At my grandfather's voice, the men who sat at two of the desks looked up from their work. Jeff looked every bit the twenty-one-year-old computer prodigy. He was fresh- faced and cute, a tall, lanky guy with a mop of floppy brown hair. He wore trousers and a white dress shirt, unbuttoned at the top, the sleeves rolled halfway up his lean arms, long fingers poised over an expansive set of keyboards.

Catcher had a solidly ex-military look about him - a muscular body beneath a snug olive T-shirt that read "Public Enemy Number One" and jeans. His head was shaved, his eyes pale green, his lips full and sensuous. Had it not been for the annoyed look on his face, I'd have said he was incredibly sexy. As it was, he just looked disgruntled. Wide berth, indeed.

Jeff grinned happily at my grandfather. "Hey, Chuck. Who's this?"

My grandfather put a hand at my back and led me farther into the room. "This is my granddaughter, Merit."

Jeff's blue eyes twinkled. "Merit Merit?"

"Just Merit," I said, and stuck out a hand. "It's nice to meet you, Jeff."

Rather than reaching out to take my outstretched hand, he stared at it, then looked up at me. "You want to shake? With me?"

Confused, I glanced back at my grandfather, but before he could answer, Catcher, his gaze on a thick ancient-looking book in front of him, offered, "It's because you're a vamp. Vamps and shifters aren't exactly friendly."

That was news to me. But then, up until twenty minutes ago, so were the existence of shifters and the rest of Chicago's supernatural citizens. "Why not?"

Catcher used two fingers to turn a thick yellowed page. "Aren't you the one who's supposed to know that?"

"I've been a vamp for three days. I'm not really up on the political nuances. I haven't even had blood yet."

Jeff's eyes widened. "You haven't had blood yet? Aren't you supposed to have some kind of crazy thirst after rising? Shouldn't you be, you know, seeking out willing victims for your wicked bloodlust?" His gaze made a quick detour to the stretch of T-shirt across my chest; then he grinned up at me through a lock of brown hair. "I'm O neg and completely healthy, if that matters."

I tried not to grin, but his enthusiasm over my notably un-buxom chest was endearing. "It doesn't, but thanks for the offer. I'll keep you in mind when the wicked bloodlust hits." I looked around for a chair, found an avocado green monstrosity behind one of the two empty metal desks, and sank into it. "Tell me more about this vamp-shifter animosity."

Jeff shrugged negligently and went back to tinkering with a vaguely octopus-shaped stuffed animal on his desk. A buzz sounded, and my grandfather pulled a cell phone from a hip holster, took a look at the caller ID screen, then glanced up at me. "I need to take this. Catcher and Jeff will get you started." He looked at Catcher. "She's trustworthy, and she's mine. She can know everything that's not marked Level One."

At my smile and nod, he turned and disappeared through the door.

I had no idea what Level One was, but I was pretty sure that was the stuff I'd really want to know. Or it was the stuff that would scare the crap out of me, so it was probably better not to press the point today.

"Now you can get the real scoop," Jeff said with a grin.

Catcher snorted and closed his book, then slid back in his chair and linked his hands behind his head. "You met any vamps yet? Beyond Sullivan, I mean?"

I stared at him. "How did you - "

"Your name was in the paper. You're Cadogan's vamp, which mean's you're Sullivan's vamp."

My skin prickled. "I am not Sullivan's - "