Лорел Гамильтон - Obsidian Butterfly

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.