Spellbound (30 page)

Only problem with that plan? She loved Aaron and she was miserable without him. Only an idiot couldn't see that. Fortunately, Aaron understood her. Maybe even understood why she did it. It took him seventy-five years, but he'd forgiven her. For a long time, they'd only been friends. As Cassandra reached the final act of her vampire life, that had changed. I was sure of it. As discreet as they were, there was no hiding the fact that Cass was a whole lot happier these days. No less bitchy or opinionated, but happier in her misanthropy.

I
actually thought calling a bar “The Meet Market” was a clever play on the bar scene. If I owned a place like that, I'd do it up right. Lots of double entendre advertising. Decorate it seventies swinger style. Adorn the walls with old-school porn posters. Make it the kind of bar where you could hang out with your friends and
not
get hit on nonstop, because guys would feel cheesy doing it in a place that poked fun at the stereotype.

Apparently, the owner of The Meet Market and I did not share the same sense of humor. The name wasn't tongue-in-cheek; it was truth-in-advertising.

The sign on the door advertised half-price drinks for “ladies” after ten.

“Damn,” I said. “We're early. No, wait. Cass, you can still get a discount.” I pointed at a second sign, offering the same deal for any women participating in the hourly “wet T-shirt hosing.”

“Tempting,” she said. “But I'm wearing silk. You go ahead. I'm sure it wouldn't be the first time.”

Before I could reply, a voice said, “Oh, she doesn't need to worry about paying full price.” The bouncer waved us forward and whipped out a red band from his pocket. He caught my wrist and snapped it on. “There you go. The Meet Market special.”

“Um, okay.” I twirled the plastic band. “What is it?”

“The hottie bracelet.” He winked. “Half-price drinks all night for you, gorgeous.”

I turned to Cass. “Sorry.”

“Oh, no,” the bouncer said. “She gets one, too. There's always a place at The Meet Market for someone a little more mature than our regular clientele.” He grinned. “And a lot more classy.”

He reached for Cassandra's wrist.

She yanked her hand back. “Put that thing on me at your peril.”

His grin grew. “Classy and sassy. I like it.”

“Oh, trust me, you wouldn't like it,” I said as I steered Cassandra past him. “Her bite is a lot worse than her bark.”

As we entered the bar, I leaned down to whisper in her ear, “I think you could have gotten lucky.”

“I wouldn't consider that luck.”

“Oh, come on. Big. Brawny. Young. Not blond, but a wig would fix that.”

“Nothing could fix that.”

I laughed. Gazes shot my way. Chest first, face second, wrist third. A few guys broke from their packs and started to swoop in.

“What, they need a wristband to confirm that I'm hot?” I said.

“I suspect it serves the dual purpose of confirming that you're available.”

I put my hand in my pocket.

“Which you are not,” she murmured.

“Of course I am.”

“You have not been available since you were twelve.”

She sighed as I tried to stuff the band down out of sight, then she veered past a table where the lone occupant was watching her two friends at the bar. The women had left assorted flotsam and jetsam behind, including what looked like a collar for a pursedog.

Cassandra snagged the band, and brought it over. It turned out to be a leather bracelet studded with spikes. She lifted my wrist and snapped it over the hottie bracelet.

“Oh, that's so much better,” I said.

“Biker bitch or hottie hoochie, it's your choice.”

I left the bracelet on.

I texted the number Aaron had given us for Eloise. At the end of the bar, a tiny girl with platinum hair bobbed out from behind a throng of suitors. She waved frantically. The guys gave us a onceover, and seconded the waving.

“Absolutely not,” Cassandra said.

“Agreed.”

I motioned for Eloise to join us and went in search of a table. As we cut through the throng, a balding guy in a suit lurched over to Cassandra.

“Hey, doll, can I buy you a drink?”

She brushed past him. “Do you see what I mean? I'm the catch-ofthe-day for temporarily single men of a certain age.”

“Hey, at least someone thinks you're hot. Even without the wristband.”

I walked to a single guy taking up a whole table, forlornly searching the crowd for someone to share it with. When he saw me coming, he straightened and popped a breath mint.

“Hey,” I said, smiling as I crouched beside his table. “My friend over there really wants to meet you, but she's shy. Do you think you could go and say hi?”

He scanned the packed bar. “Where?”

“Over there, behind those people. Brunette. Short skirt. Stiletto heels. Just wander over. She'll notice you.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

He vacated the table. I slid onto a chair.

“Cruel,” Cassandra said as she took a seat.

“No, a creative manipulation of human gullibility and desperation. I thought you'd approve.”

“Never said I didn't.”

Eloise finally made it to us.

“Sorry to drag you away from the guys,” I said. “We didn't think this would make a good public conversation.”

“Don't worry, I gave out a few phone numbers.” She giggled. “One of them is even mine. I figured we'd need to talk in private, but thought maybe you girls would like to have a little fun first. A couple of them were really checking you out. Did you want a drink? We've all got our wristbands, right?” She flashed hers, then looked at our wrists. Her dark eyes widened. “Oh, my God. I'm so sorry. That's wrong. Just wrong.” She leaned over and whispered, “Barry's on the door today and he can be very picky.”

“So we noticed,” Cassandra murmured.

“I'm Eloise, as I'm sure Aaron mentioned.” Another giggle. “Is he as hot as I've heard? Because I've heard he's really hot, and he sounded hot.”

“I'm Savannah,” I said. “As I'm sure Aaron mentioned as well.”

“He said who was coming, but the music was real loud and I couldn't hear. Savannah, you said?”

“Savannah Levine.”

She nodded, but gave no reaction, like she'd never heard of me before.

“And this is Cassandra,” I said. “Cassandra DuCharme.”

Eloise's mouth opened and closed, like a fish out of water, her eyes huge. “Did you say—Cassandra? Like the”—she lowered her voice—“head vampire Cassandra DuCharme?”

“She prefers Queen Vampire,” I said.

“Oh, my God!” Eloise squealed. “Cassandra DuCharme!” She pumped Cass's hand. “It is such an honor. I thought it was cool getting to talk to Aaron, but this is amazing. Best. Day. Ever.”

Okay, now when a supernatural knows who Cassandra is and doesn't know who I am, we have a problem. Not that I care whether anyone recognizes my name, considering it's because of my infamous parents if they do. The problem is that while most supernaturals would leave the city to avoid contact with a vampire, there are . . . others.

“I met Josie a couple of years ago,” Eloise said. “She is such a hoot. We went out drinking. Well, my kind of drinking, I mean, not hers, though I wouldn't have had a problem with that.”

“Good,” I said. “That's a very open attitude. So, about Anita—”

“And when I was in Toronto last year, I tried to meet Zoe Takano. Everyone said she hangs out at this bar. Miller's. Only she wasn't there and they wouldn't help me find her, and I think I had the wrong place, because it was so grungy.”

“No, that's Miller's.”

“She must have just been away, then. I really wanted to meet her. Is it true that she”—she lowered her voice again—“likes girls? That's what I heard. And she's really cute. She's Japanese, right? I think Japanese girls are so pretty. I don't, you know, swing that way. But for a vampire?” She grinned. “I'd totally make an exception.”

Cassandra inched back. My phone vibrated. I checked discreetly and saw that I had a message—from Cassandra.
How badly do we need to speak to this woman?

I texted back,
Wondering the same thing.

“So, Eloise,” I said. “About—”

“Do you think I might get to meet Aaron?” she said. “I was hoping he'd come out himself. Of course I'm completely thrilled to have you, Ms. DuCharme, but if both of you could have been here, I would have died. I have this thing for vampires.”

“Really?” Cassandra murmured.

“Me and some friends—supernatural friends, of course—we love vamps. I've met more than anyone else. The next thing on my list is to, you know . . . party with one.” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. “That would be so hot. Do you think there's any chance I could meet Aaron? Maybe later?”

“No,” Cassandra said.

I leaned forward. “Between us, I'd strike vamp-screwing off your list. Ain't gonna happen. It can't. You know that, right?”

She stared at me.

“Basic biology,” I said. “Guys need blood to get it up. Vampires don't have blood.”

“So you mean . . .”

“Yep.”

“Viagra?”

“Nope.”

“That's awful.”

“The true tragedy of a vampire's immortality.”

Cassandra nodded sadly. She's a very good actor. Truth is, biology is bullshit, at least when it comes to supernaturals. I had a feeling I'd just started a very nasty urban legend, one that would not endear me to the male half of the vampire community. Cassandra seemed okay with it, though.

“Now, about Anita Barrington . . .”

 

 

It took a few minutes—and a fizzy pink drink—to ease Eloise's depression, but once she got talking about Anita, she zoomed back on track. Seems Eloise was an amateur immortality quester herself, which came as no surprise. A fascination with vampires and a hunger for immortality went hand in hand.

Questers usually wanted a literal piece of vampires, something they could study. Matthew Hull had almost lopped off Zoe's head to get the biggest lab specimen of all for his experiments.

“Anita Barrington is famous,” Eloise gushed. “When we heard she was dead, we all said ‘no way.' It's a cover-up. She's found the secret to immortality and she's used it.”

“Then you saw her last week.”

“Uh-huh. Right here in L.A.”

When I asked her to describe the woman, she took out her cell phone and showed me a picture. I did a double-take. Then I cursed myself for not asking someone for a description of Anita, because if I had, I might have realized I'd already met her.

Anita Barrington was Giles's partner, Althea. Now I knew why she'd thought I might recognize her, and had been happy that I hadn't.

“Why didn't you send this to Aaron?” Cassandra asked.

“Over an unsecured connection? No way. Do you want me to send it to your phone now?”

I gave her my number, and she sent it. How there was any difference between sending it when I was two feet away or two thousand miles away, I don't know.

“And you said she was meeting someone who tried to recruit you to the group?”

“Right. See, I've got a lot of friends. Supernatural friends. A bunch of them work for the Nasts. I used to, but I didn't like it there.”

In other words, she'd been fired for incompetence. That was about the only way out of a Cabal.

“These people must have thought I was, like, the leader of our group, because they wanted to talk to me.”

More likely, they'd simply picked one who didn't work for the Nasts. Safer that way.

“They set up this meeting with me in a real swanky bar. Bought me drinks and everything.”

“They?” I said.

“Two women. Said their names were Lillian and Jeanne.”

Jeanne was one of the younger women I'd met before Giles's big revival—one of the names I'd stored for future reference.

“They told me all about this revolution of theirs. It sounded lame. I mean, why would we want humans knowing what we are? My friend, Em—she's a witch—says that if people knew about our powers, they'd get all paranoid, you know? She couldn't use her unlock spells anymore, and even if she didn't, people would be thinking she did, and building special locks that witches can't bust. Where's the advantage? I don't see it.”

Proving Eloise was smarter than she seemed. Or she had smarter friends.

“I was nice about it, though. I promised I'd tell all my friends. Then I left, and I got all the way down the street before I remembered my sunglasses. That was karma, you know.”

“Karma?”

“Fate or something. That I forgot my sunglasses. Because when I went back in, who was sitting there but Anita Barrington, talking to the women. Her and a guy. I was totally freaked out, but I played it cool. I went over and I got my glasses, and I was hoping maybe they'd introduce me, but they didn't.”

“You said there was a man with her.” Giles, I was guessing. “Could you describe him?”

“Better than that. He's in another picture. I sent you all of them. I took a bunch, because I was sure my friends would never believe me.”

I checked my phone. There were two with Giles—I passed the phone to Cassandra.

“He's with the movement,” I said. “He's the leader. A guy named—”