“Can you watch where you are pointing that thing?” I snapped.

Sal obliged, aiming the pointy end toward the floor.

“We don’t have to be BFFs with everyone to get a sponsor,” I said to Reg. “I’m sure we can find someone to take pity on us. Maybe a member of the Blood Clan.”

Reg disagreed. “They don’t take pity on anyone.”

“But they hate the Elder laws,” I argued. “If it were up to them, vampires would feed on humans without limits. They might be sympathetic to our cause.”

“You don’t want to get mixed up with the Blood Clan,” Sal warned. He blew a layer of sawdust off the flat side of his post. “Nastiest bunch of vamps I ever had the displeasure of meeting. Vicious.”

“Forgive us if we don’t rely on the opinion of a slayer,” I said.

“What about the Starlight Clan?” Reg asked.

I had to laugh. “No way. Do they even drink human blood?”

“Of course they do,” Reg said. “But not without permission. They ask mortals to make an offering.”

“Well, we didn’t exactly ask permission for what we did,” I said. “I doubt the Starlights would approve. And wasn’t the Treaty of Annis their idea? You know they think it’s wrong for anyone our mortal age to be vampire. I’m surprised they’re not lining up outside this cottage to become human again themselves.”

“They may not like the hunt,” Sal interjected. “But they still like the immortality.”

A dark cloud seemed to gather over him—eyes hooded and a deep frown creasing his face. “Some vampires won’t give it up for anything.”

He dropped his wooden post on the table with a loud clatter and turned to stare out the window, the darkness on his face clearly taking over his thoughts.

Reg and I exchanged a questioning look, not sure where Sal’s gloom had come from.

Finally, Reg spoke. “Well, that just leaves the Shadow Clan, then. Mysterious group.”

“Very,” I agreed. “So mysterious that I don’t think we even know any of them.”

“What about that Jonathan guy we met in Belize a few years ago?” Reg suggested. “Wasn’t he a Shadow? I think he had a crush on you. I bet he’d do us a favor.”

“I bet he would,” I said. “If he hadn’t fed on that over-intoxicated girl on the beach, gotten drunk from her blood, and stumbled off a pier.”

I shuddered at the memory. If Reg had seen it with his own eyeballs like I had, he would not have forgotten so easily. As for me, I could never forget the visual of Jonathan dropping chest-first onto the sharp wooden post holding up a “No Swimming at Night” sign. He had immediately turned to black smoke and been carried away by the wind.