Dark Currents
Page 32

Stefan’s head came up, but there was a guarded look in his eyes. Yep, definitely overstepped my boundaries. “My story is a long one,” he said at length. “And I do not intend to tell you the whole of it yet. My trust must be earned, too, Daisy. For now, let it suffice to say that most recently, I lived a comfortable existence in a town in Poland.”
“There’s a functioning underworld in Poland?” I asked, trying to steer the conversation back to safer ground.
It worked. He gave me a look of mild reproof. “Is that any stranger than Michigan? Yes. In Wieliczka, Poland. Many of the major elder deities fled Europe during times of upheaval, but there are lesser ones who remained. Peklenc is one such.”
“Never heard of him.”
He smiled wryly. “As I said, he is a lesser deity, forgotten even by many Slavic folk.”
I propped my chin on one hand. “So why did you leave?”
“To put it simply, I was bored,” Stefan said simply. “I sought a greater challenge. I sought meaning.”
“In Pemkowet?” I was skeptical.
“Your country is young and brash, unsophisticated. Nowhere more so than in its rural areas.” He shrugged. “Such ghouls as are made here are born of extreme faith rooted in considerable ignorance. Believing themselves betrayed by their faith, they embrace the role of the Outcast to the fullest extent, leading lives of lawlessness and pointless mayhem. The motorcycle club’s name is no coincidence. It may be that I can help change this and teach them that there are better ways to live. Perhaps I may even find a purpose to my existence in it. That is the challenge I embraced.”
“Yeah, but why Pemkowet?” I asked. “I mean . . . seriously?”
Stefan smiled again, this time with dimples. “I thought it best to start small. Does that answer your question?”
It did if I believed him. I found it a bit hard to believe that he was the ghoul—or Outcast—equivalent of a crusading do-gooder.
On the other hand, he was taking steps to crack down on the ghoulish drug trade, so that was something. And he did appear to be doing his best to assist us. And there was that whole moment-of-emotional-intimacy thing.
On the other other hand, the entire reason the chief had wanted me at Thad Vanderhei’s funeral was to spy out any eldritch presence there. As he’d said, attending a funeral was the sort of thing a ghoul would do, especially if he was the perp. And surprise, surprise, who did I find in attendance? I had only Stefan’s word to explain his presence there, not to mention his assertion that he’d learned nothing. And for all I knew that sense of intimacy I’d experienced was just another predator’s weapon, like a vampire’s hypnosis.
“You speak pretty flawless English for a Polish ghoul,” I said. “And you ride a mean Harley.”
He looked amused. “There are motorcycles in Poland, Daisy, and I spent time paying my dues among the Outcasts’ club before I earned my colors. And over the course of centuries, it is not uncommon to master many tongues.” One eyebrow arched. “As, no doubt, your protective friend Miss Hollister could attest.”
Out of the blue, that gave me an idea. “That glamour-casting pendant of yours. How does it work?”
Stefan looked surprised. “You must hold the image you wish to project in your mind to invoke it.” He touched the crystal lightly. “It cannot fully conceal the truth, merely blur it. I cannot change my likeness entirely, but it allows me to pass as mortal beneath mundane scrutiny at need. Why?”
I eyed the smoky quartz. “Would it work outside of Hel’s domain?”
“For a time,” he said. “No longer than a day or so. Then its magic would begin to fade, as with anything. As below, so above. May I ask again, why?”
“I’d like to borrow it,” I said.
Stefan’s face turned unreadable. “You ask more than you know. I told you it was a gift from a dear friend. It is not the sort of thing to be loaned on a whim.”
“I’m not asking on a whim.” Okay, that was kind of a lie, but I thought it was a pretty good whim. “If you want me to trust you, trust me.”
He hesitated, then nodded at my straw satchel on the booth beside me. “Then give me a token of your trust in trade. Tell me what item hidden in your bag sends a shiver of ice the length of my spine.”
I hesitated, too, but Hel hadn’t said anything about keeping it a secret. “A dagger.”
“What manner of dagger?”
I looked squarely at Stefan. “One capable of killing the undead.”
Even beneath the glamour, he paled. “I see. That explains why I sense its presence.” He inclined his head. “Hel places considerable trust in her young liaison.”
“Desperate times,” I said for the second time. “Desperate measures. Do we have a deal?”
“We do.”
Twenty-five
First of all, I called to check in with the chief. I reported on what I had and hadn’t learned today, and then I told him I planned to do a little undercover sleuthing at Triton House that evening.
There was a long silence on the other end of the phone. “I didn’t mean for you to fly solo on this, Daisy.”
“I won’t be.”
“I can’t spare Fairfax,” he said. “We’re too shorthanded and the town’s restless. I can’t take him off patrol tonight.”
“I didn’t mean Cody. It’s, um, a member of the community.” I cradled the phone against my ear, peeling the lid off a bowl of ramen. “Look, you said to make the Masters of the Universe a priority. And like you said, I can pass for a college student.”
“Not without backup,” he said.
I flashed on the image of Lurine in the river, her splendid coils thrashing the water as she summoned the naiads in a bronze-edged voice. “Oh, I’ll have backup, sir. Trust me? I saw what happened at the funeral. We need to move on this.”
Chief Bryant grunted and ended the call.
I took it as a yes.
While my ramen noodles cooked in the microwave, I called Lurine. “So, how bored are you?”
“On a scale of one to ten?” she asked. “Oh, maybe a seven. What’s up, cupcake?”
I fished out my bowl of noodles and stirred them, then stuck them back in the microwave. “Want to help me play Nancy Drew at a frat house? I need backup, and I could really use the skills of a good actress.”
“Love to,” Lurine said promptly and regretfully. “But, honey—”
“I know,” I said to her. “Outside of certain werewolves on the down-low, college students are probably your biggest audience.” Picking up the chain of Stefan’s pendant, I let it dangle from my hand as I regarded it, the cloudy facets glistening dully. “What if I could guarantee you wouldn’t be recognized?”
There was a brief pause. “I’m listening.”
I told her my plan.
“Okay, cupcake. It sounds like fun.” Her voice was filled with light, playful menace. “Shall I send the car for you?”
I smiled. “Lurine, we can’t take a car and driver. I’ll drive. I’ll pick you up in half an hour, okay?”
She sighed. “I hate Method acting.”
Half an hour later, I pulled up to Lurine’s gated drive. I’d exchanged my pumps for strappy sandals, my linen skirt for a denim mini, and shed my demure little cardigan. After announcing myself, I was buzzed through the gates.
As usual, Lurine looked fabulous. She had poured herself into a clingy black spandex dress that hit her at midthigh. When I arrived, she was checking her flawless makeup in an immense lighted mirror at her vanity table.
“Hey, baby girl,” she greeted me. “Let’s see this magic necklace.”
I handed her Stefan’s pendant. “He said you have to hold the image you want to project in your mind to invoke it.”
Lurine glanced in the mirror and pursed her lips. “This is the image I want to project.”
“I just need you to dial it down a few notches,” I said. “Just for tonight.”
“I know, I know.” She examined the smoky quartz. “Interesting. I don’t recognize the signature.”
“It has a signature?”
“All magic has a signature. Okay, let’s give this a try.” Lurine lowered the chain around her neck, the pendant nestling in her cleavage.
The shift was subtle and instantaneous. As Stefan had indicated, it didn’t change her likeness entirely, but Lurine looked . . . different. She looked like she could have been her own younger sister: not quite as gorgeous, not quite as glamorous. A little less intimidating, a little more approachable.
She made a face in the mirror. “Well, it works.”
I smiled. “You look perfect.”
“Come on.” She grabbed her clutch purse. “Let’s go meet some frat boys.”
I drove north toward Appeldoorn. There was a brief frisson as we passed out of range of Hel’s domain: a sense of loss, like a little of the brightness had gone out of the world. I stole a quick glance at Lurine to confirm that the pendant’s charm was still working. It seemed to be holding just fine.
Lurine sniffed disdainfully and wriggled in the passenger seat. “Ah, back into the mundane world.”
“It can’t bother you that much,” I said. “You spent years in it.”
She shrugged. “I’m an immortal monster, cupcake. It would take more than a few years for me to run the risk of fading away without an underworld beneath me.”
“You’re not a monster,” I said automatically.
“Actually, I am,” she said in a pragmatic tone. “As surely as you’re a demon’s daughter. That’s one of the reasons I’m so fond of your mother, Daisy. When I saw how determined she was to love her hot-tempered little hell-spawn . . .” Affection filled her voice. “Gods, you were a handful!”
“So I’ve heard.”