Upstairs, the rest of us had claimed most but not all of the dozen or so bedrooms. Two extra remained. One of them—the least inviting, stuck in the back northwest corner of the house, with no sun and no views—remained clean, crisp, and unused. The other, I couldn’t tell, because the door was locked. I rattled the knob. Still locked, and solidly. The door didn’t even wiggle against its frame.

“Huh,” I said and leaned close, pressing my ear to the wood, taking a deep breath to try and catch a scent. Nothing. Storage, I imagined.

But there was nothing like a locked door to make a place kind of spooky.

The kitchen had a back door, leading outside to a generous pile of chopped wood for the fireplace. Escape route, I thought in spite of myself.

After investigating the lodge, I took an hour to study the lay of the land around it. Jerome was right; this countryside practically begged me to shape-shift and go running. The wide, grassy meadow went on for miles, ringed in by even more impressive woods, and it all smelled like it was teeming with good things to eat. Two paths led away from the clearing in front of the house: one led to the airstrip in the middle of the meadow, the other to a hiking trail into the surrounding national forest.

I turned my face to the sun, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath of the world. I couldn’t help but relax. I’d have to remember that over the next week. If—when—I got pissed off, count to ten and step outside for a moment.

Joey Provost cornered me on my way back to the lodge. He stepped off the front porch, making a beeline for me. I tried not to let it agitate me; he was just eager, not moving in for the kill. Probably. I stopped and waited for him.

“Kitty! Can I have a word?”

So many snarky ways to respond to that. I refrained; my smile was polite and fake. “What can I do for you?”

“We’re going to get started with the meat of the show tonight,” he said. “We’ve come up with this great idea, but I need your help.”

Uh-oh. I seemed to remember this clause in the contract I signed regarding playing nice when the producers made requests like this. Then again, it was only the first day—how bad could it possibly be? My smile didn’t get any less fake as I waited for him to explain.

“We want people to start opening up, start talking about themselves. Now, I’m not expecting big revelations. But we need to at least break the ice. I figure this is right up your alley. You talk to people all the time—your callers, the people you interview. You’re good at asking the incisive questions, and that’s all I need you to do here tonight. Just interview everyone, like it’s a mini version of your show.”

“You want me to do all your work for you,” I said.

“I wouldn’t put it like that,” he said. “I’d rather look at it as showcasing your talents to the benefit of the entire program.”

“Ooh, you’re good,” I said. That was the kind of lingo that sold shows to network executives.

“So that means you’re up for it? I’d like to see at least one question for each of the participants. And I’m sure you’ll have no trouble keeping the discussion entertaining.”

“That’s my job,” I said.

“If you could get started as soon as Anastasia and the others join you. That’d be great,” he said.

“Great,” I echoed.

After dinner, I called everyone to the living room and announced, “Okay, kids. Camp counselor Kitty has a game, so gather ’round and play nice for the cameras.” Gordon, who was manning the gear this evening, gave me a grin over his camera.

The vampire trio had joined us again, presumably after their dinner. I covertly studied Dorian for puncture wounds but didn’t find any. One blood donor for two vampires seemed a bit light. Dorian would be fainting by the end of the first week. Maybe the vampires didn’t take much. Maybe that was how they stayed so thin. Their clothing this evening was as stunningly elegant as it had been the night before. Gemma wore a different gorgeous cocktail dress, and Anastasia wore flowing silk trousers and a camisole. Still all in black.

I was starting to really like this room, with its rustic, comfy furniture, warm wood fixtures, and soft lighting. A fire burned in the big stone fireplace, making the room cozy, and I had the feeling of being protected in a cocoon of light and warmth that kept the cool night at bay. Like curling up with my wolf pack.

Sitting cross-legged on one of the big armchairs, I faced the gang spread out around me, seated on sofas, on the hearth in front of the fireplace, and in Lee’s case, on the floor. In front of me I held the sheet of paper I’d written my questions on.

I regarded the gathering. “I suppose you’re all wondering why I’ve called you here this evening.” I grinned, barely able to keep from giggling, because that line never got old.

Lee smirked. “Did you call us here just so you could say that?”

“No, actually. Mr. Provost put me up to getting the ball rolling tonight. So we’re going to play a little game called Kitty’s Truth or Dare. Except without the dare part, because I shudder to think what you all would actually be willing to do.”

“Maybe we can save that part for next week, when we start getting punchy,” Tina said.

“Hm. Wouldn’t that be a bad idea? And now that you’ve said it out loud, Joey is sure to go for it,” I said. “Really, this will be painless. I’m just going to ask you a few questions.”

“Wait a minute,” Tina said. “Show of hands: how many of you has Kitty interviewed on her show?” Jerome, Ariel, Jeffrey, and Tina raised their hands. To me she said, “Is this going to be anything like that?”

Hm, I’d definitely have to come up with a way to get the ones I hadn’t interviewed yet on my show. I studied them appraisingly.

“Kitty, you look like you’re hunting,” Lee said.

“Who, me? So yeah, those guys can vouch for me. It’ll be just like that. Nothing to be afraid of.” Why did they all look so skeptical? “Look, this is voluntary, and if you have a problem with it you don’t have to play along. But I think it’ll be fun. It’ll be like those office ice-breaker things.”

“Those are never fun,” Ariel said darkly.

“Right. Fair enough. So, let’s get the rote ones out of the way first. Anastasia, what year were you born?”