Obsidian Butterfly (ab-9) by Laurell K. Hamilton Page B
Authors: Laurell K. Hamilton
Tags: SF
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secrets.
"What are you waiting for, Ms. Blake? Go ahead. Open the door." I glanced back at Edward. "I don't suppose you'd give me a hint."
"Open the door, Anita."
I muttered, "Bastard," under my breath and opened the door.
6
THE DOOR DIDN'T LEAD directly into the room. It led into a small antechamber with another sealed, mostly glass door beyond. There was a hush of air circulating through the room as if the room had its own separate air supply. A man stood to one side wearing green surgical scrubs complete with little plastic booties over his feet, a mask hanging loose from his neck. He was tall and slender without looking weak. He was also one of the first New Mexicans that I'd met without a tan. He handed me a pile of scrubs. "Put this on."
I took the clothes. "Are you the doctor on this case?"
"No, I'm a nurse."
"You got a name?"
He gave a small smile. "Ben, I'm Ben."
"Thanks, Ben. I'm Anita. Why do I need the scrubs?"
"To guard against infection."
I didn't argue with him. My expertise was more in the line of taking lives, not preserving them. I'd bow to the experts. I put the scrubs over my jeans, tying the string tie as tight as it would go. The legs of the pants still bagged around my feet.
Ben the nurse was smiling. "We weren't expecting them to send us a policeman so ... petite."
I frowned at him. "Smile when you say that."
His smile brightened a flash of white teeth. The smile softened the face and made him seem less like Nurse Cratchet and more like a human being.
"And I'm not a cop."
His eyes flicked to the gun in it's shoulder holster. The gun was very black and very noticeable against the red shirt. "You're carrying a gun."
I slipped a short-sleeved shirt over my head, and the offending gun. "New Mexico law says I can carry as long as it's not concealed."
"If you're not a policeman, then why do you need the gun?"
"I'm a vampire executioner."
He held a long-sleeved gown out towards me. I slipped my arms through the sleeves. It tied in the back like most hospital gowns. Ben tied it for me. "I thought you couldn't kill a vampire with bullets."
"Silver bullets can slow them down, and if they're not too old or too powerful, blowing a hole in their brain or heart works. Sometimes," I added. Wouldn't want Ben to get the wrong idea and try to take out an intruding vamp with silver ammo and get munched because he trusted my opinion.
We had some trouble getting my hair up under the little plastic hair thing but finally managed it, though the thin ridge of elastic that held it in place scraped the back of my neck every time I moved my head. Ben tried to help mo with the surgical gloves, but I put them on myself, no problem.
He raised eyebrows at me. "You've put on gloves before." It wasn't a question.
"I wear them at crime scenes and when I don't want blood under my fingernails."
He helped me tie the mask around my neck. "You must see a lot of blood in your line of work."
"Not as much blood as you see, I bet." I turned with the mask over my mouth and nose. Only my eyes were left uncovered and real.
Ben looked down at me, and his face looked thoughtful. "I'm not a surgical nurse."
"What is your specialty?" I asked.
"Burn unit."
My eyes widened. "Are the survivors burned?"
He shook his head. "No, but their bodies are still like open wounds, just like a burn. The protocol is similar."
"What do you mean their bodies are an open wound?"
Someone tapped on the glass behind me, and I jumped, turning to see another man in an outfit just like mine glaring at me with pale eyes. He hit an intercom button, and his voice came clear enough to hear the irritation in it. "If you're coming inside, then do it. I want to sedate them again, and I can't do that until you've had a chance to question them, or so I'm told." He let go of the button and walked further away behind a white curtain that hid the rest of the room from view.
"Gee, I'm just on everybody's happy list today."
Ben put on his
"What are you waiting for, Ms. Blake? Go ahead. Open the door." I glanced back at Edward. "I don't suppose you'd give me a hint."
"Open the door, Anita."
I muttered, "Bastard," under my breath and opened the door.
6
THE DOOR DIDN'T LEAD directly into the room. It led into a small antechamber with another sealed, mostly glass door beyond. There was a hush of air circulating through the room as if the room had its own separate air supply. A man stood to one side wearing green surgical scrubs complete with little plastic booties over his feet, a mask hanging loose from his neck. He was tall and slender without looking weak. He was also one of the first New Mexicans that I'd met without a tan. He handed me a pile of scrubs. "Put this on."
I took the clothes. "Are you the doctor on this case?"
"No, I'm a nurse."
"You got a name?"
He gave a small smile. "Ben, I'm Ben."
"Thanks, Ben. I'm Anita. Why do I need the scrubs?"
"To guard against infection."
I didn't argue with him. My expertise was more in the line of taking lives, not preserving them. I'd bow to the experts. I put the scrubs over my jeans, tying the string tie as tight as it would go. The legs of the pants still bagged around my feet.
Ben the nurse was smiling. "We weren't expecting them to send us a policeman so ... petite."
I frowned at him. "Smile when you say that."
His smile brightened a flash of white teeth. The smile softened the face and made him seem less like Nurse Cratchet and more like a human being.
"And I'm not a cop."
His eyes flicked to the gun in it's shoulder holster. The gun was very black and very noticeable against the red shirt. "You're carrying a gun."
I slipped a short-sleeved shirt over my head, and the offending gun. "New Mexico law says I can carry as long as it's not concealed."
"If you're not a policeman, then why do you need the gun?"
"I'm a vampire executioner."
He held a long-sleeved gown out towards me. I slipped my arms through the sleeves. It tied in the back like most hospital gowns. Ben tied it for me. "I thought you couldn't kill a vampire with bullets."
"Silver bullets can slow them down, and if they're not too old or too powerful, blowing a hole in their brain or heart works. Sometimes," I added. Wouldn't want Ben to get the wrong idea and try to take out an intruding vamp with silver ammo and get munched because he trusted my opinion.
We had some trouble getting my hair up under the little plastic hair thing but finally managed it, though the thin ridge of elastic that held it in place scraped the back of my neck every time I moved my head. Ben tried to help mo with the surgical gloves, but I put them on myself, no problem.
He raised eyebrows at me. "You've put on gloves before." It wasn't a question.
"I wear them at crime scenes and when I don't want blood under my fingernails."
He helped me tie the mask around my neck. "You must see a lot of blood in your line of work."
"Not as much blood as you see, I bet." I turned with the mask over my mouth and nose. Only my eyes were left uncovered and real.
Ben looked down at me, and his face looked thoughtful. "I'm not a surgical nurse."
"What is your specialty?" I asked.
"Burn unit."
My eyes widened. "Are the survivors burned?"
He shook his head. "No, but their bodies are still like open wounds, just like a burn. The protocol is similar."
"What do you mean their bodies are an open wound?"
Someone tapped on the glass behind me, and I jumped, turning to see another man in an outfit just like mine glaring at me with pale eyes. He hit an intercom button, and his voice came clear enough to hear the irritation in it. "If you're coming inside, then do it. I want to sedate them again, and I can't do that until you've had a chance to question them, or so I'm told." He let go of the button and walked further away behind a white curtain that hid the rest of the room from view.
"Gee, I'm just on everybody's happy list today."
Ben put on his
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