The Dark Glamour (666 Park Avenue 2)

so far,’ Elodie reminded her tartly, and hopped off the bench. She held out a hand to Jane, who reluctantly allowed herself to be pulled up to stand beside her friend. ‘Come on; I could use a pint after all this, anyway.’
    ‘Me, too,’ Jane muttered under her breath, but if Elodie heard that she ignored it completely.
    Instead of responding, she linked her arm through Jane’s, striding off so energetically that Jane stumbled a little to keep up. She checked halfheartedly over her shoulder to make sure they weren’t being followed. Elodie’s positive energy was so infectious, though, that for the first time that day Jane really didn’t expect to see anyone there.
The old Jane didn’t jump at shadows,
she realized with a new confidence.
I’m getting bits of her back already.
She squeezed Elodie’s arm a little extra for good measure and turned her attention back to the path ahead of them.

Twenty-five
    ‘Y OU COULD TOTALLY see the station from there,’ Elodie whispered, pointing along the street. Tucked between a punk clothing store and an apartment building, a pub sat almost directly opposite the yellow-brick building Jane had seen in her vision of Annette. It was painted dark green, had a small dusty window on either side of its red door, and a sign hanging over the sidewalk said THE CHEEKY DRAGON. Elodie discreetly blocked her pointing finger from view with her other hand, looking around them suspiciously.
    The stuff spies are made of,
Jane thought, smiling. Once they had left the stately buildings by the river far behind, Jane was even happier to have company. She didn’t exactly feel unsafe in King’s Cross, but it definitely wasn’t as nice a neighbourhood as the Dessaixes’. Now and then, one of the men hurrying into or out of the station would glance up and stare at her in a way that made her wish she had worn a plain black raincoat instead of her rather flashy Burberry-plaid one. She was glad not to be there alone.
    Ignoring the glances from passersby, Jane stopped across from the pub and took it in. The Dragon seemed to almost be squatting on the kerb. A neon sign advertised Guinness, and a streaky chalkboard by the door listed food Jane was fairly sure would taste even worse than it sounded.
Why do these people insist on eating ‘kidney’ when there’s ‘foie’ out there?
Besides, if the kitchen was anything like the rather grubby bar she had seen Annette working at, Jane suspected that she really should pass on dinner.
    ‘Good, I’m starved,’ Elodie declared, dragging Jane across the street towards the red-painted door.
    ‘Are you French at
all?’
Jane grumbled, but she good-naturedly let herself be pulled across the threshold.
    A few older men – the same men, Jane recognized, who were in bars at five o’clock all over the Western world – were scattered around the dark room. One of the wooden booths was occupied by a twentysomething couple in cheap clothes; a small group of university-age students was gathered around a cluster of stools at one end of the bar. A very young-looking man in a stained white button-down shirt ran a greyish sponge along the bar. Jane twisted her fingers together: was this the right place?
    Some parts looked familiar – the colours were right, and the general shape of the room – but she had seen everything from a perspective that she couldn’t get to without drawing an impossible amount of attention to herself.
And I don’t see Annette anywhere.
    ‘Sit. Down,’ Elodie hissed in her ear, and Jane’s knees buckled cooperatively. Fortunately, there was a wooden bench just behind them, but she suspected that she would have some bruises on her rear end from the impact.
No big; André will kiss that all better,
she caught herself thinking, and blushed furiously. ‘Is she here?’ Elodie asked so softly that she almost just mouthed the words.
    ‘No,’ Jane whispered back. ‘And we’re kind of overdressed.’ Elodie’s stylish boots, expensive top, and obviously well-groomed hair stood out like a stoplight, and Jane imagined that her own sleek Burberry look wasn’t much better. Three of the girls in the student-ish group in the corner, all in sweats and too-tight denim, had their heads close together in a gossipy pose. The young man behind the bar watched Jane and Elodie as though they were a pair of green, slimy aliens and didn’t make any kind of move in their direction. Jane twisted her hands awkwardly together on the table, then