Twisted

A/N: Okay, this took sooo long and it's really short. There's a lot of stuff going on now, so it might be a while before I can get any more out, but I thought I'd put this out too keep anyone interested happy...or horribly frustrated (teehee). I know I'm a cliffhanger devil >)


Chapter Nine: Omen

I let my brow rise at Edward’s question, trying to still the beating of my heart. He wanted to know where Harry Potter was and somehow thought that I knew the answer. He was right, but damn, why did the man always come to me? I could see the threat in the back of his eyeballs, that he would get his answer one way or another.

“Why so interested?” I asked. My brain had already decided that the kid was too dangerous to be left alive, but my conscience was having a little trouble catching up to the idea. I had to ask, what had made him into what he was? He called himself a monster, so that meant he knew what he did was wrong. He had to have a basis for comparison.

Annoyance flashed through me. I was irritated at my own indecision. I knew what had to be done, why was I debating the issue?

It was then that I got a shock, as someone else stepped out of character. Emotion crawled into Edward’s blank killer eyes, naked and ungainly. Anger. Rage. Fury. It was all accompanied by the sickest smile I had ever seen. Oh shit, what had the kid done?

“I’ve got a job to do here, Anita. Don’t waste my time. You might find that my patience isn’t what it used to be.” The man didn’t need a gun to make his threat deadly. Not that he didn’t have one…or five.

I let my eyes narrow.

“What job would that be?” I was pretty confident that Edward wouldn’t murder me in my office. He had come here as “Ted Forrester” the bounty hunter after all. His reputation was pretty spanky, well, at least compared to the real thing.

“A contract has been put out on him, why else would I be here, Anita?” If it was possible the temperature in the room dropped a few more degrees before he continued. “You are going to tell me what I want to know.”

There was no question, no room for negotiation. He said it as if it was pure, plain fact. Damn, didn’t he usually give me some time to think? I didn’t think he was feeling so generous this time.

I wondered if it was because he thought I had “switched teams”. I wondered if I gave a damn.

“I’ll make you a deal Edward,” I said. “You tell me who put out the hit, and what your plans are and I might help you out.” Okay, so I was playing a dangerous game, but hell, I couldn’t just hand the kid over. I had less qualms about killing him myself than selling him out to the sociopath sitting in front of me. Don’t try to understand my skewed morals.

“No deals, Anita. You’re running out of time.”

We were getting close. I could feel it. That fateful moment, when we would each pull the trigger and see who was standing and who was dead, was close. Maybe it would be him. Maybe it would be me. Maybe neither. Or both.

My hands itched for the new Browning, securely holstered at my side. The tension was so high that I felt it tugging on my spine, ready to snap. I never looked away from those cold eyes—so pitiless.

Brrrrrrrnggg!

I was so proud that I didn’t jump. A twitch is not a jump, or that was what I told myself, anyway.

I reached for the phone, glad for some excuse to escape the willpower showdown.

“Thank you for calling Animators, Inc. This is Anita Blake speaking, how may I help you?” See? I had some phone manners. Not that was particularly important at the moment—what was more significant was the fact that my voice didn’t shake.

“An--?” I let my brow furrow as the line filled with crackling static.

“Hello?”

“…Circus…elp…can’t find—on…”

“Nathaniel? What’s happening?!” I thought that I recognized my leopard’s worried tones, but it was almost impossible to decipher anything else. I was pretty sure he had some important news—the bad kind.

I tried to concentrate on the scrambled sounds coming out of the receiver, but it was becoming increasingly difficult between Edward’s enigmatic stare and the raised voices growing louder outside of my door.

“…An—ta?.......hear me? We can’t fi…ason—“ The connection severed like someone cut it with a pair of scissors.

I was glaring at the handheld when my door exploded open and a bushy haired girl burst in, followed closely by a very out-of-temper Mary.

“Edward, I finally got through! I—oh…” she blinked rapidly, looking at me. Her accent placed her as a Britain, just like our other friend. I wondered if it was a coincidence. The sinking feeling in my gut told me to dream on.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Ms. Blake…it’s just that, Edward…I found him.”

It was Edward’s turn to furrow his brow, not an expression his face often got.

“You said he was blocking you.”

She shook her frizzy curls and shrugged casually, but the anxious lines around her face belied her concern. “Something must have happened.”

I looked down at the handset again, a very bad feeling following my sinking stomach.