“A rarity,” he repeated. “A demon’s seed conceived in innocence, born in faith, raised in love. That makes you a rarity, Daisy Johanssen.” Leaning forward, Stefan raised one hand to cup the back of my head and kissed me on the lips.

Whoa.

It was a gentle kiss, but authoritative; a kiss that staked a definite claim. A jolt of electricity, or whatever the thing that feels like electricity is, shot through me. I’m not sure, but I may actually have gasped out loud.

Stefan released me and straightened, his pupils waxing into dark moons. “Does that answer your question?”

“Not exactly, no.” My heart was beating fast and hard, and my knees felt wobbly. “But it raises plenty of others. Only—”

He finished my thought for me. “Only now is not the time.”

“Right.”

Stefan smiled again, this time faintly, but with genuine affection. “You should know that there are those of us who appreciate you for what you are and do not dismiss you for what you are not, Daisy. The Outcast will support you as best we can in whatever manner necessity dictates. I have conceived a fondness for this ridiculous town, and I do not wish to see it forevermore haunted. When All Hallows Eve has passed, I will answer any question your heart desires. But for now, it is best that you go.”

I went, the impress of his kiss lingering on my lips. Life can be incredibly inconvenient at times.

Although I debated it, in the end I asked Lurine to be on hand to provide backup. I figured that if she was in costume, the odds that anyone would recognize her would be reduced.

Lurine agreed readily to help out after dark. “No worries, cupcake,” she said, idly tossing the hammer I gave her. “Some of the prettiest boys from Rainbow’s End are planning to march in the adult parade as an entire squadron of Lurine Hollisters. No one will recognize the real deal.”

“What about . . .” I struggled to remember the name of the satyr, who was nowhere in evidence. “Nico?”

“Nico?” She looked blank for a second. “Oh, right. He got a little tiresome. I sent him off to pick apples at Pomona Orchards. Perfect place for a rustic deity. Do you want him there?”

“No, that’s okay. I’d rather have people I know well enough to trust,” I said. “I just thought maybe you were an item.”

“An item.” Lurine looked amused. “That’s not really a term that applies to satyrs, cupcake. Satyrs are for . . .” She gave a little wriggle that managed to suggest serpentine undulations even though she was in human form. “Oh, let’s just call it a down-and-dirty celebration of the urge to merge, shall we?”