Poison Fruit: Agent of Hel

by Jacqueline Carey

  “Oh, it is,” I assured him.

  “Are you reluctant to be seen with me?” He sounded curious, not angry.

  “No!” I took a deep breath. “Okay, fine. You know what? That sounds perfect. Delightful, even.”

  “Then I will call for you at your apartment at six o’clock,” Stefan said. “Is that agreeable?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Do you have a car?”

  “Yes, Daisy.” Amusement laced his voice. “I have a car. I will see you this evening.”

  Okay, so that whole what-to-wear issue? No longer a joke. Oh, I had a decent wardrobe, thanks to the fact that I finally let my mom contribute to it. In fact, I’d been meaning to ask her if the cocktail dress she was making me out of that midnight blue silk shantung that Lurine had purchased was anywhere near finished. But Mom didn’t have the sewing equipment to handle heavy-duty outerwear, and the one thing I didn’t have was a winter coat that was both warm and attractive.

  I’d been planning to wear my leather jacket, figuring that whatever a date with Stefan entailed, we wouldn’t be outside long. Sure, it wasn’t exactly evening wear, but if a twenty-four-year-old hell-spawn can’t rock an edgy look, who can? Besides, Stefan was a member of a biker gang.

  Although as I recalled from the Vanderhei funeral, he cleaned up nicely. God, what was Stefan wearing?

  Okay, I couldn’t worry about that. But the Holiday Stroll meant ambling down two blocks of East Pemkowet, admiring the window displays, popping in and out of stores, chatting with friends. And the cold snap had held. There was no way I could wear my leather jacket without freezing, and there was no way I was wearing the Michelin Man down coat on a first date with Stefan.

  I called my mom to see if she wanted to hit the thrift stores and help me find a decent winter coat. She’s got a great eye for that sort of thing.

  “Funny you should ask, sweetheart,” Mom said in pleased surprise. “I was planning on getting you a coat for Christmas. I, um, noticed at the tree lighting that you needed one.”

  No kidding. I grimaced. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “But I was planning on it!” she protested. “And Macy’s is having a sale on outerwear this weekend.”

  “Macy’s?” We never shopped at expensive department stores. “Mom, no! I’m sure we can find something at Goodwill or one of the consignment shops in Appeldoorn.”

  “No, I’m buying you a new coat.” Mom’s voice had that firm tone that meant her mind was made up. “It just means Christmas will come a little early this year.” She paused. “Is it for a special occasion?”

  “I have a date for the Holiday Stroll tonight,” I admitted.

  “Anyone I know?” she asked in a light trying-not-to-pry tone. “Cody hasn’t come to his senses, has he?”

  “No.” I hadn’t told her everything about Cody and me, but enough. “It’s, um, Stefan Ludovic.”

  “Oh!” Mom sounded surprised again, but not in a pleased way. “Is that . . . safe, honey?” she asked cautiously.

  “I trust Stefan,” I said, hoping she didn’t notice it wasn’t a direct answer. No, the combination of Stefan and me together wasn’t safe. But apparently, I’d become someone with an appetite for risk, at least where my love life was concerned. Or maybe I always had been, and I was only just realizing it.

  At any rate, Mom accepted the answer. “Well, you know I trust your judgment,” she said. “Pick you up in half an hour?”

  “Sounds great,” I said with relief.

  There was a light snow falling, just enough to make the drive picturesque, not enough to make the roads slippery. We headed north on the highway, and I felt a familiar intangible sense of loss as we passed beyond the range of Hel’s sphere of influence, the world becoming a little more drab, a little more gray, as magic leached out of it.

  I thought about what Dufreyne had said about me carrying the underworld within myself, too. It didn’t feel like it, or at least I didn’t think so. But then again, maybe it wasn’t something you could feel. Maybe it just was. I remembered bad things happening when I had temper tantrums as a toddler.

  It was one of the reasons Mom had decided to move to Pemkowet, where the community was considerably more understanding.

  Anyway.

  Unsurprisingly, Macy’s was crowded. Mom made a beeline for the outerwear section, slipping deftly through the throng and flipping through the racks. I checked out the price tags. Even at forty percent off, these were expensive coats. Maybe not to everyone, but they were to me, and I felt guilty.

  “Mom, you really don’t have to do this,” I said in a stage whisper, pointing at a tag. “Come on, let’s go!”

  She gave me an absent look, pulling a beautifully tailored red wool coat with a luxuriant fur collar from the rack. “What do you think of this one?”

  “I think it’s gorgeous,” I said. “And too expensive.”

  Mom held it up in front of me and squinted. “Oh, don’t worry. It’s not that bad. The trim’s fake. They’re doing amazing things with faux fur these days. Try it on.”

  I hesitated.

  She gave me a non-absent look. “Just indulge me. Okay?”

  “Okay, okay!”

  I tried the coat on. It looked fantastic. I looked fantastic. I looked sultry and grown-up and polished. Somehow the vibrant red hue worked with my black, black eyes, while tendrils of my white-blond hair escaping to spill over the glossy dark-brown fur collar made for the perfect contrast. All I needed was a fur hat and a slash of crimson lipstick to go the full Dr. Zhivago. Oh, and maybe a muff and a troika.

  Behind me, Mom regarded me with a complicated mixture of pride and rue. Catching me looking, she raised her eyebrows. “Well?”

  I sighed.

  Sensing a sale in the offing, one of the clerks on the floor swooped down on us. “Isn’t that coat to die for?” she gushed. “And darling, let me tell you, it looks fabulous on you!”

  “We’ll take it,” Mom said firmly.

  We took our purchase and departed. The snow was coming down a bit heavier on the drive home.

  “So when do I get to meet this Stefan Ludovic?” Mom asked, concentrating on the road. “He sounds . . . interesting.”

  That was putting it mildly. Of course, she knew who Stefan was. After Stefan and his broadsword did battle against the axe-wielding specter of Talman Brannigan’s reanimated corpse last Halloween, everyone in Pemkowet knew who he was. But at Mom’s gentle prodding, I’d filled her in on a little of Stefan’s backstory on our outbound journey. Not the whole thing, but just enough to reassure her that I knew what I was dealing with.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Are you going to the Holiday Stroll this year?”

  “Lurine and I promised to take Gus,” Mom admitted. “But I can get out of it if you think it’s too soon.”

  I thought about Stefan asking if I was reluctant to be seen with him. “No, you know what? That’s fine. Let’s not make a plan to meet up or anything, but if our paths cross, so be it. Just make sure Lurine agrees to play nice,” I added.

  “Oh, she’s just looking out for you, honey,” Mom said in a dismissive tone. “You know she’s fond of you.”

  “Oh, I know.” I cleared my throat. “It’s just that Lurine’s idea of looking out for me can be, um, unconventional.”

  We passed the threshold of Hel’s territory and I felt a profound sense of relief as the world brightened, coming alive and vital, filled with the promise of wonder and the potential for magic. I let out a sigh and wriggled in my seat, a knot of tension I hadn’t been aware of easing inside me.

  “It’s always good to be home,” Mom said softly.

  I glanced at her. “You feel it, too?”

  She nodded. “Probably not as strongly as you, but yes.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Mom pulled into the alley alongside my apartment building.

  “Thank you.” I leaned over to kiss her cheek. “You really, really didn’t have to do this. But I love it.”

/>   “Good.” She smiled at me. “You’ve had a lot on your mind, and I just thought you deserved something nice for a change. Just promise me . . .” She stopped and gave her head a little shake. “Have a nice time tonight.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  True to his word, Stefan arrived promptly at six o’clock to pick me up, disembarking from his car, which turned out to be a silver Lexus sedan, and waiting in the alley to hold the passenger door for me when I emerged. It was the first time we’d seen each other since Janek Król’s death, a fact I tried to ignore.

  Stefan gave me an appraising look, his pupils dilating. “Good evening, Daisy. You look lovely.”

  “Thanks.” I patted the messenger bag hanging from my shoulder. “The accessories don’t exactly match, but it was either this or the sword belt. I don’t like to leave dauda-dagr unattended.”

  “Nor should you.” Stefan ushered me into the front seat. “Such a weapon is a grave trust.” Shutting my door, he went around the car and slid into the driver’s seat. “Are you ready?”

  I found myself acutely aware of his proximity and the fact that we were in close quarters. It gave me butterflies in the pit of my stomach. “Let’s do it.”

  We drove across the bridge and parked in downtown East Pemkowet, the site of the infamous Halloween parade. Tonight it was aglow with cheer, all the trees and shrubs bedecked with old-fashioned Christmas lights with the oversized bulbs in primary colors. The same carolers who had graced the tree-lighting ceremony were strolling the streets, competing with the music that spilled out of the storefronts every time a door was opened, which was frequently. There were a few tourists, but it was mostly townsfolk who streamed in and out of the stores, blocking one another’s passage as they paused to exchange pleasantries or gathered in groups on the sidewalk.

  “Shall we?” Stefan offered me his arm. He’d eschewed his motorcycle leathers for a navy blue peacoat, and his longish black hair brushed the collar.

  I took his arm, feeling a little self-conscious. It was a crisp, cold night, feathery snowflakes falling, but I was warm and toasty in my new coat. Scents of mulled cider and gingerbread wafted from the doors as we promenaded past them, pausing to admire the window displays.

  “Are you shopping for anything in particular?” Stefan inquired in front of a boutique featuring expensive home furnishings.

  “Are you kidding?” I laughed. “I can’t afford to shop here. I just like to look. And all the stores have free holiday goodies,” I added. “When I was a kid, I’d gorge on punch and Christmas cookies.”

  “Ah.” Stefan smiled. “Hence the appeal.” He opened the door to the boutique. “Allow me to indulge your fond memories?”

  I have to admit, the whole chivalry thing was new to me and I kind of liked it. After escorting me into the store, Stefan proceeded to the refreshments table and procured a cup of mulled cider and a couple of gingersnap cookies. He cut quite a swath, shoppers moving instinctively out of his way as they took in his unnatural pallor and sensed themselves in the presence of an unknown danger.

  Okay, I kind of liked that, too.

  “Here you are, my lady.” Stefan returned to offer me the cider and cookies with a courtly little bow.

  I eyed him suspiciously. “Are you making fun of me?”

  “Not at all.” He smiled again, this time with dimples. “I’m enjoying myself, Daisy. It’s been a long time.”

  I wanted to ask him exactly how long it had been, but I didn’t want to spoil the mood, so I took a bite of gingersnap before responding. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be ungracious. As long as we’re here, let’s check out those throw pillows,” I suggested. “No offense, but your condo could use a touch of color.”

  “Thus has it ever been with women and decorative cushions,” Stefan commented. I shot him another glance and determined that this time he was teasing me. And this time, I didn’t mind it.

  “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.”

&nbs
p; “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.”

  “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.”