Obsidian Butterfly

37

BY THE TIME I found a parking space, Bernardo and I had a plan. I was an out of town necromancer wanting to talk shop with one of the only other necromancers I'd ever heard of. If it hadn't been so damn close to the truth, it would have been a lousy cover story. Even being the truth, almost, it sounded weak. But we didn't have all day, and besides, I don't think being sneaky was a strong suit for either of us. We were both more comfortable with the bust-the-door-down-and-start-shooting school, than the concoct-a-good-cover-story-and-infiltrate.

Bernardo reached his hand out for me just before we crossed the street, I frowned at him.

He waggled his hand at me. "Come on, Anita, play fair." He was holding his right hand out to me. I stared at the offered hand for a heartbeat, but finally took it. His fingers slid around my hand a little slower, and a little more proprietarily than necessary, but I could live with it. Lucky for us that I was right-handed, and Bernardo was left-handed. We could hold hands and not compromise either of our gun hands. Usually, I was the only one armed when I was cuddling, so it was only my gun hand we had to worry about.

I've dated men that I couldn't walk hand in hand with, like an awkward rhythm between us. Bernardo was not one of those men. He slowed his pace to let me catch up to his longer legs, until he realized I was a step ahead of him, tugging on his hand. I have a lot of tall friends. No one ever complains that I can't keep up.

The door to the bar was black and blended so well with the building's facade that you almost missed it. Bernardo opened the door for me, and I let him. It might blow our cover to argue over who got to hold the door for who. Though if he had been my real boyfriend, we'd have had the discussion. Ah, well.

The minute I stepped inside the bar, no, the second I stepped inside the bar, I knew we were not going to blend in. So many things had already gone wrong. We were not so much overdressed as wrongly dressed. If Bernardo had ditched the black dress shirt and just worn the white T-shirt, and if it hadn't looked fresh out of the box, then he might have mingled. I was so the only suit jacket in the room. But even the polo shirt and jeans seemed a little much beside what some of the women were wearing. Can you say, short-shorts?

A girl near us, and I meant girl — if she was eighteen, I'd eat something icky — looked at me with hostile eyes. She had long brown hair that swung past her shoulders. The hair was clean and shiny even in the dim light. Her makeup was light but expertly applied. She should have been deciding who to take to prom. Instead, she was wearing a black leather bra with metal studs on it and matching shorts that looked like they'd been painted over her narrow hips. A pair of those clunky platform high-heels completed the look. Those platform shoes had been ugly in the seventies and eighties, and they were still ugly two decades later, even if they were back in style.

She was hanging all over a guy that had to be thirty years or more her senior. His hair and ragged beard were gray. At first glance you'd think he was fat, but he was fat the way an offensive lineman was fat, flesh with muscle under it. His eyes were hidden behind small round sunglasses, even though the bar was cast in permanent twilight. He sat at the table closest to the door, big hands resting on the wood. He was totally at rest, but you still got a sense of how very large he was, how physically imposing. The girl was slender and shorter than I was. I hoped she was his daughter, but doubted it.

He stood, and a wave of energy moved off of him in a curling, almost visible roil of power. It was suddenly hard to breathe, and it wasn't the cigarette smoke rolling like a low fog through the room. I'd come in expecting to meet a necromancer. I had not expected a werewolf. I couldn't be a hundred percent sure of the type of animal, but call it a hunch — los lobos — had to be werewolves.

I looked out over that room full of people, and felt their power raise like invisible hackles. Bernardo put his right hand on my shoulder and drew me towards the bar, slowly. It took almost all the restraint I had not to reach for one of the guns. They had not offered us violence. They probably always did this show to unwanted tourists. Almost anyone would get the message and leave. Leaving actually sounded like a really good idea. Unfortunately, we had business, and a really good threat display was not reason enough to stop us. Pity. Because they would not like the fact that we didn't leave. What if this afternoon's little display wasn't the norm? What if they were trying to chase us away because something illegal was going down? Worse and worse.

The long wooden bar had cleared out as we moved towards it. Fine with me. I didn't want to be outflanked. The bartender was a woman, surprise, and a dwarf, ah, little person. I couldn't see over the bar, but she had to have something she was standing on. She had short, thick hair, dark, shot through with strands of white. Her face was the typical rough square, but her eyes were as hard as any I've ever seen. Her face was heavily lined not with age, but with wear and tear. One eyebrow was bisected by a heavy white scar. All she needed was a sign above her head that said, "I've had a hard life."

"What do you want?" she asked. Her tone matched the rest of her, harsh.

I half expected Bernardo to answer, but his attention was all for the room and the growing air of hostility. "We're looking for Nicky Baco," I said.

Her eyes never flickered. "Never heard of him."

I shook my head. Her answer had been automatic. She didn't even have to think about it. I could have asked to see anyone in the room and the answer would have been the same. I lowered my voice, though I knew most of the things in the room would hear even the barest whisper. "I'm a necromancer. I heard that Baco is one, too. I've met a lot of zombie raisers, but never another necromancer."

She shook her head. "Don't know what you're talking about." She started to rub the top of the bar with a stained rag. She wasn't even looking at me now, as if I'd become something totally without interest.

They'd stall for a while, then they'd get impatient and try to kick us out.

Unless we were willing to start shooting people, they'll succeed. When in doubt, tell the truth. Not my usual ploy, but hey, I'll try anything once.

"I'm Anita Blake," and that was all I got out before her gaze snapped upward, and she really looked at me for the first time.

"Prove it," she said.

I started to reach inside the jacket for my ID. I heard the gun click underneath the bar, as she pulled the hammer back. Just from the sound I'd say it was an old fashioned shotgun, sawed-off or it wouldn't have fit under the bar.

"Slowly," she said.

I caught Bernardo's movement out of the corner of my eye. Turning towards us, maybe going for a gun. "It's okay, Bernardo. It's under control."

I don't think he believed me.

I said, "Please."

I didn't say please often. Bernardo hesitated but finally turned back to watch the gathering werewolves. He hissed, "Hurry up."

I did what the lady with the shotgun pointed at my chest said, I moved very, very slowly, and handed her my ID.

"Lay it on the bar."

I laid it on the bar.

"Hands flat on the bar. Lean into it."

The bar top was sticky, but I kept my hands on it and leaned into it, in a sort of push-up position. She could have just asked me to assume the position It was a leg width away from it.

"Him, too," she said.

Bernardo had heard her. "No," he said.

Something passed through her eyes that would have made Edward proud. I knew she'd do it. "Either do what she says or get the fuck out of here," I said.

He moved so he could watch the room at large, and see me and the lady behind the bar. He was beside the outer door. One quick move and he could be out in the afternoon sunlight. He didn't go for the door. He looked at me. His eyes flicked to the woman behind the bar. I think he saw in her face what I'd seen because he sighed enough that his shoulders slumped. He shook his head, but he moved towards the long bar. He moved stiffly, as if each small movement pained him. His posture, his face, all screamed that he didn't like doing this, but he leaned beside me against the bar.

"Legs further apart," she said. "Lean into it like you want to see that pretty face in the polish."

I heard Bernardo take a hissing breath, but he spread his legs and leaned close enough to see the varnish on the scarred bar. "Can I just say now that this is a bad idea?" he said.

"Shut up," I said.

The woman opened the ID on the bar top, one hand still hidden under the bar. They had the shotgun attached underneath the bar somehow. I wondered what other surprises they had.

"Why do you want to see Nicky?" she asked.

She hadn't told me to stop leaning, so I didn't. "I told the truth. I want to talk to another necromancer."

"Why didn't you tell me who you were up front?"

"I work with the cops sometimes. I thought it might make you nervous." I had to roll my eyes up to see her face. I was rewarded with a smile. It looked almost awkward on her harsh features, but it was a start.

"Why do you want to talk to another necromancer?"

I let the truth spill out of my mouth without concentrating on the fact that.

I planned to stop before I'd told all of it. I mean Nicky Baco was a necromancer, and if necromancy was involved in the killings … So only part of the truth until I knew whether he was a bad guy. "I've got a little problem that involves the dead. I wanted a second opinion."

She laughed then, a harsh sound like the caw of a crow. I jumped, and I swear I could feel the werewolves behind me flinch. If I hadn't known better, I'd have said they were just a little afraid of this small woman. I know I was.

"Nicky'll love that. The famous Anita Blake coming to consult him. Oh, he will just fucking love this." She motioned with her head. "Who's he?"

"This is Bernardo, he's … a friend."

Her eyes hardened. "How good a friend?"

"Close, very close," I said.

She leaned across the bar, putting her face next to mine, her hand still under the bar on the shotgun. "I should kill you. I can feel it. You'll hurt Nicky." I looked into her eyes from inches away. I expected to see anger or even hatred, but there was nothing. It was the very emptiness that clued me in. If she pulled the trigger on me, it wouldn't be the first time.

My pulse was suddenly thudding in my throat. Blown away by a psychotic dwarf bartender, how ironic. I kept my voice low and even the way you talk to jumpers on ledges, and people with guns pointed at you. "I don't plan to hurt Nicky. I honestly just want to consult with him, one necromancer to another."

She just kept looking at me, not even blinking. She raised up slowly. "If you move, I'll kill you. If he moves, I'll kill you." The way she said it promised that whatever was about to happen, was something we weren't going to like.

She turned her gaze to Bernardo and leaned down so that her head was sideways looking at him, her ear almost pressed to the bar. "Did you hear me, boyfriend?"

"I heard you," he said, and his voice was low and calm, too. He'd seen it, too. She wanted an excuse to kill me. I'd never met her before, so it couldn't be personal. But personal or not, I'd be just as dead.

"We don't let outsiders bring guns into our house."

"No disrespect intended," I said. "I always go armed. Nothing personal."

She leaned back down next to Bernardo's face. "How 'bout you? You always go armed?"

"Yes," he said. He frowned, then went back to staring at the bar. Lucky he'd worn a hair barrette today or his lovely hair would have been covered in sticky gunk. My hands felt like they were becoming permanently glued to the wood.

"Not in here you don't," she said.

It was the big man in front who searched us. Somehow I'd known it would be. His power beat against my back like a nearly solid wall of power. Shit. He patted me down like he'd done it before. He found the knives at my wrist and back, as well as the guns. He also found the cell phone but placed it on the bar in front of me instead of taking it.

You could see the effort it took for Bernardo to let the man touch him, pat him down, take his gun. He also took a knife out of one of Bernardo's boot's. Anything was an improvement over the last crime scene, but the day really wasn't going well.

"Can we stand up now?" I asked.

"Not yet," she said.

Bernardo gave me a look that said plainly if he died, he was coming back to haunt me because it was all my fault.

I kept my voice calm, tried to make sense. "You know I'm Anita Blake. You know why I'm here. What else do you want?"

"Harpo, check the man's wallet. Find out who he is," she said.

Harpo? The big man, the vibrating mountain of mystical energy was named Harpo. I said none of this out loud. I really am getting smarter.

Harpo took out Bernardo's wallet. He'd stuffed Bernardo's ten mil down the side of his pants and my Browning on the other side. I didn't see the Firestar or the knives. Maybe he'd stuffed them in his pockets. "The driver's license says, Bernardo Spotted-Horse, but there ain't no credit cards, no pictures, no nothing."

The woman's eyes had gone back to pitiless. "You say he's a close friend?"

"Yes," I said. I was beginning to get scared again.

"He your lover?" she asked.

If she hadn't had a shotgun pointed at me, I'd have told her to go to hell, but she did, so I answered. "Yeah." I was trusting that Ramirez knew what he was talking about, that I needed to belong to a man. I hoped the lie was the right answer.

"Prove it," she said.

I raised eyebrows at her. "Excuse me?"

"Excuse me," she mimicked, and that brought low rumbling laughter from the rest of the room.

"Is he circumcised?" she asked.

I hesitated. I couldn't help it. The question caught me too far off guard. I swallowed, and said, "Yes." I had a fifty-fifty chance, and being American and under forty I had a better than even chance.

She smiled, but it left her eyes like empty glass. "You can stand up now."

I fought the urge to wipe my hands on my pants. Didn't want to insult her cleanliness, but I also wanted desperately to wash my hands. I moved closer to Bernardo, as if I wanted a hug. I even put my left arm around his waist, though I wondered if I was getting his nice white shirt dirty. His arm slid over my shoulders, but I'd really just wanted out of the line of fire of the damned shotgun. I was betting it was on a stationary mount and not a swiveling one. I hoped I was right.

Her hands were back in plain sight. A good sign. "Drop your pants, Bernardo," she said.

I felt him tense beside me. We both looked at her. I started to say excuse me again, but Bernardo said, "Why?"

I'd have asked her to repeat it, just to make sure I'd understood her. He just asked why, as if this had happened to him before.

"So we can see if you're circumcised."

I moved my hand out from behind Bernardo's back, standing close together but not entangled in each other's arms. We might be in for a fight after all.

"I said he was. Isn't that enough?"

"No. You see, you're right. You do work with the cops a lot. You alone might have been okay to see Nicky, but him, we don't know anything about him. If he's your lover, then fine, but if he's not, then maybe he's a cop."

Bernardo laughed, and the sound startled all of us, I think. "Now that is a new one. Me being mistaken for a cop."

"What are you, if you're not a cop?" she asked.

"Sometimes I'm a bodyguard. Sometimes I'm someone you need to guard the body against. Depends on who's paying better." His voice sounded very sure of itself, very matter of fact.

"Maybe you are, and maybe you're not. Drop the pants, and we'll see."

He started unbuckling his belt. I moved away from him, though not too far. Didn't want to get back in front of the shotgun again.

"What's wrong? You've seen him without his pants before," she said. I was beginning to think she didn't believe me.

"Not in a crowd, I haven't," I said. I let the righteous indignation blaze in my voice. It got more laughter from the crowd.

The women were starting to chant, "Take it off, take it all off," and worse. The girl that had been hanging on Harpo was just behind him, watching the show with glittering excited eyes.

Bernardo didn't complain or blush. He just undid his pants and pushed them to about mid thigh, and stood there. My look away was automatic. The women screamed, and whistled. One voice yelled, "Big daddy, yes!" The men joined in. The men were congratulating him and speculating on how we did it without hurting me.

I had to look. I just couldn't help myself. I had to know if I'd guessed right, find frankly I just had to look. Embarrassing but true. It took me a few seconds to register that he was circumcised because what I saw first was sheer size. He was well, well endowed.

I was blushing, and I couldn't help that. But I knew if I just stood there and gaped that the lies would all be for nothing. I tried to act as if it were Richard or Jean-Claude standing there. What would I have done? I'd have covered them up.

I moved to stand in front of him, though was careful not to touch. I admit though that I couldn't seem to look anywhere else. Richard was impressive. Bernardo had passed impressive and gone over to scary. I shielded him from view with my body, putting my hands on either side of his waist to steady myself. I was blushing so hard, I was dizzy.

I looked at her, still shielding him from the room. "Good enough?" I asked. Even my voice sounded strangled with discomfort.

"Give him a kiss," she said.

I looked at her. "Let him put his pants up and I will."

She shook her head. "I didn't say kiss his lips."

If I blushed any harder, my head was going to explode. I turned around so I couldn't see him anymore. "We are so not doing this."

"I think you'll do anything we want," she said.

I don't know what I would have said to that because a man's voice sounded "Enough games, Paulina. Give them back their weapons, and let them go."

We all turned. Coming from the dim back of the room was another dwarf, little person. He was maybe half a head taller than the bartender, Paulina, and he was more obviously Hispanic and younger. His hair was a rich black, his skin tanned and unlined. He looked twenty-something, but the aura of power that spread outward from him like an overwhelming perfume felt older.

"I am Nicandro Baco, Nicky to my friends." The crowd parted for him like a curtain being drawn back. He held his hand out to me, and I took it, but he didn't shake hands. He raised my hand to his lips and kissed it. But he kept his eyes rolled up to see my face as he did it, and something about the way his eyes looked, his mouth on my skin, reminded me of much more intimate places for a man's mouth to be. I took my hand back as soon as I could and still be polite.

"Mr. Baco, thank you for seeing me." It sounded so businesslike, as if Bernardo wasn't standing behind us with his pants around his thighs.

"Get dressed," he said. He barely glanced at Bernardo. But I heard him pulling up his pants, struggling to get everything back in place, though frankly I was surprised his jeans could fit over everything.

"Why are you here, Ms. Blake?"

"I really did want to talk to another necromancer."

"It sounds like you've changed your mind," he said. He watched me minutely, studying my face. When I moved a hand to touch my hair, his eyes tracked it.

"The grandstanding has taken up all my time. I've got an appointment with the police that I can't really miss." I'd added the police part on purpose because I had a feeling that Baco had known exactly what was happening out here They hadn't really hurt us, just embarrassed us or me. He came in just in the nick of time. Yeah, right.

"Like the two policemen that are waiting outside for you."

I felt the knowledge flinch across my face, not much of a reaction, but it was enough. "Do you blame us for backup?"

"Are you saying you are afraid of us?" That brought a low rumble through the room, as if they had all drawn a breath together.

"I would be a fool if I wasn't," I said.

He cocked his head to one side in an almost bird-like movement. "And you are not a fool, are you, Anita?"

"I try not to be."

He motioned to the woman still standing behind the bar. "Paulina does not like you. Do you know why?"

It was my turn to shake my head. "Nope."

"She's my wife."

I must have still looked blank. "Sorry, I don't understand."

"She knows I have a weakness for women with power."

I frowned at him. "She doesn't have to worry. I'm sort of taken."

He smiled. "No more lies, Anita. You and he are not lovers." He took my hand again and gazed up at me with those black eyes. I realized for the first time that he considered himself a ladies man. And that his wife had reason to worry, not about me, but about other women. It was there in his eyes, the way he stroked my hand.

I drew my hand away from him and moved back to stand with Bernardo. I actually reached out my hand, and he took it. Both our hands were sticky from the bar, but I clutched at him.

Baco was half a body-length shorter than I was, but he made me nervous. Part of it was the push of his magic like a thick curtain filling the room. But part of it was the way any man can make you nervous. I didn't like how blatant he was, with us unarmed. I glanced at Paulina, and her harsh face was stricken. Was it a game he played with her? Tormenting her? Who knew, but I wanted out of here.

"I need to be somewhere before dark. If you don't want to talk to me, fine. We'll go." I started moving backwards, using my body to push Bernardo behind me towards the door.

"Without your weapons?" Baco made it a question, his voice lilting upward.

Bernardo and I froze. We were close enough to the door that we could have made a rush for it, probably made it, but … "Our weapons would be nice," I said.

"All you had to do was ask," Baco said.

I said, "May we have our weapons back?"

He nodded. "Harpo, give them back."

Harpo never questioned it, just gave us back the guns, the knives. Then he stepped back to join the rest of the silent watchers. The guns and wrist knives were easy to slide into place. The knife in its spine sheath was another matter. I had to use my left hand to feel for the sheath, then feel the blade's tip at the mouth of the sheath. I'd gotten in the habit of closing my eyes so that all I concentrated on was touch. It actually took only a few seconds now to put it away. The real trick was not chopping off a hunk of my hair as the blade slid home.

When I opened my eyes, Baco was looking at me. "So nice to see a woman who doesn't rely exclusively on sight. Touch is such an important sense for intimate occasions."

Maybe being armed again made me brave, or maybe I was just tired of the tension level. "Men who turn everything into a sexual come on are such bores."

Distaste, anger filled his face, turning his charming eyes to black mirrors, like the eyes of a doll. "Too good to fuck a dwarf?"

I shook my head. "It's not your height that's the problem, Baco. Where I come from, you don't do shit like this in front of your wife."

He laughed then, and it sparkled through his eyes, his face. "The sacrament of marriage? You're offended for my wife's sake? You are a funny girl."

"Yeah, me and Barbara Streisand."

The humor faded a little from his face. I don't think he got the joke. Strangely, it was the young girl in her short-shorts that met my eyes. I think she got the joke. If she liked early Streisand movies, maybe she wasn't a completely lost soul.

Bernardo touched my shoulder, and I jumped. "We're leaving now, Anita."

I nodded. "I'm with you."

"You never asked your questions," Baco said.

"Have you felt it?" I asked.

His face was suddenly serious. "There is something new here. It is like us. It deals in death. I have felt it."

"Where?" I asked.

"Between Santa Fe and Albuquerque though it began closer to Santa Fe.

"It's moving closer to Albuquerque, to you," I said.

For the first time he looked uncertain, not quite afraid, but not happy either. "It knows that I am here. I have felt that, too." He stared up at me and now there was no teasing in his eyes. "It knows that you are here, too Anita. It knows you are here, too."

I nodded. "We might be able to help each other, Nicky. I've seen the bodies. I've seen what this thing does. Trust me, Nicky. You don't want to go out that way."

"What do you propose?" he asked.

"That we pool our resources and see if we can stop this thing before it gets here, to you. And that we stop playing games. No more teasing. No more power plays."

"Just business between us?" he said.

I nodded. "We don't have time for anything else, Baco."

"Come back later tonight, and I will do what I can to help you. Though the police will not want you to share information with me. I am a very bad man, you know."

I smiled. "You're a bad man, Nicky, but not a stupid one. You need me."

"As you need me, Anita," he said.

"Two necromancers are better than one," I said.

He nodded, face solemn. "Come back tonight when you are finished with your police business. I will be waiting."

"It may be late," I said.

"It is already later than you think, Anita. Pray, if you are the praying sort, that it is not too late."

"Anita?" Bernardo said.

"We're going." I let Bernardo back us out the door, his hand on my shoulder guiding me backwards. I got to watch the room, trusting him to make sure nothing was coming up behind us through the door. The werewolves just watched us, not happy, but willing to take orders. Baco had to be their vargamor, their resident witch. I'd just never met a pack that feared its vargamor before.

It was Paulina's face that stayed with me. She was staring at Baco, and the hatred on her face was raw. I knew in that instant that once she had loved him, really loved him, because only true love could twist to such hatred. I'd looked into Paulina's eyes across the barrel of a gun. I think Nicky Baco had more problems than just monsters in the desert. If I were him, I'd be sleeping with a gun.