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I stared. "You know?"

"My dear." She closed the door behind us once we'd entered. "I was a fairy godmother long before you were born."

She smiled toward the spot where Azaren apparently stood. "We've crossed paths with Hell before."

"Unfortunately," Azaren muttered.

"I heard that." Mrs. Wilton called over her shoulder.

"I intended you to."

The cottage smelled of cinnamon, dried herbs, and old books. Mrs. Wilton lowered herself carefully into her favorite armchair, though I noticed the movement wasn't as graceful as usual. She looked tired. Worn. Like something inside her had dimmed.

Azaren must have noticed it, too. His voice lost a little of its sarcasm. "You're ill."

Mrs. Wilton folded her hands in her lap. "I am."

My head was still spinning, with questions, so many questions, but first I dug through the basket and handed her all the things I had collected for her this morning. The medicine and bread.

She looked off to my right, studying someone only she could see. "Hmm."

"What?" Azaren grumbled.

"So..." Her head tilted thoughtfully. "You're an infernal soul hunter."

"I am."

"I would've guessed you'd be another inch taller."

He huffed.

"And considerably grumpier."

"Oh, he's grumpy," I assured Mrs. Wilton.

She smiled faintly, but it faded almost as quickly as it appeared. "Oh dear." The warmth drained from her face. "What's wrong?"

Mrs. Wilton didn't answer immediately. She just kept staring at the empty space beside me.

"Of all the things Frankenpunch could have pulled into our world..." she murmured.

Azaren folded his arms. "I came here against my will."

"I know." Her expression grew thoughtful. "But why you?"

The question seemed to catch even Azaren off guard. "What do you mean?"

"There are countless infernal creatures." She frowned. "Messengers. Lesser demons. Imps. Even devils." She slowly shook her head. "But instead..." Her gaze never left him. "...the magic reached across realms and found a Hunter." She shook her head. "I don't like that."

Neither did Azaren. "Neither do I."

I looked between her and... well nothing, since I couldn't see him. "Would somebody please tell me what's going on?"

Mrs. Wilton finally looked at me. "I don't know yet, dear."

That answer frightened me far more than if she'd had one. "What's happening?"

Neither of them answered.