She looked at me then, and the hatred in those eyes burned along my skin. After five hundred years, she still carried a grudge. You had to admire someone who could hold on to hate like that. I thought I knew how to hold a grudge, but looking into her face, I realized I was wrong. There was room in me for forgiveness. In Itzpapalotl’s face there was room for only one thing, hatred. She’d been angry about the same thing for over five hundred years. She’d been punishing people for the same crimes for five hundred years. It was impressive in a psychotic sort of way.
I hadn’t learned much more about the murders than when I’d stepped through the doors. I’d mostly learned negatives. A genuine Aztec didn’t recognize the murders as the work of any god or cult associated with the Aztec pantheon. It was good to know, something to cross off the list. Police work is mostly negatives. Finding out what you don’t know, so you can decide what you do. I didn’t know anything positive about the murders, but I knew one thing for absolute certain as I listened to the outrage in her voice about atrocities older than the entire country we were sitting in. I never wanted this woman mad at me. I’d told people that I’d chase them into hell to have my vengeance, but I probably didn’t mean it. Itzpapalotl would mean every word.
27
IT WAS STILL DARK as Edward drove us homeward. Still night, true dark, the vampires still roamed, but that soft edge in the air let you know the light was coming. If we hurried, we’d make it into bed before true dawn. If we dawdled, we’d get to see the sun come up. None of us seemed to be dawdling. We sat in the car in a silence that no one seemed willing to break.
We left the club behind and drove out into the hills beyond, towards Santa Fe. Stars spread like a blanket of cold fire across the soft black silk of the sky. The sky had that larger than life, empty quality it gets over large bodies of water or in the desert.
Olaf’s voice came out of the darkness, low and strangely intimate the way voices can be in a car at night. “If we’d accepted their hospitality, do you think I could have had the vampire they whipped?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Define have?” I said.
“Have, to do with as I liked.”
“What would you have done with him if they had?” Bernardo said.
“You don’t want to know, and I don’t want to hear it,” Edward said. He sounded tired.
“I thought you liked women, Olaf.” Bernardo said it. I didn’t say it, honest.
“For sex I like women, but so much blood. It shouldn’t have gone to waste.” He sounded wistful.
I turned in my seat and tried to see his face in the dark. “So it’s not just women who have to be careful around you, is that it? Does it just have to bleed to be attractive?”
“Leave him alone, Anita. About this, leave him the fuck alone.”
I turned to look at Edward. He rarely cussed, and he rarely sounded as tired and almost overwhelmed as he did now. “Okay, I mean, sure.”
Edward glanced in the rearview mirror. There wasn’t a car in either direction for miles. I think he was looking at Olaf. He stared into the mirror a long time. I think they had some major eye contact going.
He finally blinked and went back to staring at the road, but he didn’t seem happy.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“Us,” Bernardo said. “What isn’t he telling us?”
“All right, what aren’t you telling us?”
“It’s not my secret to tell,” Edward said, and that was all he’d say. He and Olaf had a secret, and they weren’t willing to share.
We finished the rest of the drive in silence. The sky was still black, but it was a paler black, the stars dim in it. Dawn was tremblingly close when we went into the house. I was so tired, my eyes burned. But Edward took me by the arm and led me down the small hallway away from the bedrooms. He kept his voice low. “Be very careful of Olaf.”
“He’s big and bad. I get it.”
He dropped his hand from my arm, shaking his head. “I don’t think you do.”
“Look, I know he’s a convicted rapist. I saw the way he looked at Professor Dallas tonight, and I saw his reaction to the blood and torture. I don’t know what you’re not telling me, but I know that Olaf would hurt me if he could. I know that.”
“You’re afraid of him?”
I took a breath. “Yeah, I’m afraid of him.”
“Good,” Edward said. He hesitated, then said, “You fit his vic profile.”
“Excuse me?”
“His favorite victims are petite women, usually Caucasian, but always with long dark hair. I told you I would never have brought him in on this case if I’d known you were coming down, too. It isn’t just because you’re a woman. You’re his physical ideal for a victim.”
I stared at him for a few seconds, mouth opened, then closed it, and tried to think what to say. “Thanks for telling me, Edward. Shit. You should have told me this up front.”
“I was hoping he could hold his act together, but I saw him tonight, too. I’m worried that he’ll snap. I just don’t want you to be the one in the way when it happens.”
“Send him back to wherever he came from, Edward. We don’t need him if he adds to the problem.”
He shook his head. “No, he’s got a specialty that’s perfect for this case.”
“And that specialty would be?”
He gave that small smile. “Go to bed, Anita. It’s already dawn.”
“No,” I said, “almost, but not quite.”
He studied my face. “You can really feel the sunrise without looking?”
I nodded. “Yep.”
He looked at me, and it was as if he were trying to read me now. For the first time I felt that maybe, just maybe, Edward was as puzzled by me as I was by him, sometimes. He escorted me to my room and left me at the door like an overprotective date.
I was glad I’d prepared the room for safety before I left. If someone came through the window, they’d knock the dolls over or step on the mirror with its antlers. The door would have a chair and the suitcase in front of it. The room was as safe as it was going to get. I undressed, putting the guns and knives on the bed until I could decide exactly what was staying where for overnight. A man’s extra large T-shirt that hung past my knees came out of the overnight bag. I’d started keeping one change of clothes, nightclothes, and toiletries in the overnight bag ever since the airline lost my luggage on a business trip. The last thing I pulled out of the overnight bag was my toy penguin Sigmund. I used to only sleep with Sigmund every so often, but lately, he’d been my constant companion under the sheets. A girl needs something to cuddle with at night.
The Browning Hi-Power was my other constant companion. At home it stayed in a holster I’d rigged to my headboard. Here I put it under my pillow, making very sure the safety was on. It always made me slightly nervous to put a loaded gun under my pillow. Seemed less than safe, but not nearly as unsafe as being unarmed if Olaf came through the door. I had brought four knives with me. One of them went between the mattresses. I put the Firestar back into the suitcase. I wanted something bigger than a handgun. I had a sawed-off shotgun and a mini-Uzi. Normally, I’d have brought more big guns, but I knew Edward would have more and better, and he would share. I finally decided on the mini-Uzi with a modified clip that held thirty rounds with enough oomph to cut a vampire in half. It was a gift from Edward so the ammo was probably illegal, but then so was the gun. I’d been almost embarrassed about carrying it at first, but one night last August I used it for real. I’d pointed it at a vampire, pulled the trigger, and cut him in half. It had looked like his body was torn in half by some giant hand. His upper body had fallen slowly to one side. His lower body collapsed to its knees. I still had the vision of it like a slow motion image. There was no horror or regret. It was just a memory. The vampire had come with a hundred of his friends to kill us. I’d tried to kill one of them as messily as possible to get the rest to leave us alone. It hadn’t worked, but that was only because the vampires were m
ore afraid of their Master of the City than of me.
Maybe the Uzi was overkill for a human being, but if by some chance I emptied the Browning into Olaf’s chest and he didn’t go down, I wanted to make sure he didn’t reach me. I’d cut him in half and see if the pieces could crawl.
28
IT WAS AFTER FIVE when I finally closed my eyes. Sleep sucked me under like a roll of black water, dragging me deep, and instantly into a dream. I stood in a dark place. There were small stunted trees everywhere, but they were dead. All the trees were dead. I could feel it.
Something crashed over to my right, something large moving through the trees, and a sense of dread rode before it like a wind. I ran, hands up to protect my face from the dry branches. I tripped over a root and went sprawling. There was a sharp pain in my arm. It was bleeding. Blood poured down it, but I couldn’t find a wound.
The thing was getting closer. I could hear tree trunks snapping with sharp explosions. It was coming. It was coming for me. I ran, and ran, and ran, and the dead trees stretched out forever and there was no escape.
A typical chase dream, I thought, and the moment I thought it, I realized it was a dream, and the dream changed, faded into another dream. Richard standing in nothing but a sheet, one tanned muscled arm reaching out to me. His brown hair falling in a froth of waves around his face. I reached for him, and as my fingertips brushed his, a smile curving his lips, the dream shattered, and I woke.
I woke, blinking into a patch of sunlight that spilled across the bed. But it hadn’t been the light that had woken me. There was a light tapping on my door. A man’s voice. “Edward says get up.”
It took me a moment to realize it was Bernardo’s voice. It didn’t take Freud to analyze the dream at the end with Richard in a sheet. I was going to have to be careful around Bernardo. Embarrassing, but true.
I sat up in bed, yelling through the door, “What time is it?”
“Ten.”
“Okay, I’m coming.”
I listened but didn’t hear him walk away. Either the door was more solid than it looked, or Bernardo was quiet. If it had just been Edward, I’d have thrown on a pair of jeans under the over-sized T-shirt, and had some coffee. But there was company in the house and it was all male. I managed to get into the bathroom and dress without meeting anyone in the hallway. I was wearing dark blue jeans, a navy blue polo shirt, white jogging socks, and my black Nikes. Normally, I’d left the guns off until I went out into the big bad world, but at Edward’s house the big bad world was staying in the next room, so I put the Firestar 9 mm in an inner pants holster, set for a right-handed cross draw. Brushed, cleaned, and armed, I wandered toward the smell of bacon.
The kitchen was small and narrow and white. But all the appliances were black, and the starkness of the contrast was almost too much first thing in the morning. There was another bouquet of wild flowers in the middle of a small white wooden table. Donna had struck again, but truthfully I agreed with her. The kitchen needed something to soften it.
The two men sitting at the table did nothing to humanize the room. Olaf had shaved so that the only hair left were the black lines of his eyebrows. He wore a black tank top, black dress slacks. Couldn’t see the shoes, but I was betting on a monochromatic look. He was also wearing a black shoulder rig with a big automatic of some kind. I didn’t recognize the brand. A black-hilted knife was in a holster under his left arm.
Shoulder holsters chaff when you wear them with tank tops, but hey, it wasn’t my problem.
Bernardo wore a white short-sleeved T-shirt and black jeans. He’d pulled the top layer of his hair back on either side with a large multi-colored barrette. There was still plenty of hair to fall down past his shoulders, stark and black against the pure whiteness of his shirt. He was wearing a ten mil Beretta just in back of his right hip. I couldn’t see a knife on him, but I was betting it was there.
Edward was at the stove, emptying a pan of scrambled eggs onto two plates. He was also wearing black jeans with matching cowboy boots, and a white shirt that was a twin of the one he’d worn yesterday.
“Gee, guys, do I have to go back to my room and change?”
They all looked at me, even Olaf. “What you’re wearing is fine,” Edward said. He carried the plates to the table and put one in front of each of the empty chairs. There was a plate of bacon in the center of the table beside the flowers.
“But I don’t match,” I said.
Edward and Bernardo smiled. Olaf didn’t. Big surprise. “You guys look like you’re in uniform,” I said.
“I guess we do,” Edward said. He sat down in one of the empty chairs.
I sat in the other one. “You should have told me there was a dress code.”
“We didn’t do it on purpose,” Bernardo said.
I nodded. “Which is what makes it funny.”
“I am not changing clothes,” Olaf said.
“No one’s asking you to,” I said. “I was making an observation.” My eggs had bits of green and red things in them. “What’s in the eggs?”
“Green peppers, red chilies, and diced ham,” Edward said.
“Gee, Edward, you shouldn’t have.” I liked my scrambled eggs the way God intended them, plain. I pushed the eggs around with my fork, and reached for the bacon. Half the plate was barely cooked, the other half done to a crisp. I went for the crisp.
The bacon on Olaf’s plate was the crispy kind, too. Oh, well.
I said grace over the food. Edward kept eating, but the others hesitated, uncomfortable with their mouths full. It’s always fun to say grace at a table with people who don’t. That uncomfortable silence. The panic while they wonder whether to keep chewing or to stop. I finished praying and took a bite of bacon. Yum. “What’s the game plan for today?” I asked.
“You haven’t finished looking at the files,” Edward said.
Bernardo groaned.
“I think it is a waste of time,” Olaf said. “We have gone over the files. I do not believe that she will find anything new.”
“She’s already done that,” Edward said.
Olaf looked at him, a piece of bacon halfway to his mouth. “What do you mean?”
Edward told them.
“That is nothing,” Olaf said.
“It’s more than you came up with,” Edward said, quietly.
“If I am such a burden on this job, maybe I should leave,” Olaf said.
“If you can’t work with Anita, maybe you should.”
Olaf stared at him. “You would rather have her as backup instead of me?” He sounded astonished.
“Yes,” Edward said.
“I could break her in half over my knee,” Olaf said. The astonishment was turning to anger. I suspected that most emotions turned into anger for Olaf.
“Maybe,” Edward said, “but I doubt she’d give you the chance.”
I held up my hand. “Don’t make this a competition, Edward.”
Olaf turned to me, slowly. He spoke very slowly, very clearly. “I do not compete with women.”
“Afraid you can’t measure up?” I asked. The moment I said. it, I wished I hadn’t. The momentary satisfaction wasn’t worth the look on his face as he rose from his chair. I leaned into the table and drew the Firestar, pointing it in his general direction under the table.
Olaf stood, looming over me, like a muscular tree. “Edward has spent the morning talking to me about you. Trying to convince me that you are worth listening to.” He shook his head. “You are a witch and I am not. The thing we hunt may be magical and we need your expertise. Maybe this is all true, but I will not be insulted by you.”
“You’re right,” I said. “I’m sorry. It was a cheap shot.”
He blinked at me. “You are apologizing?”
“Yes, on the rare, rare occasions when I’m wrong, I can apologize.”
Edward was staring at me across the table.
“What?” I asked.
He just shook his head. “Nothing.”
&n
bsp; “Olaf’s hatred of women is sort of a handicap, and I try not to make fun of people with handicaps.”
Edward closed his eyes and shook his head. “You just couldn’t leave it alone, could you?”
“I am not a cripple.”
“If you hate anyone or anything with an unreasoning, uncompromising hatred, then you are blind where that hatred is concerned. The police kicked me out of a crime scene yesterday because the cop in charge is a right-winger squeaky-clean Christian, and he considers me devil spawn. So he’d rather more people get killed and mutilated than have me help him solve the case. He hates me more than he wants to catch this monster.”
Olaf was still standing, but some of the tension had drained away. He seemed to actually be listening to me.
“Do you hate women more than you want to catch this monster?”
He looked at me, and for once his eyes weren’t angry. They were thoughtful. “Edward called me because I am the best. I have never walked away from a job until the quarry was dead.”
“And if it takes my preternatural expertise to help kill the monster, can you deal with that?”
“I don’t like it,” he said.
Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Collection 6-10 Page 157
