Obsidian Butterfly

4

THE CAR BELONGED to Ted, even though Edward was driving it. It was a square and big something between a Jeep, a truck, and an ugly car. It was covered in red clay mud as if he'd been driving through ditches. The windshield was so dirty only two fans of clear space remained where the windshield wipers had washed away the mud. Everything else had dried to a reddish-brown patina of dirt.

"Gee, Edward," I said, as he opened the back hatch, "what have you been doing to this poor whatever it is. I've never seen a car so dirty."

"This is a Hummer, and cost more than most people's houses." He raised the hatch and started putting my bags inside. I offered him my carry-on, and when I was close could smell that new car smell, which explained why the carpeting in back was still nearly pristine.

"If it costs that much, then why doesn't it rate better care?" I asked.

He took the carry-on and put it on the new carpet. "I bought it because it could go over almost any terrain in almost any weather. If I didn't want it to get dirty, I'd have bought something else." He slammed the hatch shut.

"How can Ted afford something like this?"

"Actually, Ted makes a fine living off varmint hunting."

"Not this good," I said, "not off of bounty hunting."

"How do you know what a bounty hunter makes?" he asked, peering around the filthy car at me.

He had a point. "I guess I don't."

"Most people don't know what a bounty hunter makes so I can get away with some purchases that might be out of Ted's price range." He walked around the car toward the driver's side, only the top of his white hat showing above the mud-caked roof.

I tried the passenger side door, and it opened. It took a little bit of work to climb into the seat, and I was glad I wasn't wearing a skirt. One nice thing about working with Edward was that he wouldn't expect me to wear business attire. It was jeans and Nikes for this trip.

The only business thing I was wearing was the black jacket slung over my cotton shirt and jeans. The jacket was to hide the gun, nothing more. "What are the gun laws like in New Mexico?"

Edward started the car and glanced at me. "Why?"

I put on my seatbelt. Evidently, we were in a hurry. "I want to know if I can ditch the jacket and wear my gun naked, or whether I'm going to have to hide the gun for the entire trip."

His lips twitched. "New Mexico lets you carry as long as it's not concealed. Concealed carry without a permit is illegal."

"Let me test my understanding, I can wear the gun in full view of everyone with or without a carry permit, but if I put a jacket over it, concealing it, and don't have a carry permit, it's illegal?"

The twitch turned into a smile. "That's right."

"Western state gun laws are always so interesting," I said, but I started sliding out of the jacket. You can wiggle out of almost anything while remaining seat-belted in a car. Since I always wear a seatbelt, I'd had a lot of practice.

"But the police may still stop you if they see you walking around armed. Just make sure you're not here to kill anybody." He half smiled when he said the last.

"So I can carry as long as it's not concealed, but not really, not without getting questioned by the police."

"And you can't carry a gun of any kind, even unloaded, into a bar."

"I don't drink. I think I can avoid the bars."

A wire fence edged the road he pulled onto, but did nothing to take away the flat, flat distances and the strange black mountains. "What are the mountains called?"

"Sangre del Cristo — the blood of Christ," he said. I looked at him to see if he was kidding. Of course, he wasn't. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why call them the blood of Christ?"

"I don't know."

"How long has Ted lived out here?"

"Almost four years," he said.

"And you don't know why the mountains are named Sangre del Christo? Do you have no curiosity?"

"Not about things that don't affect the job."

He didn't say, a job, but the job. I thought it was odd phrasing. "What if this monster that we're hunting is some kind of local bugaboo? Knowing why the mountains are named what they're named may mean nothing, or it may have to do with a legend, a story, a hint about some great blood bath in the past. There are very localised monsters, Edward, things that only come above ground every century or so like really long-lived cicadas."

"Cicadas?" he asked.

"Yeah, cicadas. The immature form stays in the ground until every thirteen or seven or whatever their cycle is years, they climb out, molt, and become adults. They're the insects that make all that noise in the summer time."

Whatever did those people wasn't a giant cicada, Anita."

"That's not the point, Edward. My point is that there are types of living creatures that stay hidden, almost totally hidden, for years, then resurface, are still a part of the natural world. Preternatural biology is still. So maybe old myths and legends would give us a clue."

"I didn't bring you down here to play Nancy Drew," he said.

"Yes, you did," I said looked at me long enough to make me want to tell him to watch the road.

"What are you talking about?"

"If you just wanted someone to point and shoot, you'd have brought in someone else. You want my expertise, not just my gun. Right?" He'd turned back to the road, much to my relief. There were small houses on either side, most of them made of adobe, or faux-adobe. I didn't know enough about it to judge. The yards were small but well-tended, running high to cacti and huge lilac bushes with surprisingly small bundles of pale lavender flowers on them. It looked like a different variety from the lilacs in the Midwest. Maybe it took less water.

Silence had filled the car and I let it, watching the scenery. I'd never been to Albuquerque, and I'd play tourist while I could. Edward finally answered then he turned onto Lomos Street. "You're right. I didn't ask you down here just to shoot things. I already have backup for that."

"Who?" I asked.

"You don't know them, but you'll meet them in Santa Fe."

"We're driving straight to Santa Fe now? I haven't eaten yet today. I was sort of hoping to catch some lunch."

"The latest crime scene is in Albuquerque. We'll catch it, then lunch."

"Will I feel like eating afterwards?"

"Maybe."

"I don't suppose I could talk you into lunch first then."

"We've got a stop before we hit the house," he said.

"What other stop?" I asked.

He just gave that small smile, which meant it was going to be a surprise. Edward loved to try my patience.

Maybe he'd answer a different question. "Who's your other backup?"

"I told you, you don't know them."

"You keep saying them. Are you saying that you already have two people for backup, and you still needed to call me in, too?" He didn't say anything to that.

"Three people backing you on this. Geez, Edward, you must be desperate." I'd meant for it to be a joke, sort of. He didn't take it that way.

"I want this case solved, Anita, whatever it takes." He looked grim when he said it. So much for my sense of humor.

"Do these two backups owe you a favor?"

"One does."

"Are they assassins?"

"Sometimes."

"Bounty hunters like Ted?"

"Bernardo is."

At least I had a name. "Bernardo is a sometimes assassin and a bounty hunter like Ted. You mean he uses his bounty hunting identity like you use yours as a legal identity?"

"Sometimes he's a bodyguard, too."

"A man of many talents," I said.

"Not really," he said. Which was a strange thing to say.

"What about the other guy?"

"Olaf."

"Olaf, okay. He's sometimes an assassin, not a bounty hunter, not a bodyguard, and what else?"

Edward shook his head.

His noncommittal answers were beginning to get on my nerves. "Do either of them have any other special abilities besides being willing to kill?"

"Yes."

He'd reached my limit on "yes, no" answers. "I didn't come down here to play twenty questions, Edward. Just tell me about the other backups."

"You'll meet them soon enough."

"Fine, then tell me where the other stop is."

He gave a small shake of his head.

"Look, Edward, you're getting on my nerves, and you've already pissed me off, so cut the mysterious crap, and talk to me."

He glanced sideways at me, a glimpse of eyes from the edges of the dark glasses. "My, my, aren't we touchy today."

"This isn't even close to touchy for me, Edward, and you know it. But keep up the noncommittal crap and you are going to truly piss me off."

"I thought you were already pissed off about Donna."

"I am," I said. "But I'm willing to get interested in the case and forget to be continuously pissed. But I can't get interested in the case if you don't answer questions about it. As far as I'm concerned your backup is part of the case, so either start sharing info or drive me back to the damn airport."

"I didn't tell Olaf and Bernardo you're shacking up with a vampire and a werewolf."

"Actually, I'm not dating either of them anymore, but that's not the point. I don't want to know about their sex life, Edward. I just want to know why you called them in. What are their areas of expertise?"

"You broke up with Jean-Claude and Richard both?" For one of the few times since I'd met him I heard real curiosity in his voice. I wasn't sure if it was nice to know or disturbing that my personal life interested Edward.

"I don't know if we broke up, it's more like we aren't seeing each other. I need some time away from them before I decide what to do."

"What are you thinking about doing to them?" And there was a note of eagerness now.

Edward was only eager about one thing. "I am not planning to kill either of them, if that's what you're hinting at."

"I can't say I'm not disappointed," Edward said. "I think you should have killed Jean-Claude yourself before it all got too deep."

"You're talking about killing someone who has been my lover off and on for over a year, Edward. Maybe you could strangle Donna in her bed, but I'd lose sleep over something like that."

"Do you love him?"

The question stopped me, not because of the question but because of who was asking it. It seemed a truly odd question coming from Edward. "Yeah, I think I do."

"Do you love Richard?"

Again, it seemed odd talking about my emotional life with Edward. I have a few male friends, and most of them would rather have a root canal than to talk about "feelings." Of all my male friends I was talking to the one I thought would never discuss love with me. It just wasn't my year for understanding men.

"Yes, I love Richard."

"You say, you think you love the vampire, but you simply answer yes about Richard. Kill the vampire, Anita. I'll help you do it."

"Not to put too fine a point on it, Edward, but I'm Jean-Claude's human servant. Richard is his animal to call. The three of us are bound by vampire marks into a nice little menage a trois. If one of us dies, we may all die."

"Maybe, or maybe that's what the vampire tells you. It wouldn't be the first time he's lied to you."

It was impossible to argue without looking like a fool, so I didn't try. "When I want your advice on my personal life, I'll ask for it. Until people start ice skating in hell, save your breath. Now, tell me about the case."

"You get to tell me who to date and who not to, but I can't return the favor?" he asked.

I looked at him. "Are you angry with me about my stand on Donna?"

"Not exactly, but if you get to give me advice on dating, why can't I return the favor?"

"It's not the same thing, Edward. Richard doesn't have kids."

"Children make that big a difference to you?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yeah, they do."

"I never figured you as the maternal type."

"I'm not, but kids are people, Edward, little people trapped by the choices the adults around them make. Donna's old enough to make her own mistakes, but when you screw her, you're screwing her kids, too. I know that doesn't bother you, but it bothers me."

"I knew it would. I even knew how you'd react, but I don't know why."

"Well, you're one ahead of me. I never dreamed you were boffing new age widows with munchkins. I figured you more for the pay as you go plan."

"Ted doesn't pay for it," he said.

"How about Edward?"

He shrugged. "It's like eating, just another need."

The cold bluntness of it was actually reassuring. "See, that's the Edward I've grown to know and be afraid of."

"You're afraid of me, but yet you'd come against me for a woman you just met and two kids you don't even know. I'm not even planning to kill any of them and yet you'd push the ultimate question between us." He shook his head. "I don't understand that."

"Don't understand it, Edward. Just know it's true."

"I believe you, Anita. You're the only person I know, except for me, that never bluffs."

"Bernardo and Olaf bluff?" I gave it that extra little lilt, making it a question.

He shook his head and laughed. The tension that had been building eased with that laugh. "No, I'm not giving you anything on them."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because," he said, and he almost smiled.

I looked at his careful profile. "You're enjoying this. You're enjoying Olaf and Bernardo meeting me." I didn't try and keep the surprise out of my voice.

"Just like I enjoyed you meeting Donna."

"Even though you knew I'd be pissed," I said.

He nodded. "The look on your face was almost worth a death threat."

I shook my head. "You're beginning to worry me, Edward."

"Just beginning to worry you? I must be losing my touch."

"Fine, don't tell me about them. Tell me about the case."

He pulled into a parking lot. I looked up to find a hospital looming over us. "Is this the crime scene?"

"No." He pulled into a parking spot, and shut the engine off.

"What gives, Edward? Why are we at a hospital?"

"The survivors are here."

My eyes widened. "What survivors?"

He looked at me. "The survivors from the attacks." He opened his door, and I grabbed his arm, holding him in the car.

Edward turned slowly and looked at my hand on the bare skin of his arm. He looked at my hand a long time with his disapproval at the touch radiating from him, but it was a trick I'd pulled myself more than once. If the person makes it known that they don't want to be touched, most people that don't mean you violence will back off. I didn't back off. I dug my fingers into his skin, not to hurt, just to let him know he wasn't getting rid of me that easily.

"Talk to me, Edward. What survivors?"

He shifted his gaze from my hand to my face. I had an urge to snatch the sunglasses from his face but fought it. His eyes wouldn't show me anything anyway.

"I told you there were injured people." His voice was mild.

"No, you didn't. You made it sound like there were no survivors."

"My oversight," he said.

"My ass," I said. "I know you enjoy being mysterious, Edward, but it's getting tedious."

"Let go of my arm." He said it the way you'd say, hello, or nice day, no inflection at all.

"Will you answer my questions if I do?"

"No," he said, still with that same pleasant empty voice. "But if you make this a pissing contest, Anita, I'll feel compelled to make you let go. You wouldn't like that."

The voice never changed. There was even a slight smile to his mouth. But I let go, slowly, drawing back into my seat. If Edward said I wouldn't like it, I believed him.

"Talk to me, Edward."

He gave me a big ol' smile. "Call me Ted." Then the son of a bitch got out of the car. I sat in the car, watching him walk across the parking lot. He stopped at the edge with the hospital just across a small road from him. He took off the sunglasses, slipped one of the ear pieces into his shirt front, and stared back at the car, waiting.

It would serve him right if I didn't get out. It would serve him right if I went back to St. Louis and let him clean up his own mess. But I opened the door and got out. Why, you might ask. One, he'd asked me for a favor, and being Edward he'd reveal all in his own sadistic time. Two, I wanted to know. I wanted to know what had finally cut through all that coldness and scared him. I wanted to know. Curiosity is both a strength and a weakness. Which one this particular curiosity was wouldn't be answered for a while. I was betting on weakness.