A mortal man who’d executed a thirteen-year-old boy. A sociopathic hell-spawn of a boy bent on bringing about Armageddon.

“What was his name?” I asked Stefan as he pulled into the alley. “The boy.”

He parked the Lexus. “Tomik.”

“Why did he kill the horses?” I asked. “Why was he angry at the horses?”

“He wasn’t.” Stefan came around to open my door. “He was angry because one of the brothers had refused to allow him a horse to ride to market that day.”

“That’s all?”

Stefan nodded. “That’s all.”

I shuddered.

“Daisy.” He reached out and touched my hair lightly, running a few strands through his fingers. “You asked for candor and I have given it to you. I do not think you have extended me the same courtesy.”

I gave him a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”

“I knew that this matter would be disturbing, but I did not expect you to take it so closely to heart,” Stefan said. “It is more than this infernal lawyer. Something has been troubling you since you dispatched the Night Hag. There is a fear that preys on your mind, something of which you are reluctant to speak.”

I didn’t deny it. “You know, it’s not fair that this bond only works one way. I don’t know what you’re feeling.”

“Yes.” Stefan inclined his head to me. “Which is why I have respected your privacy, and have made no inquiries. Which is why I recant the words I spoke on our last meeting. I will not press my suit, Daisy. I am willing to wait.” Leaning over, he brushed my lips in a fleeting kiss, one that left me yearning for more. “You know where to find me when you are ready.”

Standing on the doorstep, I watched him get into his Lexus and drive away.

Well, damn.

      Thirty-six

I did a lot of thinking.

Stefan was right—I hadn’t been candid with him, but it’s not like I wasn’t planning to be . . . eventually. We were still in the getting-to-know-you phase, and revealing my deepest, darkest fear seemed a little heavy for a second date, especially since that fear was that I would be responsible for the world’s destruction.

Then again, one could say the same of Stefan’s revelation, although to be fair, I was the one who had pushed for it. Oh, I could blame it on the lawyer, but it was Stefan who brought it up in the first place and then went all cryptic on me. And Dufreyne was right; there was history there that I needed to know. On the other hand, Stefan was probably right about him, too. Odds were, Dufreyne had his own nefarious reasons for wanting me to doubt Stefan.

Or maybe he just saw a chance to mess with my head and took it.

I could drive myself crazy thinking about it. I was willing to set aside my doubts and give it a try, I really was, but I didn’t know if I could handle another devastating favor or horrific revelation.

In the end, I waited three days before calling him. “Okay, here’s the thing,” I said. “Is there anything else in your past that’s likely to freak me out?”

There was a brief pause on the other end. “I have lived a long life, Daisy,” Stefan said carefully. “There have been times when I was filled with anger and despair. I do not doubt that I have done things that you would find . . . troubling. But I do not believe that there is anything else in my past that would strike such a personal chord with you.”

“How about your present?” I asked him. “Can you tell me there won’t be another Janek Król?”

“I cannot promise you that no other Outcast will ask you to end his or her existence,” he said. “I can promise you that I will never ask again on another’s behalf.”

“Good,” I said. “Let’s take this slow. Do you like jazz?”

“Yes.” Stefan sounded mildly bemused. “Are you inviting me on a date?”

“Yeah, but not right away,” I said. “You’re right. I’ve been holding back, but I need more time to figure out how I feel about Stefan Ludovic, Hell-spawn Hunter. Next Saturday? I heard there’s going to be a fantastic harmonica player sitting in with the house band at the Bide-a-Wee Tavern.”

“I look forward to it,” Stefan said.

I felt good about the decision. I wished I could say the same about the latest idea Sinclair and the coven laid on me.

While I’d been absorbed in my fraught pas de deux with Stefan, not only had the coven been working on developing the mother of all protection charms, but they’d been wrestling with the issue of how to get it onto the judge’s person or hidden in his briefcase.

“There’s one major problem with that plan,” the Fabulous Casimir said after convening a meeting at his house. “Metal detectors. It’s a federal courthouse. Everyone, lawyers and judges included, entering the building gets scanned. The minute they find a strange metal object in the judge’s briefcase . . .” He fanned his hands. “The jig’s up.”

Oh, crap. I hadn’t thought of that. “Does the charm have to be metal?”

The eight members of the coven looked at me with varying degrees of pity. Apparently that was a stupid question. “It does in this case, Daisy,” Sinclair said. “Pure silver, consecrated with holy water.”

“So we’re screwed?” I asked.

“Perhaps not.” Casimir steepled his fingertips. “You shouldn’t have any difficulty conveying the charm into the courthouse. Jewelry is permitted, and the charm will appear to be nothing more than a simple silver cross on a chain.” He peered at me from beneath his luxuriant false eyelashes. “You can wear a cross without harm, can’t you?”