Obsidian Butterfly - Laurell K. Hamilton [79]
Edward said, “Let’s go down there with you a little under wraps. Look around the club, meet the monsters, before they find out who you are.”
“Why?”
“You know the answer.”
“You want me to look around, use my expertise, before they know I have any expertise.”
He nodded.
“But you also want me to be Anita Blake and impress the monsters.”
“Yes,” he said.
“Hard to do both.”
“Be a tourist until they make you, then be yourself.”
“The best of both worlds,” I said.
“Exactly.”
I looked at him. “Is this all your plan? No hidden agenda?”
He smiled, and it was Ted’s smile, slow, lazy, innocent. “Would I do that to you?”
I just shook my head and started for the bedrooms. “Forget I asked. I’ll change into something more . . . festive,” I said without turning around.
Edward didn’t call me back and say no need to change so I kept walking. We were undercover tonight apparently. I hate undercover work. I am just so damn bad at it.
I had also not packed with an eye for club hopping. I changed into the newest, blackest jeans I had. The Nikes would have to do because I hadn’t brought anything else. Except more Nikes. All my shirts were just different colors of one or two styles. If I find something comfy, I’ve learned to buy doubles if I really like something, and multiple colors if I really, really like a style. This means I am usually wearing last year’s style long after the fashion trend has moved on, but it’s not like I care.
I had a royal blue cotton tee with a scoop neck. Almost all the shirts I’d packed had a scoop neck. The blue was a little softer than the rest of the colors. I added a touch of eye shadow, enough eyeliner to be dramatic, enough mascara so that the eyeliner didn’t overwhelm my eyelashes, a hint of blush, and some kiss-ass red lipstick.
I couldn’t really get a good look in the room’s small mirror, but at least the makeup looked good. The shoulder holster was very black against the blue shirt, but the black suit jacket took care of that. Since I couldn’t take the jacket off without flashing the guys, I added my wrist sheaths with matching silver knives. If I was going to be stuck with the jacket all night, I might as well carry them. Besides, you never know when you’ll need a good blade. I ran a brush through my hair and called it done.
Apparently, I looked okay because Bernardo said, “I take it back. If you’d packed a dress, you’d be prettier than I am.”
I shook my head. “No, I wouldn’t, but thanks for saying it.”
“Let’s go,” Edward said.
“She is showing too much breast,” Olaf said.
I looked at his completely sheer black shirt. “I can see your nipples.”
His face darkened. I think he was actually blushing. “Bitch.”
“Yeah, sure, you and the horse you rode in on,” I said.
Edward moved between us, soothing the big man. To me, he said, “Don’t tease him unless you want the trouble.”
“He started it,” I said.
He looked at both of us, his face that icy gaze that I’d seen him wear when he killed. “I don’t care who starts it, but I will finish it. Is that clear?”
Olaf and I looked at Edward, then at each other. Slowly, we both nodded. “It is clear,” Olaf said.
“Crystal,” I said.
“Good.” His face transformed into a smiling face, somehow appearing years younger. How did he do it? “Then let’s go.”
We went.
23
OBSIDIAN BUTTERFLY, THE CLUB, was located between Santa Fe and Albuquerque. The club was set back from the road like one of the Indian casinos. It had high-class tourist trap written all over it. The parking lot was so full we had to circle to find a spot.
The building was done in faux-Aztec temple. Or for all I knew real Aztec temple. But the outside of the building looked like a movie set. Red neon traced square carved faces, and the name was traced in more red neon. There was a line stretching around the corner of the building and out into the hot summer dark. This was not my town. I didn’t know the manager, so I couldn’t jump the line. I also did not want to stand