"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 in the line.
Edward walked up the line, confident, as if he knew something I didn't. We followed him like obedient puppies. We weren't the only foursome trying to get into the club. We were the only foursome that wasn't made up of couples. To blend in we needed at least one more woman. But Edward didn't seem to be trying to blend in. He walked up to the head of the line where a large, broad-shouldered man of very Indian descent stood bare-chested, wearing what looked like a skirt but probably wasn't, and a heavy faux-gold collar that covered most of his shoulders like a mantle. He was wearing a crown covered in macaw feathers and other smaller feathers that I couldn't identify.
If this was just the bouncer at the door, I was actually interested in seeing the show. Though I hoped they had access to lots and lots of pet parrots and hadn't actually slaughtered birds just for the outfits.
"We're Professor Dallas's party. She's expecting us," Edward said in his best hail-fellow-well-met voice.
The feather and gold bedecked man said, "Names." He uncrossed his arms and looked at a clipboard that had been in his hand the entire time.
"Ted Forrester, Bernardo Spotted-Horse, Olaf Gundersson and Anita Lee." The new last name stopped me. Apparently, he was serious about me going in incognito.
"IDs."
I tried very hard to keep my face blank, but it was an effort. I didn't have any fake ID. I looked at Edward.
He handed his driver's license to the man, then still smiling, said, "And now aren't you glad that I didn't let you leave your license in the car." He handed a second license to the man.
He looked at both for longer than I thought he should have, as if he suspected something. My shoulders were actually tight, waiting for him to turn to me and say, ah-hah, fake ID, but he didn't, He handed both licenses back to Edward, and turned to Bernardo and Olaf. They wailed with their licenses out, as if they'd done this before.
Edward moved back to stand by me and handed me the license. I took it and looked at it. It was a New Mexico license with an address on it that I didn't know. But it was my picture, and it said Anita Lee. The height, weight, and the rest were accurate, just the name and address was wrong.
"Better put it in your pocket. I may not be around to find it next time," he said.
I slipped it in my pocket along with my other license, a lipstick, and some money, and an extra cross. I wasn't sure whether to be flattered or insulted that Edward had set up a secret identity for me. Of course, maybe it was just the license, but knowing Edward there'd be more to it. There usually was.
The big double doors were opened by another large muscled guy in a skirt, though he didn't have a feather crown or a nifty collar. A lesser bouncer, apparently. The doors led into a darkened room thick with an incense I didn't recognize. The walls were completely covered with heavy drapes, only another set of double doors showing the way.
Another bouncer, this one blond and tanned the color of thick honey, opened the door. He had feathers woven into his short hair. He winked at me as we went through the door, but it was Bernardo he watched the closest. Maybe he was looking for weapons, but I think he was watching Bernardo's butt. He wouldn't see a weapon from the back. Bernardo had transferred his gun to a front cross draw because the gun had showed a lump at the back. Which told you how snug the pants fit in back.
The room we entered was large, stretching out and out into the near darkness. People sat at square stone tables that looked suspiciously like altars to me. Or at least what Hollywood is always using for altars. The «stage» took up most of the far left wall, but it wasn't a stage, not really. It was being used as a stage, but it was a temple. It was as if someone had sliced off the top of a pyramid temple and transported it here to this night club, in a city so far removed from the lush jungles where the building began that the stones themselves must be lonely.