Obsidian Butterfly (ab-9) by Laurell K. Hamilton Read Free Book Online

of Christ," he said. I looked at him to see if he was kidding. Of course, he wasn't. "Why?"
    "Why what?"
    "Why call them the blood of Christ?"
    "I don't know."
    "How long has Ted lived out here?"
    "Almost four years," he said.
    "And you don't know why the mountains are named Sangre del Christo? Do you have no curiosity?"
    "Not about things that don't affect the job."
    He didn't say, a job, but the job. I thought it was odd phrasing. "What if this monster that we're hunting is some kind of local bugaboo? Knowing why the mountains are named what they're named may mean nothing, or it may have to do with a legend, a story, a hint about some great blood bath in the past. There are very localised monsters, Edward, things that only come above ground every century or so like really long-lived cicadas."
    "Cicadas?" he asked.
    "Yeah, cicadas. The immature form stays in the ground until every thirteen or seven or whatever their cycle is years, they climb out, molt, and become adults. They're the insects that make all that noise in the summer time."
    Whatever did those people wasn't a giant cicada, Anita."
    "That's not the point, Edward. My point is that there are types of living creatures that stay hidden, almost totally hidden, for years, then resurface, are still a part of the natural world. Preternatural biology is still. So maybe old myths and legends would give us a clue."
    "I didn't bring you down here to play Nancy Drew," he said.
    "Yes, you did," I said looked at me long enough to make me want to tell him to watch the road.
    "What are you talking about?"
    "If you just wanted someone to point and shoot, you'd have brought in someone else. You want my expertise, not just my gun. Right?" He'd turned back to the road, much to my relief. There were small houses on either side, most of them made of adobe, or faux-adobe. I didn't know enough about it to judge. The yards were small but well-tended, running high to cacti and huge lilac bushes with surprisingly small bundles of pale lavender flowers on them. It looked like a different variety from the lilacs in the Midwest. Maybe it took less water.
    Silence had filled the car and I let it, watching the scenery. I'd never been to Albuquerque, and I'd play tourist while I could. Edward finally answered then he turned onto Lomos Street. "You're right. I didn't ask you down here just to shoot things. I already have backup for that."
    "Who?" I asked.
    "You don't know them, but you'll meet them in Santa Fe."
    "We're driving straight to Santa Fe now? I haven't eaten yet today. I was sort of hoping to catch some lunch."
    "The latest crime scene is in Albuquerque. We'll catch it, then lunch."
    "Will I feel like eating afterwards?"
    "Maybe."
    "I don't suppose I could talk you into lunch first then."
    "We've got a stop before we hit the house," he said.
    "What other stop?" I asked.
    He just gave that small smile, which meant it was going to be a surprise. Edward loved to try my patience.
    Maybe he'd answer a different question. "Who's your other backup?"
    "I told you, you don't know them."
    "You keep saying them. Are you saying that you already have two people for backup, and you still needed to call me in, too?" He didn't say anything to that.
    "Three people backing you on this. Geez, Edward, you must be desperate." I'd meant for it to be a joke, sort of. He didn't take it that way.
    "I want this case solved, Anita, whatever it takes." He looked grim when he said it. So much for my sense of humor.
    "Do these two backups owe you a favor?"
    "One does."
    "Are they assassins?"
    "Sometimes."
    "Bounty hunters like Ted?"
    "Bernardo is."
    At least I had a name. "Bernardo is a sometimes assassin and a bounty hunter like Ted. You mean he uses his bounty hunting identity like you use yours as a legal identity?"
    "Sometimes he's a bodyguard, too."
    "A man of many talents," I said.
    "Not really," he said. Which was a strange thing to say.
    "What about the other guy?"
    "Olaf."
    "Olaf, okay. He's sometimes an