Reg pushed past me up the steps to the porch. “We were at a coffee shop frequented by the local youth. Perhaps you’ve heard of it. It’s called All Hours and—”

“I know it,” Sal snapped.

Reg hesitated at Sal’s agitation. “We made some friends. We’re attempting to fit in, per your sage advice.”

I rubbed my nose and made exaggerated kissing noises, because words alone would not be enough to express to Reg what a traitorous suck-up he was.

“Look, it’s simple.” Sal turned away from us, and we followed him into the cottage kitchen. “If you go missing, I’m bound to report it. It’s part of the deal.”

“Report it to whom?” Reg asked. “The Elders?”

I shrugged my backpack off and dropped it on one of the carved wooden chairs around the kitchen table. “How much are they paying you to babysit us, anyway?”

“Not enough,” Sal muttered.

“And if you report us to the Elders for running off or misbehaving, what do they do, come give us a superpowered spanking?”

“Can’t say for sure,” Sal said with an ominous tone. “No one who leaves ever comes back.”

That wiped the smirk off my face. “Oh.”

“Do you think they . . . Would they . . . ?” Reg stuttered.

“I don’t think they’d hunt you down to kill you,” Sal said, a kind note cutting through his gravel voice. “Most likely a mind swipe, I imagine. Maybe a hundred bucks and a hotel room.”

I wasn’t sure that scenario was any better.

“That’s barbaric,” Reg protested. “Memory fades are not meant to be punitive.”

Sal busied himself at the stove, adding this and that to a giant pot.

“Not okay as a punishment but okay to use on human victims for mere convenience, eh?”

“The fade is used on newborn vampires as well, not solely humans,” Reg objected. “And it’s not convenience. It’s necessity.”

I smiled. After all his waxing poetic about humanity, it was good to hear Reg defending vampire culture and traditions.

Sal grunted a humorless laugh into his pot. “Necessary to protect your immortal arses. I’m sure you did a number on that boy you bled.”

Reg stiffened. “His fade was more than we were capable of. We usually only need to take a few small memories—our faces, the feeding. It is a talent that takes years to perfect. The Elders have to assist with . . . messier situations. But I assure you, the process is quite humane.”

I chose a chair at the end of the table and leaned back, hands behind my head. Watching Reg spar with Sal instead of kissing his ass was pure entertainment.

“That’s rich!” Sal twisted around to wave a wooden spoon at Reg. “Vampires deciding what’s humane.”

“Take a little blood, heal the wound, clear their memory. No permanent damage. It’s a kindness to spare them any trauma.” Reg sounded less sure of himself now.