One We’d been invaded. You can do this. Suck it up. Attack. Use your powers. Instead I leaped up on the sweater table, shaking and screaming along with the mortals in the shop. No. Get down, Gloriana St. Clair, and face the enemy. Weapons, I needed weapons and I sure as hell wasn’t using my fangs this time. I glanced around. The two women perched on the chair next to the dressing room were no help. Their shrieks could have broken glass. Three more women crouched on the counter in front of the cash register. More mortals, totally useless, though one swung an umbrella at the horde. Impressive compared to me. I tossed a sweater at one. Stupid. Didn’t even slow it down. I was a failure. A wimp. I couldn’t quit shaking and couldn’t force myself to get off the table. If a god from Olympus attacked, I’d be right in his face, toe-to-toe. Or another vamp. Bring him on. But whoever had planned this had found my weakness. I thought I heard one right there, on the table, and moaned, horrified. Mice! Dozens of them. Even Achilles had his heel thing. Glory St. Clair has hers. I don’t like anything that’s creepy or crawly. Now my reputation and the business I’d built from nothing were in shreds along with my pride. Would you shop where you saw mice? I’d have joined