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 strong, though. But Oliver’s a lost cause, anyway. He’s an old friend of Glory’s, if you know what I mean by friend. Looks like he’s given it up already.”

Yeah, she knew about that. She could have guessed it just from seeing the smile on Oliver’s face as he looked at Gloriana.

“Just be careful with her,” Frank said. “If she tries to glamour you, pain may break you out of it—it sometimes works for girls. Not so much for boys, for some reason—probably because she’s not as good at tapping into the girls, or they’re wired up differently. But she probably won’t glamour you, anyway. She doesn’t think much of humans in general, and girls are definitely not her thing.”

“Wait a minute. Back up. Your answer to how I’m supposed to resist is to hurt myself? How is that helpful? Do you think I want to be in pain?”

“Fine. Deal with it on your own, then. Enjoy the ride.” And the hiss was back in her headphones, constant and featureless.

About that time, Oliver gestured impatiently at the counter and thumped a cup down for her. Her mocha, presumably, although she wasn’t putting much faith in a decent brew, not with the scowl he was giving her. Her stalling tactic was pretty much dead in the water, and she couldn’t think of a single reason to walk over there to join Gloriana’s exclusively testosterone-filled—and pulse-lacking—admirers.

And then Gloriana looked up as Oliver slipped back in his chair, saw Claire watching her, and smiled. Their eyes met.

And Claire found herself walking toward the table. She wasn’t afraid, and she wasn’t thinking at all—she couldn’t remember the last time when she’d felt this kind of peace. Freedom from thinking all the time.

Just acting.

“Claire, isn’t it?” Gloriana said. She had a low, pleasant sort of voice, and her smile was bright. “Please have a seat. Oh, Jules, please bring another, would you? I don’t want to leave little Claire standing! So rude.”

Oliver wasn’t scowling anymore, but he wasn’t smiling, either; when he looked at Claire, it was an entirely neutral expression. Another vampire—Jules, presumably, although Claire didn’t know him—brought her a chair and she sat down, sandwiched between two strangers who almost certainly would have been inclined to drink her dry under other circumstances.

And she didn’t feel even a twitch of uneasiness.

I’ve been glamoured. That thought came from somewhere deep inside her, a kind of whispering doubt, but it wasn’t strong enough to make any difference. Not when Gloriana was smiling at her, those wide blue eyes so warm and welcoming. “I’ve heard so much about you,” she said. “So many people speak well of you. Even my old grouch Oliver, here.” She laughed and put her hand on top of Oliver’s in a gesture that was affectionate and, at the same time, a little bit patronizing, like an owner petting a dog. He gave her a quick look and a belated smile. “So, tell me, Claire, what do you think of Morganville?”

Normally, she would have been careful about what she said, but here, under the warm glow of Glory’s eyes, she just…spilled. “I love the people I’ve met here,” she said. “But I hate how it all works. I hate how humans get treated. I hate that it’s okay to hurt us. That has to change.”

Gloriana raised one eyebrow. “I thought it already had,” she said. “So Amelie tells me. No hunting without permission, and then only in restricted zones. It’s all perfectly tiresome, but I do understand the need for conservation, of course. Or are you saying that we should never hunt?”

“Yes,” Claire said. “Never.” There was a low growl from around the table. And she still wasn’t afraid. “Never,” she repeated. “You get your blood from taxes. You don’t need to do that to us. There’s no reason.”

Glory smiled. It was still a warm, charming smile, the kind that invited you to feel part of it. “Of course we have to do it,” she said. “Ask anyone who works with predators; suppressing the instinct to hunt is very, very tricky, and some animals never quite manage it. You must provide a controlled outlet, or inevitably someone will run wild. That would be much worse. Don’t you agree?”

“No,” Claire said. “If somebody breaks the rules, then he’s a criminal. And you ought to treat him like any other criminal.”

“How amusing you are, little one,” Glory said, and laughed just to prove it. “You’re Michael’s friend, aren’t you? One of those who lives in his house?”

“Yes.”

“And the other boy is called…?”

“Shane,” Claire said. She felt a pulse of dread, deep down inside, but it was just a twinge. “His name is Shane.”

“I’ve seen him at the gym,” she said. “He’s got good instincts, I must say. A good fighter. He’d be very valuable, in the right situation.” There was a glint in those lovely blue eyes, and Claire knew, in that same distant, unimportant way, that Gloriana was playing with her now, batting her around like a mouse. “Yes, I can see how he’d be very profitable to have in your corner.”

Oliver leaned back. “Too bad you don’t still own the boxing clubs that you were so fascinated by in Victoria’s time. Those were very lucrative for you, weren’t they?”

“Oh yes, quite profitable,” she said. “Too bad. He’d be quite an asset, wouldn’t he? And an orphan, too, I understand. So sad. Not having good influences makes one so…vulnerable.” She leaned across the table, and the warm intensity of her gaze on Claire’s cranked up so high that it felt like being bathed in pure, warm light, floating in it without a care in the world. “I understand you know my old friend Myrnin. How is he? I do so adore that mad old man. Is he working on anything…interesting?”

“Claire,” said a voice in her ears, a metallic voice that took her a second to place. Frank. “Claire, you can’t answer that. Snap out of it. Do it now.”

But she couldn’t. Even though Glory was talking about Shane as if he was a side of beef, even though she was asking questions about Myrnin, Claire still felt calm and entirely comfortable. She just couldn’t bring herself to feel anything else. Frank sounded angry and upset, but she couldn’t understand why. Glory was the best friend she could imagine having, better than Eve, because Glory would never judge her, never make her feel bad or guilty.

Claire said, “He’s working on—”

“Claire, sorry, but you need to stop this before you get in over your head,” Frank interrupted. And in the next second, she felt a burning, hissing pain that zipped through her body in a flash so fast, it was over before it registered. A shock coming from her headphones. Claire jerked a little, blinked, and her heart rate sped up with a jolt. She yanked out the earbuds, shuddering, and the calm fell away like a shed blanket.

Fear closed in, icy and sharp. Gloriana was still smiling at her, but it didn’t look warm anymore. It looked…predatory. And cruel. Claire swallowed and stood up. Her chair scraped back loudly. All of them were staring at her now, and the only one who didn’t seem to be on the verge of flashing fangs at her was Oliver. He was frowning, but now it was aimed at Gloriana.

“Glory,” he said. “Were you glamouring the girl?”

“A little,” she shrugged. “I just wanted to play.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake, play with someone else. She’s Amelie’s property. And she’s hardly worth your efforts.”

Glory laughed. “I know. But I didn’t hurt her, did I?” She turned that smile back on Claire. “Leaving us so soon, little one?”