“Cooper said something like that to me once,” I murmured.

He nodded. “Yes. Cooper feels it more acutely than most, being Outcast at such a young age.”

I swirled the wine in my glass. “So you’re saying that life’s simple pleasures also include buying throw pillows?”

“Yes,” Stefan said after a moment’s thought. “If buying pillows means taking part in the ordinary rituals of human life, yes.”

“You’re not an ordinary human, though,” I said quietly.

“No.” Stefan’s pupils surged, dilating in his ice-blue eyes. “I know what I am, Daisy. And I know what you are. What we might be together, I do not know.”

My pulse quickened. “Volatile?” I suggested.

“To be sure.” There was a predatory edge to the smile Stefan flashed me. “All I know is that your existence gladdens me.”

“Why?”

“A fair question.” He inclined his head to me. “I take delight in the vibrancy of your youth and your tempestuous nature. I admire your sense of responsibility, compassion, and justice. I had never thought to find such a thing in a demon’s spawn, and it intrigues me.”

I paused. “You’ve known others?”

“Yes.” Stefan’s voice went flat. “But I would prefer not to have that discussion tonight.”

Ohh-kay. I guess my oh-so-winsome ways hadn’t entirely tamed the big bad monster. I filed that topic away for another day.

“I might ask you the same question,” Stefan added in a lighter tone. “Why are you here with me tonight, Daisy?”

“Because you scare me in a way that excites me,” I said honestly. “You’re right—you and me together is an unknown. But it’s one I can’t help being curious about.”

He raised one eyebrow. “So it’s not because I’m . . . hawt?”

Oh, God. I’d forgotten about Jen’s damned text. Feeling my face flush, I held my ground. “Okay, fine. Yeah, that, too.”

Stefan hoisted his wineglass and smiled at me. “To the unknown.”

“To the unknown,” I echoed, touching the rim of my glass to his.

      Thirty-four

Despite an uneven start, dinner was a reasonable success.

I’ll say one thing—you’ll never run out of topics of conversation with someone who’s lived the equivalent of seven or eight mortal life spans. There were tons of questions I was dying to ask Stefan, but for the most part I managed to restrain myself and let him steer the conversation.

The one exception was the topic of Janek Król. I couldn’t help it—I wanted to know more about the man whose existence I’d ended, and the role he’d played in Stefan’s life. To his credit, Stefan didn’t balk at discussing him. I heard the story of their friendship from start to . . . well, I knew how it finished.

One of the more intriguing things I learned was that Janek’s abiding interest in the Jewish notion of tikkun olam, repairing the world, had set Stefan on his current course.

“Why not try it in Wieliczka?” At that point, we were lingering over after-dinner drinks—port for Stefan, single malt for me—and the name of the Polish town fell trippingly from my tongue.

“I wished to start anew,” Stefan said. “Somewhere I was not known, somewhere I had no history.”

“And Pemkowet seemed small enough to be manageable,” I said. “That’s what you told me last summer.”

“Yes.”

I took a sip of scotch, letting it linger on my palate. “So that’s what this whole business of banishing the meth trade in favor of alleviating grief at the old folks’ home is about. Tikkun olam?”

Stefan cupped his snifter of port in his hands. “It is about seeking to find meaning in the existence of the Outcast.”

“Have you?” I asked.

He gave me a half smile. “I am striving, Daisy. It has been a long time since I made such an effort.”

How long? I wondered. As long as it had been since the last time he’d dated a woman? Longer? I decided not to ask, taking a different tack instead. “Do you believe Janek was right about God’s forgiveness?”

“Yes,” Stefan said. “In Janek’s case, I do.” A distant look touched his features. “I believe that my old friend Janek is in heaven bargaining with God and His angels on behalf of the Outcast.”

“I hope so,” I said. “Although I don’t think you can bargain with God. I mean . . . that’s sort of the point of God, isn’t it?”

“Abraham bargains with God in the Old Testament,” Stefan said. “He begs the Lord not to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah, and the Lord agrees to spare the cities if fifty righteous people can be found there. Abraham bargained him down to ten.”

“And look how well that turned out,” I observed. “Why did God agree to bargain with him in the first place?”

“Ah, well, the Lord had great plans for Abraham,” Stefan admitted. “He was to become the father of many nations.” He sipped his port. “And it has come to pass, as the faith of Abraham and his descendants has risen to prominence.”

“So in other words, Abraham had leverage,” I said, finishing my scotch.

Stefan laughed softly. “I would not have thought to phrase it thusly, but yes, I suppose you’re right. Perhaps I should not have used the word bargain. Perhaps it is enough that Janek reminds God of our existence and pleads on our behalf.”