Spell Bound - Kelley Armstrong [101]
But if de Rais was already immortal, why conduct experiments? Two explanations. One, he wasn’t Gilles de Rais, but a supernatural who’d taken on his identity and had, after the soldier experiment, uncovered the secret to immortality. Two, he’d already been immortal, but had achieved it in a way he couldn’t duplicate and sell to others, so he was modifying his method.
Now he’d partnered with Anita Barrington, who’d been presumed dead for five years. Did she know Giles was supposedly Gilles de Rais? Was he promising his followers immortality? More important, could he deliver?
I’d dug up an e-mail to the agency from a Los Angeles resident who claimed to have been approached by the group for recruitment. He might have met Anita or Giles. Even if he hadn’t we could hope he’d asked more questions than Eloise and might have more answers.
I called and arranged to meet him at a steak house. It was almost nine and I was getting woozy from lack of food. We got there five minutes before the contact—Tim—was due to arrive. We waited fifteen minutes, then I ordered prime rib. Cass got soup and a glass of wine.
Our meals arrived. We ate. I had dessert. Still no sign of Tim. I’d called his cell phone twice and gotten voice mail.
“He’s bailed,” I said. “Decided he didn’t want to get involved.”
“So it would appear,” she said. “I can’t say I blame him.”
thirty-one
We’d parked in a lot a couple of blocks from the steak house, and had walked about half the distance back when Cassandra murmured, “Someone’s watching us.”
I started to glance back, then stopped, took out my phone, and angled it to catch a reflection through the glass. All I could make out was a few people waiting to flag a cab.
“Not them,” Cassandra said. “Someone else has been behind us since we left the steak house.”
I turned before she could stop me. “There’s no one else there.”
“Yes, there is. I’m experienced enough at stalking to recognize when I’m the one being stalked. Now I would suggest—”
I strode back along the sidewalk.
“That was not what I was going to suggest,” she said.
Once we passed the taxi-waiting group, I saw there was indeed someone behind them, following us. Someone I recognized. Anita Barrington stood in a delivery lane. When she saw us coming toward her, she didn’t retreat. Just lifted a hand, as if to motion us closer, then wheeled, staring down the empty street. Without looking our way again, she took off.
“Follow?” I said.
“You’re asking?” Cassandra arched her brows. “A little skittish these days?”
“No, a little careful these days.”
“As long as I can sense her, we won’t get jumped.”
We made it to the end of the lane, then Cassandra lifted a hand to stop me.
“Let me guess,” I whispered. “She’s waiting right around that corner.”
She shook her head. “Farther down. She’s stopped. Someone else is approaching.”
“Where are they?” It was Eloise’s voice.
“I couldn’t make contact. Someone was watching.”
“I’ll phone them,” Eloise said. “I’m sure if I ask them to meet me for a drink—”
“No. Subterfuge will only make them suspicious. I’ll find another way. Giles can’t see me meeting with her and he has spies everywhere.”
Their voices faded as they walked away. Cassandra motioned that we should follow. We did, only to find the alley dark and empty. We proceeded with caution until we reached a metal door. Cassandra stopped there, paused, then nodded.
“They’re inside.”
The door wasn’t locked. We went through and found ourselves in a back hall lined with doors, ending with one that led onto the street front. Cassandra passed by all of them without pausing. Her goal was the last one on the right. Also unlocked.
She opened it. When I peered through, I saw what looked like the darkened stockroom of a restaurant. I remembered passing an Indian takeout that’d been closed for the night.
Cassandra crossed the dark room and reached