It was hard to imagine how Claire's day - even by Morganville standards - could get any worse ... and then the vampires holding her hostage wanted breakfast. "Breakfast?" Claire repeated blankly. She took a look at the living room window, just to prove to herself that, yes, it was still dark outside. Getting darker all the time. The three vampires all looked at her. It was bad enough having that kind of attention from the two she hadn't properly met yet - man and woman, eerily pretty - but when the cold, old Mr. Bishop's eyes focused her way, it made her want to curl up in a corner and hide. She held his stare for a full five seconds, then looked down. She could almost feel him smiling. "Breakfast," he said softly, "is something to be eaten in the mornings. Mornings for vampires are not controlled by sunrise. And I like eggs." "Scrambled or over easy?" Claire asked, trying not to sound as nervous as she felt. Don't say over easy. I don't know how to make eggs over easy. I don't even know why I mentioned it. Don't say over easy. . . . "Scrambled," he said, and Claire's breath rushed out in relief. Mr. Bishop was sitting in the comfortable chair in the living room that her housemate Michael normally occupied while he was playing his