"Not immortal," Roux replied. "If she'd cut your head off the day she met you, you'd have died."

"You know what I mean."

"I do." Roux ate the melon with obvious gusto. "This is quite good."

"Why are you here?" Annja asked.

"I thought maybe you might have come looking for me before now," Roux said. "I thought surely you would be curious about the sword. Since you didn't, I thought perhaps it was best if I came looking for you."

"Why?"

"Because of the sword, of course. I knew it couldn't have just disappeared. After you got away and the sword never showed up again, I knew it had gone with you."

"How?"

"As I said, it didn't turn up again at my house." Roux frowned. "Which, I might add, may never be the same again. Why did the Brotherhood of the Silent Rain attack my house?"

"They were after the charm I found in La Bête's lair," Annja said. "How did the sword come with me?"

"Magic. Arcane forces. Some psychic ability on a higher plane," Roux said. "Take your pick."

"Which do you choose?"

"I know why the sword came with you," the old man said.

"Why?" Annja asked.

"Destiny."

Annja was speechless.

"You were destined to hold that sword, Annja Creed," Roux said. "Otherwise you wouldn't have found the last missing piece or me. And, judging from the years I've spent searching for that final piece, no one else could have found it. If you'd found the piece but not me, you wouldn't have found the rest of the sword. Therefore it's destiny."

It was a lot to take in at one time. Annja had trouble dealing with the whole concept. But here she stood, with the sword pressed to the throat of the one man who wanted desperately to destroy it.

She tried to remember when she'd last felt that anything made sense.

She looked at Garin. "Sit over there by the desk."

"Sure." As though he'd just been invited to tea, Garin walked over to the desk and sat.

"We're all three bound by Joan's sword," Roux said. He held up a hand. "May I?"

"I don't think that's such a good idea," Annja said.

"From what I gather, Garin can't touch the sword."

"No."

"It would be interesting to find out if I can."

Annja hesitated.

Roux waved his hand impatiently. "If I didn't want to ask you, I'd simply shoot you and take it off your body."

"You don't have a pistol," Annja said.

Lifting his jacket, Roux revealed the small semiautomatic leathered beneath his left arm. He dropped the jacket to hide the pistol again. "Please."

Reversing the sword with a flourish, Annja laid the blade over her arm and extended the hilt to him.

Roux took the sword easily. He examined it carefully. "This is truly exquisite. You can't see where any of the breaks were."

Tense, Annja waited. She didn't like the idea of anyone else holding the sword.

"Here you go, Miss Creed." Roux passed the sword back. "Do you want to tell me how you did that vanishing trick back at my house?"

Gripping the sword, Annja willed it away. The weapon faded from sight.

Roux grinned in wonder. "Splendid!"

Garin cursed. "You're a fool, old man. Now that the sword is whole again, we're no longer cursed to walk the earth after it. We're no longer immortal."

"Long-lived," Roux argued. "Not immortal. Long-lived. And that remains to be seen, doesn't it?" He looked at the kitchen area. "Do you have anything to drink?"

"Orange juice," Annja said. "Or tea."

"Juice, if you please."

Annja got a glass and filled it with orange juice. She took it to Roux. "What's your interest in this?"

"In the sword?"

She nodded.

"I don't know that I have one," Roux replied. "The sword is complete. I'm not sure what happens now. "

"I know about the curse."

"I suppose you do." Roux sipped his drink. "At any rate, it may well be that my part in this whole affair is over. I truly hope that it is. I have other pursuits I'd like to follow. I'm going to be playing in a Texas Hold 'em Tournament soon and I've qualified for a senior's tour in golf."

"Did you know you're listed as a suspect in Doris Cooper's murder?" Annja asked.

"No. Though it doesn't surprise me."

"Did you do it?"

"No."

"Did Garin?"

"I don't even know anyone named Doris Cooper," Garin protested.

"I don't know," Roux said. "Doris was a good person. Too trusting, perhaps, but a good person."

"Why didn't you try to clear your name?" Annja asked.

"Hollywood was a rat's nest in those days," Roux said. "If the Los Angeles Police Department was determined to pin the woman's murder on me – and I tell you right now that they were – they would have done it. I left the country as soon as I knew they were looking for me." He paused. "Do you want to talk about things that have no bearing on where you're going or what you're going to do? Or do you want to discuss the sword?"

Before Annja could answer, the phone rang. She considered letting the answering service pick up, but she decided she wanted a few minutes of diversion. Things were coming at her too quickly.

"Hello?"

"Miss Creed?" The voice was urbane, accented, and almost familiar.

"Yes," Annja said. "Who is this?"

"Corvin Lesauvage. We met briefly in Lozère."

"I remember you, Mr. Lesauvage," Annja replied. Her thoughts spun. Glancing at Roux and Garin, she saw that both of the men were listening with interest. "You were trying to have me abducted, as I recall."

"Yes, well, I've had to reconsider that. I still want that charm you found and I've had to find new leverage to achieve that goal."

"I don't have the charm," Annja said. "I told you that."

"Then you'll have to get it, Miss Creed," Lesauvage said. "Because if you don't, Avery Moreau will die and his death will be on your head."

Chapter 24

FOR JUST A moment, the loft seemed to spin around Annja. She stood with effort, remembering the young man who had been her guide in Lozère.

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"If I don't get that charm, Miss Creed," Corvin Lesauvage said, "I'm going to kill Avery Moreau. Do you have Internet access?" His voice oozed self-satisfaction.

"Yes."

"Log on, please, and go to this Internet address – LesauvageAntiquities.com."

Waving Garin away from the desk, Annja opened the Web page. It was attractive, neat and precise, with everything in place. The casual peruser knew immediately that Lesauvage Antiquities did business in appraisal and research, as well as purchases and sales of antiques. It was a nice cover for a man who was a drug runner, thief and murderer.

"The Web link I'm about to give you is masked," Lesauvage said. "You'll have to be quick."

Annja didn't say anything. Roux had gotten up and stood behind her, whether out of interest or to help protect her from any attempt Garin made, Annja didn't know.

"Click on appraisals, then hit the F12 key immediately," Lesauvage ordered.

Annja did.

The Web page cycled, then stopped. A window popped up and asked for an ID and password.