but I didn't say anything. I could not touch him again and promise I'd come out the other side. If I was going to die anyway, I'd die whole, not possessed by some would-be god.

  But he didn't stab me. He slipped the tip of the blade under the shoulder of the Kevlar vest. Kevlar isn't meant to stop a stabbing motion, but it's not an easy thing to cut through, especially with a stone knife. The empty skin hand that decorated his wrist wobbled back and forth, back and forth, as he sawed. I stared past him at the far wall, but my peripheral vision just couldn't get rid of that flopping hand. I finally had to stare up at the ceiling, but it was just darkness. It's hard to stare into the dark when there are other things to look at, but I tried.