Obsidian Butterfly ab-9

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  I almost asked them if they knew what Velcro was, but didn't. It would take them awhile to cut the vest off with an obsidian blade. Hell, I might not have to do anything else to delay them. It'd be morning by the time the obsidian cut through the material. Unfortunately, I wasn't the only one who figured that out.

  The skin man put the blade back in his sheath and pulled a second knife out from a sheath behind his back, the way you'd carry a backup gun. When he raised it into the firelight, it glimmered silver, steel. With or without high silver content, it would still cut through the vest a lot quicker than the obsidian.

  He slipped the tip under the shoulder seam of the vest. I finally had to say something. "You just planning to cut my heart out?"

  "Your heart will remain in your chest where it belongs," the "god" said.

  "Then why do you want the vest off?" I finally turned my head and looked at him, though not at any of his eyes.

  "If you will not touch my chest with your hand, there are other parts of your body that can feel," he said.

  It was almost enough to make me give him my hand, almost. I didn't trust what he might consider other parts of my body that could feel. But it would take time to get the vest off, and if I just gave up my hand, that wouldn't take any time at all. I needed the time.

  The vest came off quicker than you'd think. It was not designed to stand up to a sawing blade. They pulled the pieces of the vest off me, tugging the last from under my back.

  The Red Woman's Husband climbed up beside me. He knelt, staring down at me, and he wasn't staring at my face. He traced the outline of my bra with the tip of one finger. Trailing, oh, so lightly, along my skin. "What is this?" He traced under the bra back and forth, back and forth.

  "Underwear," I said.

  He traced the black lace at the top of the bra. "So many new things to learn."

  "Glad you like it," I said. He didn't get the sarcasm. Maybe he was immune to it.

  He did what I thought he'd do. He climbed on top of me. But he didn't get into a standard missionary position. He scooted lower until his chest was pressed against mine. With our height differences, that put his groin safely below mine. So it wasn't rape that we were doing. Maybe it was just me that worried so much about that. But somehow the knowledge that it wasn't sex he was after scared me more. There were worse things he could take from me than sex, like my mind.

  His chest pressed against mine, smooth, warm, very human. Nothing bad happened. Funny, that didn't slow the frantic beat of my heart, or make me look him in the eyes.

  "Do you feel it?" he asked.

  I just kept staring at the far wall of the cave. "I don't know what you mean?"

  His chest pressed harder against me. "Do you feel my heart beating?"

  It wasn't the question I'd been expecting, so I actually thought about it. I tried to feel the answering beat of his heart against me, but all I could feel was my own panicked pulse.

  "Sorry, all I can feel is mine."

  "And that is the problem," he said.

  I actually looked up at him then, getting a brief glimpse of his face, leaning so close below mine, the startling glimpse of his blue-green eyes in that dark face. I looked back to the wall. "What do you mean?"

  "My heart does not beat."

  I tried to feel his heart then, tried to sense the pulse of his life through the warm flesh of his chest. Concentrating on it slowed my own heart. You aren't always aware of a man's heart beating against your body, but when they're lying chest to chest, you usually feel it. But his chest pressed quiet above mine. I moved my free hand slowly toward him. He raised up, supporting himself with his hands, so I could press my hand against his chest.

  His skin was warm and smooth, almost perfect, but nothing beat under my hand. Either he had no heart, or it wasn't beating.

  "I am only body. The Red Woman does not live in me. My heart is not a fit sacrifice without her touch."

  That made me look back at him. I looked into his peaceful eyes. "Sacrifice? You're going to sacrifice yourself?"

  His eyes stayed gentle and hopeful. "I will be a sacrifice to the creator gods. They need to feed on the blood of a god as they did at the beginning of time."

  I tried to read something in that peaceful handsome face. Some doubt, fear, anything I could understand.

  "You're going to let your priest cut you up?"

  "Yes, but I will be reborn."

  "You're sure of that?" I said.

  "My heart will be strong enough to beat outside my body, and when it is placed back within me, the old gods will return from the exile that your white Christ has cast them into." His face, more than his words, said that he did believe it.

  I'd read enough of the conquest of Mexico by the Spanish to doubt that Christ had much to do with it, no matter how many things had been done in His name. "Don't blame Jesus Christ for what the Spanish did to your people. Our God gave us free choice, and that means we can choose evil. I believe that that's what happened to the men who conquered your people."

  He looked down at me, and he was puzzled again. "You believe that. I can tell you believe that."

  "With all my heart," I said. "No pun intended."

  He sat up, sitting across my waist. "Most of the people I have taken as offerings did not believe in much of anything. The ones who did believe, did not believe in your white Christ." He touched my face. "But you do."

  "Yeah," I said.

  "How can you believe in a god that would allow you to be brought to this place and sacrificed to a foreign god?"

  "If you only believe when it's easy, you don't really believe," I said.

  "Is it not ironic that you, a follower of the God that destroyed us, will be what allows me to come into my power. When I have taken your essence, I will be strong enough to make the precious liquid, and I will be free of this place at last."

  "What do you mean, take my essence?" I'd stopped being afraid because we'd just been talking so long, or maybe I just can't sustain fear for that long. Eventually, if you don't kill me or hurt me, I stop being afraid.

  "I will but kiss you and you will become as light and dry as the aged maize. You will feed me as the corn feeds men." He began to lie down beside me on my right side, near my free hand.

  I was suddenly scared again. I hoped I was wrong, but I was pretty sure I'd already seen what he meant to do to me at the Obsidian Butterfly. "You mean you'll suck the life out of me and I'll end up looking like a dried mummy."

  He stroked a finger down my cheek, his eyes sad now, regretful. "It will hurt a great deal, and I am sorry for that, but even your pain will go to strengthen me." He leaned his face towards mine. I had a free hand and a knife in my pocket, but if I went for it too soon and failed, I was out of options. Where the hell was Ramirez?

  "You're going to torture me. Great," I said.

  He drew back from me, just a little. "It is not torture. It is the way all my priests waited for my waking."

  "Who brought your priests back?" I asked.

  "I wakened Tlaloci, but I was weak and I had no more blood to give the others. Then before we could raise the others the man you call Riker disturbed our place of rest." He stared off into space, as if he were seeing it over again. "He found what you called the mummies of my priests. Many were torn apart by his men, searching for jewels inside them." Anger darkened his face, stole the peacefulness from his eyes. "The Quetzalcoatl was not yet awake or we would have killed them all. They took things that belonged to my priests. It forced me to find a different way to give them back their lives."

  "The skins," I said.

  He looked down at me. "Yes, there are ways to make them give life."

  "So you hunted down the people who desecrated your ... sleeping place, and the people who bought the things that belonged to your people."

  "Yes," he said.

  I guess from a certain point of view it was fair. If you had no ability to feel mercy, then it was a dandy plan. "You killed and took the organs from the peopl
e who were gifted," I said.

  "Gifted?" he made it a question.

  "Witches, brujos."

  "Ah, yes, I did not wish to leave them alive to hunt us before I came into my power." He was touching my face again, stroking it. I think he was getting back on track to give me his "kiss".

  "What exactly does coming into your power mean?" I asked. As long as I could keep him talking, he wouldn't be killing me. I could think of questions all night long.

  "I will be mortal and immortal."

  I widened eyes at him. "What do you mean mortal?"

  "Your blood will make me mortal. Your essence will make me immortal."

  I frowned at him. "I don't understand what you mean."

  He cupped my face in his hands like a lover. "How could you possibly understand the ways of gods." He held out his hand, and the skin-man handed him a long bone needle. Maybe I didn't know what he was going to do.

  "What's that for?"

  He held the needle, maybe four inches long, twirling it slowly between his fingers. "I will pierce your ear lobe and drink your blood. It will be a small pain."

  "You keep saying you want me to believe in you, but you're the only one who never seems to be in pain. Your priests, the people who stole from you, all the sacrifices, everybody hurts but you."

  He propped himself up on one elbow, his body snug against mine. "If my pain will convince you of my sincerity, then so be it." He jabbed the needle into his finger, deep, deep enough to touch bone. He drew the needle out slowly, making it hurt as much as he could. I waited for blood to come to the surface, but it didn't. He held the finger so I could see the hole the needle had left, but the hole was empty, no blood. As I watched, the wound closed like water smoothing, perfect once more. The knife wasn't going to do me any good, not against him.

  "Does my pain make your pain less?" he asked.

  "I'll let you know," I said.

  He smiled, so patient, so kind. So full of it. He started moving the needle towards my left ear. I could have fought him with my free hand, but if all he was going to do was pierce my earlobe like I'd seen at the nightclub, then he could do that. I didn't like the idea, but I wasn't going to fight him. If I fought now, they might chain my hand back up. I wanted the free hand more than I wanted to keep him from sucking on my ear.

  Truth is, I don't like needles, not just doctor needles, any of them. I have a phobia about small pointed things in my body. Knives don't seem to bother me, but needles do. Go figure. It was a phobia. To keep from struggling, I finally had to close my eyes because otherwise I'd have fought. I just couldn't help it.

  The pain was sharp and immediate. I gasped opening my eyes, watching his face lean over me. For a second I thought I'd blown it. I thought he was going straight to the kiss, then his mouth passed by my mouth. He turned my face to the right, gently, exposing the ear, and the long line of my neck. It reminded me of vampires, except that this mouth licked my ear, one quick movement. He made a small sigh, as he swallowed the first blood, then his mouth closed over my earlobe, mouth working at the wound, tongue coaxing blood from the wound. He pressed his body the length of mine, one hand cupping my turned head, the other playing down the line of my body. Maybe it was just blood, but I never stroked my steak while I was eating it.

  The line of his jaw was pressed to my face. I could feel his mouth moving as he swallowed. I'd had vampires take blood without me being under their spell, so it had hurt. This didn't hurt nearly as much. It was more like an overzealous lover with an ear fetish. Disturbing, but not really painful. His hand moved from my face to slide inside my bra. That I didn't like.

  "I thought you said you weren't offering sex."

  He drew his hand out of my bra and drew back from my ear. His eyes were wide and unfocused and drowning in turquoise glow like the eyes of any vampire when its bloodlust is up. "Forgive me," he said, "but it has been so very long since I felt life in my body."

  I thought I understood what he meant, but I was asking every question I could think of tonight. Anything to keep him talking. "What do you mean?"

  He laughed and rolled on his side to prop himself up on his elbow again. He jabbed the needle into his finger again, and gasped. Blood welled up from the wound, crimson blood. He laughed again. "Your blood runs through my body, and I am mortal once more, with all the appetites of a mortal man."

  "You need blood to have blood pressure," I said. "You've got your first hard on in centuries. I get it."

  He looked down at me with drowning eyes. "You could have it." He moved so that his body was pressed against mine, and I could feel him pressed against my jeans, eager, and ready.

  I started to say my usual, no, then stopped. If my choices were being raped or being killed, when I thought that help was on the way ... I debated, and I really don't know what I would have said, because another of the skin-men ran in from behind us where the silent flayed ones waited.

  I heard the man's running footsteps and turned to watch him push his way through the flayed ones. He dropped to one knee in front of the Red Woman's Husband. "My lord, armed strangers are approaching. The little brujo is with them, leading them this way."

  The Red Woman's Husband looked at him. "Kill them. Delay them. When I have come into my power, it will be too late."

  The skin-men got weapons out of a chest and went running. I turned my head to watch the flayed ones trail after them. Only Tlaloci the priest stayed behind. It was just the three of us. Ramirez was coming. The police were coming. Surely, I could delay a few more minutes.

  Fingers touched my face, moving me to look at him. "You could have been the first woman in centuries for me, but there is no time." He began to lower his face towards me. "I am sorry that I must take you as an unwilling sacrifice because you have not harmed me or mine."

  I slipped my hand into my pocket. Fingers closed on the pen. I turned my head to the side so he couldn't kiss me, but I was really looking to see where Tlaloci was in the room. He'd moved back to the altar. He'd thrown Paulina's body off to one side like so much garbage. He was cleaning the altar, preparing I think for his god's death.

  The Red Woman's Husband stroked my face, trying to turn me gently towards him. He whispered, breath warm against my face. "I will wear your heart on the necklace of tongues, so that all my followers may remember your sacrifice for all eternity."

  "How romantic," I said. I started easing the pen out of my pocket.

  "Turn to me, Anita. Do not make me hurt you." His fingers closed on my chin and began to turn my face slowly towards his. I felt his strength in his fingers and knew he could crush my jaw with only a flexing of his hand. I couldn't keep him from turning my face up to him. I couldn't stop it, but I had the pen in my hand now. I had my finger on the button that would release the blade. I just had to make sure it was over his heart.

  Gunfire sounded from outside the cave, and it sounded close as if the entrance wasn't that far away. Then there was a sound like a roaring, and I knew what it was because I'd heard it before. The police had brought flame-throwers or found some National Guard to join the party. I wondered whose idea it had been. It was a good one. I hoped they all burned.

  I stared up at him, his fingers keeping my face looking at him. "Does your heart really beat for me?" I asked.

  "My heart beats. Blood runs through this body. You have given me life, and now you will give me immortality."

  The Red Woman's Husband leaned over me like Prince Charming about to bestow the kiss that would make everything all right again. His mouth hovered an inch above mine. The memory of how Seth's body had dried, died, was too vivid. I must have rushed to get the pen in position just above his heart. He pulled back a fraction of an inch, eyes questioning. I hit the button, and the blade took him through the heart.

  His eyes flew wide, all that turquoise fire fading, leaving his eyes human looking. "What have you done?"

  "You're just another kind of vampire. I kill vampires."

  He rolled off the stone, fell to
the floor. He held a hand out to Tlaloci. The priest rushed over to him. I didn't wait to see if there was a cure for the "god." I undid my left wrist and reached down for my ankles.

  The Red Woman's Husband collapsed to his knees, and the priest collapsed with him. He was crying. "No, no, no." He pressed his hands around the hilt, trying to stop the blood from pouring out. His "god" fell into convulsions on the floor. He tried to hold his hands over the wound, to staunch the blood.

  I got my ankles freed and rolled off to the other side of the stone. Call it a hunch, but I thought that Tlaloci would be upset with me.

  He rose to his feet, bloodstained hands held out in front of him. I'd never seen anyone look so horrified, so desolate, as if I had destroyed his world. And maybe I had.

  He never said a word, just drew the obsidian blade at his waist and stalked towards me. But the rock I'd been chained to was the size of a large dining room table, and I kept it between him and me. I kept the distance between us even, and he couldn't catch me. The gunfire was coming closer. He must have heard it, too, because he suddenly rolled over the stone to slash at me with the knife. I ran away from the stone, out into the open, which was what he wanted.

  I turned and faced him. He came for me in a crouch, knife held loose but firm, as if he knew what he was doing. I'd left the blade in the vampire. I faced him hands out from my body, not sure what to do, except not get cut. I thought of one thing. I screamed, "Ramirez!"

  Tlaloci rushed me, blade slashing. I turned, feeling the rush of air as the blade passed. There were screams from the stairs, the sounds of in-close fighting. Tlaloci slashed at me like a madman. All I could do was keep backing up, trying to stay out of reach. I was bleeding from both arms, and one cut on my upper chest, when I realized he'd backed me up by the altar.

  I tripped over Paulina's body about the second I started looking for it, to avoid it. I went down on my side, her body trapped under my legs. I kicked out at him without looking to see where he was, anything to keep him at a distance.