Obsidian Butterfly - Laurell K. Hamilton [194]
“Can you order it to leave the room?”
He looked at me. “Scared?”
“I can feel the souls crying out for help. It’s sort of distracting.”
He looked at me, and I watched the color drain from his face. “You mean that.”
I smiled, but not like it was funny. “You didn’t know that he’s trapping their souls in that thing?”
“He said he was.” His voice had gone softer.
“You didn’t believe him,” I said.
The Ulfric was gazing up at the thing as if he’d never seen it before. “You wouldn’t believe something like that, would you?”
“I would.” I shrugged, wished I hadn’t, and said, “But then this is my line of work. Can you please send it away?”
He nodded, and spoke rapidly in Spanish. The thing folded down on itself and crept away on arms and legs and bodies like a broken centipede. Sitting on the bar, I could see it go down a trap door behind the bar. When the last segment of it had slithered out of sight, I turned back to the Ulfric. He still looked pale.
“Baco is the only one who can free their souls. Don’t kill him until he’s done that.”
“I didn’t plan to kill him,” the man said.
“That was before you knew. I don’t know you well enough to know if when I leave, you’ll get all self-righteous and try to end this evil. Don’t, please, or you condemn them all to an eternity of that.”
He swallowed like he was having a little trouble keeping down his own breakfast. “I won’t kill him.”
“Good.” I drew the knife from between my knees right-handed. “Now gather round, boys and girls, because I’m only going to do this trick once.”
There was a general movement as the wolves moved forward. I spared a glance for the boys I’d come in with. They hadn’t put their guns up, but they had them pointed at the floor or the ceiling. Edward was watching the wolves. Bernardo was watching the wolves, too, though he looked pale. Olaf was watching me. I really, really, didn’t like him.
“I give honor to the Ulfric and lupa of the Los Lobos clan. I give the most precious of gifts to the Ulfric, but not being true lukoi, I cannot share this gift with the lupa in her present form. For that, I apologize most sincerely. If I come back this way, I’ll shop better.” I sat the blade on the bar and leaned over the edge until I could reach a clean glass. One of those thick chunky ones that people are so fond of putting scotch in. It was a strain to get back into a sitting position on the bar, but I managed it with the glass in one hand. I put the glass beside me on the bar and picked the knife up. I laid the blade against my left arm, just above the wrist, and stared at the whole, pale, unscarred flesh. There were scars just above it where a shapeshifted witch had clawed me, and the cross-shaped burn scar that was now a little crooked from the claw marks, but this one patch was still pure. I hoped it didn’t scar, but what was one more.
I took in a deep breath and sliced the blade down my skin. A sigh ran through the watching werewolves, and whimpers from a few of the furrier throats. I ignored them. I’d known it would get a crowd reaction. I kept looking at my flesh and the damage I’d just done to it. The wound didn’t bleed immediately. It was just a thin red line, then the first drop spilled from the wound, and the rest of the wound spilled in crimson rivulets down my arm. Deeper than I’d wanted it, but probably about what was needed. I held the wound over the glass. Some of it splashed around the edges, trailing down the sides, but I managed to get it going into the cup. I didn’t even need to squeeze the wound much to encourage the flow. Deeper than I wanted it, oh yeah.
The Ulfric had moved closer, close enough that he was standing with his body touching my legs. The wolf that he’d introduced as his lupa moved up to nuzzle at my knee, and