I was pretty sure he wasn’t talking about the biker gang. There were a lot of emotions behind the words, all of them intense, all of them held fast with steely discipline in that cool, still place inside him. I knew because I’d caught a glimpse of it, and my emotions were still resonating like a tuning fork. Which, frankly, unnerved me a little. I fought the urge to stroke a lock of hair back from his temple and focused on the issues at hand. “Stefan, who are you and where did you come from? Why are you here? I don’t mean to overstep my boundaries, but I’m trying to figure out what the hell brought you to Pemkowet.”

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.