Outcast.” He sipped his water and smiled a little. “In your case, the fact that your emotions are actually capable of effecting change on your physical environment was a good indicator that you were brimming with it.”
Huh. And here I’d thought my volatile temper wasn’t good for anything. “What else does it work on other than the Outcast?” I asked him. “Could I stop Emmeline Palmer from putting a hex on me?”
“No,” Stefan said with regret. “It is ineffective against spellcasting. But if you are diligent in your practice, you can defend yourself from all manner of compulsion, such as vampiric hypnosis and demonic persuasion.”
“Ooh!”
He pointed a stern finger at me. “If you are diligent, Daisy. It is like any skill. It must be honed until it is second nature to you, until the act of raising and maintaining a shield requires no more effort than breathing.”
“Duly noted.” I shifted and began to curl my legs beneath me, then changed my mind when I saw a look of polite dismay flit over Stefan’s face. Right. No shoes on the fancy leather couch. “Stefan . . . if this energy, this pneuma, can be used to raise a defensive shield, can it be used as an offensive weapon, too?”
Stefan didn’t answer right away. His pupils contracted in his pale blue eyes, giving him that eerie, sightless look. “Against some opponents, yes,” he said at length, sounding reluctant. “But to do so is dangerous, exposing you to far greater vulnerability. Promise me that you will not attempt it.”
“What if—”
His pupils zoomed. “If the time comes when I deem you ready, we will speak further of this. Until then, promise me.”
“Okay, okay!” I raised my hands in surrender. Well, one hand and my water glass. “I promise.”
“Thank you.”
I considered Stefan for a while. “Why are you doing this?” I asked him eventually. “Helping me?”
“Why would I not?” he replied. “You are Hel’s liaison, and there is a debt of honor between us.”
I wasn’t entirely sold. After all, he was the six-hundred-year-old son of a Bohemian count, and I was a twenty-four-year-old American hell-spawn who grew up in a mobile home. Of course, Lurine had a couple of millennia on him, and then there was the matter of Hel herself, but . . . somehow this was different. They weren’t human. Stefan was, or at least he had been.
“And I like you, Daisy,” Stefan added unexpectedly, summoning one of those surprisingly charming smiles. “Is that so difficult to believe?”
“A little,” I admitted. “Do you mean you like me, or you like me like me?”
He raised one eyebrow. “Are you asking if I harbor romantic feelings toward you?”
“Do you?” I countered.
“How would you feel about it if I did?” Although his gaze was steady, the hint of a smile continued to play over his lips. I couldn’t tell if he was teasing or flirting.
“Honestly? I’m not sure. And this isn’t the best time for me to figure it out. But you probably knew that, too.” I set my water glass on a polished marble coaster. “Look, I really should be going. Thank you again.”
Stefan rose gracefully. “You are welcome. Take the buckler with you. It will help you focus as you begin to practice. Just take care not to become dependent on it.”
“I will.”
As he escorted me to the door, the painted shield in its Plexiglas case caught my eye again. This time I noticed that the case was carefully positioned to avoid direct sunlight, and I suspected it was climate controlled, too.
My only keepsake, he’d said. I snuck a look at Stefan’s face, wondering if I dared risk a question. Judging by his expression, yes, but not a probing one. “Will you tell me its story one day?”
“Perhaps.” Inclining his head, Stefan opened the door for me. “We will see.”
I guessed that would have to do.
Twenty-one
The next morning, I logged on to Facebook to find that Dan Stanton had approved my friend request. I felt awkward sending a message to an alias—what if this Dan Stanton turned out to be another shirtless Australian guy instead of Lee Hastings?—but I went ahead and composed a note saying I was hoping he was Lee and that he might be able to give me some advice on a computer project.
After calling in to the station to confirm there wasn’t any new filing for me, I spent half an hour practicing shield drill.
Okay, twenty minutes. It was harder to maintain focus without an actual opponent.