Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 6-10 - Laurell K. Hamilton [772]
“I’ve called for backup,” Ramirez said.
Edward had given me a quick Ted hug and let me go, though he knew I’d found the gun. “Great. It’s been a long time since I visited a Master of the City with the police.”
“How do you usually do it?” Ramirez asked.
“Carefully,” I said.
Edward turned his head away and coughed. I think he was trying not to laugh, but you can never tell with Edward. Maybe he just had a tickle in his throat. I watched him walk and wondered where in the world he was hiding the third gun.
51
ONE OF THE THINGS I liked about working with the police was that when you went into a business and asked to speak with the manager or owner, no one argued. Ramirez flashed his badge and asked to speak with the owner, Itzpapalotl, also known as Obsidian Butterfly.
The hostess, the same darkly elegant woman that had shown Edward and me to a table last time, took Ramirez’s business card, showed us all to a table, and left us. The only difference was this time we didn’t get any menus. The two uniforms stayed at the door, but kept us in sight. I’d put the wrinkled jacket on to cover the guns and knives, but I was glad the club was dark, because the jacket had seen better days.
Ramirez leaned over and asked, “How long do you think she’ll keep us waiting?”
Funny how he didn’t ask if she would keep us waiting. “Not sure, but a while. She’s a goddess and you’ve just ordered her to appear before you. Her ego won’t let her be quick.”
Edward was leaning in on the other side. “Half hour, at least.”
A waitress came. Ramirez and I ordered Cokes. Edward got water. The lights on the stage dimmed, then came up brighter. We settled back for the show. César had probably healed by now, but not by much. So it would either be a different wereanimal or a different show altogether.
There was what looked like a stone coffin propped up on the stage, sitting on its end with the carved lid staring out at the audience. Our table wasn’t as good as last time. I spotted Professor Dallas at her usual table, alone this time. She didn’t seem to mind.
The stone lid was carved in a crouching jaguar with a necklace of human skulls. The high priest Pinotl came onto the stage. He was dressed only in that skirt thing, a maxtlatl, that left the legs and most of the hips bare. I’d asked Dallas what the skirt was. His face was painted black with a stripe of white across the eyes and nose. His long black hair had been formed into individual strands curling at the ends. He wore a white crown, and it took me a second to realize it was made of bones. The stage lights flickered over the white bones, making them shimmer, and almost bleed white color when he moved his head. Finger bones had been restrung and formed a fan above the main band, reminiscent of the feathers I’d seen him wearing the first time. His ear spools of gold had been replaced by bones. He looked totally different from the first time, and yet the moment he stepped out onstage I knew it was him. No one else had had that aura of command.
I leaned into Ramirez. “You wearing a cross?”
“Yes, why?”
“His voice can be a little overwhelming without a little help.”
“He’s human, isn’t he?”
“He’s her human servant.”
Ramirez turned his face full into mine, and we were too close. I had to move back to keep from bumping noses. “What?”
Did he really not know what a human servant was for a vampire? I didn’t have time to give him a preternatural lesson, and this wasn’t the place anyway. Far too many listening ears. I shook my head. “I’ll explain later.”
Two very Aztec-looking bouncers came onstage and lifted the lid of the coffin off. They moved to one side with it, and the way they shuffled, muscles in their arms and back working, it looked heavy. There was a cloth-draped body in the coffin. I didn’t know for certain that it was a body, but it was shaped like a body. There