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—”

“Thank you, Eloise,” Cassandra cut in. “That’s very helpful.”

I glanced over to give her shit for interrupting. The expression on her face stopped me. She was staring at the photo. When she caught me looking, she passed the phone back.

“Well, I think that’s everything we need,” she said to Eloise. “Savannah? Any final questions?”

“Nope.”

As we got up to leave, Eloise rose, too. “Do you have to go already? I was hoping you could stay for a drink. I’d really like to get to know you better. You seem like such an interesting person.”

What a nice thing to say. It would be even more flattering if she was talking to me.

“We need to check out a few things,” I said. “But we’ll call tomorrow if we can make it. Right, Cass?”

“Hmm? Yes, of course.”

Which proved she was paying no attention at all. A middle-aged shlub brushed his hand across her ass on the way out and she was so distracted that she didn’t say a word. Nor did she even seem to notice when I veered off track to discreetly return the dog-collar bracelet to the table where she’d found it.

“Okay, what’s up?” I said as we stepped onto the sidewalk. “You know that guy in the photo, don’t you?”

“He’s the man you met? The one who was in charge of the group?”

“Um, yes. It’s all in my report. You did read my report, right?”

“I skimmed it. Aaron mentioned something about the leader possibly being a vampire, but he said you’d vetoed the idea, so it didn’t concern us. That was the man, though, wasn’t it?”

“He’s not a vampire. Warm skin. Breathing. Didn’t try to charm me, which would have made things easier. The only reason I suspected vampirism was because Roni hinted he’d been around a long time. Oh, and I met Anita Barrington, too. She’s the woman who called herself Althea.”