Obsidian Butterfly

Please — refreshing after hearing myself called bitch about a dozen times. "My pleasure," I said and handed Edward's hat back to him.

Deuce had looked up when I spoke, as if he wasn't used to politeness in others either. The wand ran over me, and it beeped at chest level.

"Take the shirt off, bitch," Simon said.

I untucked the shirt and started unbuttoning it. "My name's Anita, not bitch."

"Like I give a fuck," he said.

Fine, I'd tried being nice. I handed the shirt to Deuce and his magic wand.

It beeped, but when he ran it back over me, nothing. He laid the box gently on the ground, the wand on top of it, and started looking at the shirt. In less than a minute he'd found a small wire with a slightly thicker head sewn into the collar of the shirt. "Looks like a transmitter, maybe a homing beacon."

Simon tossed the vest to Deuce. "Cut it open, find out what's inside."

Deuce pulled a gravity knife from his back pocket, did one of those quick wrist movements that spilled the blade open. He went over the vest with his hands first, eyes closed, then he started cutting. It was a longer wire, with a little box attached. "It's a receiver. Someone out there is hearing everything we say."

"Destroy the homer."

Deuce crushed mine under his heel. When it was a little metallic and plastic slimy place on the porch, he smiled up at us as if he'd done a good thing. Deuce was a few bricks shy of a load. Fu

"Who's out there, Undertaker?" Simon asked.

Edward had put his hat back on. It looked fu

"I am going to ask you this, one more time nice, then it won't be so nice." He seemed to square his shoulders as if he were the one about to take a beating. "Who was on the other end of this wire? Who's out there?"

Edward shook his head.

Simon nodded.

Rooster hit him in the back, and it must have been hard because it drove him to his knees. Something on the butt of the gun broke the skin in two small cuts. He stayed on all fours for a few seconds as if it had stu

"Answer the question, Undertaker."

Edward shook his head, again. He was ready for the next blow. It staggered him, but he didn't go down. There was a third small cut. The cuts weren't anything, but they showed how much force was being used. He was going to be bruised all to hell come morning.

"Maybe she knows," Mickey said.

"I don't know who they are," I said, and the lie fell smoothly off my tongue. "Edward said we needed backup. He found some."

"You'd come into a situation like this with unknown people at your back? You don't seem that stupid," Simon said.

"Edward vouched for them," I said.

"And you trust him?"

I nodded.

"You trust him with your life?"

"Yes," I said.

Simon looked at me, then back to Edward. "She your squeeze?"

Edward blinked, and I knew that was him trying to buy time to think what answer would be the least painful. "No."

"I'm not sure I believe you, either of you, but if we start beating up the bitch, and she gets too hurt to do the spell, Riker'd be pissed."

"Why don't you have Undertaker ask the backup to come in?" Deuce said.

Everyone Sort of froze, then looked at him, Simon said, "What did you say?"

"If they can hear us, why not have him ask them to come up, hands up, that sort of thing."

Simon nodded, then turned hack to Edward. "Tell them to come up to the house. Hands where we can see them."

"They won't come," Edward said.

"They'll come or we'll blow your fucking head off." Simon put the short-butted gun to his shoulder, and put the barrel against Edward's forehead. "Ask them to come into the house. Hands up. Throw their guns down."

It was fu

Edward stared down the barrel of that gun, looked past it, into Simon's eyes, and the look was his usual look. His eyes were cold and empty as winter skies. There was no fear. There was no anything. It was like he wasn't there at all.

Edward may have been calm, but I wasn't. I'd seen enough bad men to know that Simon meant it. More than that, he wanted to do it. He'd feel safer if Edward were dead. I was out of ideas, but I couldn't just stand here and watch it happen.

"Tell them, Undertaker, or I will blow your head all over this porch."

"Even if I asked, they wouldn't come."

Simon pressed the barrel in, so that Edward had to brace his feet against it to keep from being pushed backwards. "You better hope they come. We don't need you alive, just her."

"I need him alive," I said.

Simon's eyes flicked to me, then settled back on Edward. "Lying bitch."

"Are you a witch, Simon?" I asked, though I knew the answer. I'd have spotted it if he had been a practitioner.

"What the fuck does that matter?"

"Then you don't know what I need to do this spell, do you? Your boss would be pissed if you blew away someone I needed to keep him safe from the monsters."

"Why do you need him?" Deuce asked.

I swallowed and tried to think, nothing good was coming. I tried for truth. When I'm out of other options, it still works. "Riker said he wouldn't hurt the kids. He said he wouldn't hurt us. He said he just wanted me to save him from the monster. If you blow … Ted's brains into the next county, then I'm not going to believe any of Riker's other promises. The second I think that Riker is going to kill the kids and us once I do the job, then I don't have any incentive to help him."

Simon's eyes flicked to me again. "We can give you incentive." I didn't see him nod, but I felt Mickey moving behind me. I've never been good at taking a blow. I moved without thinking and he missed my shoulder, but I'd been right. He knew how to fight. I was turning towards him to do what, I'm not sure, when the butt of the gun caught me on the chin. I think I'd made him mad by ducking because he hit me hard.

The next thing I knew I was on the ground, looking up. Deuce was kneeling by me, stroking my face. I had the impression he'd been petting me for awhile, as if I'd passed out. I didn't remember passing out. The sunglasses were gone. I didn't know if Deuce took them off, or if they flew off when my head went back.

"She's awake," Deuce said, voice sort of dreamy. He gave me a gentle smile and kept stroking my face.

Simon knelt by me, blocking out the light. "What's your name?"

"Anita, Anita Blake."

"How many fingers?"

I watched his hand move back and forth, following it with my eyes. "Two."

"Can you sit up?"

It was a good question. "With help, maybe."

Deuce put his arm behind my back and lifted me. I let him take a lot of the weight, not because it was necessary, but because them thinking I was more hurt than I was might make them think I was less of a threat. We needed some sort of edge.

I rested against Deuce's shoulder. He was humming something tuneless under his breath, his hand cupping my face, stroking the skin, over and over. I was finally able to see everything. Edward was on his knees with his hands clasped on top of his cowboy hat. Rooster had a gun touching his head. Edward didn't look hurt. More like they'd done it to keep him from doing anything heroic.

Mickey had a bloody lip. He was carefully not making eye contact with anyone.

"Can you stand?" Simon asked.

"With help, yeah."

"Deuce."

Deuce helped me to my feet, and the world wavered. I clung to Deuce, hands digging in as the world tried to slide out my ear. Maybe I wasn't pretending to be hurt.

"Shit," Simon said. "Can you walk if Deuce helps you?"