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to say, much less something that wasn't exactly complimentary. I shrugged.

"I can take you," I said. "Believe it."

"Prove it, Blood Bag," Jester said.

Gloriana laughed and waved. "Boys, boys, there's enough time for that. Today, you just...spar." She turned to Vassily. "I have places to be. But I believe that my work here is done for now."

"Yes," he agreed. "For now. Come back soon, lovely girl. I'm going to need your help with the old man. He's been getting a bit...impatient."

I watched her walk away, still feeling that subtle buzz of her presence, that seductive thrill...and it didn't go away when I looked at Jester and said, "Let's go, Fang Boy."

And that was the beginning.

Pain, yeah, there was a lot of that, but it seemed like the more time I spent in the ring, facing him, facing everything that I'd ever hated on such a primal level, the pain meant less and less. What mattered was letting the monster out from inside me, the one I'd been starving for almost a year.

I'd come to Morganville to take down vampires.

And Vassily and Gloriana were giving me the chance to do just that.

And oh, God, Ilovedit.

On the way to Common Grounds, Claire texted Shane--just a quick message to say she loved him. No immediate reply, but one buzzed through by the time she'd walked the distance to Common Grounds.

Shane's message said,Be home late luv u .

She was still smiling and feeling almost completely happy when she opened the front door of the coffee shop and heard the bell tinkle to announce her arrival. This time of day, it was full of students gathered together at tables, books and computers out. Study groups, mostly.

She spotted Gloriana right off, because she was at the traditionally vampire tables, in the deepest shadows at the back of the room...and she was surrounded by other vamps. All male. There must have been five or six of them at the table, more than she'd seen gathered together anywhere but in Founder's Square--old-looking, young-looking, all with identical expressions of rapt interest on their faces. All staring at Gloriana, who sat comfortably with one leg folded under her, sipping whatever was in her plain white mug, smiling, and talking. She reallywas pretty, and unlike a lot of pretty vampires, she came across as nice. Sweet, almost. Claire had good reason to think she wasn't, because Eve had taken an instant dislike to her, but still.

It was impossible to resist her charm.

The proof was that one of the guys sitting at the table was Oliver, still wearing his long, tie-dyed Common Grounds apron. He was staring at Glory with a small, bemused smile on his lips, as if he couldn't quite believe that she was here in front of him.

He glanced over and saw Claire standing there, and the smile disappeared. He stood up and came over to her. "What?" he asked. The warmer side he'd been showing to Glory was all gone in a flash.

"Uh, sorry to bother you, but could I get a mocha?" She was buying time, because looking at the situation in front of her, Claire honestly couldn't see how she was expected to get in close enough to talk to Gloriana, let alone gain her trust, or grill her discreetly about Bishop. Wasn't that Oliver's job, anyway?

But maybe Myrnin didn't trust Oliver with Glory. That would make some sense, given what she'd seen. She adjusted her earbuds. Nothing but a low hum of static on them so far, which was bugging her; she'd rather have her music on, but the idea of Frank interrupting it sounded worse than boredom.

Right on cue, there was Frank's voice, whispering to her through the magic of technology. That was creepy, with an extra-strength dose of frightening. She still had nightmares about Frank Collins sometimes. And she thought he'd probably be happy to know that. "Right. You should be able to see her now. According to the records, she looks harmless, but she ain't. Some female vampires have a thing called glamour, and she's got it more than most. She can make anybody like her, including other vampires."

Claire turned away a little, pretending to fiddle with her book bag. "Can you hear me?"

"Yeah, through the microphone on your cell."

"What about Amelie? Could she make Amelie like her?"

"Probably not. Amelie's got a thing vampires call compulsion; she can force people to do what she

wants when she has to. Compulsion trumps glamour every time."

"Does anybody else have this compulsion thing?"

"Oliver," Frank said. "Not as