Poison Fruit

“Do you blame us for wanting things to be nice?” I asked lightly. “At least consider the maroon ones with the gray stripe.”

Not only did Stefan consider them, but he bought a pair. The clerk trembled a bit as he rang up the purchase, whether out of fear or excitement at waiting on a member of the eldritch community, I couldn’t say.

Outside, we ran into Sandra Sweddon engaged in conversation with a city council member dressed in a larger-than-life-size snowman’s costume, who was handing out candy canes.

“Oh, my!” Sandra took in the sight of the two of us together. “Well, aren’t you an attractive pair?” She extended a gloved hand to Stefan. “Mr. Ludovic, I want to thank you for your work with the Open Hearth facility. It’s been a godsend.”

Stefan shook her hand. “It’s been my pleasure. I trust my lieutenant Cooper proved an able replacement in my absence?”

“Oh, yes. The residents adore him.” Sandra turned her gaze on me. “And Daisy, I haven’t had the chance to thank you for banishing the Night Hag. Everyone’s sleeping better for it.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” I said sincerely, my hand nestled in the crook of Stefan’s arm. Holy crap, Stefan and I had the makings of an eldritch power couple. Now that was a surprising notion.

Not a bad one, just . . . strange.

After a few more pleasantries, Stefan and I continued down the block. When I caught sight of Gus the ogre hulking outside Once a Notion, his massive hands braced on the window and his broad nose practically pressed against the glass as he watched a miniature choo-choo train make its way through the toy store’s elaborate display, I’m ashamed to say that I thought about crossing the street. Somehow I hadn’t expected our first outing to be quite such a public occasion.

Instead, I squeezed Stefan’s arm. “Ah, unless I’m mistaken, you’re about to meet my mother,” I murmured. “Also, Lurine wanted me to let you know that if you hurt me, she’ll crush you to pieces. Slowly.”

Stefan’s pupils waxed and waned as he drew a long, slow breath. “I have no intention of hurting you, Daisy.”

“I know,” I said. “But you and I both know that’s no guarantee.”

He didn’t deny it, which I appreciated.

It wasn’t as awkward as it might have been. Having made her point the other day, Lurine was content to be polite. Gus was happily transfixed by the train—don’t ask me why, but toy trains had always held a special fascination for him. Maybe when you have fingers the size of kielbasas, miniatures are particularly compelling.

When I introduced Stefan to my mom, he laid on the Ye Olde World charm without overdoing it. Her eyes sparkled as he complimented her, telling her he could see where her daughter got her looks.

Actually, the whole thing was kind of surreal. I felt like the Mary Sue in a lousy piece of fan fiction, taming the big bad monster with my oh-so-winsome ways. I mean, cookies and cider? Throw pillows? Come on.

Beneath my coat, my tail twitched restlessly. “We should probably keep going,” I said to Stefan. “Dinner reservations and all.”

He gave me an amused sidelong glance. “Of course. It was a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Johanssen.”

“You, too, Mr. Ludovic,” Mom said in a bright tone. “Oh, and please call me Marja.”

Stefan inclined his head to her. “Enjoy your evening.”

As much as I loved the Holiday Stroll, it was a relief to complete the circuit in time for our reservation at the Market Bistro, where Stefan and I were seated at a table in a secluded corner of the restaurant. Even at that, we got a lot of covert stares from the other diners, not to mention the waitstaff.

“I apologize, Daisy,” Stefan said. “I thought this excursion would be a pleasurable one for you, but I fear it’s made you uncomfortable.”

“No, I’m sorry,” I said. “It was a great idea, totally thoughtful. It’s just . . . you brought me cookies and cider. You met my mom. You bought throw pillows.”

He gave me a perplexed look. “Forgive me, but I fail to comprehend the significance. The pillows were your suggestion.”

“I know.” I fell silent as our waiter came over to take our drink orders and inform us of the specials. After he’d left the table, I said, “I’m not even sure what I’m trying to say, Stefan. It’s all just a little too perfect. Especially given the circumstances of our last encounter.”

“Ah.”

I waited to see if he would elaborate. He didn’t. “I guess . . . I don’t know exactly what we’re doing here,” I said. “You and me.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Need it be more than enjoying each other’s company and exploring an attraction?”

“No, but . . .” I couldn’t find the words to explain how bringing throw pillows into it changed things.

The waiter came to deliver two glasses of wine, promising to return shortly. Stefan took a sip, fixing his gaze on me. “How old do you imagine I was when I was Outcast?”

I hazarded a guess. “Thirty-two?”

Stefan shook his head. “Twenty-nine. Daisy, there are days when I feel the weight of every century of my life. There are days when I despair of this immortal existence, this endless hunger that must be fed. But there are days when I feel like the young man that I was before I became Outcast and I desire nothing more than life’s simple pleasures, including the companionship of a beautiful woman.”