PARTY GIRLS

It wasn't healthy, I could admit. I knew sponge cake and marshmallow cream weren't the cure for physical frustration, that a long run through Hyde Park or a training session with Luc would have cured me better than calories might have.

But that didn't make my fourth Mallocake - a processed and hydrogenated log of chocolate sponge cake filled with marshmallow cream so sugary it left your teeth gritty - any less delicious than the third had been.

Mallory had discovered Mallocakes one night at a convenience store in Bucktown. There were only a few stores in Chicago that sold them, which made her burgeoning love for the things  - sparked in part because of the similarities in their names - that much more inconvenient.

Mallocakes were made by a mom-and-pop bakery in Indiana that shipped them out only once a month, which made them harder to find.

But pain in the rear that they were to acquire, I couldn't fault her taste.

They were ridiculously good.

The chocolate sponge cake was just the right balance of tangy chocolate and not-too-sweet cake, which matched up perfectly against a cream filling that reeked of sugar. There were a few hundred calories in a single dose, and each box boasted half a dozen cellophane-wrapped cakes. They were a self-pity sesh just waiting to happen.

On the other hand, I was a vampire. They couldn't hurt me. Whatever criticisms you might level against Ethan for making me a vampire, I had a crazy-fast metabolism and no obvious means of weight gain.

A smarter vampire might have tried blood, satiated the need with a bag or two of type O or AB. But Mallocakes were so very human. And sometimes a girl needed to stay in touch with her humanity. Sometimes a girl needed breakfast that didn't involve flax or wheatgrass or organic free-range cruelty-free whole grains. Besides, we were the only beings alive who could eat processed sugar and carbs with impunity - why not go for it, right?

Mallocakes, it was.

Really, it was a celebration prompted by the fact that the day's paper didn't reveal word one about last night's rave. Things may not have gone smoothly in the House when I'd returned, but a quiet press was still a victory we needed.

And so, one small victory and two thousand calories later, I stuffed empty cellophane wrappers into the trash and grabbed my phone from the nightstand. I'd had my snack, so it was time to get back to work.

Jeff answered before the first ring was complete. "Merit!"

"Talk to me, Jeff. Any news on that phone number?"

"Not a damn thing. It was assigned to a disposable phone, and the account has no other outgoing messages or calls. Just the one text. And I didn't find any record of purchase in my merchant-data file for the minutes or the phone itself, so it was probably cash on both those transactions."

"Hmm. That's a bummer. And for the record, I'm very disturbed you've got merchant-data records."

"It's only mildly illegal. Hey, you want me to make you disappear from the financial system? I can do that. Even the Fed couldn't find you. They are such noobs over there."

There was too much enthusiasm in his voice for my comfort. I was the granddaughter of a cop, after all. On the other hand, Jeff worked for that cop.

"No, thanks. And if you're committing felonies, let's make sure it's for the good of the city."

"You're no fun," Jeff complained.

"Aw, that's not true. I'm plenty fun."

"Vamps are really only like ten percent fun at any given time. The other ninety percent is largely fretting. And bloodletting."

"You've been spending way too much time with Mr. Bell. Hey, while I've got you on the phone, can I talk to him? I've got a question."

"Absotively," he said, and then I heard his request. "Catch, the grandkid's on the phone."

I heard shuffling, which I imagined was the sound of Jeff carrying his phone to Catcher. That gave me time to adjust to the fact that I'd been deemed "the grandkid." So much for my vampire suaveness.

"Yo gabba gabba," Catcher said. "What's up?"

"Drugs."

"We're in the third-biggest city in the country. You're going to need to be more specific."

I picked up the envelope and looked it over.

"White tablets. Dose is maybe two at a time, and they're delivered in a little white envelope.

There's a V on the pill and also on the outside of the package."

He was quiet for a moment. "I'll have to check the database, but it doesn't sound familiar. Why do you ask?"

I gave him the rundown, substituting Noah's name for Jonah's again, and hating that the lies were beginning to layer on top of one another.

Pretty soon I was going to need an app just to keep everything straight.

"Is there a chance humans were being doped with it?" I wondered aloud. "To make them more susceptible to glamour?"

"So they'd be more willing to give blood at a party? That doesn't ring for me." I imagined him leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head, ready to dish out some wisdom. "Kind of a lot of trouble to do something glamour would do anyway. I mean, that is the point of glamour, after all."

"True."

"And besides, I don't want to blame the victim here, but if they're showing up at a vamp party, they probably have some idea that bloodletting's going to happen. That doesn't mean they're consenting to it happening to them - playing pro-vamp at a party isn't the same thing as sitting down and offering up a vein - but the point is they may not need a double dose of convincing.

You know about the wristbands?"

"The red ones? Yeah, I saw them. There were a few there."

"Then it doesn't sound like the vamps needed to convince anyone. And, frankly, humans sitting down and presenting a vein doesn't exactly offer much challenge. I'm not sure that's the kind of thing testosterone-laced vamps would even enjoy."

"This one doesn't," I confirmed. "There was a lot of magic floating around. Any chance the magic was external? Not vampire, I mean?"

His voice went flat. "You're asking if a sorcerer would knock out a human so a vampire could go at her? Even if there were Order schlubs in Chicago other than Mallory and her tutor, which there aren't, no. There's no way a sorcerer would do that."

"What about aggression? Would a sorcerer be interested in making vamps more aggressive, giving them a hair-trigger temper, that kind of thing?"

"I hate to dash your dreams, Merit, but your testosterone levels aren't really of interest to the Order."

So much for Jonah's sorcerer idea, not that I'd been a big fan of it anyway. "Then I'm flummoxed. I was hoping you'd have insights."

"I always have insights. You said there were violence, glamour, and drugs, right?"

"It was Ghouls Gone Wild in there. The biters had fangs out, and I saw a lot of really silvered eyes. Not the usual irises-turned-silver bit. There was enough magic, enough glamour, enough blood floating around, that their pupils were narrowed down to nothing." I nearly outed Jonah, and had to remind myself to use his cover - "Noah created a distraction with some blood, and the vamps went batshit crazy."

"It's blood. You're vampires. Batshit crazy is pretty basic math."

"Not just First Hunger bloodlust. More, I don't know, angry?" I thought about what Ethan had said. "It was like the whole event wasn't about sensuality; it was about fighting. Aggression.

Adrenaline. We're not talking a few vamps drinking in some hole-in-the-wall hiding place.

We're talking a big party with a lot of magic, a lot of glamour, a lot of susceptible humans, and a lot of very angry vampires ready for a fight."

Catcher sighed. "I don't mean to be the bearer of bad news, but maybe that's just a side effect of the popularity. Maybe that's just how vamps are partying these days."

"If so, they're doing the recruiting at Temple Bar. And the phone that received the text was found at Benson's."

I heard the creak of his chair.

"They're recruiting at House bars?" he asked.

"From what we've heard. Word is, the recruits at Temple were a short guy and a woman. We think her name was Marie. Did I ever tell you Celina's given name? Marie Collette Navarre," I said, without waiting for his answer.

"Now, that is interesting. It's shitty evidence, but it's interesting."

"I live to infotain."

"I don't suppose you have plans to head to Temple Bar and investigate?"

"I'm leaving within the hour."

"Good girl. In the meantime, I'll talk to our vamp source and see if I can find out anything about the recruiters. Besides, I owe you a favor."

"You do?"

"I do." He cleared his throat a little nervously.

"Mallory and I talked last night."

"Is she okay?"

"She's not her best. But she's feeling a lot better after a little conscience clearing. You did good by her, Merit, and I appreciate it. A lot. I talked her down," he assured me. "The rest will come with time."

My eyes welled a little at the corners.

"Thanks, Chief. I was worried. I love her, too, you know. Just not in the grotesquely physical way that you do."

"The sex is phenomenal."

I made a faux gagging sound. "Spare me the details and call me if you learn anything."

"On it," he said, and the line went dead.

I hung up the phone and stared at the receiver for a minute, not quite ready to make the next connection in tonight's callathon.

Ethan might not have bought my argument, but I still suspected Celina had some part in this: at a minimum, hiring vamps - or perhaps a short guy - to do her dirty work. It was too much of a coincidence that "Marie" was running around inciting vamps to treat humans like disposable convenience food.

I made myself a promise - whatever it took, she was mine. She'd caused me trouble, she'd caused Ethan trouble, and she was lining up trouble for the House and the city. Even if I had to hide it from Ethan and the GP, I was going to bring her down.

Of course, I still needed evidence. I could admit the use of an old alias wasn't exactly strong support for my theory. And if I wanted to confirm whether she'd been involved, who had the best access to Celina?

Morgan Greer. Newish Master of Navarre House, former (brief) boyfriend, and former Celina booster. I wasn't exactly looking forward to the call. But he'd been Celina's Second, and that made him my best source for info about her current whereabouts. I couldn't trust he'd voluntarily call up Scott and Ethan and offer them information.

I punched in Morgan's number - which was still in my phone just waiting for a drunk dial - and hung on for the ring.

"Greer," he threw out. There was something pretentious about his answering with his last name. He'd gained it back when he became Master of Navarre House; apparently he wanted to remind callers about that change in position.

"Hey, Morgan. It's Merit."

"Oh. Hi." Suspicion snuck back into his tone.

"I'm sorry to call you, but I need a favor."

"A favor?"

"Yeah, and I need you to promise not to freak out."

"No one ever says that unless the odds of freaking out are pretty high."

"True." I paused for courage, then spit it out.

"I need to talk to you about Celina." I gave him the details, from the would-be rave to the woman named Marie outside Temple Bar.

There was a long pause. "And what, exactly, do you think she's doing?"

"I'm not sure yet. Maybe soliciting humans for some kind of vamp anger-management sessions?"

He made a disdainful sound. "Merit, even if I conceded the point, which I don't, the GP isn't going to put her behind bars."

"Maybe not. But if we have enough

information about what she's really doing here, we tip the odds. And if nothing else, we gain a better understanding of what she's up to and how we can keep her from destroying the city."

"So, let me get this straight - you want me to help you investigate my Master, the woman who made me a vampire, whom I gave two oaths to serve, against the wishes of the GP, and you don't have any evidence of whatever it is you think she might be involved in?"

"'Investigate' is a really strong word. I prefer 'keep apprised of.'"

He went quiet.

"Look," I said, "I know it's a lot to ask, especially from you, especially from me. But she's tried to kill me twice, she's tried to kill Ethan, and God only knows if she's really staying out of Navarre business."

That last one was a stretch, but given the quick hitch in his breath, I figured I was on to something.

"She's got friends," I reminded him. "At least a couple from Cadogan, and that's not even her House. Have you lost any members lately?"

I had to give it to him. His tone changed, from adolescent angst to vampire in charge.

"No," he said. "But they loved her. And I haven't made any vamps yet. Won't until the spring, so their allegiances are to her. Would it surprise me if they'd been in touch? And that they hadn't told me about it? Eh. I wouldn't put great odds on it, but stranger things have happened."

"If she is mixed up in this - getting humans to vamp parties - why would she do it? What would her motivation be?"

"Well, she did have the crown whipped out from under her, so to speak. If she can't play the vamp heroine, maybe she's ready for a stint as the antagonist."

"The humans don't like her anymore, so she'll happily feed them to the wolves?"

"Like I said, stranger things have happened.

But I seriously, seriously doubt she's playing it that loose. Showing up at a Cadogan bar where folks might recognize her? That doesn't play for me."

And now Morgan and Ethan were thinking alike. That was a frightening development. But they'd both forgotten something important about Celina.

"But those folks might include me. And she's taken the chance for a showdown with me whenever it's presented itself." The woman had it in for me, although I wasn't entirely sure why.

"I don't know. I'm just not feeling that argument."

"Well, if you start to feel it any more strongly - or maybe you hear anything concrete about Celina or her whereabouts - could you give me a call? And if you don't want to do it for me, consider the fate of the city."

"You think she would cause that much trouble?"

"Yes, Morgan, I do. Celina is very smart, very savvy, and, from what I've seen, very unhappy about the way things went down. She expected to play the martyr with humans as well as vamps.

She might have a few vamps on her side - "

"And Cadogan vamps at that," he interrupted.

I rolled my eyes, but continued. "She might have a few vamps on her side, but she doesn't have humans anymore. And that's the thing that bothers her."

"Get me some evidence," he said, "and we'll talk."

He hung up the phone.

Why did everyone keep demanding "evidence" and "facts"? I swear, cop and courtroom dramas were ruining the good name of gut instinct.

Well, either way, I was going to have to get more info. Might as well get started.

My attempt at Temple Bar espionage couldn't get started without a little introductory chat, so after I showered and donned more club-worthy clothes - my black suit pants and another tank, this one in red, matched with red Mary Jane - style heels - I headed to the basement.

The House was four stories of vampire wonder: dorm rooms and Ethan's suite on the top floor. Dorm rooms (including mine), the library, and the ballroom were on the second floor. The first floor held administrative offices, the cafeteria, and the sitting rooms. The basement, however, was all business: training room, the Cadogan House arsenal, a gym, and the Operations Room. The Ops Room served as Luc's office and the HQ for the Cadogan House guards, including Lindsey and, on rare occasions, me. The Ops Room door was cracked open, and this time I had the good sense - and the patience - to peek inside before storming in.

Juliet and Kelley sat at computer stations along the wall, which meant Lindsey was probably outside patrolling the grounds. Luc sat at the conference table that took up the middle of the room - but he was wearing a suit.

Across from Luc sat a tall, slightly gawkylooking man in a suit at least a size too large. He was talking at full speed about his video-gaming hobby.

"And I try not to use cheats, but you can't always rely on the designers to have created a game that progresses logically through any particular portion of the world, so occasionally you have to compromise your standards and find a cheat code in order to move forward, because you really don't want to lose the inertia of forward, progress or you'll completely lose interest in the quest."

When he paused for breath, I found myself sucking in air, too. This guy, whoever he was, did not know when to stop.

"Thank you, Allan. I think that's an interesting answer, although it doesn't entirely speak to how you could contribute as a House guard."

Oh, my God, Luc was interviewing this guy.

We were a man down since Peter's betrayal, so he must have been looking for a replacement. I hoped this one was a safety pick and not Luc's first choice; otherwise, we were in trouble.

Allan's expression was withering. "It goes to the times in which I, as a House guard, would need to rely upon my own fighting instincts and occasionally disobey the standard procedure - the standard protocol, if you will - rather than following the dictates of a Guard Captain who - "

"Wow," Luc interjected, "that is an excellent clarification, and I think that will do it for us today, since we've got another meeting coming up - oh, and look, here's our Sentinel now!"

I muttered a silent curse, but put on a fake smile and pushed through the door. "Hi, there."

Luc jumped up and headed for the door, then put a hand at my back. "Thank sweet Christ, Sentinel," he murmured, then smiled broadly at Allan.

"Allan, have you met our Sentinel? Merit, Allan is interviewing for the open guard position.

He's a Cadogan vamp living outside the House, and he's looking to join our little family."

That explained why I'd never seen him before.

I offered a little wave. "Nice to meet you, Allan."

But Allan had no time for niceties. "Is there really a reason to have a Sentinel in this day and age, given the state of current security technology?"

"Okay, then," Luc said, then moved Allan toward the door. "Just head right up those stairs to get back to the first floor. Thanks so much for coming in."

"When will I find out when I start?"

"Well, we're just at the beginning of our interview process, but we will absolutely let you know when we're ready to fill the position."

"I'll be on vacation in a week. I'm going to Branson. So you might not be able to reach me. But I have a sat-phone. I could take that with me."

"That is exceptional," Luc said, all but shoving him out the Ops Room door. "I'll be sure to get that information. And say hello to Andy Williams while you're down there."

Luc shut the door, then proceeded to bang his forehead against it.

"Interviews not going well?"

Forehead still pressed against the door, he glanced over. "I want to stab myself in the eye with a pencil. This kid's smart, but his head's in the wrong place, and he doesn't exactly have people skills."

"Then maybe he'd be good on the computers," I pointed out. "Even Jeff Christopher has a Warcraft fixation."

"You are ever the optimist. And I'm not busting his balls for the gaming. I may have cut my fangs in a different time, but I own every current gaming system on the U.S. market." He leaned in. "And a couple from Taipei no one knows about yet."

He shook his head. "Nah, I object to the attitude. We're asking this guy to step in front of a stake for the rest of us if necessary, and he's waxing philosophical about when it's okay to disobey orders? No, thank you. Would you trust him to do that for you?"

"Good point. And no."

"Unless a booth babe was throwing the stake," Kelley dryly threw out, her gaze still scanning the black-and-white closed-circuit security images on her computer screen.

"You hit that one on the head, Kels," Luc said.

"Now, Sentinel, what brings you downstairs, other than your hella good timing? Did Darius scare you down here?"

"Actually, I need to give you a heads-up about something. Could you give Malik a call? Ask him to come down, as well?"

Luc arched an eyebrow. "Got a bee in your bonnet?"

"Not exactly. But I might have a former Navarre Master soliciting humans outside Temple Bar."

Luc's brows lifted. "Let me get him on the phone."

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