The man coughed. “We’re actually just outside of Nowhere, and I’ll thank you not to call my home a shack or me an Elder. I’d venture to say you’re a fair bit older than I am, little lady, though it may not look that way.”

“You’re not vampire?” Reg asked.

The man’s hand stopped pawing his beard and became a fist at his side. “’Course not. And lucky for you two, neither are you anymore.”

“Lucky?” I breathed fire. “Lucky?! This is the worst—”

Reg squeezed my arm. “Perhaps we are getting off on the wrong foot. My name is Reginald. This is my sister, Charlotte.”

“Charlie.” I pouted.

Reg crossed the yard with his hand out toward the man, but at least he didn’t bow this time. “You may call me Reg.”

“And you can call me a recluse. All the kids do.” They shook hands, and Reg looked like he might break in the old man’s powerful grasp.

“We’re not kids,” I said, still lingering back by the fence.

“You’ve been kids for a very long time, I suspect,” the man said. “But you won’t be for much longer. Enjoy the few years you’ve got left. One day you’ll be wishing you were kids again.”

“Spare me the teachable moment.”

The man spread his arms wide. “Look, it’s way past late. You’re welcome to sleep out here if you like, but I, for one, am going inside. If you choose to stay in my shack, there are rooms made up for you.”

“We’d like that very much,” Reg nodded hastily. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

“Speaking of hospitality,” I said, “we have a lot of luggage.”

Reg gestured to our mountain of suitcases out on the sidewalk. “Yes, is there someone . . . ?” He trailed off.

The old man eyed the bags. “Best get to hauling it in, then.” He was chuckling again as he made his way back up the porch steps.

I waited until he was inside the cottage to fix Reg with my most withering stare. “Sir? Thank you for your hospitality? Since when are you so polite to humans?”

“Since we became them,” Reg said. He strode across the lawn until he was right in my face. It seemed to take ages. “And since the first person we’ve met is strong enough to rip my arm off with a simple handshake.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Don’t be so stubborn.” He marched past me and stood at the center of the pile of luggage. “This is all we have. Everything we own, save for whatever Drake House put in our trust.” He pointed toward the cottage door. “Our lives are in the hands of—of—”

“Some old guy?”

“Precisely. So I simply want to weather this ordeal with what little bit of dignity we have left and hang on to our few remaining worthless belongings.”