“In a sense.” Stefan’s voice was somber. “Over the years, I have spoken to priests and philosophers alike. And I spoke the truth when I said no one fully understands the how and why of our existence. Not even we ourselves. This I will tell you: Due to Mary’s madness, she committed a mortal sin as an act of profound faith. Heaven does not admit unrepentant sinners, and hell does not welcome true believers. Like all of the Outcast, Mary fell between the cracks.”

I cleared my throat. “Hel . . . I mean Hel the goddess . . . said that gh—” Damn, I felt guilty saying it now. “That the Outcast were mortal beings slain at height of great passion. I have to admit, I don’t get how this fits.”

Stefan’s gaze rested on me. “Despair is a passion unto itself, Daisy,” he said softly. “Do not doubt it.”

“Okay,” I said. “So what does it all mean?”

His phone rang, chiming with a baroque phrase of classical music I couldn’t even begin to identify. Reaching into the front pocket of his jeans, Stefan gave me an apologetic look. “Excuse me.”

Cody and I exchanged glances again, both of us still thinking about the haunted figure of Emma Sudbury.

“My mom’s got a friend who volunteers at the senior center,” I offered. “Sandra Sweddon. Mom’s doing the dresses for her daughter Terri’s wedding. I could ask her to ask Sandra to look into contacting Emma Sudbury. They’ve got an outreach program for seniors living alone. Whatever happens, I have a feeling poor Emma’s going to need it once this is over.”

“Good idea.” Cody raised his eyebrows. “Terri Sweddon’s getting married? I hadn’t heard.”

“Yes, you did,” I reminded him. “You were right there when Mom told me.”

“I must not have been paying attention,” he admitted. “Who’s she marrying?”

“Cory Dalton.”

“Really?”

“I think so.” I counted on my fingers. “Curtis, Cameron . . . Cory’s the youngest Dalton boy, right? He was a year behind you.”

He nodded. “And Terri was a year ahead of you? She has a sister who’s younger, too. What’s her name?”

“Sherri?” I hazarded. “Yeah, I think that’s right. Terri and Sherri. She was a couple years behind me.”

Having concluded his discreet conversation, Stefan Ludovic, who was already several centuries old when Cody and I were attending Pemkowet High with the Dalton boys and Sweddon girls, strode back down the sidewalk, his bootheels ringing against the cement. “That was Johnny,” he announced. “He says that the place that Jerry Dunham was renting appears to have been abandoned.”

Oh, crap.

“What about the bikes?” Cody demanded. “He wouldn’t leave without them.”

Stefan shook his head. “Gone. All gone.”

“He checked the garage?”

“Yes, of course.” Stefan tilted his head, narrowing his ice-blue eyes. “He is an Outcast. The garage was the first thing he checked.”