“Devon Dawn, here’s Bev Leveto fromThe Best Dressed Vamp , and I’m Todd Seabrook. Your friend Tessa called to tell us you needed fashion help! We’ve been secretly filming you for the past two nights, and—AAACKK! ” A white hand flashed at Todd’s throat, which vanished, leaving a gaping reddish hole. The camera lingered, fascinated, as Todd crumpled to the floor, before it rose to follow the fight between Devon Dawn and Bev.

“Gosh,” said Amelia. “Looks like Bev’s gonna win.”

“Better strategic sense,” I said. “Did you notice she let Todd go through the door first?”

“I’ve got her pinned,” Bev said triumphantly on the screen. “Devon Dawn, while Todd recovers his speech, we’re going to go through your closet. A girl who’s going to live for eternity can’t afford to be tacky. Vampires can’t get stuck in their pasts. We’ve got to be fashion forward!”

Devon Dawn whimpered, “But I like my clothes! They’re part of who I am! You’ve broken my arm.”

“It’ll heal. Listen, you don’t want to be known as the little vampire who couldn’t, do you? You don’t want to haveyour head stuck in the past!”

“Well, I guess not . . .”

“Good! I’ll let you up now. And I can tell from the coughing that Todd’s feeling better.”

I switched off the television and tied my other shoe, shaking my head at America’s new addiction to vampire “reality” shows. I got my red coat out of the closet. The sight of it reminded me that I myself had some absolutely real problems with a vampire; in the two and a half months since the takeover of the Louisiana vampire kingdom by the vampires of Nevada, Eric Northman had been fully occupied with consolidating his position within the new regime and evaluating what was left of the old.

We were way overdue for a chitchat about Eric’s newly recovered memories of our strange and intense time together when he’d temporarily misplaced his memory due to a spell.