But I clamped a hand over my mouth, willing myself not to bring it up again, knowing that if I did, I'd just have to drink more. I slid to the floor, my back against the side of the island, and clutched my knees to my chest, forcing myself to breathe. Forcing my brain to catch up with my body - to accept what it needed.

To accept what I was.

Vampire.

Cadogan Initiate.

That was where Mallory found me - sitting on the kitchen floor, empty medical bags at my feet - minutes before the sun began to rise. She was prepped for work - black suit, heels, chunky jewelry, sassy handbag, blue hair a frame around her face.

Her smile faded. She crouched in front of me. "Merit? Are you okay?"

"I just drank three bags of blood."

Dropping her purse at my feet, Mallory picked up an empty plastic bag with the tips of two fingers. "So I see that. How do you feel?"

I giggled. "Fine, I think."

"Did you just giggle?"

I giggled again. "Nope."

Her eyes widened. "Are you drunk?"

"On blood? No." I swatted the idea with a hand. "It's mother's milk to me."

Mallory picked up the other bag, then walked them both to the trash can and tossed them in. "Uh-huh."

"And how are you? Feeling witchy?"

She went to the refrigerator and pulled out a soda, then popped the tab. "I'm adjusting. I guess I can say the same for you?"

I frowned, considering, then began counting off the events on my fingers. "Well, I found out my grandfather's been lying for four years about his job. I met a sorcerer, met a shape-shifter of indeterminate origin, got propositioned by said shifter, found out I was almost the victim of a serial killer, almost got hit by these magical electric blast things, made out with Ethan, rejected Ethan, was threatened by Ethan." I shrugged. "Pretty average day."

Her mouth fell open, and she gaped at me until closing it with a click of teeth. "I don't know where to start on all that. How about, your grandfather's been lying?"

I pulled myself up from the floor, hands on the countertop to steady myself. It took a moment for my head to stop spinning - the aftereffects, I presumed, of drinking so much blood at one time. "Drink, please?"

Mallory went back to the fridge and grabbed another soda, held it up for my approval, and when I nodded, popped the top.

After she handed it over, I took a long pull, discovering to my delight that diet grape soda was a refreshing chaser to three pints of human blood. I thanked her for the drink, then filled her in on the Ombud and his slate of employees. I didn't tell her about Catcher's recommendation that Mallory get training. I decided the safer course of action was just to put the two of them in a room together - all that beauty and stubbornness - and watch the fur fly.

"I have to train tonight," I told her. "I'm meeting Catcher at a gym on the Near North Side. You want to come along?"

She shrugged. "I could do that."

"Do we need to talk about something? I mean, are we okay?"

Mallory smiled ruefully. "We're fine. It's not your fault I'm . . . whatever I am."

"I bet Catcher has some answers for you."

"That'd be nice."

I finished my drink and tossed the can. "I need to be at the gym by eight thirty. But first I have to sleep. Dawn's coming, you know." I yawned, pointed out, "You haven't asked me about kissing Ethan."